#‘yeah once we get married I’m nipping that in the bud. can’t stand it’

[snurtsnurt]

It’s so weird to me hearing other women criticizing men for playing video games like it’s disgusting? Sorry this guy has? Hobbies???

[bluefirewrites]

I'm sorry about your presentation, idk if your still doing hcs but can you do one where Reggie is julies older brother by 1 or 2 years and Julie in love with Luke and Luke likes her as well but neither will do anything because of Reggie. If not its ok. ☺

I brought up an idea similar to this a while back! But let’s rework it. 

In this scenario, let’s say that the Molinas and the Peters' have known each other for a long while, ever since Julie and Reggie were kids. They’ve pretty much grown up together. 

And then they get older and a lot of shit happens. Julie’s mom dies. And Reggie’s parents finally get a divorce. 

As the two families are healing and trying to move on, eventually Ray and Reggie’s mom sorta just clicked. 

And years later, they ended up getting married- officially making Reggie Julie’s brother. 

They move into the Molina’s house and they transition to one big family so seamlessly that Julie often forgets that Reggie isn’t her brother in the biological sense. He’s always been an older figure to her, always looking out for her and Carlos. 

She’s so used to having him around. And even used to having Reggie’s friends around growing up. 

They all met when they were in middle school, but Julie hasn’t seen them much over the years, only seeing them during special occasions or whenever she would go to the Peters’ from time to time. 

She remembers Alex, the shy blonde one who does his best to keep the peace when everyone got too rowdy. 

And then Bobby, who is just hitting his stride in his sullen, moody teenager phase. Still nice though. 

And Luke, the wild one. The guy was all long haired, energetic, and sporting some gnarly braces the last time she saw him. 

She hears a knock at the door the night Reggie and his mom had moved in. Julie opens it and it’s the boys: Alex, Bobby, and- woah. 

“Julie?” Luke smiles, his long hair cut to a still shaggy ‘do, braces gone, and now ripped, telling by how he’s proudly wearing his Nirvana cutoffs, “No way! Long time no see,” 

“Y-yeah,” Julie instantly wishes that she wasn’t wearing her dinosaur slippers at the moment. She leads them all inside, telling them to make themselves at home while they wait for Reggie to come down. 

Julie hurries off to her room, red in the face, internally freaking out about the idea of a cute guy coming over to her house on a regular basis. 

A cute guy she cannot get involved with... imagine how Reggie would react... 

The guys note the dreamlike expression on Luke’s face as he watched Julie go up the stairs. Once she’s gone, Luke whirls around, “Has she always been like that?” 

“Squirrely?” 

“No...” Luke drops his voice down to a whisper, “I mean, has she always been that cute?” 

Alex and Bobby shoots this idea down real quick, “Woah! No no no! Off-limits! She's off-limits, Luke!” 

“How come?” 

“She’s Reggie’s sister,” 

“Step-sister,” 

“Still,” Bobby cuts in, “You know Reggie. He takes the brother role very seriously. He won’t let you stand a foot away from her if he heard what you just said.” 

“If who heard what?” Reggie says, coming down the stairs. 

“Nothing!” They all exclaim, and Luke silently thanks the boys for not ratting him out and invoking Reggie’s wrath. 

He does know how Reggie can get when it comes to Julie. He’s already so protective of her. So he’s not going to try and do anything to piss him off. 

And besides, he just finds her cute. It’s not like anything’s gonna come from it. 

Wrong. 

Luke and Julie are hardcore pining for each other the more time the boys spend over at the house. 

And they’re over a lot. 

Julie would come into the garage, now a studio space for the boys’ band, and watches them practice. 

Somehow Luke finds a way to gravitate towards her. Always standing beside her, ready to show a song he’s been working on or just ask how she’s doing. 

And Julie would find an excuse to hang around the boys, whether offering to help with songwriting or help clean up the equipment. One time, she hands Luke his guitar and their hands met. They both blush but quickly part before Reggie could see what transpired. 

They sneak little casual touches here and there, both to gauge if the other person reciprocates their feelings and to hide whatever was going on between them from Reggie. 

This all coming from the fear of Reggie flipping out on them. 

Apparently when the boys bring up Nick from Julie’s class, joking about the way he was starry-eyed when dancing with Julie (secretly trying to get a rise out of Luke), Reggie immediately asks Julie about a thousand questions: 

“Who is he? What does he do?” 

“Do? He’s a student. In my grade...” 

“Oh. No job? So he’s a deadbeat, huh? Doesn’t sound like a suitable match,” 

“What are you going on about?”

“Does he like the Star Wars Prequels? Yes or No? There is a right answer” 

“What does this have to do with anything, Reggie?”

“I need to know if he’s good enough for you!” 

Reggie starts watching Nick like a hawk at school, going out of his way to intimidate the junior (well as much as he could. he’s still pretty much a puppy and super non-threatening). 

It’s getting ridiculous. 

So Julie goes to talk to Luke, to try and nip this in the bud before Reggie notices their weird behavior. She manages to play off needing help to get something in the laundry room to get him alone without suspicion. 

“Look, we can’t do this anymore... whatever this is,” 

Luke nods, “Agreed. Reggie’s my best friend.” 

“And he’s my brother,” 

“I don’t want to do something that would upset him,” 

“Me neither. Glad we’re on the same page,” 

“Right. Same page. So just friends. Deal?” she sticks her hand out. 

He shakes it, “Deal,” 

They lock eyes, appreciating how the other one looks under the warm dimmed light. 

It takes only about .5 seconds for them to crash their lips onto each other’s, igniting a full on make out session. And by the time they finished, they realize their mistake. 

Uh oh. 

They can’t go back after this. 

Now they really have something to hide from Reggie. 

They sneak around the house, whenever they could. 

Luke would make up an excuse to grab water or go to the bathroom in the middle of rehearsal, just to sneak up to Julie’s room to grab a quick kiss and maybe a small tickle fight just so he could hear that laugh he loves so much. 

And Julie would join the boys at the dinner table, sitting next to him and discreetly slipping cue love notes into his pocket that she knows would make him blush and smile all goofily later (and if they turn into potential song lyrics? Well that's for them to know).

Alex warns Luke the next day, “I think he’s catching on. Be more careful,” 

They spend more time together now that Julie starts writing songs for the band. Her and Luke would huddle over the piano, scribbling the night away, always sitting dangerously close to each other.

Once, Reggie observes them quietly from the couch with an unreadable expression on bis face.

“We are careful,” 

Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? You tried to pass off the hickeys on Julie’s neck as rashes.” 

“And Reggie bought it, remember? He went out and got ointment for her and everything,” 

“He’s not stupid, Luke. You better do something about this. Fast,” 

Luke sighs, “You’re right.” 

Later that night, Luke pulls Julie into the upstairs bathroom, the one between her room and Reggie’s, to talk. 

“Jules, as much I want to keep doing this... I can’t stand lying to Reggie,” 

“Me too,” she says, “So, let’s just tell him. I don’t like hiding you.” 

“But we need to plan it out. We can’t just spring it on him,” 

“Catch him in a good mood hopefully, and we’ll tell him together,” 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” 

“Love it when you call me boss,” Julie smiles, angling her head up to kiss him. 

Just then, the door connecting to Reggie’s room bursts open and the said bassist enters in his bathrobe. His eyes grow wide at the sight of them tangled up in each other. 

“What is going on here?” 

The couple breaks apart. Julie and Luke jump to opposite sides of the bathroom, hands up in surrender. 

“You didn’t lock the doors?” Julie hisses at Luke

“Was not my main priority!” Then Luke steps forward in an attempt to calm Reggie down, “Hey, Reg, pal, um, what you just saw-” 

“You guys were kissing in here?” he yells. 

Julie and Luke lower their heads, “...yeah,” 

Reggie sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, “Unbelievable!”

“Reggie, we’re sorry-” 

“In the bathroom, really? Can’t you guys do this in the laundry room like you usually do? My toothbrush is here, come on!”  

Wait. What?

Did they hear him correctly? 

“You knew?!” Julie all but screamed at her brother. 

“Duh. You’re not really subtle,” 

Luke splutters, “B-But Nick-” 

“Found out real quick that he’s not the one I should be worried about,”

“And the... the, well..?”  Julie gestures lamely at her neck, “Why did you get me ointment?” 

Reggie smirks, “Just to mess with you.” 

“So... you’re not mad?”

“Nah. Like I said. I need to make sure whatever guy you end up with, Jules, is good enough for you. And, well, I’ve known Luke almost all my life. And I trust him. Honestly, there’s no other guy I could think of that could be a better match for you.” 

Luke’s hand rests on his shoulder, “You mean that, Reg?” 

“Of course. I’m happy for you guys. But uh...” he sticks his thumb towards the door, “Could you like skip on out of here. I did come to the bathroom for a reason.” 

“Oh, right,” 

“Your Tia’s chicken went right through me-” 

“Ok, Reggie! We’re leaving!” 

“But one more thing,” 

Luke and Julie stop in the doorway leading to the hallway. 

“If you think I’m bad,” Reggie shakes his head, “Try breaking the news to Carlos,” 

Luke pales, “Oh no,”

“’Oh no’ is right,” 

The couple spins around to find Carlos in the hallway, arms crossed, staring them down, “Care to explain why you two were in the bathroom?”

“Well, uh, um, we were-” Luke turns to Julie, but the girl is nowhere to be found, having already yeeted to her room to escape an overprotective Carlos. 

Luke throws a pleading look at Reggie, “A little help here, buddy?”  

Meanwhile, Carlos is unamused, carrying so much tension in his small body that it has Luke gulping nervously. 

“Nope you’re on your own,” he winks, “Make sure to tell him about the ‘rash’ while you’re at it.”

And with a laugh, the bathroom door closes. 

“I can explain...” 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 5)

Summary: The reader has dinner with her family and Jensen and the pair finally make a decision on their friendship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

Saturday Night

“Should I ask Marcus to winter formal?” asked Ella, pacing around her room nonstop. You raised an eyebrow at her from where you lay on her bed, Anthony shaking his head from the other side. “I was asking Y/N, not the guy that won’t even go with his boyfriend.”

“Ella,” you said, hanging your head off the edge of her bed. “If Anthony doesn’t want to go broadcast something he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to. Also, you don’t need a date. Go with your friends. It’s more fun anyways.”

“Yeah but Marcus is cute and all my friends have boyfriends,” she said, sighing as she stood in front of her closet and held up her dress.

“Don’t have a boyfriend because your friends do, Ella. It is so not worth the aggravation,” you said. “Boys are never worth the aggravation.”

“Agreed,” they both said, a tiny smile on your face.

“Why’d you break up with Logan again?” asked Anthony. You sighed and let out a long groan. “He was good looking.”

“Being attractive has nothing to do with having a good relationship,” you said.

“Yeah, but like even mom and dad don’t know what happened between you-” said Ella, cutting herself off when you sat up with a glare.

“I thought I asked you two to never bring him up again,” you said. “It’s over and that’s it.”

“Did he cheat on you?” asked Ella. You scoffed and closed your eyes. “If he cheated-”

“Mind your own fucking business,” you snapped. She stared at you, a little misty eyed and you squeezed yours shut. You’d never swore at her before and knew she’d beat herself up about it if you didn’t nip it in the bud. “El, I’m sorry. Logan...he broke my heart. It hurt. A lot. I thought he was the person I was going to end up with. He wasn’t the person I thought he was though. Obviously it’s still a sensitive subject for me. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She went over to her window seat and plopped down, turning her head to look out the dark window. 

“Ella bear,” you said, standing up and walking over, sitting next to her and pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”

“When I broke up with Brady, you told me it wasn’t the end of the world and it felt like it,” she said, looking up at you. “Why’s Logan different?”

“Things are different when you’re older, when you’re in a long term relationship and it ends,” you said. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” she said, giving you back a hug before she set her sights on Anthony. “So what’s the deal with you and Nolan?”

“He kinda wants to tell his parents about us and I don’t want to do that until mom and dad know and I’m not ready to tell them,” he said, tossing his baseball up and down. “Y/N, what do you think?”

