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youaintnothinbuta · 3 months ago

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“Are we there yet?” - Dad!Austin Butler x Mom!reader

Summary: You and Austin, and your little girl are making the long drive to your lake house for a few days in summer, which is never the easiest drive with a little one.

Pairing: Dad!Austin x mom!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: none- fluff!! Dad!Austin! Hopefully no typos but you know how I am <3

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It was early afternoon when you, Austin, and Ella set off on the long drive to your lake house. The summer sun was high in the sky, casting a bright, warm light across the road. Austin was behind the wheel, dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, and you sat in the passenger seat, wearing a light summer dress with your hair pulled back in a loose braid. Your five-year-old daughter was nestled in the backseat, her favorite stuffed giraffe clutched tightly in her arms.

Ella was full of energy, leaning forward against her seatbelt, pointing out everything they passed. “Look, Daddy! A red truck!” she shouted, her voice bubbling with excitement. “And there’s a blue car! And cows! Look, Mama, cows!”

You turned in your seat, smiling at her wide-eyed wonder. “I see them, Ella! What sound do cows make?” You asked, playfully encouraging your daughter.

“Mooo!” Ella giggled, making the sound loud and enthusiastic, causing Austin to chuckle.

You continued your journey, with Ella calling out every new sight—fields of wildflowers, clusters of trees, a barn in the distance. You and Austin exchanged amused glances, enjoying your daughter's unbridled excitement. But as the time passed and the scenery became more monotonous, Ella’s energy began to wane.

She started shifting in her seat, her brow furrowing in frustration. “Are we there yet?” she asked, her voice starting to edge with impatience.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Austin replied gently, his eyes still focused on the road. “We’ve got a little while to go, but we’re getting closer.”

Ella sighed dramatically, slumping back. “I’m bored,” she whined, kicking her legs against her car seat. “And my butt hurts!”

You glanced back at her with a sympathetic smile. “I know, honey, long drives can be tough,” you said soothingly. “How about we play a game? I spy with my little eye… something green!”

Her eyes lit up for a moment, and she looked out the window eagerly. “Is it… a tree?” she guessed.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Good job, sweetie!” But after a few rounds, Ella’s enthusiasm started to fade again. She shifted restlessly, her face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Mama, I’m tired,” she whined, her voice a bit tremulous now. “I don’t like this anymore. I want to get out!”

You and Austin exchanged a glance, knowing what was about to come. “I know, baby,” Austin said in his calm, soothing voice. “I know it’s hard to sit for so long, but we’re going to have so much fun when we get there, right?”

Ella didn’t seem convinced. She started to squirm around in her seat, her buckle tightened over her chest, only adding to the frustration, and a few moments later, the whining turned into soft crying, her little face scrunched up as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I want out, Daddy!” she sobbed. “Please, I want to get out!”

You turned in your seat as much as she could, reaching your hand back to your daughter. “Oh, Ella, I know it’s hard, baby,” you murmured softly. “Here, let me help you feel more comfortable.” You gently draped a soft blanket over her legs and carefully removed her shoes. “There, sweetheart. Just rest a little bit, okay? We’re almost there.”

Ella continued to cry softly, but she clung to your hand, finding some comfort in her mother’s touch. You kept your hand there, softly stroking Ella’s tiny fingers while humming a calming tune. “Close your eyes, sweet girl,” you whispered. “Just rest for a bit.”

Gradually, Ella’s cries turned into soft sniffles, and then, as the steady rhythm of the car and the warmth of the blanket took over, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little chest rose and fell with steady breaths as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Austin glanced over at you, a gentle smile on his face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

You smiled back. “It’s a joint effort,” you replied softly, continuing to hold Ella’s hand until you were sure your daughter was deep asleep.

After a couple of hours, just as you were about twenty minutes away from the cabin, Ella began to stir.

She blinked her eyes open, her small face creasing with a yawn. She sat up slowly, looking around in confusion before realizing where she was. “Mama?” she mumbled sleepily.

You turned around, smiling warmly. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?”

Ella nodded, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “I think so,” she murmured.

Austin looked at her in the rearview mirror, smiling. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Good,” she replied, still groggy. Then, her eyes widened, and she pointed out the window. “Look, Daddy! A deer!” she exclaimed, her earlier excitement returning.

Austin glanced in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, a deer stood just off the side of the road, watching them with curious eyes. “Good spotting, El!” he said, grinning. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”

Ella perked up at this news. “Really? How much longer?”

“About twenty minutes,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile. “And then we’ll be at the cabin, and you can stretch your legs and run around all you want.”

Ella’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay! I can wait twenty minutes,” she declared, sitting up straighter in her seat.

You continued down the winding forest roads, the scenery changing from thick clusters of trees to the sparkling surface of the lake as you drew nearer. When you finally pulled up to the cabin, nestled among the trees with a clear view of the water, Ella’s excitement returned in full force.

“We’re here! We’re here!” she squealed, bouncing in her seat.

Austin chuckled, pulling the car into the driveway and putting it in park. “Alright, we made it!” he announced, turning to look at you and Ella.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned around to Ella. “Okay, El, let’s get you out,” you said, opening your door and stepping out. You came around to the back, opening her door and carefully helping her out of her seat.

Ella jumped down, stretching her arms wide. “Yay! We’re here!” she cheered, looking up at the tall trees around them.

Austin smiled as he stepped out of the car, stretching his back before heading to the trunk to grab the bags. “I’ll get everything,” he called over his shoulder. “You two go inside.”

You took Ella’s hand, guiding her toward the front door. Ella nodded eagerly, squeezing your hand. “Mommy! Can we go down to the water?”

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll do that as soon as we get settled in,” you replied, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Austin was making trips between the car and the house, his strong arms loaded with your things, dropping everything off in the doorway. Ella giggled, running up to him and wrapping her arms around his legs.

Austin smiled, handing Ella her swimsuit, “if you ask mama nicely, she might help you get changed so you can get into the water.”

Ella looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, “Please mama? Please?”

“Alright, monkey, come on, let’s go to your bedroom.” You said, gently guiding her out of Austin’s way so he could bring everything in and get the fridge all stocked up for the weekend without Ella running laps around him.

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trulybetty · 1 year ago

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dec' 03 x hot chocolate

Prompt: hot chocolate Pairing: joel miller x f!Reader Word Count: 3,196 Warnings: barely beta'd, all mistakes my own, this is au and way off the plot of anything to do with TLOU, mentions of coffee and festive fluff and introductions to our characters ☕ Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the festive decorations of main street and enjoy the festive traditions. finding yourself back home and working for the family business, you strike up a friendship with the town's local contractor. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

The Little Coffee Shop Around the Corner - Part I

Joel Miller was the type who didn’t believe in buying coffee from a coffee shop. He had a perfectly good coffee maker at home that he’d had for a quarter century now. One that had moved countries and still worked just as well as it had done the first day he’d bought it.

Well, that was until that very morning.

With a sputter and a final wheeze, the machine gave up the ghost, leaving Joel staring in disbelief at his kitchen counter. Grudgingly accepting defeat, he grabbed his coat and ventured out to his truck on the brisk Maplewood morning.

He’d moved to the small Canadian town a handful of years ago with his daughter Sarah from Austin Texas. Many had questioned his decision to move not just to another country, but to a town that was drastically different and far removed from Austin.

He hadn’t answered with much more than a shrug.

His contracting business had been doing well enough to live an easy life, step back and enjoy someone else taking the reigns.

That was until he became a widow at the age of thirty-six and all he’d wanted to do was get out of dodge. Everywhere he turned, there were reminders of her, making it too difficult for him to stay.

Sarah's arrival came after both of his parents had passed away. His brother Tommy had already moved to Wyoming in pursuit of joining a community that he insisted wasn't a commune, and he had settled down and started a family. This left him alone with Sarah, so when they were presented with the opportunity for her to receive a scholarship from a prestigious Canadian school with full access to their renowned soccer program, they eagerly took it as a chance for a new beginning. Despite its remote location in British Columbia, they saw it as a fresh start.

The transition had been challenging, no doubt about it. Neither of them possessed any winter clothing, and they both had to adapt to a new currency (Joel still struggled with the difference between a Loonie and a Toonie) while navigating unfamiliar locations. However, the warmth of the town's reception overshadowed all of those challenges. No one prodded for information or tried to uncover gossip; instead, they were embraced with open arms and quickly became just another part of the Maplewood community.

Sarah had quickly adapted to her new school, which didn't come as a surprise. Meanwhile, Joel had discovered that the town was in desperate need of a handyman, and soon enough Miller Contracting was back in business.

Pulling into a parking space on the main street outside of the bookstore Sarah often frequented, Joel rubbed his hands together cursing leaving his gloves at home. Despite his years in Maplewood, winter still felt like a shock every time it rolled around.

After taking a moment to orient himself, he recalled that the coffee shop was located to the left around the corner. With this in mind, he began his journey to the end of the street. Luckily, his workload for the day was relatively light, so this unexpected diversion wouldn't cause too much delay

The stores had wasted no time in getting out their Christmas decorations, he looked across the street as he walked to the bakery - its window frames draped in holly and ivy, punctuated by glittering baubles were no exception. Merry Tree Trek, a Christmas tree scavenger hunt put on by the town's businesses was due to start the following day. One of the many traditions Maplewood had for the festive season.

As Joel entered 'True North Brews,' the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the gentle hum of conversation welcomed him. The shop was packed with locals, all happily chatting away as they waited for their orders to be ready. Standing in line, he scanned the menu, feeling out of his depth. This was Sarah’s territory - he usually was just there to provide payment before they headed on to whatever errand needed to be completed next.

He took in the festive decor as he waited in line. Christmas lights had been strung along the edges of the bar, while fake holly adorned every pillar in sight. Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling and garlands of green and red festooned the fireplace. Which crackled merrily at one end of the room, and he smiled to himself as he watched an elderly couple sitting close together on one of the sofas near it - no doubt soaking up every minute of extra warmth they could get before trudging back out into the cold night air.

That’s when he noticed you behind the counter. You were relatively new, he knew your name and that you were the owner's daughter – Sarah had regaled your appearance in Maplewood several months back when you'd stopped by the bakery. Right now you were serving the town’s newest member of the tourism board, he couldn’t remember her name but knew he’d seen her with Marcus from the bakery here and there. Your eyes met briefly, and a hint of a smile danced on your lips.

Finally, it was his turn to order, “Hey Joel,” you said, recognizing him from his numerous visits with his daughter, “No Sarah today?”

He shook his head, “Just me.”

“In that case, what can I make for you?” you asked, your voice cheery in light of Joel’s look of utmost confusion.

