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libraryofloveletters · 4 years

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The Parent Trap

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of war, death and loss of parent/spouse

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Based on this request!

Part 2- The Mistletoe Proposal

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Emily, your daughter, sat beside a little boy on the playground bench while the other kids ran around in the sun waiting for their parents. “Hey” you smiled at the kids on the bench, you sat beside your daughter, she gave you a half hug. “Mom, this is Christopher, he’s my friend. He’s in my class and he likes to paint just like me!” she gushed, looking over at the little boy who had a smile on his face.

“Hi Christopher, I'm y/n. It’s nice to meet you” you leaned forward so he could see you. He gave you a big smile, the two children told you about their day at school, how they learned about amphibians and reptiles, their teacher showed them a video about frogs.

“Christopher, are you waiting for someone sweetheart ?”

“My dad” he looked over at you

“Chris, buddy!” a man’s voice shouted, looking over your shoulder you saw a man running towards you guys.

“Dad!” the little boy shouted back as he stood up, you helped him with his crutches as his father came over. “Hi bud” the man picked him up whilst he hugged him. The back of his t-shirt read “Los Angeles Fire Department”

“Dad, this is Emily my friend” Emily stood up, “Hi Chris's dad” she gave him a toothy grin, she was missing a few teeth. The man chuckled as he put Christopher down, “Hi Emily, I'm Eddie” he stuck his hand out, she gave him a high five which made him smile at her.

The interaction made your heart swell, he was good with kids.

“You are?” he looked at you, “I'm y/n, Emily’s mom” you smiled at him, he gave you a nod.

“Mommy?” Emily tugged on your hand, “yeah love bug?”

“Can Chris come over for a playdate now?”

“Oh baby,” you glance at Eddie, “I don’t know. Maybe Chris and his dad have somewhere to be”

“We don’t,” Christopher answers for his father, “can I go dad? please?” the boy looks up at him. Eddie was a sucker for his son clearly, anyone that looked at them could see how much he loved him, he’d do anything to keep him happy.

“Uh- okay yeah. That’s fine” Eddie gave in, just as you suspected. “Christopher come in!” your daughter walked up with Christopher, you watched them with a smile on your face, you and Eddie following behind them.

“Hey, sorry about them ambushing you like that. If you have somewhere to be, we can reschedule ?” you offered, you didn't want him to feel pressured just because the kids wanted to hang out.

“Nah it’s cool, we were just going to go home and play video games or something” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, “I'm sure he rather the company than a lame afternoon at home with dad” his comment made you smile. “Em! Wait up!” you jogged to catch up to the kids, Eddie followed behind you.

“Uh let me give you the address” you turned to Eddie, “oh that’s cool, I'll just follow behind you.” he said nonchalantly.

“I didn't drive today”

“Oh,” he paused for a moment, “how about you guys come with us and you can direct me? Maybe we can stop for pizza or something ?” he looks down at the kids, “how does that sound?” he asks them, a loud mess of “yes” and excited shouting filled your ears, Eddie led the 3 of you over to this truck. He lifted Christopher into the truck and proceeded to do the same with Emily. “Cool necklace!” she picked up the pendant on his neck, he smiled at her “Emily!” you gave her a look, Eddie shook his head. “It’s cool isn't it ? it’s my Saint Christoper’s pendant”

“Like Christopher ?” she asked him, still fiddling with the pendant.

“Yeah, just like Christopher”

Eddie got in the truck, he drove to the pizza place down the road from the school. Eddie asked the kids what they wanted, they both wanted the same thing but kept changing their minds each time they decided. “How about I get both and you choose when we get home?” he offered the kids, they nodded.

Home. The idea of a home with Eddie flicker through your mind monetarily, you shook the idea from your head. You had only just met this man, what's wrong with you.

“Oh wait!” you were digging through your pocket, Eddie’s eyes practically burning a hole into you.

Pulling some cash from your pocket, “here, for the food” Eddie refused to take it from you.

“I got it, don’t worry about it” he said as he opened the door.

“It’s a lot” you went to give him the cash again, he rested his hand on yours. “Next time, this time is on me” he smiled. Eddie left you and the kids in the car. You looked over at the backseat, Chris and Emily were whispering about something but a phone rang, interrupting their conversation. “It’s your dad’s phone kiddo” you looked at Chris and then at the phone, “it says it’s Buck, do you want to answer it ?” Chris nodded. He answered once you passed him the phone, he had it on speaker.

“Eddie! are we on for tonight ?” the man shouted from the other end of the call. “Buck!” Chris laughed. “Christopher! Hey buddy, where’s your dad?”

“Inside”

“And where are you ?”

“In the car”

“By yourself?” you could hear the panic in his voice, you spoke up.

“Hi, I'm y/n, I'm Emily’s mom uh- she’s friends with Christoper. They’re having a playdate. Eddie is inside getting pizza, he’ll be back in a few” you explain, the line goes silent for a moment. “Oh, okay. Can you tell Eddie to call me back ?”