“Well it’s a personal thing. You should tell them when you’re ready. If Nolan’s ready that’s his choice but he should respect yours too,” you said.  “Honestly if you two are going to keep having sex though, maybe-”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “I thought I told you not to talk about that stuff with Ella here.”

“I took health class too, idiot,” she said.

“I’m not talking about sex with my little sister,” he said. 

“She’s sixteen. She knows what it is,” you said. “If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“I don’t get the big deal in telling mom and dad you have a boyfriend,” said Ella. “They wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“I’m just not ready, El. Forget I said anything,” said Anthony, tossing his ball one more time before you caught it.

“Don’t let Nolan pressure you into saying something either, okay?” you asked. Anthony smiled and nodded. 

“He wouldn’t. We’ll just wait until we’re both ready to tell them,” he said. You tossed his ball back, the doorbell ringing in the distance.

“Kids! Our guest is here!” shouted your dad from downstairs. 

“Guest? God, is it another stupid studio executive?” groaned Ella as she stood up. “I hate those guys.”

“It’s dad’s costar. Jensen Ackles,” you said, waving them both to follow you. “He’s nice. You’ll like him.”

“What’s he been in?” asked Anthony. “He sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Some of those teenage shows you like. He was on some horror show for a few years and stuff before that,” you said. “Come on you two.”

Anthony typed away on his phone as they dragged their feet down the hall, freezing and getting a sigh from you.

“Oh wow,” said Anthony, holding up his phone for Ella to see. “He’s hot.”

“Oh, move over Gil Nicholas,” said Ella. “He is so much better looking. He’s taller too.”

“Guys. Behave,” you said as you walked towards the top of the stairs. You headed downstairs with them on your tail, Jensen handing over his coat to your mom in the foyer. “Hey, Jay.”

“Hey,” he said, smoothing out his light blue button up. He had a pair of nice jeans on, some red and blue socks on his feet, a pair of boots tucked away on the mat by the closet door. “You must be Ella and Anthony.”

“Well hello,” said Ella, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, looking him up and down. You rolled your eyes and smacked her arm.

“Ella. Stop staring at him like he’s meat,” you said. “Excuse her. She’s normally not such an idiot.”

“What? He’s hot,” she said as your mom stepped back over and tilted her head.

“Ella, that’s rude. I’m sorry for my daughter,” said your mom to Jensen. “Ella apologize.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” said Jensen with a chuckle. “I heard someone had a rough volleyball game yesterday and someone else had an even rougher AP History test.”

“Uh yeah,” said Anthony. “How’d you know that?”

“Your dad likes to brag about you guys,” said Jensen with a smile. “A lot.”

“Guys, please go set the table,” said your mom, shooing them out of the foyer. They both headed for the dining room, Jensen standing there with you looking around. 

“Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, tilting his head up to look at the beams going up across the two story foyer area. “And massive.”

“Thank you and it’s Dani, Jensen,” said your mom, offering him a friendly smile. “Y/N. Entertain Jensen for a moment. We’re running a few minutes late with dinner.”

She went back towards the kitchen, Jensen walking slowly with you down the main hall, looking at a few pictures hung on the wall.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” he said, pointing at a picture of you and your dad from your first day of kindergarten. He didn’t look too much different nowadays, maybe a little less boyish but you’d seen him wear the same shirt on Tuesday to work. You had on a tonka truck shirt and purple shorts, hair pulled back in a high pony. You rolled your eyes and he let out a laugh. “You look cute.”

“Dad tried his best. Fashion has never been his expertise,” you said.

“When did your mom come into the picture?”

“I was ten. It all happened very quickly. They got married and started having kids soon after that,” you said. “Anthony and then Ella.”

“Even the perfect people’s lives aren’t as perfect as they seem,” he said, looking at one of you behind a film camera when you were little. “You’re lucky to have a dad like him.”

“I know I am,” you said. He smiled and walked down the hall some more, stopping at a few pictures, smirking at one in particular. “Oh shut up, Ackles.”

“That is a perfect picture if I do say so,” said Jensen with a laugh.

“I fully agree,” said your dad as he popped out from the kitchen. “She’s got a hell of a mess of bed head. Still does.”

“I can see,” he said, giving you a shit eating grin.

“I so love it when we have guests over,” you said, your dad pushing you both into the kitchen.

“What’s your poison, Jensen?” asked your dad, holding up a bottle of red wine. Jensen spun around in circles, taking in the space and the open family room. “Kid.”

“I’ll have a glass of whatever’s open,” said Jensen, returning his attention to your parents.

“I can get behind that. Y/N,” said your dad, sliding the bottle over to you. You hummed and poured four glasses, handing one to Jensen. “The house isn’t that nice.”

“You should see my apartment,” mumbled Jensen.

“You’re over in Sunrise Ridge, right?” he asked. Your ears perked up and your dad laughed. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I remember the pool,” you said.

“You guys lived over there?” asked Jensen. Your dad nodded and took a drink. “Seriously?”

“We all start from somewhere,” said your dad. “Someday soon maybe you can get in a nicer place.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it,” he said. 

“How are you feeling, Jensen? Ethan said you were hurt on set this week,” said your mom as she worked on the other side of the island.

“Oh, I’m okay. A few bandages and I’m good as new,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s actually the one that made sure I didn’t get hurt worse. I think she got in a bit of trouble over it.”

“Yeah well, that’s my job,” you said as you sipped on your glass. 

“Y/N was almost a nurse actually before she worked in an office for a few years. She likes helping people,” said your mom. “We were a little surprised she followed her dad’s footsteps.”

“Well stories help people,” said Jensen. “They can be hopeful or inspiring. I mean, the story Y/N wrote was very inspiring. That helps people.”

Your parents glanced at one another and shared a look.

“I like him,” said your mom, Jensen chuckling. “Do you have a girlfriend, Jensen?”

“Uh, no. I’m on my own at the moment,” he said. 

“Enjoy being single,” said your dad. “Both of you.”

“Well the girls will be fawning over you once the movie comes out,” said your mom. “May need to look into a bodyguard.”

Jensen laughed but no one else did, his face quickly frowning.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Uncle Brody hangs out sometimes with dad or us,” you said, Jensen raising an eyebrow. “Uncle Brody is dad’s bodyguard if you didn’t catch that.”

“Being famous has its occasional flaws,” said your dad. “If this thing blows up though, which odds are it might, let me know and we’ll get you hooked up with someone. It’s not an all the time thing, I promise.”

“Here I thought I was just playing a character,” said Jensen.

“Are you playing Lyle?” asked Anthony as he walked in with Ella. Jensen spun around with a smile and hummed. “Wow, he’s even got green eyes like him too.”

“Don’t you hate when those pesky authors throw out specific character traits,” chuckled your dad. You gave him a look, your mom handing a few dishes to the other guys to carry into the dining room.

“I was willing to compromise on the eye color when it came to the actor I recall,” you said.

“Mhm. I recall that going a tad different,” he hummed, flipping something over in the pan. “Go on and take Jensen to the dining room. Dinner will be out in a few minutes.”

“It’s a little funny,” said Jensen as you headed out with him around the corner, finding a seat for him in there. “Seeing you not at work I mean. You’re always so in charge there. With your family you’re a lot more laid back.”

“If I’m being honest, it makes me horribly uncomfortable to be in charge like that,” you said.

“Why do it then?” he asked.

“Sometimes you have to do scary things for stuff you care about. They wanted to shred my book apart and make it a summer blockbuster,” you said. “They wanted to make Hale the bad guy at the end if you can believe it.”

“It would have ruined it,” said Jensen with a scoff. “What idiot came up with that? It’s so stupid. It would have made everything pointless.”

“I know. I fought to be director to save it and I won. Now I hope I don’t ruin it,” you said.

“You’ll be great,” said Jensen as he pulled out your chair for you. You sat down with a smile, Jensen taking the one across from you. “I promise.”

“Dinner was delicious,” said Jensen as he headed out a few hours later. “Thank you for having me over.”

“We’ll do it again sometime,” said your dad as your mom handed him his coat. “A home cooked meal is good now and then. I know your family isn’t around here. Stop over every once in a while. Dani knows how to cook a mean prime rib.”

“I may take you up on that,” said Jensen as he pulled on his jacket.

“Well and the kids adored you which they rarely do with their father’s guests. We’d much rather have you over than Gil Nicholas. He’s such a little douchebag,” said your mom. You smirked, Jensen chuckling.

“I’ve heard the rumors,” said Jensen. “Next time I’ll be sure to bring a dish over. My mom always said don’t come empty handed to a dinner party.”

“Your mother taught you very good manners,” said your mom. 

“Sure you don’t want to stick around for another drink?” asked your dad.

“I would but I have to drive,” said Jensen. “I appreciate the offer though. Another time for sure.”

“I understand. Well have a good rest of your weekend, Jensen. Try to take a little time to relax. We got another long week ahead of us,” said your dad.

“I think I’m going to head home too, try to catch up on sleep,” you said.

“Alright. You young guns go home. Y/N, text us when you get there,” he said. 

“Mhm. Night,” you said, heading outside, walking with Jensen down the front steps. “Hey, hold up a second.”

“Yes?” he asked, following you to your car. You opened the passenger seat and pulled out a small bag, handing it over to him. He tilted his head as he opened it up, smiling wide as he reached inside and pulled out his gift. “A first edition copy of The Dark Woods. I love it. You didn’t have to do that Y/N.”

“I even signed it for you,” you said, Jensen flipping open the front cover and glancing at you. 

“Did you just ask me out through a book?” he asked.

“Did it work?” you asked, Jensen smirking. “You had a point yesterday. I don’t think anyone is ever ready for a relationship or the timing is right. But I like you and you’re sweet and I haven’t liked anyone in years.”

“Do you want to go grab some dessert?” he asked with a big smile. 

“Is this a date?”

“Maybe,” he teased.

“Oh, well if you’re gonna tease, I can do that too,” you said, turning back into the car and pulling out another bag. He stared at it before he tore into it, wide eyed and looking over at you. 

“The Dark Night. A Lyle Sullivan story,” he said, staring at the plain black covered book. “What-”

“It’s the second book. That’s an unpublished copy of the first edition. Only about ten people have read it so far but I figured you might really enjoy it,” you said.

“This is literally the coolest gift I have ever gotten,” he said, looking the book over, already flipping through it.

“Okay, fanboy. Let’s grab some dessert and then you can spend all day tomorrow nose deep in that thing,” you said.

“Tomorrow? I’m staying up and reading this tonight!” he said with a laugh. “This is awesome. I can’t wait to check it out. After dessert of course.”

“After you, Ackles.”

______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

[96harmony96]

Chapter 21 final

Lauren tossed the makeup remover wipe in the trash. Then she grabbed a towel to throw over the puddle she’d left on the floor and toed off her shoes. To my utter delight, ahe began stripping out of her wet clothes.

Watching her raptly, I said, “You feel guilty because she still loves you.”

“I do, yes. I knew her husband. He was a good guy and he was crazy about her, until he figured out she didn’t feel the same way and things fell apart.”

she looked at me as he peeled her shirt off. “I couldn’t figure out why he let it get to him. He was married to the girl he wanted, they lived in a different country away from me, so what was his problem? Now, I understand. If you loved someone else, Camila, it’d shred me to pieces, every single day. It’d kill me even if you were with me and not him. But unlike Giroux, I wouldn’t let you go. Maybe I wouldn’t have all of you, but you’d still be mine and I’d take what I could get.”

My fingers laced in my lap. “That’s what scares me, Lauren. You don’t know what you’re worth.”

“Actually, I do. Twelve bill—”

“Shut up.” My head spun and I pressed my fingertips to my eyes. “It shouldn’t be such a mystery that women fall in love with you and stay in love. Did you know that Magdalene kept her hair long hoping it’d remind you of Corinne?”

she dropped her slacks and frowned at me. “Why?”

I sighed at her cluelessness. “Because she believes Corinne is who you want.”

“Then she’s not paying attention.”

“Isn’t she? Corinne told me she talks to you almost every day.”

“Not quite. I’m often not available. You know how busy I am.” Her gaze took on the heated look I was so familiar with. I knew she was thinking about the times he got busy with me.