“Just coffee, please,” he said, in a tone that suggested this was an everyday request.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Coffee? Coffee means a lot of different things around here. What kind of coffee would you like?”

Joel scratched his head, looking a bit lost. “Uh, just your regular coffee, you know? Nothing fancy,” he replied, his Texas drawl more pronounced.

You leaned against the counter with a friendly grin. “How about trying something a bit festive? A peppermint mocha, perhaps? It's like a holiday in a cup!”

Joel's eyebrows rose in surprise, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That's far too fancy for my tastes.” he laughed, “Just a regular black coffee will do.”

You nodded understandingly but with a twinkle in your eye. “Tell you what, how about an Americano? It's close to black coffee but with a bit more character. It's on the house, and if you don't like it, you can come back, and I'll make you a straight-up black coffee. But, I have a hunch you might enjoy the Americano.”

Joel looked surprised but intrigued. “Well, when you put it that way... sure, I'll give it a try.”

As you began preparing his order, Joel glanced around, noticing the line behind him starting to grow. “Looks like you've got a busy day ahead,” he remarked.

You smiled, handing him the Americano. “Maplewood wakes up early during the holiday season. Enjoy your coffee, and remember, if it's not to your liking, come back up for that black coffee.”

Joel opened his mouth to respond, but the bustling line behind him urged him forward, cutting short the chance for a proper response. He settled for a quick, “Thanks,” and moved aside.

Later that day as you were wiping down the counters, your mother Jean and the current owner of the coffee shop, joined you out front. “I've been thinking,” she began, her voice laced with a blend of both excitement and seriousness.

“That’s dangerous,” you quipped, ignoring the scowl she sent you as she made her way around the counter to the front of the store.

“I was thinking,” she said ignoring you, “that now might be a good time for me to step back with you back in town.”

You paused, cloth in hand. Coming back to Maplewood hadn't been your first choice, especially after things ended with Max. Your ex-boyfriend who had suddenly gotten too tied up in climbing the corporate ladder, after a business trip across seas, to notice the relationship unravelling.

“I really don’t know how long I’m going to be here,” you replied, having already been in town a month longer than your original plan of just six weeks.

The statement was not an exaggeration; the apartment had been in Max's name, and the two of you had always planned to add your own on the deed. But procrastination got in the way. With rental prices on the rise and a sabbatical from work, coming home was your only option until you could figure out your next move.

She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s long enough for me to do some travelling, get a taste of what an early retirement could look like.”

You sighed, “What’s the angle here, Mom?”

“What angle?” she responded as she fussed with the tree you’d both decorated with coffee-themed decor the night before for the Merry Tree Trek.

Your mother had a knack for mixing business with motherly concern in a way that only she could. She glanced at you over the rim of her glasses, a half-smile playing on her lips.

“No angle,” She said, adjusting a tiny coffee bean ornament. “I've been running True North Brews since before you were born, and it's been a dream. But, I'm not getting any younger, and the world's a big place. I'd like to see some of it while I still can.”

You couldn't help but smile at her adventurous spirit, something you had undoubtedly inherited. “You want to travel? Since when?”

“Since always,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “The shop has been in our family for two generations now. I'd hate to see it end up in different hands, or worse, closed down.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Taking over the coffee shop wasn't something you had considered seriously. You had other dreams, didn't you? But then again, the shop was more than just a business; it was a piece of Maplewood's heart, and undeniably, a big part of your family's legacy.

Your mother continued, “I know you're figuring things out, and I'm not asking you to decide right this second. But think about it. This place could use your touch and your ideas. You've always had a knack for making people feel welcome, just like your grandmother did when she opened this place.”

You leaned against the counter, absorbing her words. The coffee shop had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember. Your earliest memories were of playing behind the counter, the smell of coffee always in the air.

Perhaps this unexpected turn of events was not just a setback but an opportunity, a chance to add your chapter to the story of Maple Brews.

“I'll think about it,” you said finally, a mix of apprehension and excitement bubbling inside you. But you still threw her a pointed look, “just thinking about it, okay?”

“That's all I'm asking,” she replied, her eyes softening. “Now, help me with this stubborn string of lights, will you? This tree needs to look perfect for when the scavenger hunt starts this afternoon.”

It was nearing closing when the ring of the bell at the front door rang signalling a customer. Looking up you saw Marcus, the owner of Maple Delights standing at the door, stamping his feet to rid his boots of the snow that had started the fall that afternoon.

“Hey Marcus,” you greeted, “can I get you anything?” you asked as you accepted a stack of pink cake boxes from him. Maple Delights had a long-standing business deal with True North Brews to sell their baked goods in their displays - one that extended beyond Marcus' tenure as owner.

He gave you a wide smile, “Actually, it’s what you can do for me?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m intrigued.”

“So, the Jingle Bell Movie night later this month,” he said, posing the event as a question. It was an annual tradition of the town, with everyone coming together for an evening of festivities and movie-watching in the community centre. “I was thinking, what if Maple Delights and True North Brews tag-teamed the event?”

Your interest was piqued. “Go on,” you encouraged.

Marcus's eyes lit up. “I'll supply the treats—cookies, pastries, you name it—and you guys could handle the hot drinks? Hot chocolate, spiced cider, maybe some festive coffee concoctions?”

You nodded, already visualizing the bustling event. “Sounds like a perfect match to me. Maple Delights' treats and our drinks? The town will love it!”

“Hey, speaking of the bakery, question for you about the renovations you did when you bought the place. You restored it to its original façade, right?” you asked, as Marcus leant against the counter.

He smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. “Yeah, I did. Wanted to preserve a piece of Maplewood’s history. The building has such character, it felt right to bring it back to its former glory.”

“Well, it certainly is stunning. It must've been quite a project,” you remarked.

Marcus nodded. “It was a labour of love, but totally worth it in the end.”

Your mind was buzzing with ideas and your mother's earlier conversation replaying over in your head, “Who did you get in to do the work?” you asked, knowing that Maplewood wasn't exactly crawling with talented contractors and designers.

“Actually it was Joel Miller, he did the renovation.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

Marcus chuckled. “Joel really did some great work on the bakery. He's got a really good eye for detail. Took my vision and made it even better than I could have imagined.”

You were impressed. “Wow, well he did an amazing job. It was one of the first things I noticed when I came back. It adds so much charm to the street.”

“Thanks,” Marcus said, a warm smile on his face. “Joel's a really talented guy. He's a great addition to the community, both him and Sarah.”

“Well, if he did such a great job with the bakery, maybe he could help us with the coffee shop,” you said, half-jokingly.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You're thinking of doing a reno?”

You hesitated, feeling a bit exposed not having intended to speak out loud your internal thoughts, “It's something my mom and I have discussed in the past, but she's the type if it ain't broke don't fix it.”

Marcus laughed, “I can testify to that, I mentioned I was looking to scale back serving coffee in the bakery, and asked if she had any interest in the espresso machine,” you rolled your eyes knowing what was coming, you'd been begging her to replace the old machine for years, “told me that this one,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the tired looking machine, “worked just fine.”

You shook your head, “One of these days she's going to realize giving it a good thud is probably doing more damage than fixing it.”

Marcus glanced at his watch. “I should get going. Got to make sure we have enough gingerbread dough for tomorrow. Those gingerbread men won't bake themselves!”

“Thanks for stopping by. Let's touch base early next week to finalize those plans for the movie night.”

With a nod and a wave, you watched Marcus leave, but now the seed of an idea was planted in your mind. A reno could be just what True North Brews needed to give it a fresh look and make it stand out. But you weren't taking over, you reminded yourself, no -- it was just you helping out with the family business, nothing more, right?

The next morning, Joel’s kitchen still lacked a new coffee maker. The old one sat forlornly on the counter, a reminder of a morning routine disrupted. With a resigned sigh, Joel grabbed his coat and headed out to his truck. The town was slowly waking up, the street sprinkled with early risers and the promise of a busy day ahead.

As he pushed open the door of the coffee shop, the familiar jingle of the bell greeted him, along with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. You looked up from the espresso machine, a smile spreading across your face as you recognized him.

“Morning, Joel,” you greeted. “Americano?” you asked with a hopeful smile since he'd never returned for that black coffee.

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I think I actually like it a bit more than my usual.”

You laughed as you prepared his coffee. “Glad to hear that. We might make a coffee aficionado out of you yet.”

“Let's not get too ahead of ourselves.” he laughed as he watched you prepare his drink.

Handing him his coffee, you hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Actually Joel, can I ask you something about your contracting work?”

He looked surprised but nodded. “Sure, what about it?”

“I heard from Marcus that you did the renovation work on the bakery. It looks incredible. Said you kept the original design when you worked on it?”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. Marcus wanted to retain the historical look of the building. It was a great project to work on, restoring it to its original state while giving it all the modern requirements.”

You were genuinely interested. “That’s impressive. It’s such an integral part of the town’s charm. I’ve been thinking, True North Brews could use a bit of sprucing up. Would you perhaps be up for discussing a quote any time soon?”

Joel looked around the coffee shop, considering. “Sure, I’d be happy to. What did you have in mind?”

“I'm not too sure, mostly starting fixing what needs fixing and going from there, just keeping the cozy vibe but maybe adding a little Maplewood flair to it.”

He nodded, sipping at his coffee thoughtfully. “Sounds like a good project. Why don’t we sit down sometime next week and go over what you’re thinking? I can put together some ideas and a quote for you.”

“That would be great,” you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of giving the coffee shop a fresh, new look.

Placing his coffee on the counter, Joel handed you his business card from his wallet, giving you a quick glimpse of a family portrait tucked inside.

“Here,” he said pocketing his wallet and handing you his business card, “why don't you give me a call and we can arrange something?”

You smiled as you traced the logo of Miller Contracting, “Sure, sounds like a plan!”

As Joel left, coffee in hand, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Not only at the idea of possible renovations but for the growing sense of community you had quickly settled into while only being back for a short period in Maplewood. But before you could think any further about it, the bell above the door rang and a group of tourists trekked in, Merry Tree Trek maps in hand.

You gave them a wide smile as you welcomed them in, “Welcome to True North Brews, what can I get started for you?”

#december x 500 #the little coffee shop around the corner #maplewood au #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic

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hermesserpent-stuff · 3 months ago

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heeyyyy so ive been really into the Void Remy entering the x-men evolution universe. so with talking to @golden-buddle I lept forward a bit to write evo!gambit and void Remy in a ticking time bomb, so spoilers for the future of that fic.

tw: vivisection, invasive medical procedures, kidnapping, blood, nonconsensual drug use, human experimentation

Gambit is often described as a cat. His fellow thieves constantly are comparing him to one. He is always getting into places that he is not supposed to be, and can get his paws on just about anything anyone asks for. Plus he has some pretty mean claws in the form of sparking fingertips.