“Sure” you say, “bye Buck!” Christoper says which made the man chuckle, “bye buddy, have fun at your playdate”

Christopher handed the phone back to you as Eddie came back to the truck. “There’s my phone, I thought I left it at the station” he said, getting in. “Oh no, your friend called, Christoper answered”

“Who was it?” he looked back at his son

“Buck” he smiled at his dad, Eddie smiled back at him, “He asked for you to call him back ?”

“Thanks” was all he said as he started driving. You directed him to your house, which was the opposite direction of the pizza place. “The one with the red door,” you pointed at house number 56, “that one” Eddie pulled into your driveway. Once again, he helped the kids get out of the truck, you turned to the kids, “do you want to eat inside or outside ?” you asked, they looked at each other, “outside!” they simultaneously shouted. Unlocking the front door, the kids walked in, Emily led him to the backdoor and made their way outside.

“Plates?” Eddie asked, you turned your attention to the fridge. “Uh cupboard to the left of the fridge” you leaned over into the fridge, reaching for the lemonade. “Wait does he drink lemonade- oh sorry!” You bumped into Eddie, his arm reaching for your arm to steady you.

“It’s okay, yeah he does” Eddie smiled, leaving you in the house as he went out to see the kids. Hands on the counter, you steadied your breathing for a moment, you were basically pressed up against your daughter’s friend’s ridiculously hot father. Pouring the lemonade into the glasses, you take a moment before going to pick up the glasses, right as you reach for them, Eddie’s hand touches yours, startling you. “Holy shit!” your hand clutches at your chest, Eddie has a slight red tint on his cheeks, you couldn’t tell if it was a blush or from the heat. “I’m sorry” he said, giving your shoulder a squeeze before getting the glasses. “I don’t mean to keep scaring you like that” “Oh, no worries. Just been a little jumpy lately” following him out the backdoor.

Christopher and Emily sat in the shade and were painting something on the two giant tablecloths you had given them. “Why tablecloths?” Eddie glanced at you, then turning his attention back to the children. He sat beside you on the porch swing you had outside. “It’s big enough for them to express all their idea without having to squish them into one tiny piece of paper, plus you can use it as a tablecloth afterwards,” you laughed “you couldn't imagine how excited they are when they see it on the table” Eddie nodded, smiling at his son who was covered in paint beside a paint covered Emily.

“We should get going soon, I'm sure your husband-” you looked at him as he paused mid-sentence, “or wife, will be home soon” his comment earned a loud cackle from you, a hand covering your mouth. “Oh god no,” you hand rested on his arm, “there’s no husband or wife in the picture, just me and love bug”

“Oh sorry, I just assumed you were married”

“No worries, I'm sure the missus or mister is waiting for you at home too”

Eddie shook his head, “Christopher’s mom, my wife- my ex I guess, she passed last year” he said quietly, his eyes fixated on the little boy sitting in the grass. The smile faded from your face, “Eddie, I'm so sorry” you whispered. Emily’s father was never in the picture, the two of you never had to experience that type of loss or hurt. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for Eddie to lose his wife, for Christopher to lose his mom. “It’s okay. Truthfully, she had just come back into our lives. Christoper was really enjoying his time with her, so was I” his voice wavered for a moment before clearing his throat.

“What about you ? Where’s Emily’s dad ?” he turned to you, clearly wanting to get the topic off of her, you indulged his questions.

“Hooked up with Emily’s dad at a college party, found out I was pregnant with her a few weeks later. I told him, he said he didn't want anything to do with “that thing”” you used air quotes with the last part,

“I'm sorry, he sounds like an ass. No offence” Eddie looked at you making you laugh.

“None taken, I regret him with my whole being but I never regretted having her. She’s my best friend” you looked over at your daughter.

“I wasn't here for the first few years of Christopher’s life, I was in Afghanistan. I would tell myself that I'm doing it for him but honestly, I regret that. I missed all his firsts, the first steps, the first words... I know I'm here now but I can’t help but think what if I didn't make it home ? What would have happened?” you rested your hand on Eddie’s hand, “hey, you can’t think like that. Yeah, it sucks you missed the firsts but think about how many more there are. The first day of high school, first date, first car, first graduation, first time picking him up from a party” you smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze.

The sky was now a reddish orange colour, it was around 8pm and you hadn’t realized how much time had gone by. “Alright kids, let’s see those paintings” you walked over to look at the paintings, “Eddie, I think we have two future artists here” he walked over too, he smiled at the kids and their paintings. “Y/n, I think you’re right. but buddy, we gotta get home” he helped Chris up, Emily tugged herself up by clinging to your leg, “you good there bug ?” your hand rested atop her head. “Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Can Chris and his dad stay for dinner?” Your daughter leaned from behind your leg and gave Chris a thumbs up which he returned. “What are you two up to ?” you asked her,

“Nothing! Can they stay ? pleaseeee” she begged you, you glanced at the boy and his father.

“Bubba, I don't know. I’m sure Eddie’s got work in the morning, you and Chris both have school. They probably want to get home”

“Actually,” Eddie turned to you, “if it’s okay with you, I don't mind staying”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Chris would like that too” You nodded, Eddie picked up Christoper with one arm and came over to pick up Emily with the other. Once again, your heart swells at the sight of this man and the children.