“That’s nuts, Lauren. Her calling every day. That’s stalking.” Which reminded me of her assertion that she’d been as possessive over her as she was about me. That niggled at me in a terrible way.

“Where are you going with this?” she asked, in a voice laced with warm amusement.

“Don’t you get it? You drive women off the deep end because you’re the ultimate. You’re the grand prize. If a woman can’t have you, they know they’re settling for less than the best. So they can’t think about not having you. They just think of crazy ways to try and get you.”

“Except for the one I want,” she retorted dryly, “who spends a lot of time running in the opposite direction.”

I stared unabashedly, drinking her in as she stood naked in front of me. “Answer one question for me, Lauren. Why do you want me, when you can have your pick of perfection instead? And I’m not fishing for compliments or reassurances. I’m asking an honest question.”

she caught me up and moved us into the bedroom. “Camila, if you don’t stop thinking of us as temporary, I’m going to take you over my knee and make damn sure you like it.”

Setting me down in a chair, she went to rifle through my drawers.

I watched her pulling out underwear, yoga pants, and a top. “Have you forgotten I sleep in the nude with you?”

“We’re not staying here.” she faced me. “I don’t trust Cary not to bring more intoxicated jerks home and once we turn in for the night I’ll be drugged on the medication Dr. Petersen prescribed and possibly unable to protect you. So we’re going to my place.”

I looked down at my twisted hands, thinking about how I might need protection from Lauren, too. “I’ve been down this road with Cary before, Lauren. I can’t just hole up at your place and hope he comes out of it on his own. He needs me to be around more than I have been.”

“Camila.” Lauren brought me my clothes and crouched in front of me. “I know you need to support Cary. We’ll figure out how tomorrow.”

I cupped her face. “Thank you.”

“I need you, too, though,” she said quietly.

“We need each other.”

she pushed to her feet. Moving back to the dresser, she pulled open her drawers and grabbed clothes for himself.

Standing, I began to dress. “Listen…”

she pulled a pair of low-slung jeans on. “Yes?”

“I feel tons better now that I know the score, but Corinne is still going to be a problem for me.” I paused with my shirt in my hands. “You wanna nip her hopes in the bud real quick. Stow the guilt, Lauren, and start weaning her off.”

she sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her socks. “She’s a friend, Camila, and she’s in a rough spot. It’s a cruel time to cut her off.”

“Think carefully, Lauren. I have exes in my past, too. You’re setting the precedent now for how I’ll handle them. I’m taking my cues from you.”

she stood with a scowl. “You’re threatening me.”

“I prefer to see it as coercion. Relationships work both ways. You’re not her only friend. She can find someone more appropriate to lean on in her time of crisis.”

We grabbed what we needed and walked back into the living room. I saw the mess left behind—an aqua-hued bra beneath an end table and blood spray on my cream sectional —and I wished Cary was still around to smack some sense into.

“I’m digging into it with him tomorrow,” I bit out, my jaw tight with anger and worry. “Goddamn it, I should’ve decked him when I had the chance. I should’ve knocked him out cold, and then locked him up in his room until he gets his brain working again.”

Lauren’s hand at the small of my back rubbed soothingly. “It’ll be better to do that tomorrow, when he’s alone and hungover. More effective that way.”

Angus was waiting for us when we got downstairs. I was about to climb into the back of the limo when Lauren cursed under her breath, stopping me.

“What?” I asked her.

“I forgot something.”

“Let me get my keys.” I reached for the overnight bag Lauren was holding, which had my purse inside.

“No need. I have a set.” she shot me an unapologetic grin when my brows rose. “I had copies made before I gave them back to you.”

“Seriously?”

“If you’d paid attention”—she kissed the top of my head—“you might’ve noticed that you’ve had the key to my place on your key ring since I returned it.”

I gaped after her as she darted past the doorman and back into the building. I remembered the torment of those four days when I’d thought we’d broken up and the excruciating pain I’d felt when those keys slid out of the envelope and into my palm.

I’d had the key to being with her all along.

Shaking my head, I looked around at my adopted city, loving everything about it and feeling grateful for the crazy well of happiness I’d found here.

Lauren and I still had so much work ahead of us. As much as we loved each other, it was no guarantee that we’d survive our personal wounds. But we communicated, we were honest with each other, and God knew we were both too stubborn to quit without a fight.

Lauren reappeared just as two large, beautifully groomed poodles walked by with their equally coiffed owner.

I climbed into the limo. As we pulled away from the curb, Lauren tugged me onto her lap and cuddled me close. “We had a rough night, but we got through it.”

“Yeah, we did.” Tipping my head back, I offered my mouth for a kiss. she obliged me with one that was slow and sweet—a simple reaffirmation of our precious, complicated, maddening, necessary connection.

Cupping her nape, I ran my fingers through her silky hair. “I can’t wait to get you back in bed.”

she gave a sexy little growl and attacked my neck with tickling nips and kisses, banishing our ghosts and their shadows.

At least for a little while.

[silverlysilence]

Taliesin’s Apothecary and Bookery (Part III)

I Don’t Mean to Lie, But This Will Be Four or Five Parts

Hiccup breathed heavy, spent but sated.  He was content to enjoy the moment.  Allowing the bliss to linger as he hugged the heated body closer.  Delicate fingers idlily tracing random patterns against his bare chest.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?” Hiccup asked, green eyes staring up at the ceiling fan doing little to cool down their overheated bodies.

The finger on his chest paused before waves of golden hair pooled on either side of his head as soft lips pressed against his.  The lips lingered, nipping at his upper lip before pulling away, Hiccup tried to chase after them but deceptively strong hands pressed him back on to the bed.

“Can’t a girl just blow off some steam?” Astrid asked, straddling his hips.  Naked flesh rubbing against naked flesh and he couldn’t hold back a groan as his body automatically responded.

“Astrid,” the auburn-haired man groaned as the woman deliberately squirmed on top of him in the way she knew drove him made.  The blonde was a minx and knew how to play him like a fiddle.  Not surprising seeing how they’d growing up together, fought side by side, and died together.  Multiple times in fact.  It meant she knew him too well, but he knew her just as well.  So despite his flesh being willing, he grabbed her hips and held her still.  “Astrid, you know I love you, and I know you know you I can tell when somethings bothering you.  So, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?  You don’t get like this unless someone has upset you.  Do I have to kick some asshole’s ass?  Not that you couldn’t do it better yourself, but the offers there.”  

“Awe, you say the sweetest of things,” Astrid grinned, leaning over to peak him on the lips once more before rolling off him to lay by his side.  Turning his head to glance into hazed blue orbs, Hiccup waited, knowing the blonde was gathering her thoughts.  Thinking before she spoke.  He needn’t wait look.  “I ran into Eret, he’s the UPS delivery guy at the office.”

Hiccup’s immediate reaction was to be excited for her.  They hadn’t been able to find Eret in any of their last few reincarnation cycles, try as they like.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t been reincarnated, they’d found evidence to the fact, pictures, news articles, obituaries, they just missed him, sometimes by mere hours.  He knew those instances hurt Astrid the most, the budding hope at finally being reunited with her partner only to arrive too late.  Those were the times where the two of them would marry, because society demanded it of them and neither one of them wanted to be alone.  Though, they both knew if Eret turned up, Hiccup would find himself a divorcee.  Which didn’t explain why Astrid was with him instead of Eret.

“He didn’t recognize me.”

Hiccup gave her a weak smile.  “Well, it has been a few cycles since you last meet, I’m sure with a little time he’ll start to come around.  Just talk with him and I’m sure he’ll begin to remember.  It’s not that odd, Fishlegs didn’t start getting his memories back until nearly two months after we first met up this time and we still haven’t met the twins yet.  I’m sure it will work out.”

“Hiccup, I’ve tried.  This isn’t the first time we’ve seen each other,” sharp nails dug into the sheets as Astrid drew the covers tighter around her.  “He’s been the office’s delivery guy for the last six months.  He asked Nyx out for drinks this evening while I was standing right there.  He…he isn’t remembering.”  

The auburn-haired man opened his mouth before closing it, having no words to comfort her.  Eret wouldn’t be the first to not remember. Snotlout had been the first to stopped remembering around five cycles ago.  He hadn’t been reincarnated since.  Heather hadn’t taken it well and the next time, she too hadn’t remembered and when she closed her eyes in that life, it was for the final time. It hurt, losing the two, but this was different.  This was Astrid’s partner.  If Eret died not remembering, Hiccup didn’t know how Astrid would continue without the hope of meeting him again.

Knowing there were no words he could say to sooth her tormented soul, the auburn-hair man chose to pull her into a much-needed hug.  She readily returned the embraced and the two just laid there for some time, letting the silence stretch between them.  Hiccup almost dozed off but Astrid’s softly mumbled question him kept him from reaching the land of dreams.

“Do…do you miss—”

“I’m back!” the sound of the fount door opening had Astrid shooting up.  

“Shit!  My roommates, back.  She’s never back this early on a Thursday night,” hastily, she scrambled out of bed, sifting through their discarded clothes and throwing them at him while she pulled on her jeans.  “You gotta go! Come on, get dress.  Move…move…out you go.”

“Hey Astrid, I got us some sushi from the place you like,” the call echoed through the apartment followed by movement in the kitchen.

“She’s back?  Hasn’t—” Hiccup hissed, too busy tugging on his pants that ended up tripping when Astrid threw the red shirt he’d been wearing at his face.  The resounding thump did not go unheard.

“Astrid, you okay in there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the blonde called out, searching for her blouse she’d been wearing and when she couldn’t find that, pulled on an overly large shirt and slipped out the door.  Hiccup could hear the two talking as Astrid bought him time to get his stuff together and hopefully slip out without being noticed.

“You won’t believe who I saw there—you!”

He didn’t make it.

“What are you doing here, Haddock?” Hiccup winced, having rounded the corner just in time to come face to face with Astrid’s roommate.

“Hi —” the man gave the glaring raven-haired woman a little wave that only earned him a scowl.  “Heather?”

She didn’t seem to care for what he had to say and rounded on Astrid who still wasn’t recognizing who was standing before her.  “What is he doing here?  I thought we had a deal; I don’t bring my brother over and you don’t bring him over without talking with each other first.”

“Heather, it was a spur of the moment thing.  You’re never here on Thursday nights, I didn’t think you would mind if he left by the time you got back.”

“Well, that didn’t happen.”

“Come on, Heather, don’t be like that.  Hiccup’s a good guy, if you just took the time to get to know him.”

“I already know all I need to know about him,” Heather’s confession had Astrid opening her mouth only for it to slam shut as her eyes widened in recognition.

Hiccup stalled there.  “Wait, Heather, do you remember?  How are you even here?  We thought you were gone.”

“What’s it to you, Haddock?” the sharpness of her words had Hiccup reeling.

Astrid took a step forward, really looking at her friend—her best friend she hadn’t seen in too many lifetimes—for the first time. “If you remember, why haven’t you said anything?”

“Why should I?  I want nothing to do with him.  Not after what he”—a finger was jabbed in Hiccup’s direction— “did to Jack.”

Astrid bristled.  “Hiccup hasn’t done anything to Jack.  He hasn’t shown his face to any of us in several cycles.”

“And do you know why we haven’t seen him?” Heather shot back. “Go on, Haddock, tell her why Jack hasn’t come looking for us.”

“Heather,”

“Tell her, Haddock or I will.”

“I don’t know what you think you remember, but I’m sure if we sit down and talk it out, we can find where the strings have crossed,” Hiccup tried to coax the two shieldmaidens down.

“Snotlout was there!  He saw everything!”

“I don’t’ know what Snotlout think he saw before died...”

“He didn’t die, he was turned to stone, there’s a difference.  The spell—”

“—That Jack casted!” Hiccup roared, slamming his fist into the wall.  “You want me to tell you what happened that night? Fine!  I’ll tell you!  Jack turned on us, he showed his true colors and fought alongside Grimmel, he fought against us.  He managed to hit Snotlout with his spell, I was lucky to get away. Wasn’t lucky enough to get away from Grimmel’s little Deathgrippers though.  They poisoned me.  That’s how I died.”

“Fuck you Haddock.  Snotlout could see everything, but you wouldn’t know that would you?  He tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen.  That spell was to save your fucking life.  If you hadn’t of dodged, the Deathgripper’s strike would have struck stone, not skin.”