Now Gambit is not too particular about what he takes. And not too particular about who he takes it from. But he does make sure to follow the rules of the Guild. The Thieves Guild has been a to him since… Well… forever. Before they had taken him in he had been growing up on the streets of New Orleans. But he knows he had been born to some woman out in the bayou who tossed him aside when she saw his devil eyes. Without the Guild, he would just be another swamp rat.

The city of New Orleans is in his bones while the swamp rests in his bone marrow. He is just as comfortable in both places, able to crawl across ragged rooftops and dance between the branches of the trees that suckle at the water of the bayou. He knows how to slink amongst the hidden dangers of the bayou. But of course the city is not super safe either with shady characters tucked into each shadow and giving the Thieves Guild space to thrive.

Gambit likes being a thief; he is good at it and he can get just about anything he wants. There were some downsides in his day-to-day life that kept him from doing everything that he wanted. His reputation on the streets, which consisted mainly of admiration, hatred, or a mixture of the two depending on how much the person knew and whether or not he had stolen from them. His reputation and status means that people sometimes tail him or try to fight him.

Being part of the Thieves Guild for so long also means he never had a chance to go to school. He knows what he needed to know to survive, like how to calculate numbers and evaluate things by sight. He could also read and write as well as any other adult, despite being seventeen, and could do better than most at the Guild to keep a clean ledger. Or as clean as a ledger gets in a place full of thieves.

Gambit does not necessarily wish that he had gone to a traditional school. But he might have missed a few details along the way, having not participated in the regular education system. While other kids had been learning to dissect frogs and how to do long division, he had been learning to pick pockets and locks, and how to sneak away with the biggest loot possible. He does kind of wish he had a little help with some of the bigger words he stumbles across in his beloved romance novels though. Jane Austin was a particular lady about her words.

His adoptive father is… well it is hard to describe the relationship really. Gambit is thankful to have been taken off the streets and removed from the angry hands of those who called him the White Devil due to his eyes. But he knows his adopted father mostly took him in because of Gambit’s small hands and his ability to sneak into places that had smaller entrances. Much like many of the other kids in the Guild. Then, when his powers manifested, his adoptive had found even more use for him. Gambit is not entirely sure how to feel about that.

Yeah, he likes being useful to the Guild, and being able to earn the right to stay in it, so as to not be alone with dealing with all the enemies he has surely made over the years. However, he is fully aware of the lack of love between his adoptive father and himself. They used each other, and no feelings were there. Not really.

If Gambit got captured, his adoptive father would only seek his return because his skills and powers were valuable. And if trying to get him back cost too much; outweighing the value of his skills and use as a thief to the Guild…

Well…

Gambit just hopes that that day doesn't come.

He walks down the street looking at the hazy sky. It is hard to sess with all the lights on around him. New Orleans twinkles brightly around him. It is also hard to hear anything other that the lively beat of the street. Music and people fill up every nook and cranny present in the air. Thats alright with him. Theres not much up in the sky for Gambit and the sounds of his home city are a comfort. He would hate to permanently lose it. Or have gone without it. Gambit is not sure who he would be without Louisiana flowing through his veins and New Orleans pulsating through his heart.

Just another swamp rat he supposes.

He slides into an alley and pulls himself onto a nearby roof. He relaxes up on the well worn sloped roof that is still a little slick from the rainfall t this morning. He looks down at the streets, the night alive with people. He stares at the crowd mind already registering who would be the easiest to fleec and who had their hands tightly wound around their wallets.

And who is likely to get a little looser with their hands if they just had enough to drink. He shakes off the final thought. He hates dealing with drunkards. They always seemed to get a little too personal with him. Too… grabby.

His thoughts move on as he intently stares at the heavy crowds and plays a game with himself of trying to spot his fellow Guild members. He is pretty good at it, able to spot most of them in a crowd, even though he is not supposed to be able to. They were supposed to blend in. As much as any one can blend in inside of a city like New Orleans, where it feels like everything is always just a bit to the left side of strange.

Gambit is lost in thought and does not sense when someone else comes onto the roof like he normally would. He does however, notice the small, but human, bump come from behind him on the rooftop. Without turning around and looking to see who it is, he leaps. He is dashing through the street before he has time to really think about it. The Thieves Guild has lots and lots of enemies. So he does not need to know who is chasing him until he has a better vantage point on them where he could see them, and they could not see him.

The pursuer is following. Gambit knows that he is following. There's a sound of people being pushed out of the way in the crowd behind him. It is more than a little familiar to him. People yelling because they are shoved out of the way because someone else was trying to get at a thief who just stole out of their pockets. It is a noise that a thief has to become familiar with if they want to fleece people in crowds. He keeps moving. Not wanting to be caught as he is not sure who is trying to catch him. Could be anybody. His adoptive father and the Theives Guild made lots of enemies; both within Lousiana and beyond.

He sort of hopes it is from within the state because the beyond option… that makes it more likely to be an assassination attempt.

Gambit takes a breath and keeps going.

But they keep following.

And then…

They stop.

Or he gets away.

It is one of the two and Gambit is not too sure which it is. He decides it might be a good idea to head back to the Thieves Guild's main house and wrap up his nightly stroll there. He walks on the balls of his feet, light and quick, ready for trouble as he weaves through the crowd. Each step is sure, like a cat prancing along a windowsill to reatch their favorite spot of sun.

Then there's a prick of something on his neck as the alleyway that leads towards the secret entrance to his Guild’s home, and Gambit feels suddenly very sick.

Something is wrong.

Something's horribly, horribly wrong.

His powers flare as he rips whatever it is out of his neck; lighting it up with kinetic energy and makes it explode, as he hurls it torwards where the angle of entry suggests that it had come from. There is somebody who dodges, their hand still holding a gun. They are trying to blend in as a tourist. Their face is too set, to be a tourist; roaming the streets and taking in the awe of New Orleans. No, no, this is someone who's come after Gambit. Specifically. For some reason.

The world starts to blur.

They hit him with something. Something is now inside of him, making him break down, making him fall down. He pulls out his deck and releases more kinetic energy. But it is weak and he cannot aim with his vision swimming violently. Soon it is difficult to even light charges. He finds himself falling, unwillingly, heartbreakingly, down. He is asleep as his head slams against the ground.

--+

Remy hisses low and deep as they tie him down once more to steal more of his blood and do god knows what else to him. They pump him full of sedatives and he finds himself going limp.

“Well need to get a sample of blood without all these drugs blocking his system. Does the other one fight this much?”

Other one? They are torturing someone else. He lets out a weak snarl at the thought while his head is restrained and spacers are slipped into the back of his jaw to keep him from being able to bite down. They press something wet and slimy over his upper and lower teeth and hold it in place with some sort of plastic mold.

“Not as much hissing and more scratching over biting. His teeth are more normal. Despite their DNA being practically clones of each other.”

“Hmm. It will be good to have both dental impressions to compare the two.”

Remy stills his sluggish movements, trying to hear more. The ‘scientists’ take note.

“Hmm, thats interesting. Normally he is struggling until he passes out.”

A hand touches his face and a light scans his eyes. Remy huffs and scrunches his nose slightly.

“So you’re interested in subject 0465? He is very similar to you. Maybe you've been cloned. Wouldn't that be fascinating…?”

Remy lets out as much of a hiss as he can with his maw forced open wide and spit slowly building around his tongue. He is forced to swallow and stop hissing for a moment. The scientist above his head looks over to the other one.

“Put in a request with upper levels, I want to test the two of them together. Limiting drugs in both. And maybe a pane of glass between the two test subjects.”

Remy finds himself slipping into a hazy miserable sleep.

When he wakes up he is in another blank cell a fancy collar on his neck that has needles that push a constant drip of drugs into his blood. This one is a little different from some of the others. Not a testing room because there are no objects for him to pick up and light up. There is the normal glass the scientist love to hide behind and scratch things down on notebooks in place. But there is a second pane of glass dividing the room exactly in half. Someone is crumpled up on the other side, breathing deep and slow in a way that suggests sleep, but that could be faked. The person looks… small and thin; he is dressed in the same white itchy uniform. And same neck device as him.

Remy slowly moves to the glass, drugs making him stumble. He sits down next to it and pulls his hair out of the loose braid that the ‘scientists’ let him keep. He shakily rebraids as he starts humming, eyes closing easily. It is a song he learned in the Void. He has no true lullabies, as Blade had been raised without lullabies, and Remy had been born in the void as far as he could tell. He hopes that music will make him seem more friendly. He would hate to scare a child more than this place likely already had.

“Pretty tune, monsieur.”

Remy glances at the kid and both flinch back as matching eyes stare at each other.

“Hoo boy, now that's a mirror.”

Remy mumbles, hand going up on the glass. The kid slowly puts his hand on the glass over his.

“Mutant?”

The kid asks and Remy gives a tilted grin.

“Oui. Got eyes and kinetic explosions. And from what I heard from the tatailles, you got them too. I am Remy.

The kid’s eyes go wide as saucers and then narrow.

“They be makin’ you say this. You're another experiment. Another test!”

The kid snarls, but it lacks the bite of a feral or a vampire. Remy hates the distress of the little fledgling and croons softly.

“Ah, petit, non. I am not another test; not willingly.”

He pulls out the hair band, mourning the loss for a moment. He lights it up and flicks it away as it glows pink and explodes.

Then his collar is alight with electricity and more drugs are dumped into his bloodstream. He screeches and hisses, curling in on himself and clawing at his own throat. He pants as the electricity dies down.

“Monsieur!! Monsieur!”

The poor fledging calls out, voice rippling with panic. Remy pushes himself back up and coughs. The room spins and he knows he has a limited amount of conscious time left.

“Sorry, fledglin’. I'm passin’ out. I'm okay. Not your fault. All mine…”

And then it goes dark again.

--+

Gambit paces his cell that he had been snatched from New Orleans. Seven steps one way. Spin. Seven steps the other way. A tiny cell that had started crawling into his dreams instead of the wonderful spices, lights, smells, and streets of his home. This place, this horrid place is run by some group saying they are Hydra and they seem obsessed with him and his blood. Well his everything really.

He had been alone here, shoved full of needles and forced to display his powers over and over. He had tried to escape and had been knocked out each and every time and woke with worse and more invasive procedures.

Then… Then he had met Remy. Or just glimpsed the man really. Someone who looked so much like him, but older and with a slightly different bone structure. He wants to meet Remy again. If only to not be alone anymore. Remy had been the first smile and friendly voice. The first voice that sounded anything like home.