Dinner was quiet, it was nice having a full table for once, normally it was just the two of you. “How was school guys?” Eddie asks the kids at the table, you were in the kitchen putting away the leftovers. “We painted frogs and saw a video about them” Christopher told him, Emily adding on to his statement.

“Our teacher said she went on a date last night” she and Christopher giggled.

“Did she?” Eddie chuckled, humouring the children.

“I think you should go on a date with Emily’s mom” Christoper says to his father, you can hear Eddie cough after almost choking on his soda.

“I promise she’s nice” your daughter says, you hold back a laugh from the kitchen.

“Why do you guys go watch some tv? I’ll take these to the kitchen” the sound of clattering dishes and little feet was the sound that filled the house for the next few moments.

Eddie rests the plates in the sink and turns on the tap. “I got it, don’t worry” you tell him, he shakes his head. “Please, you made dinner and let us hang out here all afternoon, the least I can do is wash the dishes”

“So, that was an interesting conversation y'all were having” you smile at him, again, that slight red tint popped back up on his face. “you heard that ?” his eyes on the sink, “yeah, I promise I am nice but I had no idea they were going to try and set us up” you laughed, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Eddie let out a laugh too, “yeah, that was uh- a little- it definitely caught me off guard” he turned to you.

The time was now 10:30, “I think it’s time we get home” Eddie said, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. “Yeah, it’s pretty late” you watch as Eddie walks to the living room to get Christoper. A few moments later, Chris comes into the kitchen, you walk over and kneel down so the two of you are face to face.

“Thank you for letting me hang out and have dinner here” he says sweetly, you give him a smile. “You’re welcome my love, you’re welcome to come over anytime you’d like” Christopher gives you a hug which you return. You walk in back to the living room where you find a scene similar to the one you just had wth Christopher. Emily sat beside Eddie on the couch, her little arms wrapped around his neck, “think about it ?” she asked him, sticking her pinky out to him. He laughed and nodded, “I will” he linked his pinky with hers. “Ready to go home bud ?” Eddie asked his son who nodded, Christopher said goodbye to Emily before they made their way over to the door. Emily had already ran off to go get ready for bed leaving you at the door as Eddie helped Chris in the truck. You stepped out onto the porch, Eddie was halfway between the truck and your front door.

“Thank you for having us over today”

“Thank you for coming, it was nice to have a full house”

Eddie turned on his heels and headed to the truck, he stopped and turned back towards you. “I really enjoyed this, maybe we could have a playdate of our own sometime?” your brows furrowed at his comment.

Was he suggesting that you get together and play with toys or play with something else..

Eddie senses your confusion, “oh god, I didn't mean, sorry uh-” he let out an awkward chuckle, “I meant maybe we could go out sometime ? together but without the kids ?” he made his way over to you.

“Are you asking me on a date or a playdate ?” you tease him, you bit your lip, holding back a smile. Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, “a date y/n, I'd like to go on a date with you”

“I’d like that Eddie”

Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek, “goodnight y/n”

“Goodnight Eddie”

taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx

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cocochannel00 · 4 years

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Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case”

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

- He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife”

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

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Arcadia, Chapter 1

My submission for the 2021 Hinny birthday challenge for the HG discord! Thanks to Liza for organizing, to @accio-broom for the Brit-pick, to @secretkeeper13 for the beta, and to anyone else who helped (I'm probably forgetting a few folks, apologies).

The challenge theme this year was content based on TV! This is an (extremely loose) X-Files AU, but you absolutely don’t need to be familiar with X-Files to understand this :D

TW (spoilers): swearing, references to (severe) mental health concerns, (eventual) consensual relations

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D A Y + O N E

The woman probably finds herself charming as she stands in their driveway, her hands clasped in frozen excitement.

But Ginny just finds her creepy.

Really fucking creepy.

Harry drops hired car into first gear as they pull in. This woman— the head of the village council, Ginny reckons, the one she spoke to on the phone— wears perfectly-pleated Chino pants with a lavender jumper draped across her shoulders.

Her attire is standard for a posh village… especially a new-build village, one with a covenant and loads of stupid rules. It’s the woman’s eerie, opened-mouthed grin that shoots a chill up Ginny’s spine.

Her stark white teeth glint in the sun, but her smile doesn’t move an inch… and the longer Ginny stares, the more unsettled she grows. The only thing larger than her grin is the mane of yellow hair that surrounds her face like an ersatz halo.

Harry clears his throat as he turns off the car; Ginny realizes this is the first sound either of them has made since leaving London.

Awkward.

She reaches for her door handle, but the random woman gets to it first.

“You must be Jenny and Henry!” she shrieks, yanking on Ginny’s shoulders before she’s even unbuckled. “Oh, sorry! Love, do let me get the strap!”

Ginny’s on her feet and pressed to the stranger’s perfumed bosom before she has a chance to tell her she can manage just fine herself, thanks.

“Lovely to meet you in person!” the woman cries, nearly shaking with enthusiasm. It’s not until Ginny’s returned a weak squeeze that the vice-like grip around her middle weakens.