“How would you know that anyways?  Snotlout hasn’t been reincarnated since then. He’s dead!” Hiccup shot back, his anger clearly rising at the mention of his cousin.  A cousin he hadn’t had since that fateful cycle.

“Oh really?” Heather pulled out her phone and it play on a voicemail.  The speakers blared as a voice that shouldn’t have been there came out of the little piece of technology.

“Hey babe, sorry I can't make it to our Thursday Night Date Night, but something came up.  I’ll make it up to you later.  I swear or my name isn’t Snotlout...well, technically, it isn’t this time around but I’m not going by Samuel.  Who in their right mind would go with the name Samuel when Snotlout is clearly superior in everyway?  Love ya Babe.”

Heather shot a sneer towards Hiccup. “Yeah, dead.  Though I can assure you, my respected for you is definitely deader than Snotlout after what you did to Jack. You told him you wished you never met a demon like him, that he was the reason we were cursed.  News flash, Haddock, he didn’t.  You did! You and your shoddy Bidding Spell.  You bound him to you and those closest to you—to Jack—were drawn into the spell because you didn’t close it.  But by denouncing him, you broke the spell.  Let eons worth of accumulated magic free with no thought of the consequences, the backlash should have eradicated our souls from existence.  Do you understand how much you fucked up?  Jack, after everything you said to him, everything you did, took that burden on himself.  It nearly killed him.”

“Good.”

“You would sentence him to Hell?”

“It’s where a demon like him belongs.  He turned on us.  He fought at Grimmel’s side.”

“God do you even hear yourself?  Yeah, Jack isn’t a demon!  He’s a cambion.”

“The Offspring of the Daughter of Man and the Son of the Fallen, yeah I know.  He told me so himself, right before he brought my father back to life.”

“Really, you know?  So you also know that cambions don’t have the power to bring back the dead?  Those that do, the necromancers, are forever stained by the dark magic and I’ve been around Jack enough to know he doesn’t have such a stain.  He didn’t bring back your father, Haddock.  He made a deal.  In the time it took for him to snap his fingers and return you to Berk, he’d spent a year on the outskirts of Hell trying to get someone to raise the dead for you.  He managed, but he would owe a boon to the demon who agreed.

“He owed a boon to Grimmel, for you.  That night, Grimmel called on the boon and Jack couldn’t refuse.  Yes, he fought by Grimmel’s side, but not against us. He did everything he could to keep us alive and kept your father’s soul safe.”

“Excuse me, what does my father have to do with it?”

“Because it was your father’s soul that Jack bargained for and if he reneged on the deal, then Stoick soul would be forfeit to Grimmel for all eternity.

“If that’s true, why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because, he tried, Snotlout tired.  You just wouldn’t listen.  You called him your curse.”

[spikemelikeavolleyball]

iii : rules ( part two ) ( high low )

high low ; miya atsumu x fem! reader

i. ii. iii. iv. v. [masterlist.]

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

[name] [surname] was off limits--

except miya atsumu finds himself

flirting with danger and becoming

rapidly addicted to the sparks between

them.

what osamu doesn’t know won’t

kill him. will it?

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

 tags; mafia au, sexual content,

violence, strong  language, blood,

gore.

this chapter: alcohol,

miya atsumu (because he needs his

own warning label), suggestive content,

some violence.

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

three ; rules ( part two )

    Your arrival in Japan, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed. While your guard detail--see “glorified babysitters”--had reassured you that the press wouldn’t have a chance to corner you into an interview, there was still some concern over people seeing you and hurting people in order to get close to you. It had happened once, before, the hour predating your first official collaboration with Wisteria. Your guard had gotten a black eye so awful that it had lasted for weeks. He had gotten a very hefty bonus for the trouble, though.

    “I should have worn something more incognito,” you mumbled to yourself. The private jet’s bathroom mirror was floor length, so you had a good idea of how your outfit looked and what kind of presence it would give off. Most of the time, you would wear something cute or flashy to fuel your fan club’s activity--you were a sucker and liked browsing through their twitter feed on a private account--but today you weren’t feeling the energy for it. “I forgot I even had these.”

    After rummaging around in your bags for something that was comfortable, and not sky high heels or chiffon or silk or outrageously expensive t-shirts and jeans, you had come across a pair of Osamu’s old Inarizaki High volleyball sweatpants. You hadn’t even thought twice about throwing them on and rolling the ankles up to suit your height, even though the name printed on one leg and the jersey number on the other would have your fans tracking him down like the bloodhounds they were. You matched them with a black hoodie, socks, and a mask to hide the irritation underneath your nose, but even then you still stood out like a sore thumb.

    It had to be the way you stood, you thought, adjusting your stance to seem more lazy and laid back.

    It didn’t work.

    With a sigh, you exited the bathroom and found that your things had already been unloaded for you by your glorified babysitters. All that was left was your purse, which you snatched up and hooked over your shoulder, and your phone, which you glanced at and shoved into your pocket. It sunk down so far in the sweatpants pocket that you felt it bounce against the side of your thigh as you walked.

    “Nice pants,” one of your guards teased, poking fun at the name printed on the leg. “You sure you don’t want to change them and avoid the media scrutiny?”

    “I’m too tired to go back and find something else,” you hummed. One of the guards--there were three in total, at the request of Ushijima-san herself--held out a hand and helped you down the flight of stairs that were a bit too steep for your jetlagged brain to walk down in confidence. “What are we driving in today, my good men?”

    “Might I suggest the classic Phantom?” one of them joked, falling into formation when you began walking down the flight portal. “Just kidding. We’re taking the Audi today, since you want to be low profile this afternoon.”

    “Good.” You had missed riding around in your trusty Audi; not that a Ferrari or Lamborghini was something to scoff at, but you missed the frugal lifestyle you had when you were in highschool. Once your career took off, you rarely struggled for anything and college had been a breeze. Though, you had no clue what you were going to do with a nuclear engineering degree now that your modeling gig paid more than that ever would. “Make a stop for some cheap drug store coffee and we’re all set.”

    “I’ll add it to the memo.”

    Before you could open your mouth once more and ask if you could stop by a nearby pastry shop and stuff yourself full of crepes and cake, you entered the main terminal and were immediately bombarded by cameras flashing and people yelling.

    “[Name]-sama! We love you!”

    “I LOVE YOU!”

    “What do you have to say about Wisteria’s latest lingerie line? Do you think these styles should be changed to reflect Japanese standards?”

    “[Name]! What are your thoughts on the funding cuts to the women’s centers all around the world?”

    That last one caught your attention. You continued to smile behind your mask and wave, shoving a pair of sunglasses over your eyes, and mimed blowing kisses to the adorable teenage girls holding posters that had ‘you’re my idol’ scrawled over the front. You spotted Kuroo and Sayaka standing somewhere near the back, mostly due to Kuroo’s giant rooster hair, and blew double handed kisses to them as well, although the fanboys in the front thought it was for them and nearly fainted on the spot.

    You watched them sway with a chuckle, then watched Sayaka grab the kisses and press them to her heart with a goofy wink.

    “Hey, Julio?” You didn’t look at the guard as you made your way to the revolving doors in front, watching Kuroo and Sayaka make their way outside to where your car had been parked out of view. “Remind me to send a donation to that women's wayhouse charity by the end of today.”

    “Isn’t that a job for your assistant?”

    “Nope. I fired her.” You shrugged when the guard fixed you with a bewildered look. “What? She stole my nice Louboutins. And had a gangbang in my house in Calabasas, but we don’t talk about that incident.”

    The cleaning crew you had send to bleach down that place had cost you a pretty penny--but Daishou had been kind enough to text you the number of his go-to cleaners (you didn’t ask why, nor did you want to know, but you had an inkling) and had requested that you send him the number of one of your cute co-workers as payment. Needless to say, you had, and that girl had come to work brighter than a lightbulb on Christmas, unusually chirpy and walking just a little bit funny. Your text to Daishou later that day had been along the lines of,’Dear God, Daishou, what did you do, break the poor girl’s hips?’

    His reply had been typical of him. ‘It wasn’t anything she didn’t ask for ;)’

    Your face of disgust had been timed perfectly. You had been sitting outside, eating a parfait--vegan, of course, due to your diet that you planned to ignore in favor of eating all of the meat you could get your hands on (pun might not be intended)--right in front of someone taking candid shots of you for a drama magazine. Your face had been plastered all over Twitter, with some people going as far as to send hate to the nice place you had gotten your dessert from. You had nipped that little situation in the bud, clarifying it was a text that made you make that face and not the dessert, although you didn’t help things when you had been forced to eat a green tea flavored one to prove that you weren’t lying.

    The forced smile you had made to the starstruck owners had been enough to sear it into your memory for eternity.

    “[Name]!” Sayaka’s high pitched exclamation knocked you out of your fantasies of parfaits and coffee. She nearly knocked you down with a hug strong enough to make your spine pop. “I missed you so much! You have to tell me how Moscow was! Did you have a good time? And oh my gosh, you  just have to see Osamu’s shop, it looks amazing!”

    You smiled guiltily at her at that last part, but didn’t say a word. Osamu had asked you to pick out the tiling and countertops, unwilling to trust his own sense of color theory--it was really just awful--and even the tables, which you discreetly paid for and blew off as an anonymous donation. He knew it was you, of course, because who had enough money to pay for genuine marble tables, but he had been kind enough not to say it to your face. Yet.

    “One thing at a time, Sayaka,” you laughed, returning her hug with gusto. You then moved on to Kuroo, who wrapped an arm around your neck and scrubbed his knuckles into your once perfectly curled hair. “Damn it, Kuroo! What was that for? I just wanted a hug!”

    The former Nekoma captain fixed you with a mischievous grin. “That was for dropping twenty thousand dollars into our account without asking for permission.”

    Ah--another one of your random acts of generosity at three in the morning while slightly tipsy. You had Kuroo and Sayaka’s banking passwords and they had yours in case anything happened to them or you, especially with the connections the former Yakuza member had and still kept to this day. You had written them into your will, as well as Osamu, and your fortune would be split between the three of them if you died or wound up missing. Even the contract all of you signed was legally binding.

    “What can I say?” You shrugged when Sayaka looped an arm around your waist, tugging you to your Audi. “I saw that you’d been getting a little low and your college bills were running high. I decided to chip in, like the good friend I am. And no, you can’t give it back.”

    “You know I don’t like taking your money,” Sayaka whined. “I can make my own just fine.”

    You sent an accusing glance her way, followed by a glance to her stomach when Kuroo shook hands with one of your guards. She had the sense to look ashamed at not telling you, at least. “A waitress gig won’t take care of that. And while I’m sure Kuroo makes enough for both of you, I’d like to be a responsible woman and at least pay for your wedding.”

    From behind you, Kuroo laughed. “Who said we’re getting married?”

    “Yeah,” Sayaka said, her tone slightly dimmer than before. You patted her back in comfort and turned your head around to glare at Kuroo, who was only mildly taken aback by the ferocity--he only realized what he had said as you were collapsing into the backseat of your car, squeezing into the opposite window seat as your two friends followed.

    When neither of them opted to break the silence that had developed, you unlocked your phone and shot Osamu a quick text.

'Osamuuuu, what are you doing?'

    When he showed no sign of replying, you sighed and locked your phone again, turning your gaze to the couple sitting awkwardly beside you.

    “Hey, driver, can we stop by McDonalds?” You waved your hand towards the giant yellow ‘M’ down the street--which was also, coincidentally, packed with people. “I want something to eat.”

    “Yes ma’am,” he replied, switching lanes and jerking Sayaka into Kuroo. You grinned at him through the mirror and he did it again; you loved it when your guards pitched in on your plans. “Drive-thru?”

    “No, I think I’ll eat inside,” you winked, and his turn into the parking lot was rough enough to jostle all three of you. “Coffee and hot fudge sundaes, here I come!”

    By the time the guards signaled you that they were done arguing maybe an hour and a half later, you had--admittedly--stuffed yourself far too much on ice cream and piping hot syrup. It would require a harsh workout to get all of the calories off, which you knew Wakkun wouldn’t mind helping you out with since he had a game soon, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it as you popped a french fry into your mouth on the way out.