Home! Oh, how his heart weeps for beignets and jazz. He knows his adoptive father will not come for him here. The gear that this organization has is far too above the Theives Guild pay grade. He stops pacing and flops onto the stupid cot that is harder than a rock. He refuses to cry and sob, but a few silent tears do sneak out as he curls up on the bed.

When Gambit wakes the next day he is in a new room with so many drug in his stystem that he thinks he might throw up if he moves. A hand is gently scratching and petting his hair and it calms him. The same singing voice that had stirred him once before is filling the room now.

“Remmmy?”

His mouth slurs heavily. A bright friendly chirp noise greets him. The noise is strange and Gambit blinks slowly up at the other mutant. He presses into the friendly touch that he had gone without for so long. Gambit shifts slowly to curl into Remy who gently moves his hands, mouth making noises that are just to the left of human. Gambit settles into a hazy calm as the drugs slowly start to fade from his system. Remy does nothing more threatening that shifting his weight slightly and petting Gambit's head, so Gambit decides that the man is trustworthy enough for now. As he regains some control over his limbs he shifts to be sitting up, shoulder to shoulder with Remy as they both lean against a wall. The room is blank aside from the peeping window for the scientists and the tray full of items that they normally told Gambit he had to explode.

The older mutant still has an arm around his shoulders. Gambit pulls his knees up and rests his face on his knees.

“What do they want from us?”

Gambit murmurs.

“Im not sure. I think it has to do with having similar powers? Or maybe our type of power… Desole petit.”

A popping whistle and Gambit blinks.

“Are you from New Orleans?”

“Me? Non. Remy from… nowhere. Nowhere I can talk about here. Real desert-like place though. Not a good place for raisin’ fledglin’s. My sire did it anyways.”

Remy says with a sigh. Gambit likes the sound of Remy’s voice. It sounds like home. And he would like to hear more.

“Tell me about your ‘sire’?”

He asks softly as his body keeps fighting the drugs that make him so drowsy. Remy hums and pulls Gambit a little closer.

“Oui. My Papa is a strong man. He saved me from tatailles. He knew how to hunt and taught me as best he could.”

Remy rambles on, the accent warm to Gambit’s ears. There is also such an outpouring of love in the man’s voice. It must be nice to have a loving adoptive father.

“Mais, Remy has talked too much; I bore you, petit.”

The older mutant pauses and Gambit straightens from his comfortable slump as he blinks himself into looking alert.

“Non! Non. Its nice. I dont-” He hates to admit any weakness; terrified that it will be used against him because on the streets he knows that would be on the streets. “We might not meet for a long time if they don't want us to.”

He points to the window using his jaw. Remy tightens the loose side hug and nuzzles his hair.

“Alright, fledglin’. Remy keep talkin’. Next time, you be the talker, non?”

“Oui.”

Gambit holds onto the memories of his home and of the gentle words and warmth from Remy while he is strapped down to a table and his blood is drawing from needles in his arms, or he is forced to charge and discharge larger and larger objects. The scientists wear him out and dump him in the lifeless room, feeding him food that makes his horror and sadness all the worse. He wants to see the man again.

He currently is doing a handstand with one hand in the air as he waits to see what the scientists want to do with him next, boredom nibbling at him. Normally, this is where he would get out a deck of cards and practice card tricks, or Solitare. But here he has nothing. He had tried asking a guard for a deck, but quickly learned that trying to talk to any guards is an action that leads to shock. So he had slowly stopped speaking aside from the questions they demanded out of him. And they shock him if he tries to refuse to answer the question. Some of them were horribly invasive. Questions that he barely wanted to answer for doctors on the rare instances of him getting checkups.

He kicks his legs back down and shifts into a comfortable split.

“Subject 0465.”

His number. His evil sick number that is not him and he hates that he has to respond to it. Gambit lifts up his chin and narrows his eyes the door.

“Oui?”

They hated him speaking French. Apparently, most of the scientists here only knew English, German, and Spanish and they would complain about having to translate his responses or simply shock him till he re-responded in English. So naturally, he responds in french as frequently as feels natural. There is a huff of anger on the other side of the door and he draws his legs in from the split.

“Yeah, watchu want?”

He states and cracks his back.

“If you dont give us any problems and run the obstacle course with no complaints, we will let you see subject 0464. Referred to you as Remy.”

He immediately straightens at the idea. Gambit hates how eager he is to get a friendly face that will not stab him full of needles and force him to do tasks.

“Gambit will comply.”

He says and stands gracefully. He holds out his arms and lets them put cuffs on him without complaint. They take him to a new room he had not seen before. It has some sort of agility course set up. A rock wall that leads to a balance beam, monkey bars, a rope swing, and then a part of the course that is just poles. The scientist explains to the fidgeting seventeen-year-old that they want him to go through the course with no powers and no touching the floor. Fine with Gambit. He may have lost some of his muscle strength but he knows he will be fine. This could be no harder than racing along the rain-slick rooftops trying to get away with a huge score while the Assassins Guild or Rippers or some one else chased him down.

He notes the timer but throws the thought away. A timer is not important to him right now. The cuffs are removed and he stretches his arms out and leans side to side. This is the longest time that he had been allowed to keep a clear hand and he kind of loves that his brain is able to spin like it always had. He shakes out his legs and then a start noise is played.

Gambit hauls himself up the rock wall, eyes dancing up the wall to plan out the best path heavenwards. He rolls a little and then steadies himself on the beam. Swinging up onto his feet, he practically dances across the balance beam. He feels excited to be doing something familiar, something fun. He cartwheels off the end of the beam, using the momentum to flip through the air and right himself as he grabs the rope. He swings over to the strange poles.

It seems like each is placed slightly further away from the last. There is enough room on the top of each for him to crouch and fit his feet and the heels of his hands. He crouches as he studies the course, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly. He could make most of the jumps easily, and if he keeps up the momentum the last two should be fine. He grins impishly, stands up, and thrusts himself forwards. Gambit flies across the poles and lands on the final one with a grin. He slips down the pole and bounces a little.

The scientists are busy jotting things down like the time from the paused timer. Gambit takes advantage of their business and hops up on the balance beam again. He likes the feel of it. Like the ridge of a gable roof on the ledge of a building. He bends backwards and kicks his feet over his head. He hums happily to himself as he messes around on the beam, brain focused on the cartwheels and the pleasant challenge of not falling off. He overhears a bit of conversation between the Hydra ‘scientists’.

“Balance beam. Interesting. Subject 0464 was more attracted to the poles.”

So the other mutant had done the course too? Had… had they promised the same thing to him? A visitation if he did not resist? He kind of likes the idea of Remy wanting to see him. He smiles to himself and flips off of the beam and lands on his feet.

“Alright subject 0465, time to go.”

Gambit walks over a little reluctantly but holds out his arms to be cuffed again. He is lead to another room. They undo his cuffs and shove him in. He blinks and sees Remy sitting on the floor against a wall. The adult looks up from staring at his hands and grins brightly at Gambit. But one of Remy’s eyes is covered in a white bandage. His left eye…

“Petit fledglin’! Good to see you.”

Remy stays seated but opens his arms. They shake a little. The teenage part of Gambit rebels at the thought of just getting a hug. But another part of him that had not had a friendly touch since there last meeting screams to just accept it. He cuts a middle ground and settles on Remy’s right side where the other can see him. He leans into the side-hug that Remy has adjusted his arms to give.

“Ooh, you lookin’ better mon petit.”

Remy slurs and gives a chirpy whistle. Gambit imitates the sound and Remy laughs.

“Aww, fledglin’ is happy to see moi.”

He nuzzles the side of Gambit’s head.

“Those whistles mean things?”

Gambit asks, not pushing away the friendly nuzzle. Remy hums and Gambit can tell that the man is likely having a hard time thinking with all the drugs in his system. And despite that, it seems that Remy’s instinct is to be nice and care about him.

“Oui. It's how my papa and I talked. Mm. Remy teach you when the room stop dancin’. Sorry, not much for talkin’. Diables took samples from my eye. No fun.”

He sighs sadly and Gambit winces.

“Desole.”

“Mm. Non, fledglin’. You never say sorry for them.”

Remy tightens his grip and nuzzles a little bit more. Gambit pats his leg and then decides to speak.

“Seems it's my turn to talk the whole time, non?”

Remy laughs airly, resting his head against Gambit’s.

“It’d be nice.”

“Mais, I was born in the swamp but my adoptive father picked me up after I got dumped on the streets of New Orleans. That's when I learned to be a thief. Gambit be a good thief. One of the best in the Guild.”

He slowly speaks, dancing around anything that Hydra cannot be allowed to know. Remy hums and gives different whistles and chirps during the talks and eventually falls asleep. Gambit settles in to rest beside him.

--+

Remy stretches his arms forwards. He still has his left eye covered and he has a bone-deep hurt. They had taken some of his marrow and he still hurts. They are breaking him to bits.

“Subject 0464. Prepare to exit. You will be going through the obstacle course. Offer no resistance and you will be allowed to see subject 0465.”

Gambit. He hums and gracefully stands.

“Alright.”

His movements are slow due to his pain. His time on the course is absolutely awful. As the scientist jot things down, he clambers up the tallest pole and balances on the top. He breathes deeply and hisses. Having lost vision from one of his eyes had made it harder to be sure of his jumps and his balance. He had managed, but he hates it. He wants… well he wants Blade. But honestly, he would love to see this universe’s Creed and Logan. He bites his lip and forces away the keening noise. He has a fledgling to look after until he finds a way to escape or they find him. It will be okay. He would make sure of it.

It is a little weird to run into this universe's version of himself. He had never run into any other Remys or Gambits in the void. He has a little bit of jealousy that Gambit actually has clear memories of Louisiana. But the emotion is easy to dump at the thought of the hurting fledgling. Gambit is stuck here just like he is, and from how the little one talked it does not seem that there was much in the way of love for the fledgling back in that city. Remy swings his legs down and sits on the top of the pole. He sighs and scrunches his nose. His bones ache.

“Alright subject 0464. Let's go.”

He slides down and stumbles a little bit as his body protests. He straightens and lets his hands get cuffed. As the walk the Hydra agent huffs and tugs at him complaining about his slowness. One of the scientists pipes up that perhaps they should wait to take his plasma in a few days rather than a few hours. Remy swallows and scrunches his nose.

He stumbles into the room and Gambit is there juggling the little wooden balls they had them explode. The scientists interrupt before Remy can say anything.

“Both of you take a ball and charge it. Compare your energies.”