Rubbing her aching shoulder, she sneaks a glimpse at Harry; while she fought for air, he apparently climbed out of the car, only to stare at the two of them like a deer in the headlights. Now his elbow’s at an awkward angle, his hand behind his back, which could only mean one thing: he’s reaching for the wand in his back pocket.

Shit.

Ginny shakes her head and hopes her eyes convey what her lips can’t: She’s just a standard Muggle weirdo. Relax.

“I’m Jane. Jane Connors. In the flesh!” The woman (whose voice Ginny now finds painfully familiar) throws her hands in the air and twirls on the spot. “I take it you’re Jenny and Henry Petri!”

Harry interrupts with a booming chuckle before Ginny says a word; in three quick steps, he’s wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That’s Pee-tri, actually. Like the dish,” Harry— Henry— adds with a wink. “And speaking of dish…” His eyes travel over Ginny, his voice going all deep and silky.

She bites back a shudder, hating the way her stomach drops as his fingers graze her arm. All that keeps her grounded is knowing the truth: Harry’s good at his job, nothing more. The only reason he’s suddenly become a skilled actor is that his career demands it.

Hers does too, she reminds herself firmly. And if she has any intention of successfully completing her first solo mission, she needs to get her shit together. Now.

Ginny blinks up at Harry, appropriately sobered; his eyes glimmer with mirth. As suspected, he’s only doing his job. Touch is just part of the assignment description. He has no way of knowing what it does to her— because really, truly, it shouldn’t.

And maybe if she keeps telling herself that, it’ll eventually come true.

Harry winks at Jane, tugging Ginny against his side. “My new wife and I had a long journey from the city! We were hoping to get some alone-time before tucking in, I’m sure you understand.”

Jane looks puzzled. “You— but it’s 5:43!” An uncomfortable giggle burbles from her lips. “You must be moved in by 6. Surely you’ve read the covenant rules?”

“Erm… may have missed that one,” Ginny lies. “There’s quite a few, see. We’re used to—”

But Jane shoves her fingers into her mouth, cutting her off with an ear-piercing whistle. Just as quickly, another chill races up Ginny’s spine. People up and down the street emerge from their semi-detached homes and race towards them, their faces in downcast unison.

They’ve all been watching. Waiting for the signal. Ready.

Ginny’s not sure how long ago the Department of Mysteries delivered the moving van and left it on the street, but the horde of random people aren’t fussed with the details, either. Within five seconds of Jane’s whistle, the strangers throw open the back door and begin an unloading process that reeks of military precision.

“Here’s the house key!” trills Jane, pulling it from her pocket. “Oh, and Petris!” She turns to Harry and Ginny, wagging her finger. “I’ll also need a copy of your car key, ASAP. We’re firm believers in the buddy system here in Arcadia.” She returns her attention to the stone-faced neighbors, who are now scurrying to the door. “This way, friends— right this way!”

“I— that’s really unnecessary,” Ginny says, bewildered, as people rush inside their new house, boxes in arms. “We’re perfectly able to—”

“Nonsense!” cries a man with grey sideburns as he takes a box from the back. “We’re neighborly here. You’d better get used to it.”

“Yes!” chimes another voice. A chubby man wearing a Polo and a golden necklace emerges from behind the lorry, hurrying up the walk. “We’re like a family here. We all— oh no!” He lets out a startled cry as a box labeled FINE CHINA topples from his arms and lands on the pavement with a thump.

He rushes towards it, face falling, but Ginny’s main concern is the box’s silent descent; she runs over, making a mental note to have a word with the designer of these props. Would something noisy and fragile have killed them? For fuck’s sake...

“Sorry,” the man says with a pained wince. “I’m just so clumsy. I-I promise, I’ll—”

“It’s fine,” Ginny soothes, dropping to her knees. “Don’t worry, really. We aren’t too big on dishes.”

Maybe if she keeps him talking, he won’t realize it’s bloody empty. Seriously, this is amateur shit. Luckily, he’s too distracted to notice.

The man offers a sheepish smile. “I’m Mike. Mike Snodgrass. You may have seen Mike and Jess in the resident guide, but erm…” He trails off, sadness in his voice.

Ginny cocks her head to feign confusion, but of course she’s familiar with Jess Snodgrass, 25, reported missing last November. Her photo’s been on Ginny’s desk for almost as long. Even now, Jess appears in Ginny’s mind with such startling clarity that she can almost see her beside Mike... all 5 feet of her, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes, and a lopsided grin.

Jess Snodgrass… Arcadia’s third missing person. The first to disrupt the couples-only disappearance pattern.

Mike shrugs. “But erm… it’s just me now,” he repeats. “I’m a primary teacher at Saint Julian’s, just up the road.” He nods to his left. “So if you’ve got any homework or school questions, give me a ring!” He pastes on a smile that doesn’t match his eyes; it’s an expression with which Ginny’s well-acquainted.

“I’ll have to remember that, Mike Snodgrass,” Ginny says, shaking his hand.

She immediately regrets it.

Seeing Mike Snodgrass on paper is one thing, but touch makes him human. His hand feels big and warm, his smile earnest and sweet; he reminds her so strongly of Neville that her stomach aches. Ginny breathes through her nose and focuses on the way his necklace — a medallion of Saint Julian, appropriately enough — sparkles in the sun.