    “Are we done?” You asked, grinning at Kuroo and Sakura from between your guards. You could practically feel the stares from two men sitting at the outside tables, one of them on your legs and the other right on your face. “Then let’s get going. I need a nap before I can do anything else.”

    As you gave Sayaka and Kuroo their food--both of them grinning at you and nudging you playfully--you locked eyes with one of the men sitting at the table.

    And, unknowingly, you had just broken one of Osamu’s most important rules.

    You just didn’t know it yet.

[our-jensen-ackles-love]

Dancing In The Dark; 6.

Dean x Reader 

Summary: You made a mistake last night.. you went home with a married man. A man whom you had crushed on since your first day at work, a man who you knew had secrets, a man whose wife had invited you over to dinner time and time again. So how did the two of you end up in bed last night?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), swearing

Author’s Note: all mistakes are mine - wrote this being a little tired, so just be aware that it’s super un-beta’d. 

BUY ME A KO-FI    SERIES MASTERLIST   FEEDBACK

6.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, having some alcohol in your system gave you one of the best night's sleep you had in what felt like weeks. Now waking up and even thinking about facing the world, kind of, made you want to pick up the bottle and start the process all over again.

Kicking off the sheets you seemed to have gotten tangled in, you groaned feeling like your head weighed a million pounds. “Jesus fucking christ.”

“Well good morning to you too.”

You knew he’d be there, but still the sound of his deep voice seeping through the morning silence you had been so used to caught you by surprise. “Dammit Dean.”

By the time you had gotten completely untangled and found the strength to sit yourself up enough to look over at Dean, you were ready to drink a swimming pool. The man that made you feel like you needed to check into a mental hospital was perched in the corner of your room, sitting on the swivel chair that was usually always pushed into your little desk. “I found your aspirin - so there are two right next to you.”

Glancing at your night stand you found the two little white pills and two large bottles of water. You knew that most likely Dean had snuck out before you woke up to run to the corner store for that water, which kind of made you feel only a little bit guilty for how you handled last night.

Pinching your pills in between your fingers, you brought them to your lips avoiding staring at Dean for more than a split second. “So how much did I fuck up?”

“You didn’t fuck up at all,” he answered, cocking his head to the side. “If anything, I’m the one that needs to be apologizing to you.”

“For what? Bringing your wife with you for a night on the town.”

You may have been trying to keep your eyes off him, mainly because you didn’t know the details of how the night ended - again, but even you couldn’t miss the way he winched when you said the word ‘wife.’ “Just.. I need to say sorry for lot of things.”

Not liking the way he was shifting in his seat, you forced yourself to swing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m getting really tired of this vague thing we have going on here Winchester.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“No, I really don’t think you do.”

He was watching you closely as you stood up slowly and began rooting through one of your dresser drawers for some clean clothes to put on after the shower you had decided you would be taking in matter of minutes. Nothing was worse than waking up feeling like you need to scrub yourself clean of your sins and leftover mascara.

“I told Lisa I want a divorce.”

The tenison you had been carrying in your shoulders melted away. “You did?”

Dean’s gaze was still on you, trying to read your body language when he clicked his tongue. “Yeah. After I got you all tucked into bed, you muttered something in your sleep that really hit me.”

“Do I want to know?” You asked hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut as you turned to where he was sitting.

He let a smirk slip through his otherwise sober expression. “You told me that I felt like home.”

Was that what he felt like to you? Was that why you became a blubbering idiot whenever he was around? Because he felt like that one person you could be safe with, the one person that you always looked ahead to seeing. Coming home was always the one thing you looked forward to at the end of the day.

Dean shifted in his seat, still keeping his eyes still trained on you as you in turn stared at him questionably. “What does that have to do with you telling Lisa that you wanted a divorce?”

“Well,” he ran a hand over his face, looking more exhausted than he had in the last week. It made you question if he had actually gotten any sleep last night. “Honestly, I guess it really clicked to me that you can’t live in a broken home - the cracks will leak and the ceiling can cave in at any given time. Even if the foundation is uneven it can cause all kinds of irreversible damage.”

You got what he was saying, but still weren’t quite sure what it had to do with you and your drunken slip of honesty. “Okay?”

His face was looking at you, but his eyes seemed to be looking in the distance. “Something about the way you looked at me at the bar, it just made me ache. You may as well have just come over and sucker punched me in the gut. And watching you down those shots like water.. because of me.. well hurt even more.”

“So, again Winchester, what does this have to do with me?”

He shook his head and shifted his eyes to look at his hands. You followed his gaze and was stunned to see that a certain finger was lacking a piece of jewelry around it. “Because it you made me realize that I made a mistake. So, I told her at the bar that this wasn’t working anymore, which was shortly before I decided to take you home.”

You took a deep breath, not really quite sure what to say. “And that didn’t look suspicious to her?”

“She stormed off before I really got another word in edgewise. Of course, as I made my way over to you was when the bartender decided to cut you off and I decided to bring you home,” he stood up from the chair this time. “I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Dean -” you started, but you really didn’t know what to say. It was exactly what you wanted to hear, so why did your chest still feel so heavy?

The man before you just kind of gave you a lazy shrug before taking the remaining steps to get to where you were embarrassingly clutching a pair of clean panties. You didn’t miss the way he eyed the delicate piece of cloth in your hands before gently tugging them out of your grasp and tossing them onto the unmade bed. Something about the way he was looking at you made your stomach squeeze.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now,” he spoke softly, fingers interlacing with your right hand while his free one came to brush some of your bedhead away from your eyes. “Hell, this is a lot to just happen in a week, but there is something that I want you to know.”

You tone matched his as the warmth from his hands washed over your body. “What’s that?”

“I want to be with you, more than anything in the world, but you have to understand that while I’m going through all of this, we.. we can’t really be public.”

Nodding, you lifted your chin up to look at him squarely. “I’m aware of that.”

“And you would be okay with that?”

Your bottom lip wedged itself between your teeth as you silently thought through what he was asking of you. Your heart was singing at the admission of him wanting to be with you, but at the cost of everything being behind closed doors - well, that excited you and concerned you. “You.. you’d only be with me?”

Dean smirked down at you, bringing his thumb down to pull your lip away from its imprisonment. “I’d be all yours, baby girl.”

“What about your living situation?”

“I know Sid would let me crash on his couch.”

Now it was your turn to smirk at him, “Or we could just let people think that’s where you were staying.”

“Hm,” he gently pushed you backwards until you felt the cool wood of your dresser seeping through your shirt. “That might be dangerous.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that ‘danger’ was your middle name?”  

His tongue snaked its way out, making the heat pool at your center as it trace the plumpness of his lower lip. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Just when you started to answer, he pushed himself into you - his lips collided into yours, followed by his hips. You knew it hadn’t been that long since you had been with him in that way, but the way his body was feeling against your had you wanting to get all kinds of sweaty with him.

Like he was able to read your mind, Dean found a way to loop his fingers under the elastic of the panties you still had on - because at some point in the night you had found a way to wiggle out of your jeans, and yanked them down towards your knees.

When you went to make the move to unbuckle him, he paused. “No, no baby, right now I want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

The quietness of his voice and the way his eyes were boring into you while he spoke those words lit your skin on fire. Giving him a silent nod, he picked you up and carefully laid you on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he began a trail of kisses from your jaw, to between your  breast and down your shirt clad stomach until he was hovering just over the spot he had just exposed.

Dean paused, using the moment to glance up at your in what you took as his way of asking for your approval to which you let out a soft moan at the anticipation of it all.

“You’re such a tease,” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you that shit eating smirk of his before his tongue made its appearance once more before it found its way into your folds, teasing you briefly by lapping at your core. The sudden change had you already writhing beneath him until he pulled back allowing himself to nip at your clit gently, sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuuuuck.”

That seemed to get him going as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching up direction and keeping you on your toes. The curse words that were escaping you certainly weren’t what Dean was used to hearing from those pretty little lips of yours, but he couldn’t get enough. The way you squirmed under his tongue was making it harder to keep himself contained in his jeans. Needing to feel just how wet you were, you were surprised when he slid a single finger inside of you, both of you groaning at how good it felt.

His lips broke away for your pulsating core causing you to groan. “Baby girl, your making it really hard not to take you right now.”

Your grip on the pillow above your head loosened to trail down and pick him up by the chin, forcing him to look at your while you spoke, “Then take me Winchester. I’m all yours.”

“Damn right you are,” he agreed, sliding himself up so that he was on his knees and yanking off his belt and slipping his jeans down just enough to pull out his thick length. He gave it a two long strokes as he stared at your half naked body below him, your wetness pooling on the sheets. “You know how I know that?”

“How?”

He lowered himself down so that he was waiting at your entrance, another glance to make sure you were comfortable with what he was doing before it was followed by the tease of him using the tip of his cock to rub where you were most sensitive; making you ache for him even more.  

Without much warning, he pushed his full length into you, both of you crying out at the sudden pleasure. “Because there is no other place that I would rather be.”

Divorce, mistakes, secrets - all of that was out the window as you both got lost in each other. Lips kissed every inch of skin that they could touch, his teeth nip at the skin just above your collarbone, your bodies molded into each other so well that it was almost as if your were two puzzle pieces that just needed to be jammed into place; over and over and over again.

Until you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk for at least a week.

With one final thrust, Dean pulled himself out of you quickly while stroking himself at the speed in which he had been going before moving his hips to cover the top of your thigh with his warm release. When he had been able to get a solid breath in, he looked down at his handy work splayed out on the woman who was way too good for him.

“How about I join you for that shower?”

FOREVERS: @spnwoman @dramione-winchester-mccall @anotherwaywardsister @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @xalgaliareptx @shayrey @applepielyf @winchesterhound @yourvoiceislikearose @chocolateturtlepeanutopera @alexwinchester23 @emilyshurley @earthtokace @hobby27 @pisces-cutie @babykalika2001 @dean-winchesters-bacon @sweetiepie-dean @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @cheerxupxbuttercupx @itssmallerontheoutside-13​ @aeonian-forever @mirandaaustin93 @queenslandlover-93 @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @gh0stgurl @closetspngirl @waywardrose13 @fuck-dylanobrien @lizzietheizzie

DINTD: @deansyahtzee @donnaintx @me-han10 @maddiepants @jessieray98 @deanna-s-winchester @team-free-winchester @missbosstown @destielhoneybee @reginaphalange2403

[tenroseforeverandever]

O’ Christmas Tree - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1; CHAPTER 2

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Mrs. McGrath (original character); Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; Baby TARDIS

Rated: Teen

Tags: Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Love, Romance, Christmas Tree, House-Hunting, Pete’s World

Summary: The Doctor just wants to provide Rose with a glorious Christmas tree, one worthy of her, but things don’t quite work out the way he would like.

Chapter Summary: After a cheerful evening of Christmas shopping, Rose comes home to her building to find a trail of debris and damage leading to her flat, where her angry landlady is beating on the door.

Notes: A gift for @hanluvr

Written for @hanluvr​ as part of the Fangirlia Secret Santa, using the prompt: House-hunting (with plenty of room for a tree!) for Tentoo x Rose while the TARDIS is growing. I also used the 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 prompts: Tree, shopping, caroling (loosely!) from @doctorroseprompts

Darling, I hope you enjoy. The rest is yet to come, but my muse has been giving me fits and been very stubborn about this fic. The scaffold is in place, but the bricks and mortar are having trouble sticking together in just the way I would like. As a result, I’ve decided to post in several smaller chapters, so I could get something to you before the December 31st deadline. Merry Christmas, luv! I think the two of us have been down this road before... more than once! LOL

Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula. You’re always there when I need you. (((hugs)))

Part of my These Two Hearts series

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon; Pillowfort

CHAPTER 1

Rose danced along the pavement, singing Christmas carols to herself. Shopping bags swung from her mittened hands and the snow crunched merrily under her feet. Soft snowflakes drifted down around her, glistening in the streetlights.

All was right with the world.