Remy blinks and realizes that he has never seen the kid use his powers. Remy slowly sits down against the wall and Gambit tosses him a ball, eyes alight with worry. A whistle comes his way, asking about how he is. Remy grins at the noise and croons to his fledgling. He is well enough. He lights up the ball and shows it to Gambit who tilts his head and scrunches his nose.

“Pink?”

“Got a problem with it, mon fledglin’?”

Remy jokes, throwing the ball up and forwards so it explodes a good ways away from them both. Gambit hums.

“Non. It's just different. I had thought I misremembered.”

Gambit grins and lights up his ball. It is a fiery-looking orange and it makes a slightly louder pop when it explodes.

“Mm, interestin’. Not as pretty as a card.”

Remy sighs. Gambit hums his agreement and slowly shifts closer. Remy recognizes that reaching out now might spook the child. So he stays still. Gambit shifts to slowly lay across Remy’s legs, slowly wrapping his arms around Remy’s chest. The kid rests his head on his shoulder. Remy slowly raises his arms and wraps them around Gambit who hides his face.

Wet tears begin to soak his shirt and Remy croons softly. He tugs gently on Gambit’s legs so that he is cradling the kid, nuzzling the brown hair. He moves his hands slowly and sings low and calm. Gambit continues to cry. Remy notices the bandages around Gambit’s neck and can see new ones wrapping the entirety of both of Gambit’s arms. Remy forces down a hissing snarl, just trying to be a stable rock for the kid.

“The sorrow of the Elves is they live beyond their time. The tree of swords and jewels waits for me. Until the world forgets them, saving tales and rhymes. When shall I hang-. When shall I hang my own upon the tree?”

The song is one that he had found on a random cassette that he unburried from a pile of rubble. The softness had attacted him even though he could never know its title. And the gentleness of the tune makes it a easy lullaby to sing softly to the crying teen who clings all the tighter.

“The sorrow of the Elves is that all they love must die. The tree of swords and jewels waits for me. Time withers all about them, yet the Elves it passes by. When shall I hang-. When shall I hang my own upon the tree?”

He gently breathes and tightens his own grip, nuzzling the fledgling.

“I'm alive. You're alive. It's okay right now.”

He whispers, the words familiar and dry on his tongue like the desert static of the void they were born in. He then slips back into the tune. Gambit slowly relaxes. And then the poor teenager falls asleep. Remy’s heart aches for him. The kid had a life beyond these walls that he had been stolen from. Even if the teen had no love for his adoptive father, Gambit clearly loved New Orleans and Louisiana. Remy had never had a place he loved. Sure he loves his roost, but that is because Blade is there. And lord does he miss Blade. If Gambit misses his city like Remy misses his sire despite being stuck in this other universe for so long, the kid must be hurting worse because it is so recent for Gambit.

He presses a kiss to the poor kid’s brow.

Gambit grins at Remy when he spots the older mutant in the obstacle course room. Remy’s eye is no longer covered and Gambit had seen Remy slowly recover over their semi-frequent visits. He whistles out the noise Remy had taught him means friendly hello. Remy lights up like one of Gambit’s cards and whistles the same noise back. Gambit ignores the growls from the guards who yank harshly on his cuffs as they take them off. Gambit immediately bolts towards Remy and only halts when the scientists yell at him and threaten him with a shock. Remy shoots an apologetic smile towards him.

Both are instructed to walk to the start of the course and then are told they will be running one by one for comparison. Remy whistles and gestures for Gambit to go first. Gambit notices that Remy is keeping half an eye on the guards without directly staring at them. After cracking his back and shaking out his wrists, Gambit is ready to go. Honestly, he wants to show off a little. He launches himself up the wall and cartwheels across the beam. He launches himself at the rope and the leapfrogs from pole to pole. He slides down and does a handspring. There is clapping and Gambit grins and bows to Remy.

“Ah! Thank you mon ami!!”

He sings out glowing at the claps. He can feel the edge of desperation his brain, desperate for smiles and praise. He sidles up to Remy and pokes at his chest.

“Try and beat that old man!”

He smiles, feeling his energy flick through his body. Remy hums and clicks his tongue.

“Ah, Remy will do more than try, petit fledglin’.”

He says with a sharp smile and a flick to Gambit’s nose. Gambit makes a noise of mock offense as Remy shifts to stand at the front of the course. The teen finds himself whistling softly as Remy dances across the course. A lot of the moves are familiar to him, like a mirror that is just a little wrong. But it is silent, like a thief should be. When Remy finishes, Gambit lets out a cheer and the adult grins and trots back up to him. While the scientists record the results, Remy tugs on Gambit to clamber all over the course. Gambit shows off his ability to do back bends on the balance beams. Remy copies the move. Remy then flips off the balance beam and Gambit imitates the move. They do this all over the course, with one displaying a move while the other copies it. Gambit feels his muscles stretch and warm as he moves. Remy moves with as much grace as he does though it echoes more of a fox with elements of a cat where Gambit might be a bit more cat like.

Gambit decides to start a new game. He taps Remy’s nose and cackles as he yells out tag and dashes away.

“Ohhhh mon fledglin’ you dont know what monster youve awoken.”

Gambit cackles and dodges, shimmying up the wall to avoid Remy. They play this new game eagerly, chasing eachother back and forth along the equipment. A hind part of Gambit’s mind wonders why they are not stopping them. But he leaves it alone and decides to just enjoy the most fun that he has had in weeks.

--+

Remy slowly runs his hand over the bandages on his chest, mind blank. They had cut him open. Sliced an ugly Y into his flesh. Two long cuts that stretched from his shoulder that meet at the top of his sternum and a third cut that drags down from that point to just below his navel. They had kept him awake during the… vivisection. They gave him pain medications and sedatives to keep him from squirming. Remy had kept his eyes closed and focused on words to a variety of songs and books to get his mind away. Far far away. He had accidentally blown up a few of the tools and gotten shocks

But now he is lying on his cot in the corner, not sure what to do with himself. He had ended up keening to himself and blowing up the spare blanket accidentally. Now he is just focusing on keeping the charges in.

A day passes like this. Then a second. The scientists try to stir him, shocking him when he makes no reply and simply having guards drag him out. They take more of his blood and put him into the obstacle course room. He simply sits down in front of the rock wall and keens low. He hurts too much to move. To think. They shock him and he slowly tries to climb the rock wall. He falls off several times and he accidentally lights up the wall while near the top. He lets out a shriek and yanks it back, arms shaking from the sheer amount he is trying to bring back in. Remy manages it and falls backwards at the top. Then he slips up again, the charge lighting up the rock wall and slowly spreading down to the floor. Bright pink sparkles as it starts to climb the walls of the room and the scientists begin to yell. They try shocking him to get him to comply, to get him to pull back the charge.

He wants to. He tries too. But it all hurts. His brain spins.

“REMY!”

His eyes snap open at the fledgling’s voice. They brought his fledgling here?? Into danger??

Remy lets out a shrill whistle that means that he wants Gambit to flee.

“I'm not leaving Remy.”

Gambit says with all the determination and snark of a teenager. The kid quickly climbs the wall despite his still bound hands and settles on the glowing platform next to him. The kid shifts awkwardly and then whistle-chirps. One asking about touch that Remy had used fairly often with the fledgling. He registers the fearful look on the little one's face and realizes that if this place blows his little fledgling will blow up with it.

“Desole. I can't bring it back in.”

He whispers and Gambit's eyes are full of determination.

“Maybe we both try?”

A hand grabs one of his and the other touches the the glowing platform. Remy leans into Gambit who nudges him with his head. Remy slowly nuzzles while pulling the chargeback. A shared wince tells him that Gambit is also able to pull it in. The glow fades and Remy feels like a puppet with its strings cut. He slumps a little and Gambit shivers.

Aww, poor cold fledgling. Remy drowsily tugs the little one closer, laying down and curling around the fledgling. He nuzzles and makes chirps and whistles.

“Frère aîné. It's alright. Im alright and you… we’re both alive.”

The fledgling clings, fingers winding around the horrible material that his uniform is made of. Remy breathes deeply, nuzzling. He gently sings and whistles to the fledgling that just melts against him.

“Oh, what did they do to you frère…”

Gambit whispers fingers slowly moving the uniform to the side and touching the bandages.

“Desole. Remy can't keep you safe. He want to. He want to real real bad. But Remy can't.”

Remy admits, crying.

“It's okay. Gambit will be okay. You help so much already.”

Gambit whispers back pressing in tight. That night they put the two of them in one cell. Something about being able to discharge the blasts of each other or something. Remy does not care about the why. He just cares that he now has the ability to keep Gambit warm while they sleep and be there for the fledgling so much more.

Remy nuzzles Gambit’s hair giving friendly chuffs and churrs. Gambit imitates the noises back to him. They curl into eachother and fall asleep. A nightmare startles him awake. He slowly pulls Gambit closer as he calms down from the nightmare. His chest is screaming in pain from the deep cuts. The collar slowly releases cold cold drugs into his system, numbing him from the neck down. The teenager shifts and wipes at Remy’s eyes.

“Desole.”

Gambit whispers. Remy nuzzles his hair and sighs.

“Thank you, mon petit fledgling.”

He presses a kiss to Gambit’s scalp and slowly falls asleep.

Gambit grins as he shows off a few tricks on the newly added monkey bars while Remy relaxes on one of the poles.

“Good!”

Remy sings out and Gambit grins. He hooks his legs through the bars and hangs upside down. He stretches and shifts his weight easily. Remy is so free with his praise and is always kind to him. Sure, his adoptive father had praised his abilities. But there was always a tinge of demand and expectation that went along with that praise. Expectation to repay the kindness of the Guild… And Remy seems to have none of that expectation. Gambit pulls himself up and gives a bright chirp. Remy laughs and chirps back. He shifts and hops onto the pole close to Remy.

“Are you feeling up to tag?”

Remy asks and Gambit bites his lip.

“Your chest is still healing…”

He whispers back and Remy scrunches his nose.

“Fledglings need fun. And the drugs help with the pain.”

Remy smiles and Gambit puffs his cheeks.

“Why do you call me that, frère aîné?”

He asks, leaning forwards a little bit. Remy sighs airily, glancing to the scientists and guards. Then, Remy huffs irritably and crosses his arms.

“Lemme tell you a long story, petit. I don't be carin’ no more how they gonna take it. My Papa is… was a good man. A strong man. But a strange one. He could smell blood on the wind and hunted dangerous people. People with teeth that are sharp and dangerous and who lusted for blood. Vampires. My Papa hunted the bad ones who were killed without care and left blood splattered everywhere. Mais… My Papa was strange. His nose too keen, his teeth too sharp, just like the vampires he took down. Because there was another side to those creatures. Some were normal, decent. He was decent; more than decent. I love my papa. And he loved me, even if I wasn't a vamp like him. I was his fledglin’. His baby vamp. I love you, and I can't think of anythin’ closer I could call you. Because I care about you so much.”