“Like I said, I’m all alone,” Mike repeats, offering his hand to help her up. “If you ever need anything, Jenny, don’t hesitate to ask!”

Ginny taps her chin. “Actually, I do have a question! I reckon it’s just a rumor, though. You don’t have to confirm or deny.” She winks at him and leans in as a woman in a fleece jumper rushes past.

Mike’s smile widens, his face brightening… and ah fuck, that one hurts, because she’s about to break his heart.

“Mike…” Ginny murmurs, studying his expression. The more she says his name, the less he reminds her of Neville; she wants to keep it that way. “With everyone being so bloody hospitable here, how come there are so many disappearances?”

Mike stops bobbing. His smile vanishes as quickly as the former occupants of Jenny and Henry’s new home. When Ginny looks back into his eyes, her gut plummets with a sensation of wretched familiarity.

Because she expected sadness on his face… the same type she saw when he mentioned Jess’ name. Sadness she can deal with; sadness is painful, but she sees it all the time.

She sees something worse, though.

Fear.

And not day-to-day fear. This isn’t like hating needles or avoiding clown movies. Mike’s face is filled with the sort of wide-eyed, gripping, primal terror that seizes your insides in a vice. This is how you’d feel if your entire family were held captive in a dungeon, and a single word to the wrong person would spell their deaths.

Or how you’d feel if your ex-boyfriend were the corrupt government’s most desired fugitive… and you still fancied him very much, indeed.

“I… n-no idea,” Mike finally stutters, blinking. Then he sucks in a deep breath through his nose, his expression brightening again.

“So what do you and Henry do for work?” he asks in a booming voice, his grin now unnaturally wide. “We’ve got a carpool to the city if you’re interested. Reducing our carbon footprint is of utmost importance here in Arcadia!” He finishes by spreading his hands in each direction before placing them on his hips, that shit-eating grin still plastered across his face.

In another life, Ginny might’ve laughed. There certainly would have been a lot to cackle over, if she had the luxury of easy laughter. After all, she may as well be living in an am-dram nativity performance, complete with an overeager Joseph beckoning her to the stables after her harrowing desert journey.

Now, though, his reply only fills her with sad, professional detachment. Because fucking hell, how much did this poor man rehearse to get that line right?

She takes pity on him and snaps the bait. “My husband and I work from home,” she says, matching his volume. Someone’s clearly listening; it’s the least she can do. “You won’t see us out much.” Ginny brings the box to her hip. “And seriously, don’t worry about replacing the dishes, either. We mostly do takeaway.”

“No, let me bring you new ones,” Mike insists, his eyes pleading. “Tomorrow? Would that be—”

“What is this?” a voice demands from the back of the truck. Ginny peers around Mike’s shoulder. The man with the gray sideburns stares inside the lorry with a look of disgust.

“A trampoline!” Harry says, stepping aside as another neighbor races past. “We’re thrilled to put it in the garden, aren’t we, Jenny Cakes?”

Jenny Cakes. Is he fucking serious? Two can play at this game, prat.

“Indeed we are, Hen,” she croons, leaning into his side. “Jen and Hen.” She heaves a dreamy sigh and stares into his eyes. “We even rhyme!”

“Rhyming or not, this isn’t allowed,” the man barks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’d have to apply for a special exemption with Mr Gogolak, but in the meantime…” He checks his watch. “5:53. Seven minutes. It’ll have to go in the garage tonight. I’m Oliver, by the way— Oliver Skinner.”

Harry gives him a theatrical scowl. “I’d say nice to meet you, but those who are enemies of trampolines are generally enemies of mine.”

Ginny bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but Oliver remains unamused. He raises his pointer finger as if to say something, but Harry gets there first.

“Onnnnly kidding!” Harry winks and claps his shoulder. “Hope we can be fast friends, Oliver.”

Oliver just glares back. “Count on it.”

_______________________________________________________

Ginny’s taking this whole thing very seriously. Not that Harry blames her.

Her voice echoes against the walls of the empty home as she paces around the sitting room, her camera flipped outward to record.

Despite his five-year Auror career, Harry has no real concept of what Unspeakables do. Which, he supposes, is by design. He knows they… know things. Secret things. Things you’d be happier not knowing. He also knows that Kingsley isn’t fond of them. Or perhaps it’s Attica Monkstanley, Ginny’s boss, who King dislikes in particular. Attica’s famous for her refusal to disclose anything — ever. This ranges from potential terrorist plots to her favorite type of sandwich. Thus, Attica isn’t particularly popular. After a career built on helping absolutely no one outside her department, the request for Auror backup on an undisclosed, top-secret endeavor went over about as well as a hippogriff stampede in a posh tea room.

Harry sighs at the blank walls of their would-be living room. King’s in charge now. Big in charge. He or Robards were the obvious choices to accompany Ginny — sorry, Unspeakable GW — on this mission, but when you’re Big In Charge, you call the shots. The shot King called was to pass the assignment to Robards, who in turn passed it to Harry; Robards decided he didn’t need to (direct quote) “take off a week from pre-existing assignments for some fake marriage, new-build village bullshit in the arse-end of Muggle nowhere.”