In just a few days she would be celebrating Christmas with the love of her life, their first Christmas as a married couple. Well, married in traditional human terms. She and the Doctor had been bonded in Time Lord fashion, telepathically linked, since before Rose had first been trapped in Pete’s World. Their bond had been duplicated in her part-human Doctor, along with all the original Doctor’s memories and thoughts.

Last Christmas had been full of excitement and celebration. The Doctor had surprised Rose by proposing to her on Christmas morning. Her mum and Pete had been aware of the Doctor’s intentions for several weeks, as he had asked for their blessing. In true Jackie Tyler fashion, her mum had decided to transform her annual New Year’s Gala into a huge engagement party, complete with an official announcement to the press. “Bleedin’ paps. They’re like vultures, they are,” Jackie had reasoned. “They’ll stop at nothin’ for a story. Best nip it in the bud and not let rumours get started. And believe me, once they see that ring of yours, there’ll be nothin’ but rumours and gossip.”

From that moment on, even after their wedding in September, Rose and the Doctor’s lives had been exhausting as they tried to evade the relentless press. Pete had been forced to establish a top-level security perimeter in the neighborhood around their flat for a short time until the Doctor could cobble together some simple perception filters for him and Rose to wear everywhere outside of home, Torchwood, and official functions.  They hated the restrictions but recognized the filters were a necessary evil; wearing them meant Rose and the Doctor could live their lives with relative normalcy, like making it possible for them to do things like going Christmas shopping after work and walking home in the snow, singing carols.

“…I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come tru-ue. All I want… for Christmas…” The notes of the cheerful Christmas tune died on Rose’s tongue as she crossed the street and approached their flat. The snow on the pavement in front of their building looked as though it had had something large dragged through it, and pine needles and twigs were scattered everywhere. The trail continued up the front steps and in through the front door.

Rose’s heart sank. All was not right with the world.

As she turned her key in the lock and stepped into the little lobby, she winced at the fresh gouges on the doorjamb and door, and at the porch lamp dangling by its wires. She opened her bond with the Doctor, probing along it gently to assess his mood. A jolt of panic returned to her along their connection, and at precisely the same time, she heard the sound of a fist pounding on a door and the angry shouts of their landlady, Mrs. McGrath, from somewhere a few floors above. She didn’t doubt for a moment whose door Mrs. McGrath was beating on…

Rose followed the path of debris, damage, and wet patches of melted snow down the hall and up the stairs, all the way to the third floor (the top floor) where the flat she shared with the Doctor was situated.

Sure enough, old Mrs. McGrath was standing in front of their door, hands on her hips. “Doctor! I know you’re in there, skulkin’!” she barked in her light, Scottish brogue. “I’ve had it with ya, ya great dunderheid! This is the last straw; do ya hear me?” She pummelled her fist against the door again. “Och, I ought ta skelp ya!”

“Mrs. McGrath! Mrs. McGrath!” Rose switched off her perception filter as she rushed toward the enraged elderly woman. She was tiny, but she was fierce, a force to be reckoned with. Her steel-grey hair was tied in a kerchief, and she wore a floral apron over a heavy dress that looked as though it had been made from repurposed curtains.

“Ya better be able to explain this! Ye’ll be payin' for all the repairs?”

Rose felt very small under her piercing blue gaze. She nodded, a sigh trickling over her lips. “Of course. As always. You never need to worry about that.”

“An’ I won’t be worryin’ about it ag’in! Yer oot! Evicted! As of right noo!”

“No! You can’t!”

“I most certainly can, and I will!”

Rose stood up tall and took a step toward the landlady. Might as well be assertive. At this point it can’t hurt… much. “On what grounds? Surely you need to give us warnin’s and such before you can evict us.”

Mrs. McGrath closed the distance between them further and shook her finger directly under Rose’s nose. “Don’t ye gimme yer cheek, Mrs. Noble.” (Rose didn’t miss the omission of the “Tyler” portion of her surname.) “I have a list as long as my arm of all the damage tha’ great wean of yers has caused in the two short years he’s lived here: explosions, electrical fires, water damage, strange odours, the broken countertop. And noo…” she gestured to the detritus covering the floor in front of their doorway, “…this!”

Rose tipped up her chin defiantly. “And we covered the cost of the repairs every time, but–”

“As well ye should’ve! And, jus’ so we understand one another, for your information, I have given him plenty of warnings, in writing. When that toaster caught fire last month, and we needed to evacuate the building, I told him it was yer last chance.”

“I never saw any warnings…” She and the Doctor were going to have words over this. What had he been thinking, not telling her something that important?

“Well, they were given, and I dinnae care who your faither is, it’s time ye flitted! Yer ta be gone by th’morra.”

“Tomorrow! That’s impossible, and, besides, it’s nearly Christmas!” Rose fought the tears prickling her eyes. “Please, Mrs. McGrath,” she grabbed the woman’s hand, squeezing gently, “please, can’t we talk this over. Come, have a cuppa. I made some Christmas biscuits, this morning…”

Mrs. McGrath stared stonily down at the hand Rose had wrapped around hers and huffed.

“Sorry…” Rose let go of Mrs. McGrath and fished her keys out of her pocket. They clinked together cheerfully in the awkward silence as she fumbled to unlock the door. “Please… just come in, yeah? I’m sure we can work this out.”

There was a muffled (manly) yelp from inside the flat as Rose swung the door open. She gaped at the sight before her, and rapidly shut the door again, blocking Mrs. McGrath’s view of the disaster within. She plastered a smile across her lips and turned to face the landlady. “On second thought, why don’t we–”

“Och, yer no gonna pull the wool over these auld eyes, lassie.” Mrs. McGrath’s expression was nothing short of triumphant. “I think I’d quite fancy a wee fly cup and a biscuit, after all. And, I hafta say,” she narrowed her shrewd eyes at Rose, “I’m deid keen on seein’ what yer hidin’ behind that door.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

The Sabotage

A few weeks/months back, someone asked me for a teacher!hayffie au which I couldn't write because no inspiration until yesterday. My secondary school chemistry teacher finally got married and i remember being a student in his class with my classmates matchmaking him with our English teacher so that inspired this one-shot.

This is a continuation of the teacher!hayffie I wrote previously - The Proposal. I think I might have written another but I can't remember what it's called.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: The Sabotage

Nestled just at the first corner of Main Street, the two buildings that made up the only high school in the small town stood imposingly. With school just having been reopened after two burst pipes flooded the school a week ago, the students were behaving rowdily. Not meeting their friends for a week meant that they had a week’s worth of things to catch up on.

Frankly, Haymitch was exhausted and it was only two hours into school. He wished another pipe would burst so he would have another week of respite.

“Did you see Ms. Trinket today?”

At that, Haymitch glanced over his shoulder to see Finnick grinning at him from where he sat at the back of the classroom. Next to him, Annie Cresta was carefully arranging her textbooks and writing materials.

“No,” he answered, turning his attention back to the whiteboard. “Wore something clownish again, did she?”

Somewhere in his class, a snicker rang out. Johanna, he put sound to name.

“She looks exquisite,” Finnick said. “I’m mesmerised.”

He turned just in time to see Johanna roll her eyes at the boy. “You’re disgusting,” she shot at her best friend.

Haymitch remembered being at their age, and having eyes for one or two of his female teachers; a harmless crush which made coming to school a little bit more interesting.

Still, the class’ obsession – not just Finnick’s – with Ms. Effie Trinket had been a source of consternation for him since she joined as a full-time permanent staff nearly a year ago. He found her difficult, stubborn and downright obnoxious, and he would rather much she had stick to teaching one of those elite schools in the City. It would have suited her better than here.

“Enough about her,” Haymitch grumbled, intending to start his lesson as soon as possible. “Alright so… Binomial expansions… Did the exercise I gave – “

“She made us study Sophocles’ works,” Katniss chimed in, clearly disgruntled.

He clenched his jaws, annoyed. But, he couldn’t blame the girl. Katniss preferred the outdoors and having to suffer through a class of literature with the eccentric teacher sporting an odd accent must have been torturous for the girl. Still, he had no regrets tracking the girl down after she was absent from school for two months straight and ensuring that she attended every day. Katniss was work in progress.

“The motherfucker,” Johanna nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” Haymitch warned. He might have some reservations where Effie Trinket was concern but he still wouldn’t stand for such disrespect from students toward another member of the teaching profession. “Watch it or I’ll have you in detention for calling a teacher names.”

“What?” Johanna said in an outraged. “The protagonist fucks his mother, like literally. You should read it.”

Haymitch blinked, surprised.

“What in hell is she teaching you guys? That even part of the syllable?”

“Don’t know,” Finnick shrugged and then the grin split across his face yet again. “Now, why don’t you ask her about it?”

He narrowed his eyes. Unless he was mistaken, his students are purportedly being meddlesome.

“Why don’t you?” Peeta agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

This wasn’t the first time or the isolated incident when his students, especially Finnick and Peeta, had tried to get him to have some form of conversation or contact with their literature teacher.

It was as if they could sense he was going out of his way to avoid her. He was. He was really trying to avoid her as much as he could after the incident in the library, and then again at his place, and again in his car, and the music room they found themselves in two days later, not to mention that time when he had been on his knees eating her out in the teacher’s lounge after school ended. It was mortifying how easily anyone could have walked in on them and the thrill had been addictive.

She had been so good, one of the best he had, not that there were many and truly, the dirty things she could do with her mouth should be outlawed especially given her image as the rule-abiding, strict teacher that she was. The only problem with sex as good as hers and as addictive as her was that he had felt himself craving her at every turn and entertaining inappropriate thoughts at unfortunate times. The last straw was when he had very nearly asked if she could just stay in bed instead of leaving once the deed was done. It sent him into a panic so naturally, he firmly told her that he was not interested – the first lie he ever told to her.

She had not taken that well at first but came around a week or two later to tell him, of course, Mr. Abernathy, you’re absolutely right. We’re teachers and we should be professional about it. It wouldn’t do to mix work with pleasure, wouldn’t do at all. What would the students say if, god forbid, rumours about us started floating around. Better to nip it in the bud. You had the right idea, of course.

So that was that.

XxX

“Binomial expansion is the worst,” Katniss muttered loudly after a nudge in the rib from Peeta.

“What is that, dear?”

Effie watched the students taking their seats in the classroom which she had painstakingly decorated and was profoundly proud of. If memory served her right, they should have just finished a class with Haymitch.

“Oh, Katniss is just upset because Mr. Abernathy has assigned us four pages of binomial expansion problems to work through the weekend. He’s torturing us,” Finnick sighed dramatically. “He doesn’t understand that some of us have work on the weekend. Lifeguard duties – you know about that, don’t you, Miss Trinket? You must have seen me at the beach?”

“Ah, Mr. Odair, I am sure your mathematics teacher just wants the best for you. The exams are not far off, only a few months away,” Effie placated.

“Yeah, months and you don’t give us that much homework,” Johanna pointed out. “A reading here and there, and that’s it.”

“Readings which you failed to do on more than one occasion.”

“Because he gave us so much homework,” Johanna argued. “I gotta do his so I don’t have time to do yours, and if I don’t do his work, he’ll send me to detention.”

“Would you be able to please ask him nicely to have mercy on us?” Peeta requested. He slid a box of cheesecake flavoured muffins in her direction. “These are your favourite, right?”

She tried not to have favourites but Peeta Mellark had always been sweet on her. She came across his family’s bakery on the second week that she moved into town and she swore that no other bakery had cheesetarts and muffins as delicious as theirs.

“Now, now, Mr. Mellark, I really do not want to be stepping on his toes. His class, his discretion but I do see Ms. Mason’s point. It is certainly not fair that he takes up all your time. You do need time to review my lessons.”

“Exactly,” Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Please talk to him. He has a free period right after our English class, Ms. Trinket.”

XxX

With the bell having just rung out to signal the end of school day, the hallway was packed with students. She walked briskly, pausing only to tap a boy on his shoulder for making out with his girlfriend by the drinking fountain.

By the time she reached the teacher’s lounge, she was quite glad to have made it through students jostling each other in the hallway and talking loudly to be heard in the crowd.

Opening the door to the place, she saw exactly the person she was looking for. He raised his head at the creaking of the door, not at all expecting her to be the one entering.

He stood on his feet the moment she marched in his direction, sensing that whatever this was, it was not going to be good.