“You… love me?”

Gambit whispers, eyes growing wide. No one had told him that they loved him. Loved him for him and cared about him. Normally… Normally the Guild only cared about him for his use. It is the reason that he knows no one is coming for him.

Remy looks at him, a slight softness filling the eyes that are so much like his own.

“I love you. I worry about you and care about you. I would do just about anything for you.”

He says voice brimming with truth. Gambit swallows and looks away, not trusting himself not to cry if he keeps looking into Remy’s eyes.

“I… I love you too. I'm glad I met you. I'm sorry about how we met mais…”

He whispers, terrified of his own words. He trails off not trusting himself anymore. Remy purrs and whistles merrily. Gambit looks back and grins happily at him.

#x men evolution gambit #gambit #remy lebeau #void gambit #void remy lebeau #x men evolution #hermes speaks #a ticking time bomb #hydra

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faegoddessog · 7 months ago

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Woman in Red Ch 12/17

Chapter 12: Jovan and Podgorica

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ only, just discussion of sex, oh and some like kissing and a lil' submissiveness, and maybe a lil' jealousy. (I had get all 'author's craft' and put some character development and set up in there, I know... so weird. But let me say.. Chapter 13 will put you in heat.)

A/N: In this story, I make no mention of birth control or condoms or STI's. Please, darlings, please love yourself enough to protect yourself appropriately when you have sex. <3

Message me or leave in a comment if you'd like to be added or removed from my tagged list!

@purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

Here is the Woman in Red Masterlist

Here is the link to all my posted work: My Dirty Little, and not so little Stories.

Chapter 12: Jovan and Podgorica

They are walking the next day in the city of Podgorica. Aya had seemed rushed, though she tried to play it off as excitement.

“The driver is already waiting,” she had said, while he finished breakfast, “it’s an hour away, let's get going!”

He wasn’t sure why they were driving over an hour to the big city, but heck he was always up for seeing new places.

‘What Aya wants, Aya gets,’ he had chuckled to himself as he tied his shoes.

For the capital, it’s not that big of a city. It’s also not that big of a country, Austin reasons. Aya tells the driver to drop them off the south side of the Old Ribnica River Bridge.

Austin is wary as they drive through an urban residential area, past old white plaster and stone work houses close together. They pass old crumbling walls then down a narrow alley like street with a mish mash of graffiti clearly done by rebellious teenagers on one corner and a Mosque on the other. Finally the road ends at a dirt turn around on what looks like a vacant lot. There are mounds of stacked stone just there as though no one actually cares that they are ancient ruins. Four or five dumpsters tagged with spray paint are the only witnesses of their arrival. Bits of the city can be seen through the line of trees at the far edge. This looks like a place that you might be taken to in the boot of car and not return from. Austin turns to look at Aya with concern.

“Oh come on, live a little,” she says with a wink, getting out of the car. “I’ll text when and where,” she says to the driver.

She excitedly traipses down a narrow, nearly hidden trail, lined with weeds and bits of trash. She looks completely out of place in her tailored linen trousers and off the shoulder button down. Her wedge sandals are completely not made for this. He looks at the driver who shrugs as though he’s seen her do this a hundred times. Austin hurries after her, feeling dubious.

The trail opens up almost immediately onto a paved path that was hidden by the weeds. He immediately breathes a sigh of relief as they turn a corner around what looks to be an old ruined tower and he sees the wide manicured steps leading down to an old stone footbridge. It spans a tributary only a few feet from its confluence with the mainstem below. What looks like a courtyard with what once was a fountain is on this side of the bridge, the embankment opposite is a tangle of stone walls, foliage, layered rock and hollows. It feels like a set piece from The Labyrinth, apart from the traffic and city noises.

“You had me worried there for a minute,” he says, coming up behind her.

“Have I steered you wrong yet?” she says with a wink and a smile.

Hand in hand, they cross the bridge and wind their way up the hill. They pop out on a busy street. They walk a few blocks, passing the Montenegrin National Theatre, which makes Austin perk up.

“I think they haven’t started their season yet,” she says when he asks about going, “besides, last time I was there, I ended up getting caught being naughty in the coat closet. I’m not sure I’m welcome anymore,” she giggles as they passed.

They walk the tree lined streets. They pass a few restaurants and art galleries. The architecture is pretty simple and at times brutalist, echoing its past. There are a few shops to check out, but nothing fancy. Austin is wondering what it was about here that made Aya want to come so badly.

They round the corner and find a loose crowd of people around what looks like a construction site on an empty lot. There is a mix of people in business attire, general random people, men in construction clothes and press. Austin makes to cross the street, away from the cameras. Without a word, Aya takes him by the hand and threads her way around to the leading edge of the crowd. There is a podium and a microphone and a few clean, new shovels. It seems to be some sort of ground breaking ceremony. As if on cue, a man steps up and begins a short speech.

Not speaking Montenegrin or Serbian, Austin has no idea what is being said, but Aya seems to understand at least some. Standing next to her, he can’t help but stare at her thinking of how he couldn’t resist her if she drew him into a coat closet. He starts wondering if there are any errant closets near when he hears, “Hvala Aya Glascoc!”

She hands him her purse and winks, then walks the handful of steps to the podium before he knows what is happening. She shakes the man’s hand, speaking a few words to him. They turn, smiling, to the crowd as camera shutters snap. She steps back and someone hands her a hardhat and a shovel. As though she had done it a million times, she shoves the tip into the ground and with her sandaled foot, drives the blade in, leveraging the dirt up, the crowd claps. She kisses her hand and waves. There are a few more photos and she rejoins Austin, a couple people shaking her hand on the way. Austin is just stunned, standing there holding her bag. Well, at least he knew why she needed to come to the city today.

……………

“Ok,” he says, once they are sitting down. “Confession time.”

She and Austin had slipped away, hard hat, shovel and all. She had been evasive answering his questions, telling him she was hungry and needed to eat and that she knew the perfect little place.

“Oh” she says, chin on her fist and leaning in, “what do you have to confess, is it dirty?” her eyes sparkle with mischief.

“No,” he chuckles, “what just happened?”

“Oh, this is my favorite little place, I always come here when I’m in Podgorica so they know me,” she evades with a giggly smile. She knows what he means. She just is shy of the subject.

They had walked into the adorable little cafe tucked away behind a nearby park. It was all stonework and plants and a massive vaulted skylight inside. Aya had been greeted loudly with hugs, before they were seated.

“That’s not what-” he begins.

“Aya!!!” A man, younger and handsome, walks in big strides to the table with arms wide. She jumps up and he bends his muscular form around her and plants a hefty kiss on Aya’s lips. Her hand cups his cheek in familiarity as she returns the kiss in kind. It was the kiss of someone who knew her intimately and lasted a little too long, in Austin’s opinion.

Her eyes sparkle as she leans back, speaking in the lilting mix of what sounds like Italian and Russian to his actor's ear. The man’s hands lingers around her waist, holding her tightly to him. Austin smiles tightly as he is introduced as ‘my friend Jovan’ by Aya.

“Zdravo! Nice to meeting you. I welcome all friends to Aya,” the man says in a loud voice, his English only slightly questionable. He takes his hand from Aya’s waist to extend it out to Austin, still pressing his body to hers. He shakes the man’s hand politely. He finds that he isn’t fond of the casual intimacy between the two, even when they step apart.

Aya and the dark haired man continue talking for a few minutes in a mix of Montenegrin and English, her hand lingering on the man’s arm. Austin watches the exchange trying to keep his face neutral, but twirling the ring he wore on his finger in agitation. He wishes that the table was not in the way so he could step closer to Aya and let this overly intimate man know he was more than just ‘friends to Aya’.

Fuck, but is he? More than just a fuck buddy to her? The thought tightens his chest on the way to his gut, souring in his stomach. He takes a couple breaths, trying to manage what he is feeling.

‘Calm down, you have no right to be jealous,’ he reminds himself. But he admits, it’s exactly what he’s feeling.

Jovan walks from the table to the back of the restaurant saying “I take care of you! You will not pay!”

“You know I will Jovan!” she fires back.

Austin shoots her a questioning look, pointing his thumb after the man. He doesn’t yet trust himself to speak.

“That’s Jovan, it’s his restaurant,” Aya’s grin is ear to ear. “We fight every time over whether or not I will pay. He is the reason I know any Montenegrin at all. Oh and this is his wife, Jelena, she always lets me pay!” She gets up and hugs the young woman that comes around the corner.

The second Aya says ‘his wife’, the tightness in Austin’s chest lessens. Her eyes go wide when she is introduced to Austin, who stands up and shakes her hand with a big smile.

“Wait, you are the Elvis, da?” she says in thickly accented english.

“Yes Ma’am, that was me,” he slips into the accent unknowingly as he smiles shyly and nods.

Family is called over, selfies are taken, autographs signed and the declaration that ‘you are family now!” is made.

Jovan brings out the rakija and pours a tiny glass for everyone. They toast with shouts of Živjeli! Jovan grabs the back of Austin’s head and plants a kiss on his cheek. It’s jarring, but Austin’s Fan Mode is on so he keeps his cool. It’s helpful to know that Jovan treats everyone like he wants to sleep with them.

“He’s uh,” Austin blows out a breath when they settle down, wine in hand.

“Alot, I know,” she reaches over and brushes the back of his hand soothingly, “but at least he is joyful.”

“He taught you Montenegrin, eh?” Austin asks, flipping his hand over to let her fingers dally in his palm.

“Uh huh” she sips her wine, giving him a knowing look, drawing circles with her fingertips.

“Oh really?” Austin tries to play cool, but feels the jealousy creep back in. His hand closes on hers, not exactly possessive.

“Do you really want to know?” Aya asks, squeezing his hand.

Austin blinks, “I don’t ask questions that I don’t want to know the answers to.” His hand slackens against hers.

“Jovan was one of my more enthusiastic paramours here, until he fell in love with Jelena and got married," she says matter of factly. "He taught me to speak what little Montenegrin I know and I taught him how to make a woman orgasm six ways to Sunday,” she stares into his ocean eyes, tracing the veins up his wrist.

She had been at the wedding last year and had given them an enormous amount of money, enough to purchase the comfortable home they lived in. She was pretty sure that Jelena knew that the reason she enjoyed such a satisfying marriage bed was because of her.

Austin nods, takes a breath, shivering at her touch. He laughs, looking down at her hand, feeling the weirdest conflict he’d ever felt. It was one thing to talk about exes, and another to run into them, another still to get hugs and kisses and be called ‘part of the family’. Yet how is it that she can make talking about her ex-lovers such a fucking turn on. Aya was an enigma.