Admittedly, Harry’s in a bit of a lull at the moment. He’d been assigned to track and recover Yaxley, but that trail went cold on the border of Romania. Harry’s certain he’s just beyond their reach, maybe hiding in a cave, but seeing as how Harry’s not Big In Charge, his opinion doesn’t exactly matter.

Which is precisely how he’s found himself in this bland house in the village of Arcadia, pretending to be married to his ex-girlfriend… who, incidentally, he’s still hopelessly infatuated with, even five years after he ended things.

Because Harry Potter is nothing if not pathetic.

There’d been no realistic way to decline the assignment, though. Not that he’d tried. Seriously, imagine explaining that to your boss: “Mm yeah, sorry King, I can’t do my job because I still wank to the memory of Unspeakable GW riding my—”

Ginny’s narration jerks him from his thoughts. “It’s 6:15 PM on our first day of the assignment,” she dictates into her phone. “Auror Potter and I are secured in the home, posing as Muggle couple Jenny and Henry Petri.”

“Pee-tri!” Harry corrects, throwing his voice across the room.

He hopes he’s loud enough for the camera to detect, but he isn’t exactly brave enough to find out. Harry picks up their empty curry boxes and scampers into the kitchen without so much as a backward glimpse. He may have been forced into this assignment, but he’ll be damned if he can't have a bit of fun.

Her narration stops as he dips out of sight; if Harry were the gambling sort, he’d bet all the gold in Gringotts that she shot him a two-fingered salute away from the camera.

For some fucked up reason, the thought stirs something warm and exciting that lies dormant in his stomach. What’s worse is this feeling almost makes him smile.

No.

Harry draws a breath as he enters the kitchen.

As Kingsley’s told him several times, this arrangement is strictly business— regardless of his past with her. And in retrospect, yeah, the whole setup is an easy way for King to A) refuse responsibility himself, and B) put Monkstanley in a tough spot if it goes pear-shaped.

Harry pops open the rubbish bin. This is just the sort of liability King’s always looking to avoid, really, but— wait. He blinks down into the bin to make sure he’s not just seeing things, but nope… for some reason, the interior is divided into three sections, each in a different color.

Huh! Harry mulls this over before picking the blue bin at random and tossing the containers in. Maybe he’d know what each color meant if he bothered to read the covenant rules. Fortunately, he had much more exciting plans that particular evening involving Ron, loads of butterbeer, and a Canons/Falcons match from hell.

Whatever. Surely Arcadia would make an effort to clearly explain their recycling system if they really cared about the planet.

He returns to the living room just as Ginny’s providing a more in-depth introduction. “Right. I’m Unspeakable GW, badge number”— her voice becomes garbled gibberish, an extra level of concealment, before slipping back to normal speech— “and we’re here to investigate the series of unexplained Muggle disappearances in the village of Arcadia. As this may involve a potential escapee from the Thought Chamber, the Department thought it best for me to investigate. The Thought Chamber’s been my area of expertise for four years…”

Harry sinks into the sofa as she continues; he’s unsure if he should be sad or impressed that this is teaching him more about her job than she ever shared. Not that she did this for long while they were actually together, mind. Nonetheless, his chest flutters again with that stupid bittersweet pride as Ginny scans the room with the phone camera. All of this pageantry is necessary for her job, he knows. Careful documentation. Detailed recordings.

But for fuck’s sake, look at how much she’s done! She’s the youngest Junior Unspeakable in history, soon to become Senior, if this mission works out. She’s composed, she’s eloquent, she’s graceful. Another smile threatens to break through before Harry suppresses it; he just hopes that there’s someone in her life to remind her of how special she is.

She’s really dressed for the part, too. Harry’s certain that none of this is actually in her wardrobe. Seeing her out of jeans and a jumper is off-putting, but she’s done it so damn well. She once told him that most of her clothing choices were based on how easily she could wear them flying.

He swallows the sadness creeping up his throat. He doesn’t even know if she still flies, but she doesn’t in this outfit, that’s for damn sure. Her trainers are impeccably white, with a floral button-up blouse done up to her neck. She’s a bit like a young, beautiful Aunt Petunia; Harry reckons this is more or less the goal, but when she turns around to describe the stairwell, his eyes drop to her arse.

Shit.

He glances away as quickly, but he got a good look. Her casual trousers are rolled at the ankles, but they’ve done nothing to make her look… plain. Harry shuffles on the sofa, desperate for anything else to think about. Somehow, Aunt Petunia’s face still puckers in his mind’s eye, but now he can’t escape the mental image of her bent over the oven of 4 Privet Drive, only this time sporting a round, perfect—

“Potter’s here for backup,” Ginny says, returning to the sitting room. “I’m on primary investigation.”

Thank God; he sighs at the welcome distraction before remembering that bantering with her has always been an effective palate cleanser. So he does that, instead.

“Well, you know what they say,” Harry calls, leaning back against the cushions. “There’s nothing less interesting than the suburbs. Which is why I could never do your job, Jen.” He ends with a wink, resting his hands behind his head.

Ginny arches a brow, holding the camera in front of her. “And please take note, Attica, that the next time this happens, I’ll be the one to choose the names.”