“What is this I hear about you giving abnormally heavy homework to the students?

He frowned, trying hard but failing to keep his eyes from wandering down to take in the sight of her endless legs in that pair of 4-inch heels.

“What are you on about?”

“My students are saying that they had little to no time to prepare for my lessons because they were consumed with trying to solve your problems.”

“Yeah, so?” he asked. “Mathematics is more important than learning ‘bout a character who – hold on, what was it the kids said again? – oh right, fucks his mother.”

She sputtered. Out of all the things the students picked up from that play…. Did she not make her point clear to them during lessons?

“That is not the take away from that.”

“Pray tell what is?” he sneered.

“Are you blatantly trying to sabotage my lessons?”

“Sophocles coming out for this term’s exams?” he asked. “Don’t think so. I checked with the head of your English Department.”

“You did what? For what purpose?”

“My kids will be better off knowing how to – “

“Solve algebra? I’ve left school for nearly two decades and not once have I ever found myself in a situation where algebra was needed nor did I ever found the need to plot sine, cosine or tangent on graph paper!”

His sneer only deepened.

“That’s ‘cause you have no ambitions and you’re stuck in a dead end school, and the only thing you’re good at is flaunting your asset all over the school.”

“Assets which you ogle at every opportunity,” she smartly and haughtily reminded him.

He internally cursed his own weakness. She was hot and beautiful, and despite his sneering at her teaching literature, he actually liked listening to her reading off passages. Not that she had ever read it to him, per se, but he had had classes next to her classroom and the walls were not soundproof.

“You want me,” she took a bold step forward. “You are not not interested as you so claim to be.”

Effie scoffed when he stood frozen where he was, his gazing falling to her lips, back to her eyes, and then down towards the neckline of her blouse.

“Oh, you’re very much interested, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Stop this,” he gritted his teeth.

His fingers twitch at his sides. It would be so easy to grab her by the waist, settle her on his desk right now, shove the skirt up and out of the way and fuck her. It would be so easy, and it was very tempting. He could recall with so much clarity what it felt like to be wrapped in her warmth, to slide in and out of her and the taste of her on his lips. His mouth felt parched all of a sudden.

“You stop trying to railroad my lessons and perhaps, I will ensure that my skirt is a little less tight so you will not be tempted,” she whispered, the nail of her index finger raking slightly on the exposed skin on his chest.

He hissed because that was unfair.

“Deal,” he said through gritted teeth. ���Dress like a nun tomorrow.”

“Was not what I said,” she laughed. “And truly, even if were to dress more modestly than I already have, do not tell me you don’t remember what we did there.”

Her gaze strayed to her desk. He did not need the reminder of what they had done there but it was too late. The memories assaulted his mind and he forced himself to sit down before she could see the bulge growing in his pants.

He was a lost cause when it came to her.

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Waking up at 6:00 in the morning is still a thing that comes way too naturally for Jesus.  He hasn’t really let himself think about how hard traveling might be.  But he wakes up on edge and stows his yellow fleece in his backpack, trying not to think of another morning three years ago.

Then, he’d had to do everything like usual. Jesus couldn’t let Him suspect anything.  Couldn’t let Him know that Jesus was really thinking about getting away.  Planning it.  That morning (and every morning he’d had access to an alarm clock) Jesus had gotten up at 6:00.  That Last Day, he had made sure his backpack had everything he wanted to take with him, but nothing that would make Him think Jesus was trying something.

Because of this, the minute Jesus sees the backpack, he gets a feeling in his gut.  Hypervigilance.  He kinda wishes they could change their minds and stay home, like he was thinking they would.  The luggage situation alone has been brutal.  He knows the minute he goes downstairs all the bags are just gonna be sitting there.  Perfect size for little boys to get hidden inside when an asshole steals them or worse.  (It’s why he couldn’t stand the sight of his little sis in one, even if she was just playing.)

Jesus showers because he’s not sure about the shower situation at Grandpa’s cabin.  He can hear everybody whining outside the door about him taking up all their time.  They have to be out the door by 6:30.  So Jesus tries to hurry.  But in the end, they are still rushing.  He hates rushing.  It makes him feel like his feet are gonna be yanked out from under him.  Like he might get killed.  It’s terrible.

But Jesus knows his family doesn’t have time for triggers this morning, so he shoves all his big reactions down deep.  Forces himself to keep a calm demeanor.  He gets in the car with Mama, since she’s the calmer driver, and Callie and Mariana are in there, too.  (Mom’s in the other car with Brandon, Jude and Frankie.)

He swallows.  He left the house without eating breakfast.  Just like Then.  Jesus takes a deep breath and locks down that thought, too.  He’s gone way longer without food.  Without water.  This is okay.  Moms love him and they make sure all of them can eat.  It just doesn’t feel like a sure thing right now.

Jesus hangs onto his backpack, which he’s got on so the straps are behind his shoulders, and the pack part is in front.  Mari and Callie are sleeping.  Jesus can never sleep in cars.  He looks out the window.  Mama’s tense about everything being last-minute and she keeps losing Mom, who stops a bunch.  (Frankie has to pee.  They need breakfast.)

Even though it’s nowhere near the ideal situation Jesus needs it to be, he accepts the breakfast sandwich and makes himself eat it, knowing it would be worse not to eat anything at all than to eat something, even if it reminds him, in every single way, of being There.

The crinkling of the wrappers fries Jesus’s nerves.  He stares at the napkin he got handed with the sandwich.  Still remembers how one of those felt in his mouth.  How it made him gag.  How he bit The Hand that did it.  How he got knocked out.

“Aren’t we almost there?” he asks after half an hour.  He knows they’re headed to an airport (part of Grandma’s gift was plane tickets), but they have to be almost there.

“LAX is a ways away yet, bud.”

LAX.  They’re going to LA?  The same LA where he hid in plain sight for four years of his life?  The same LA where he went through actual hell?  Did Moms mention this, or is he just too dumb to connect the dots - to see the obvious?

“Okay,” he says, even though nothing is okay right now.

Jesus can feel himself getting a little more distant.  This time, he doesn’t try to stop it. He can’t make this damn drive again.  It’s too much.  He wants to go to sleep to cope but sleep has never been easy for him, and definitely not sleep in a car.  So he zones out, staring out the window.

This is really gonna suck.

Deerwood, Minnesota

Pearl hates crying because it makes her feel weak, but she can’t stop.  The idea of her safe space being invaded by people she doesn’t know has her emotionally wrecked.  If she can’t even trust people she does know, how is she gonna deal with eight strangers?  

She’s tried avoiding Gracie, but Gracie won’t have it and keeps pressing her nose into Pearl’s hand.  Even though Pearl’s wrapped around herself on the couch - knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them - Gracie’s on the couch beside her.  She’s allowed to do whatever necessary so Pearl can’t completely isolate while she has her feelings, and Gracie takes that seriously.  Keeps licking Pearl’s face.

“Yeah, I love you…” Pearl manages.  “I just need you to stop right now, okay?  Stop!”

Her hands are shaking uncontrollably, and Gracie nips at them.  

Pearl’s off the couch, pacing, tears rolling down her face.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here!  I have no idea who these people even are!  I haven’t seen Stef since I was fourteen years old and even then she was years ahead of me, married with a baby and now she has a wife!  And six thousand children!”

Gracie barks lightly.

Pearl turns abruptly to face her: “I know!”

She keeps pacing, her crying veering toward gross uncontrollable levels, when Gracie snags her sleeve.  Leads her over to the corner where a fiber optic curtain hangs, decorated with purple LED lights.  If she turns them on, Pearl can stand it dark, because the purple shows brighter.  Behind the curtain is a swing, which offers pressure in a way that can calm her down when nothing else can.  Gracie knows this, and she knows it’s a good idea to get Pearl here before her crying jag makes her sick.

Unsteadily, she switches on the lights for the curtain and turns the rest out.  Gets in the swing, and lets it hold her.  Lets it sway.  It is calming.  When things get out of control, it’s easy to lose track of things that help, but that’s why she has Gracie.

Pearl breathes deeply.  Lets herself swing for several minutes in total silence, mesmerized by the purple lights.  It does the job - distracting her from her panic.  She still has to walk Gracie (has the whole day to get through), but it’s starting to seem a bit more manageable.

“Thanks, girl,” she calls softly.

Gracie sticks her head through the curtain and licks Pearl’s face.

LAX

They get to LAX, and Jesus is pretty sure Moms don’t have a clue what this is doing to him.  The sibs (even Mariana) are either tired or excited about the idea of a last-minute trip.  Whatever the case, nobody’s first thought is him.

He wishes he’d thought to bring sunglasses or a hat.  If he’s gonna be recognized anywhere, it feels like it would definitely happen at the scene of the crime, so to speak.  No, he hadn’t ever gone to the airport Then, but this is as close as he’s come in years to being back.

They have to head through security which means he has to take his shoes off.  His sweatshirt, too.  While Moms talk everybody through this, it’s something Jesus needs much more time to take in.  Taking clothing off is always a tricky thing for him.  Even shoes.  Even a hoodie.  Even if he has other clothes underneath.

But he goes to Level 3 (automatic) and just does it.  Everybody else is handling it without a problem, so he should, too.

Mom comes alongside him once he gets his clothes back.  “It’s possible, love, that you might be picked out for further security screening.”

“What’s that mean?”

When she explains, he nods.  He’s not okay with it, but he can’t control who does what to his body, his clothes, who puts him in a damn duffel bag as a nine year old.  (He’s surrounded by plenty of those.)

Turns out that he’s not picked out to get scanned and messed with by the officers.  He could have totally dealt with it.  He was kind of a pro at dealing with it.  But whatever.

Just before they board, someone motions him aside: “You’re going to have to dump that,” she says, motioning to his water.

“Sure,” he says, tossing the water in the trash (with all his backup water).  It makes him feel like he’s losing himself piece by piece.

On the plane, he’s surrounded by strangers, except him and Mom end up by each other.

“How are you, love?” she asks.

“You know...okay…”

“Yeah?  You’re handling this really well.  I’m proud of you.  If you need anything, you let me know, yes?”

He holds onto his bag, still worn around his front.  “I’m good,” he says.  

They don’t know that he used to wear his bag turned around whenever he was nervous about walking into That House when He was home unexpectedly.  That it felt like extra protection when he was totally unprotected.

Jesus is surrounded by strangers.  There’s a random dude on his other side that keeps talking to him the whole time.

“I can’t say why, you just look so familiar to me.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Jesus comments, falling back into lying so easily it chills him.

“Well, I can see why.  You just have this face, you know?  This head?  Looks like someone I’d swear I’ve seen somewhere before.  What’s your name?”

“Sir,” Stef butts in, before Jesus can let the name “Josh” slip from his lips.  “I’d appreciate it if you could leave my son alone.  We’ve had a long morning.”

The dude mutters a foul name under his breath and it makes Jesus want to punch him.  Mom has a hand on his, though, and is whispering, so he has to focus to hear her.

“Listen to me.  It is okay.  You’re with me.  As long as you’re with your family, you are safe.  You don’t owe that guy your name or anything else.  He can be as mad as he wants to be about it.  Yes?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to sit next to him…” Jesus whispers back.

“Face me, love.  Don’t even turn toward him.  I’ve got you.  Okay?”

He tries to do a word find but the letters are blurry.  Someone’s coughing and someone else’s baby’s crying.  Jesus doesn’t think his stress is showing but it must, because of what Mom says next.

“Headphones?” she cues gently, and Jesus breathes a sigh of relief.  He can block out the baby and the asshole all at once.  

He shuts his eyes, clutching Mom’s hand.

It’s after 1:30 in the afternoon when they touch down at MSP.  It’s disgusting and snowy.  Jesus puts his blanket around him, over his sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up but it does almost nothing.  The only one with close to a winter coat is Frankie, who has reached epic levels of crabbiness, due to being confined and sleep deprived for a long time.

Jesus knows the feeling.  He keeps the headphones on because of all the people.  Lets Mariana lead him through the crowd.  Focuses on staying right with her.

They rent two SUVs and he ends up in Mom’s this time with Brandon, Jude and Mariana (because she hasn’t let go of him.)