“I bet you did,” his voice is breathy as his fingers do their own dance on her wrist. “Thanks for being honest about it,” he says, trying to find equilibrium.

Jovan brings out the first course, winking knowingly at Austin.

“You lucky, Aya is magic,” he says under his breath to Austin, “She teach me so good, Jelena could no refuse,” He winks conspiratorially.

Austin just nods and smiles, possessiveness welling up again.

The food is so delicious. Austin watches the interplay between Aya and Jovan drop to being casual and he starts to calm.

“Ok Aya, let me try again,” Austin says as they finish the first course, “What was all that with the ground breaking?” he goes for the direct question instead of trying to be amusing.

“Ah yes,” she dabs her mouth with the napkin, “I was a donor for the new building, part of my philanthropy. They asked me to come to the ceremony, I didn’t want to make a big deal for you.”

“Aya was THE donor,” says Jelena behind Austin. “So modest.”

Jelena refills their wine.

“What is it going to be?” asks Austin.

“It will be a hospital for your mind, like depression things,” says Jelena.

“It’s not a hospital,” Aya clarifies,” it’s going to be more like a community center. It’ll have a space for meditation and yoga and art classes. A place to do what makes you happy, plus a little coffee bar.”

Jelana looks at her with pursed lips… “and.”

“And the main part is for a non-profit clinic for emotional health.” says Aya almost sheepishly.

“Oh,” says Austin, “that’s really cool, Aya. Y’know, you CAN tell me these things. You don't have to spring them on me. I want to know about your passions, so I can support them, ” he doesn’t care that Jelena is still listening in.

Jelena's eyebrow lifts at Aya as if to say, 'this one, keep this one.'

"Sorry Austin, I'm just so used to doing my own thing," she shrugs it off.

“Yes, she helps so much. We love her,” Jelena smiles warmly at Aya. Then she is pointing a finger at Austin, “Do not fuck her up… I will not like you anymore.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he says with a smile.

“Good,” she walks away to another table.

“You know, that’s like the third or fourth time I’ve been told that,” he says to Aya, “You really have loyal friends.”

“I love my people, what can I say?” she sips her wine as though she were the reigning queen.

He silently wonders why they all seem so very protective of her. It was clear that she was special in nearly every way. She was magnetic, this he knew all too well, so it only follows that those she touches, literally and figuratively, would love her. If he wanted to be more than just another bit of fluff to her, he was going to have to reconcile these exes still caring deeply about her in his mind. He knows it won’t be the last time something like this happens.

“Why mental health?” he asks, deciding to put focus somewhere else to let his thoughts settle.

“Well,” she says tentatively, “I think it's really important for a better society. I try to help the local clinics in every town I own a place in. They really didn’t have one here so…” she shrugs. What she doesn’t say is that Montenegro has a high rate of suicide and that is actually why she even considered buying a place here.

“Hmm. How, uh, how many more places do you have?” he asks.

“Ok, since you only ask questions you want to actually know the answers to, “ she smiles at him, then begins ticking off on her fingers. “New York City, Kuala Lumpur, London and here are investments or for business so I have apartments. I have private homes in the Caribbean and near Aspen, and the Malibu house of course.” She doesn't mention her apartment in Florence.

“How often do you get to each?” he is astounded that she has so many homes.

“At least once a year,” except Florence. She’s not ready to talk about Florence.

…………………………

“How about a tub with me?” Aya says stretching onto her toes to put her arms around his neck.

She had seen Austin with Jovan, how he went a little possessive then pensive. Jovan was full-on physical touch all the time. Would she admit that part of why she drug Austin to his cafe was to see how he would handle it, maybe. She could tell that he was in his head about it now and thought maybe he needed a little simple reassurance. Besides, if he was going to get his back up every time they met someone she’d fucked, it would get old really fast.

On the way home, Aya had snuggled into him, falling asleep on his shoulder. He watched the view, mentally dissecting his feelings. Currently, he was standing by the piano, looking out over the ocean view, trying to decide if he should tell her.

“Well, you gotta get dirty first,” Austin says with a smile, not yet, he decided.

“Do I?” She returns his smile with a sideways glance.

“Yes of course, otherwise the tub won’t work,” he smirks, running a line down her jaw with this thumb.

“Well, I suppose you could fuck me more, that would surely make me dirty,” she offers with a shrug, as though it’s just an idea.

“And how exactly do you want me to fuck you more, huh? Aya?” he pulls her against his body. “Do you want me to take you up against a wall, or bend you over something? Maybe outside on the terrace again? Do you want me to lay you down and fuck you? Do you want my cock in your mouth again?“ His voice is soft but dominant. He isn’t sure where exactly all this is coming from, he only knows he wants her.

‘So much for feeling simple’, she thinks as he offers her a smorgasbord menu of sex. The same words could have been said with spite, a challenge to her motivations. Indeed she has been accused of using sex to her advantage. But really her way is just wanting sex. Instead of acusitory, his hand is gently on her jaw, turning her face up to meet his. His eyes and his tone both tell a story of dominant desire.

It is sexy as hell.

“I want…I don’t,” her mind trapped by indecision, “Yes,” she finally breathes out, “any way you want me.” She lets go of any pretense that she will have any major say in what happens for the next few hours.

“Any way *I* want,” his eyes smolder at her, “Oh, Aya, that is a dangerous thing to offer me,” he echos her words from two weeks ago, Fuck has it only been two weeks? “Hunny, I have to admit,” his fingers shake just a little as he pushes a hair back from her face, “I don't feel like being gentle tonight.” Aggressive possibilities flash in his mind.

“I meant what I said,” she locks eyes with him, returning the smolder joule for joule. “Any. Way. You. Want.” The bite on her lip and the look in her eyes erase in a flash any trepidation he has.

“Well, we are definitely going to need that soak later. I think after what I want to do to you, we will both be sore and …messy,” the word ‘messy’ melts off his lips. “Newfoundland? Right?”

“Yes Sir,” she says. This is exactly what she wants, she realizes, to not be in control.

“Oh, I like that,” he rumbles, somehow more turned on by her submission. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, only that he wanted to claim her, to have her, rule her, even if just for the night.

“Do you want me to get out some playthings?” she looks up at him through her eyelashes.

“Yes,” he growls and pulls her in for a kiss full of promises.

She pulls away and disappears into the bedroom. He opens the piano, sits and starts playing a series of cascading arpeggios. It’s his go-to warm up when he wants to play, plus it sounds impressive and satisfying. He is the picture of a patient man with nothing to do but tickle the ivories, inside he is all nerves though. They’ve not talked about any sort of sub/dom stuff yet. Honestly he figured if they did, he’d be the one kneeling at her feet, not the other way around. Not that he’s not played like this, he has ideas. It’s just that he doesn’t know what she’s ok with or what ‘playthings’ she’s going to bring. Fuck, as long as she is taking, it could be an entire orgy army she is assembling in there though a secret tunnel.

Aya spends a few minutes digging deep into the back of her closet to find what she is looking for. Her hands shake in excitement as she pulls the box out. She has one similar to this in every house she owns. She can’t remember if she’s used everything in this one or not. She hears him playing her piano and smiles. She has no idea what he’ll be up for as she glances inside. She kicks herself for not bringing it up sooner. But hey, no time like the present. As she turns to leave, she sees something strappy and black peeking out from behind a boho dress. Perfect!

When Aya comes back from the bedroom after freshening up, she is carrying an ornately carved lidded box and wearing a bra and panty set that look to be more like elaborate crisscrosses of black elastic than actual lingerie. It frames her snake tattoo nearly perfectly as well as her naked nipples. Her hair flows down her back, but is held away from her face with a clip.

His eyebrow raises at her appearance and he stops mid arpeggio, the sound from the sustain pedal ringing in the body of the instrument. He decides she was worth the wait, his hard cock agrees. She comes over and presents him with the open box. With one glance, he knows what he wants to do with her.

“Oh my, so many possibilities in one little box,” his look to her is pure devilish lust, “Pet.”

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #sassy unashamed woman

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imaginingaustin · 2 years ago

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meet the parents

summary: austin has a strike of nerves when you take him to meet your parents.

“y/n, i don’t think i’ve ever been more nervous.” austin sighed as he finished getting ready.

“why? you’ve met so many incredible people in your life, my parents are gonna be bores compared to them. and you’ve spoken with them many times.” you said, patting his chest.

you and austin have been together for a little over a year, but you were finally taking him to meet your parents. due to the nature of his busy schedule, he had previously only been able to see and speak with them over the phone or via facetime. now that his work had finally calmed dow, you were able to take him to meet them in person.

“i know, but i feel like im going in blind.” he sighed. you took his hands in yours and squeezed them, rubbing your thumbs across the back of them.

“baby, you are a gem. you make such a good first impression on any and every one you meet. my parents already know you and they already love you. meeting them in person is going to be no different than all the other times you’ve spoken with them before.” you reassured him.

you moved your hands to his face, placing your palms against his cheeks. his fingers wrapped around your wrists as he took a deep breath, calming his nerves.

“i love you.” he said softly, smiling down at you.

“i love you.” you repeated, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips. “now, are we ready?” you asked, and he nodded.

“yes. let’s go.” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you both put your finishing touches on your looks, grabbing your things and heading out. you drove to your parents home, and were immediately welcomed by hugs and kisses.

“we’re so happy to see you! both of you!” your mom said as you filed through the door.

“we’re happy too!” you expressed. you turned the attention to austin, smiling up at him before you spoke. “mom, dad, i’d like to formally introduce you to austin.”

“i feel like we already know each other fairly well, but it’s so great to finally meet you both in person.” austin said, extended his hand to shake. your mom immediately took him into her arms, hugging him tight.

“it’s so great to see you outside of a phone screen.” she said, smiling up at him. your dad expressed the same sentiment, squeezing austin’s shoulder.

as your visit continued, you gave austin a tour of your home as you waited for lunch to be served. this was the house you grew up in, and it held a lot of memories for you. it meant a lot to share them all with austin.

“i can’t believe they still have all this stuff in here.” you laughed awkwardly. your tour of the home had made its way into your childhood bedroom. fortunately it was more of a guestroom now, but there were still some of your things stowed away in the closet.

“awe, look at you!” austin giggled as he rummaged through the box full of pictures of you as you were growing up. “what an interesting sense of style.” he added, pointing out a picture of you in nothing but a diaper and a pair of shorts on your head.

“if baby y/n could see me now, they’d know adult y/n is much more sensible when it comes to clothes.” you laughed.

your tour of the home continued out into the backyard, towards the large pool where many summer parties took place.