She means it casually… he knows she means it casually. But something in her words pricks him. Irritates him. Wedges beneath his skin.

“Quite an assumption I’ll ever spend this much time with you again,” Harry mutters under his breath.

Shit.

He freezes. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, at least not so… bitterly. Once upon a time, he possessed the social graces to think before replying like that— but days of interpersonal nuance are long gone. They belonged to a carefree teenager with few thoughts aside from the next time he’d run his fingers through the thick, red hair that currently swayed in a long ponytail.

By the time he looks back up at her, Ginny’s face is filled with disappointment. And she’s closed her phone.

“I’ll have to redo that last bit of filming,” she says with a sniff. “But for what it’s worth?” She raises her chin. “You didn’t mind spending time with me in the distant, distant past, Auror Potter.”

Ha!

That was a tremendous understatement.

He’d been in love with her. Stupidly. Disgustingly. The first six months after the war were a blur of sex and mourning. They’d been so punch drunk and delirious that they probably used each other’s bodies more than either of them knew. He really thought they’d have a future, though… that they’d end up getting married and buying a house. Except theirs would have been different than this one. Filled with far more character and history and warmth. Their home would have smelled like baking bread and sounded like kids giggling and felt like a soft blanket on a cold night.

But none of that had anything to do with the way he snapped. So why bring it up, really?

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, tucking his hands beneath his bum. “That… I didn’t mean. I’m sorry. I just meant that we don’t see each other much, and…” He lets out a slow breath. Best to stop talking before he digs himself deeper.

“I forgive you,” Ginny says quietly. A full second passes before she offers him a smirk. “As long as I can still call you Pookie Pie in front of the neighbors.”

Harry blinks at the carpet with a sad smile. “Deal.”

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #fanfic #x-files #harry potter fanfiction

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grlwtskulltattoo · 3 years

Text

Fall For You - Chapter 4

Characters - Jax Teller x OFC (Katrina)

Summary - Katrina leaves an abuse relationship and heads home after finding out about her father’s passing. Old feelings come back to the surface for a person from her past. Story will follow the events of the show as much as possible. How might have Jax’s story changed with a different woman in his life.

Word Count - 8152

Warnings - NSFW, Hardcore Smut, Violence, Angst, Adult Language, Dark Themes, Fluff, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Accident, Mentions of Physical and Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm. Drinking.

Will add to the warnings as the story progresses. Warnings cover the whole series. Some parts will be more mild than others.

A/N - Feedback is welcomed and encouraged, and may help motivate me to continue. All mistakes are my own. If you would like to be tagged in future parts, please send me an ask to be added to the list.

I know this chapter has been a long time coming. Just took me awhile to get the pieces to fit into the right place. I can only hope that I did it justice. This chapter ended up being twice as long as I expected. I hope that helps make up for the long ass wait…. Oh and there is an added bonus at the end of the chapter…..Smut….If you’re into that kind of thing. I apologize in advance if it sucks…. Been a long time since I’ve written steamy sex scenes. Thanks for following along on this crazy ride.

Katrina spent the week following her father’s funeral preparing the house to put up for sale. She had no desire to continue living in the house that harbored so many bad memories. Her only regret is that bad memories out weigh the good ones involving her mom. She went through all of her father’s belongings. She saved the important stuff, family mementos that mainly involved her mom, some things from her father’s past that she’s curious about, and some items from her childhood. She was surprised to find a shoebox in her closet filled with notes that her, Jax and Opie passed to each other in school. She knew that she should throw them away, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The stuff she didn’t want to keep was piled up in the driveway under the carport beside the garage for the local thrift store to pick up.

She is leaving the furniture in the house at the recommendation of the Realtor. He told Katrina that having furniture in the house gives potential buyers a better idea of the size of the rooms. Katrina doesn’t really care either way, the furniture will be donated as soon as the house sells. The old Dodge Challenger in the garage Katrina plans to keep. Even if she has to rent a storage unit to store it in until she finds a new place to call home. She is only keeping the bare necessities in the house for her to use until she leaves.

She has to admit that she’s a little relieved that she hasn’t had any unexpected guests. Everything has been pretty quiet since the funeral, other than the explosion that occurred the night before last, on the outskirts of town. She can’t help but wonder if Samcro was somehow involved with it. Maybe that was why Jax hasn’t tried to stop by.

Katrina spent some time pouring over the old photos in her father’s stuff. On the back of the photo of him dressed in Native American regalia was written “Pine Ridge Res”. She wondered if maybe his family lived on the reservation. Maybe she had an aunt or uncle still living there. She was seriously considering taking a drive up there to investigate. Hopefully learn more about his past, so maybe she can understand why he became such a bitter asshole of a father. South Dakota might also be a good place to get a fresh start, away from Charming and far away from Vince.