Jesus’s stomach growls loudly, but he doesn’t pay attention.  Barely registers them driving through a Taco Bell.  The food smells good and nasty at the same time.  Like grease.  There are more napkins.  Jesus inhales the three tacos like they’re nothing.

Feels a tap on his arm.  Jude.

“I was saying, I still think you could be a competitive eater or something,” he says like Jesus is a hero.

It’s been forever in the SUV and Jesus feels less and less here, and more and more There.

He shrugs and pulls his headphones back up.  Stares out the window at the snow forever.  It doesn’t look anything like the snow Isaac played in.  It’s just on the ground.  It’s cloudy out like the whole state is depressed.  

Jesus knows how it feels.

They stop and spend way too long shopping for winter coats at Target.  Jesus doesn’t go in.  Mariana can’t resist shopping, but Brandon’s over it so he stays behind with Jesus.  Jude goes in, though.  Brandon gets him to take his headphones off and listen to the latest cover of a song he did.

“It’s Something in the Water by Carrie Underwood.  Listen,” he says and sticks a CD in an old-school Discman.

“You just carry that around with you…?” Jesus asks.

“Well yeah in case we don’t get cell service or something and you wanted something to listen to.”

Jesus listens.  “Never heard of it,” he says, dismissive.

“Well, yeah, I was kinda counting on that,” Brandon says.

But Jesus plays it again and again and again,  It keeps him from sliding between the seats in the back of the SUV as they wait.  It’s not his favorite thing by Brandon, but it works.

Everybody finally comes back.  They hand him an brownish-orange and white jacket, and he puts it on right away.  It’s so warm.

When he feels somebody tap him again, he blinks.  They’re in front of a massive cabin.  It looks super nice, especially compared to the puny-looking one next door to it.  

“Jesus, why don’t you head inside?” Mom says, sparing him from seeing even more luggage, probably.  She hands him the keys.  “Figure out where you wanna be.  Take Frankie, yes?  Hold her hand.  It’s icy.”

“Come on, buddy,” he says, as Frankie clutches at one of Jesus’s hands with both of hers.  “Want a lift?”

“Yes,” she shivers.  “It feels like my leg and my arm got freezed…”

“I got you,” he lifts her high in his arms.  Settles her on his hip.  “What do you say we check out Grandpa’s cabin?”

“Is Grandpa here?” she asks.  He can actually see her breath.  It’s that cold.

“Nope.  He’s at home in California.  He’s just letting us borrow it for a while.”  Jesus grabs the keys from his pocket and sticks them in the lock.  It makes him feel so powerful.  So in control.  To be the first in a place.  To be in charge of unlocking it.  To know it will be empty when he does.

He pushes open the door, and it’s huge, and it’s empty.  The first thing he sees is a bear rug on the wall, and right next to it?  A deer head.

Oh hell no.  This is not gonna work.

[cherish--these--times]

He has always loved her.

I was always convinced of that fact. I was one of the very few Sherlolly shippers out there who firmly believed that it would become canon. I knew I could be wrong, of course. But I think this is it. Or rather as close to canon as we can get. To me, the Final Problem confirms all of the suspicions I’ve ever had as to why they wrote Sherlock and Molly the way they did. Take note that what follows is obviously with shipper goggles on. But still. 

Quite a long post under the cut.

You do count. I need you. You mattered the most. But why?

I like the idea of Sherlock realising that he loved Molly under duress. I see no issue with the idea at all. It makes perfect sense to me. This is Sherlock Holmes after all. Loving someone romantically has never been an option. He wouldn’t even consider asking himself the question. Add his life-long conviction taught by Mycroft that caring is a disadvantage, the repressed loss of Victor, the loss of Mary, the constant threat of losing John and the case of Irene Adler to the mix and that’s what you get: Being in love? Never.

But seriously, guys. He lost the battle against friendship long ago. What would be the point of that scene if not to prove that he lost the battle against love too? More of that in my other meta: Why I think Eurus knew Sherlock loved Molly.

Can Sherlock Holmes love? 

If yes, who? 

This has been the unknown in the equation for John Watson since the very first episode, at Angelo’s (girlfriend? boyfriend?). Same question asked to Mrs. Hudson in ASiB. And an itch he needs to scratch both in Sherlock’s mind (murderous ghost scene in TAB) and in real life (the chat before The Hug in TLD). In a story, if a question is asked more than once, you can safely assume that it will be addressed later on. Another example: both John and Mycroft wonder what his feelings regarding Irene Adler can possibly be at Speedy’s as well. 

And, coincidence (?) both are in the room when the phone call happens. Passive and silent. Spectators. An audience. Us. The scene is set to be a revelation for them as well as for the viewer regarding Sherlock’s heart. A forced and long overdue introspection into the one area left unexplored. Three minutes of unbearable tension leading to an outstanding emotional breakthrough. What could that be? That Sherlock loves Molly as a friend? Nothing new under the sun. 

John believes that loving someone will complete Sherlock as a human being. A notion Sherlock doesn’t understand (”That doesn’t even mean anything.”) And it would have stayed that way. If not for Eurus. If not for his psychopathic sister who spent ‘such a good day’ reconciling his brother with what he suspected he already was. Human. And a very emotional one at that. John thinks that Irene will be the one to do the trick. Then distances himself from the idea and figures that Sherlock needs his own Mary. Unconsciously describing this potential person to be exactly what Molly always has been. Right before they go out to meet her for cake. Right before TFP happens. The universe is rarely so lazy. 

If you consider the possibility that Sherlock discovers in the span of 3 minutes that he has loved Molly Hooper in that way all along, every single interaction clicks into place. 

- His civility and, dare I say, enthusiasm with her in the early days. He is awkward in his approach and sometimes even indelicate. But he is also tempting to be nice. (He even drinks her awful coffee and doesn’t say a word!!). Keep in mind that this is before John Watson started to do his magic. Sherlock is at the peak of his sociopathic behaviour. 

- His passive aggressive behaviour towards her regarding any potential suitor in the first two series (Jim in TGG, the mysterious recipient of her gift in ASiB, her lunch date in TRF). These scenes are, in fact, the only moments he becomes cruel. With Jim from IT, he even thinks he is being kind. Oh, and the line Molly says “He’s not gay. Why do you always spoil…?! He’s not.” suggests that Sherlock frequently deduces her dates to death.

- The idea of her not counting immediately sounds preposterous to him. Foreign. 

- He comes to her when things become really dangerous and dark. The fall is coming. He’s got Mycroft and the entirety of the British Secret Forces or whatever on his side. He knows what is to come. He could have done without her involvement, surely. But he needs someone he cares deeply about to know the truth about him. That he is not a fraud. And so, he goes to her. Tells her he needs her. With tears in his eyes. 

- His uncharacteristic tenderness on their crime-solving day.

- Why she’s the one who keeps him grounded and focused so he can fall on his back and prevent further damage when he gets shot. 

- Why he hides away at her place when he needs it.

- His behaviour towards Hooper in TAB. He never strikes back in the morgue. Holmes is deliberately unresponsive. Better than that, BC acted tongue-tied. Same for the Christening scene in TST. She chastises him, knocks him in the ribs, teases him. He never looks annoyed. You can conclude from that interaction alone that he is incredibly fond of her.

Not to mention that the writers kept Molly intentionally free from any other man (end of her engagement). Because yes, to execute the Sherlolly becomes canon plan, Molly also has to stay emotionally available until he is on the same page. I see no other reason for it. Seriously. From a feminist perspective, that doesn’t sound very good. But Mofftiss have been careful. Molly is in love but it’s not gratuitous and purposeless, nor is it what defines her as a person. They made sure she always stands her ground. She takes care of him but doesn’t take any of his shit. She is not a bloody doormat. Up until the very end, she has the upper hand: “You say it. Go on”.  Her love matters. Makes him a better man. 

No matter what, through thick and thin, she is always, always there. It’s a beautiful thing from both perspectives. Molly stays because she is strong, she loves him and would rather be his friend than nothing at all. She doesn’t ask for anything in return. This is a lesson of bravery, selflessness and kindness. The lesson Louise Brealey cares so much about. From Sherlock’s point of view, and up until TFP, it’s not clear as to why, she stays because he wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows of her feelings and how difficult it must be for her stay. Still, Sherlock needs her to. The mere concept of her not being by his side is inconceivable. We know it is. She would have been long gone otherwise.

You could argue that he kept her around only because he loved her very very much as a friend. But if Mofftiss wanted Sherlock to become a good man (which is the whole point of the show) but not for him to fall in love, then Sherlock would have stayed away from Molly for good after he realised what she felt for him. Because that’s what you do when you deeply love your friend and want them to be happy. Not doing so would be the most selfish thing in the world. 

After TRF, two golden opportunities presented themselves to kindly deal with the problem of Molly Hooper and prevent her from becoming a potential love interest. One where she stays in his circle and one where she leaves. In a way, Mofftiss used both. And destroyed them in the next breath.

1. Happy ending. She stays.

She marries another man. Perfectly reasonable. She doesn’t see him for two years, falls in love and never looks back. She can stay his friend and we don’t lose awesome Molly. A very handy solution because she is Mofftiss’ original creation and they want her to stick around. Ideal to have her develop a beautiful dynamic with Sherlock based on deep respect and camaraderie. “God, you’re such a dick sometimes. I can’t believe I fell for you.” “I know. I don’t get it either, Molly Hooper.” They twisted that option and used it instead to prove that no one but Sherlock will do for her. It started as being a few hints in TEH and TSoT and became the truth in HLV with one single line “Sorry your engagement’s over, although I’m grateful for the lack of a ring”. 

I won’t even talk about that line. Come on. It’s so ambiguous it’s laughable. 

Also, Tom was purposely made to be a facsimile of the real thing and Molly was droolin’ all over Sherlock during his speech in TSoT. So yeah. It’s him or nothing. 

Not to mention THAT SCENE RIGHT THERE. At the time, also known in my book as: Sherlolly is gonna become sooo canon bitches. I knew there and then, that something big was coming.

2. Bittersweet ending. She leaves.

The solution I mentioned before. Sherlock decides to do the right thing and lets her go. As a friend, as someone who cares (and we know he does), he cuts himself from her life and thus allows her to move on. Rings a bell? This is the hallway seen in TEH. It could have been the very last interaction between Sherlock and Molly on the show. And it would have been beautiful. If it was definitive, it would have been as effective to make Sherlock a good man as him destroying her coffin because he couldn’t bear to break her heart. I would have been sad, devastated even but all in all not surprised by this turn of event. I think we can all agree on that. We would have been proud of Sherlock. Relieved for Molly. He grew up. He wants to protect her. He lets her go, even if it means losing her friendship in the process. 

But again, they nipped it in the bud. Again, with a single line. 

“Maybe it’s just my type”. 

Both keep coming back to one another. Like magnets.

Molly because she knows who Sherlock is deep down and loves what she sees. He’s her type, and it is what it is. Sherlock because he needs to have her in his life. In any way he can. He refuses to free her from him. Why? When you think about it, I think Mofftiss made crystal clear the fact that he just can’t. 

Because he is, and perhaps always has been, in love with her. 

Lastly, best of all for me, the I Love You scene finally explains why he never made a move. I don’t know for you but my take on that was that he knew of his feelings for her but repressed them because he considered himself unworthy of Molly Hooper. It made my shipper’s heart happy. I never asked for more. It fit his behaviour as I read it and the show could have ended with them staying apart. I was satisfied with that view of things. In fact, if not for Sherlock Holmes to realise that he was in love with Molly Hooper, the I Love You scene was completely unnecessary. Just like the end of TSoT in the gif above.

And it makes perfect sense, now.

He simply was not aware of the depth of his own feelings, clueless idiot that he was. He needed a big push, in his case, a life or death situation, him contemplating a life with no Molly Hooper in it, for him to face the truth. 

This is not far fetched at all, you know. It does happen in real life. I’ve known two specific examples, both with the same pattern. They are the best of friends. They spend so much time with one another that people keep asking them what is really going on there. They keep insisting that it’s only friendship. And then life takes over and threatens to tear them apart. That’s when they realise. 

« I love you. »

Oh.

Oh..