“you see that grassy area behind the pool?” you asked austin, pointing in the general direction. he nodded and you started walking towards it. “i remember one time, i was having a graduation party, and a shit ton of people showed up. we used to have a huge tree here, and some random kid climbed onto the lowest branch, and jumped from it into the pool.”

“no way?” austin asked, eyes wide. you laughed and nodded.

“yes way. the very next weekend, my parents had it removed. they didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt if they pulled another stunt like that.” you laughed.

“wow. sounds like it was a fun party though.” austin said, still laughing.

“my last big rager before going off to college. then i became an adult, met you, and tamed my wild ways.” you laughed, resting your head on austin’s shoulder.

“well, you’re still wild in the ways that count.” he teased. you felt his hand trail down to your butt, giving you a light squeeze.

“stop!” you giggled, swatting his hand away. “not at my parent’s house.” you laughed.

just then, you heard your dad call from the back door, letting you know that lunch was ready. since it was so nice outside, you set up your meal on the back patio.

while you ate, austin and your parents talked as if they were old friends. austin fell into conversation seamlessly, you couldn’t even believe that he had been nervous to come over.

he shared stories about his travels and his work, some memories of his childhood. you and your parents continued to share stories of you as a kid. everything was so wonderful, and you felt at ease knowing that three of the most important people in your life were getting along so well.

a little while, after your meal, you were in the kitchen with your mom helping her with the dishes. austin and your dad were outside in the backyard, clearing the table. you had a perfect view of the boys from the kitchen window, and you were watching austin intently.

your mom caught glimpse of you, and though she didn’t tell you at the time, she recognized the look on your face. it was one that she knew your father was on the receiving end of over the years of their courtship and marriage.

a look of complete infatuation over a man that you were in head over heels in love with. she watched as austin caught your glimpse through the window and waved at you. you blew him a kiss and turned your attention back to the dishes in the sink. you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, mainly because you knew that your mom had seen you blush.

“you two are too cute.” she laughed. “i’m really glad to see you so in love.”

“so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening.” you said. “i’m glad he made such a good impression on you and dad. he was so nervous this morning.”

“really? i wonder why? we’ve spoken many times before.”

“that’s what i told him! i reminded him that you both already loved him, and weren’t gonna put too much pressure on him about today.” you said.

“we do love him. he’s so great for you, and you two are so happy with you. makes both your father and i so happy to see you in such a great relationship.” your mom said, rubbing your arm. you smiled at her as the flush returned to your cheeks.

once all the cleaning was done, you and austin spent the rest of the afternoon with your parents, enjoying the company.

as the day came to an end, you and austin began getting ready to head back home. you exchanged your goodbyes, and you and austin made your way home.

“now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” you asked as you and austin returned home.

“no, it wasn’t. i know i shouldn’t have been nervous, but i can’t help it. i know how close you and your parents are, i knew that i needed to make a good impression on them.”

“it’s not hard for you to make a good impression.” you said, smiling up at him. he smiled back and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. you and him began getting ready to go to bed, climbing under the covers, snuggling into each other’s embrace.

“i love you so much.” austin said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i love you more.” you said softly. a comfortable silence fell through the room as the two of you began to fall asleep, the exhaustion of a busy day and the comfort of each other’s arms lulling you into a sweet slumber.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction

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mamasturn · 2 years ago

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— is it a crime? | I.

pairing: austin butler inspired male oc x kat graham inspired fem oc (calisto and alcacia) summary: it’s been some time since calisto and alcacia have spoken. even with the distance between them and the ongoing heartache she felt at the hands of the man she loved, she can’t seem to let him go. warnings: toxic relationship. emotional manipulation. nsfw themes (no smut though). alcohol consumption.language. potential tag list (these people tend to interact the most. let me know if you want to be added/removed): @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @wacoshuffle @kaitaesupremacy

November was once her favorite month. The leaves were long off strong branches of mighty oak trees. They were found on the soles of her expensive fur-lined boots. The warm weather had chilled, and shorts and skirts were replaced by thick leggings and sweatpants. Iced coffee was replaced by hot teas and cocoas. Family gatherings increased. It was the beginning of the holiday season.

This time around, life was different. The tensions between families increased by the actions of one. The heart of a woman mimicked the battered one of a man. All parties suffered in the end.

Her naivety was her downfall, she came to realize after months of introspection and reflection. Her inability to detach was the weapon that beat her into submission until she could take it no longer. Until he lassoed her heart like a runaway animal and flung it against the wall with no mercy. She wondered where’d it gone.

What once was her favorite month became the one she dreaded the most. She had to pick herself off the floor in her darkened bathroom, scrub away the dirty behind the mask, and pick out another to wear to the occasion. Their families were to meet again for the first time in months. She did not look forward to it.

Her ragged nighttime attire was replaced by all black--a color she’d been fond of as of late. A black dress that stopped just below her knees with black stiletto heels to accompany it. Originally, she felt maybe a splash of color would keep her outfit from looking so dim, but she internally insisted a black trend coat over a red one would suffice.

She styled her hair differently. It no longer swept her shoulder blades with every turn of her head. No, it sat at her collarbone. A part on the right side and feathered bangs covered the darkness rims of her once bright eyes. Lipstick that was once a blush pink was darkened with red to make a maroon tint.

Her vehicle of choice was dark and discreet just as she’d come to be, yet it sped down the residential streets like a bat out of hell.

There was an uneasiness that settled within the pit of her stomach the closer she got to her destination. It felt like hatred, disgust, self-pity, and desire. A desire to not only burn the house to ashes, but to have the life she desired with the man whom it belonged to.

A loud beep came from her car once she slammed the driver’s door closed. One large breath after another, one foot after the previous, she walked toward the large doors of his home. The wooden trim around the door was familiar. A contrast to the darkness of the remaining.

She was greeted by the squeals and hugs of her family members and his alike; all clamoring about her distance from gatherings and her ignorance of phone calls and texts messages.

“I’ve just been handling some personal things,” she said with a tight-lipped smile and curt nod. All that witnessed were more than aware of the personal thing. And it became extremely evident when her breathing hastened once his presence entered the room.

She sat at the end of the table that would put her farthest from him. Physically, she couldn’t stand to be in his presence. Mentally and emotionally, she would die for the opportunity to be trapped beneath his body, chest against hers, just one more time.

It was foolish, she understood. To be so deeply wrapped up and entangled by the bounds of a man who didn’t want a thing to do with her. How unfortunate. She scoffed to herself and bit into a piece of broccoli.

The conversations around her revolved around new business ventures, partnerships with dealers in the area, vacations, and everything of the like. All things that could put Alcacia to sleep. She wasn’t one to talk about her business, either.

“Alcacia, how’s business?” His mother, Diane, spoke up after recognizing her silence. Her hazel eyes met the blue hues of Diane’s, and with a small chuckle insisted, “All is well.” No one needed to know she was the highest earning connect in the city. It was something she’d keep to herself. Too much knowledge of one’s life was an opportunity for people to sneak in and plot to destroy it.

“And with overseas ventures?” His voice was different than she had known it to be. She’d heard it transition since childhood. From squeaky clean innocence to sensual seduction. Now, it was rough and rugged like worn leather. Warm like Tennessee Whisky. Alcacia’s jaw clenched and fingers gripped her wine glass. The deep hue of her nails was a contrast to the silver goblet. She wondered if it was easily breakable.

“Fine.” She took a large swig.

“Just fine?” He prodded.

“Just fine.” She repeated through gritted teeth. “If you’ll excuse me.” Alcacia knocked back the remainder of her beverage and started toward the bathroom. Her legs led her there without much thought. She’d remember no matter how hard she fought to forget.

The bathroom was the same. Dark in color but coated in class and luxury. The hand towels were a crisp gray and the walls looked to have been touched up since she’d been pressed against them the last time. A familiar scent of cherry blossom and vanilla. But it was soon overpowered by a husky smell that was engraved in her sensorial memory.

Through the mirror, she saw the cracked door. Behind it, a shadow moved. The door crept open and a body slid past. It was all too familiar. Trapped in a quaint hallway bathroom with a brooding presence suffocating her so good she couldn’t help but whimper at the memories that she fought ruthlessly to forget.

“Caci…”

“You do not get to call me that,” she said sharply. “You lost that privilege a long time ago.” She backed as far away as she could. Against the wall where the hand towels sat folded neatly against the sleek, black bar. Her hair was caught in the cotton fabric.

“I just needed a minute. You can leave.” Her gaze was on his black boots. They needed to be replaced, she thought. Scuffed along the sides and the soles were beginning to lower.

“I just--I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes cut to his and her nostrils flared. The audacity. Had he wanted to make sure she was okay when he tossed her out of his home like hot garbage? When he embarrassed her the evening of the last family dinner? Or when she failed to appear for months at a time all because of his own actions.

Alcacia scoffed. “To hell with you, Calisto. You weren’t worried about me until I didn’t come crawling back to you like I did before. I wasn’t a topic of concern when you treated me like one of your whores, so why am I an area of concern now? You should be ashamed of yourself for the way you treated a woman who loves you.”

Loves. The present tense. It didn’t go through deaf ears. He understood the difference. Calisto took a step toward her. She took one backward. Her back was against the wall and her chest heaved. He couldn’t trap her like this again. She’d be a puddle at his feet.

The leather of his jacket creaked with the swing of his arm. His extended hand reached for her. He came close, fingertips grazing her wrist. Just as he’d done months before when he pinned her hands above her head and loved her into oblivion. Normally, she’d melt into his touch, and deep down, she wanted to. However, there was a principal he failed to understand--hurt people hurt people and it would take more than false niceties and puppy-dog eyes to repair the damaged that was caused by his own hand.

“I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Sounded rehearsed, she thought to herself. Not remotely genuine or sincere. The young woman scoffed and dropped her hand. She pushed herself off the wall and straightened herself. Her shoulders pulled back and a force tilted her chin up.

“Don’t.” Alcacia commanded. Her voice was low and it shook, but she was serious. “You’ll have to do more than that to even think about ever repairing the damage you caused. Goodnight, Calisto.”

She’d be a fool to say she didn’t want to fall into his arms, forgive him of his trespasses, and allow him to suffocate her in love and adoration. But, if he’d fooled her like a joker once before, who was to say he wouldn’t do it again? Once before his actions showed how he dishonored her and treated her as a footstool, and if he wanted to prove himself worthy of her, it would take more than words to change her mind.

#mamasturn #poems and poetry #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x black!reader #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x black!reader #is it a crime #calisto and alcacia #calisto x alcacia #kat graham

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