Katrina puts the photos in an envelope and places it with her duffle in her bedroom. She fixes herself something to eat once she realizes that it’s already evening time. While she is eating, she thinks about the meal Gemma prepared for the dinner after her father’s funeral. She still feels a little guilty for leaving the way that she did. Gemma has a good heart, and has always treated Katrina like family, even if she has a tendency to meddle. Katrina knows in her heart it wouldn't feel right to just leave town without expressing her gratitude to Gemma for all of her help. Once Katrina finishes eating, she cleans up then grabs her jacket. She’s getting a little stir crazy at the house and decides to head over to TM to see if Gemma is still there working in the office. It’s getting a little late, but she remembers Gemma used to work all hours of the day and evening depending on how busy they were.

As Katrina rode her Harley to the shop she knew she was taking a chance on running into Jax. Hopefully he’ll be out doing club stuff, and won’t notice her there. When she pulled into the parking lot at Teller Morrow it was mostly empty save a couple cars and bikes. She parks her bike near the office, relieved to see Gemma’s car parked near the door. When Katrina turns off her bike, she’s surprised that there’s no loud rowdy music coming from the clubhouse. It’s actually pretty quiet. There is light filtering from the office window, so she’s fairly confident that Gemma’s inside. Katrina quietly walks inside the open door, catching Gemma off guard.

“Hey baby, what brings you by?” Gemma asks with concern in her voice. Katrina notices that Gemma looks tired, like the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving the dinner the way I did last week. I feel really bad about it, especially after everything you did to help. I think all the emotions were getting to me, and it was hard listening to all the stories about my father.” Katrina sincerely expresses to Gemma.

Gemma gestures to the chair next to desk, and Katrina takes a seat. “That’s ok baby, I know how hard it is to lose someone. It can take a minute to process everything going on. How are you doing now?” Gemma asks while lightly rubbing Katrina’s arm that is resting on the corner of her desk.

“Better. I cleaned out the rest of the house, got it listed with a real estate agent.” Katrina replies.

Gemma looks a little surprised. “So I guess that means you’re not planning on sticking around.”

Katrina can hear the disappointment in Gemma’s voice. “I don’t belong in Charming anymore. Never really did. I’ll probably stick around for a little bit to make sure everything goes ok with the showings of the house. Then I’m probably gonna take off.”

Gemma shakes her head at Katrina’s first comment. “You’ve always belonged here, Kat. I know Jax and Opie have missed you. I’ve missed you. You were like the daughter I never had. Don’t ever feel like you don’t belong here. You’re family.” Gemma looks Katrina straight in the eyes as she grips her arm.

Katrina sighs as she looks away. If only Gemma knew the truth about her father, maybe she’d understand why this town carried so many bad memories for her. Not to mention the whole Jax and Tara thing. “How are things going here? The clubhouse is pretty quiet.” Katrina asks trying to change the subject.

Gemma loosens her grip on Katrina’s arm. “Been a busy last few days. The club’s dealing with a Mayan problem. Jax’s junkie whore of an ex-wife, Wendy, just gave birth to his son. We don’t know yet if the baby is going to make it. He was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. I just got back to the office after spending a few hours trying to straighten up Jax’s house from the mess his ex left.” Gemma grabs a cigarette from her pack on the desk and lights it.

Katrina is in shock. She didn’t know Jax had an ex-wife and a newborn baby. “Wow. I had no idea.” She’s a little surprised that he was involved with a different women. She had alway imagined that he’d be married to Tara.

“Yeah, it’s been a little crazy around here.” Gemma sighs. “Jax won’t see his son in the hospital. Something about not wanting to get attached incase he doesn’t make it. Which is bullshit, he just doesn’t want to get his heart broken.” Gemma looks at Katrina with a pleading look in her eyes. “Do you think you could talk to him?” Gemma asks hopeful.

Katrina feels uncomfortable with the request. “I don’t know about that.” She tries to decline gently, shaking her head.

“Please, Kat. He won’t listen to me. You and him were so close. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Gemma pleads.

Ugg. It was the last thing Katrina wanted to do. Get in the middle of family drama. She really doesn't feel it’s her place to get involved, especially since she’s been gone for so long. She’s not as close to Jax as she used to be. She has been trying to avoid that. But seeing Gemma upset breaks her heart. “Ok. I’ll try to talk to him. I can’t make any guarantees that he’ll listen though.” Katrina reluctantly agrees.

“Thank you, Kat. He’s in the clubhouse.” Gemma looks relieved.

Oh shit, right now? Katrina wasn’t expecting to have to do it so soon. She was hoping to have the night to think about how to approach Jax. Katrina reluctantly gets out of her seat followed by Gemma. Gemma takes Katrina in her arms and gives her a little squeeze. “Thank you baby.” Gemma whispers in her ear.

Katrina gives Gemma a light pat on the back before walking out of the office. As she walks to towards the clubhouse she takes deep breaths of the cool evening air trying to steel her nerves. Mentally preparing herself for all the questions she’s sure to get bombarded with. When she enters the clubhouse, all the memories of her, Jax and Opie running around came flooding back to her. It was where she had her first shot of whiskey on a dare, learned to play poker, rocked out to loud music, and almost had her first kiss. It felt like home.

It was pretty quiet inside the clubhouse, with the exception of music playing at a low volume. She was surprised that there was no one there besides Jax. She spotted him at one of the tables, lost in thought and milking a bottle of whiskey. “So I hear congratulations are in order.” Katrina startles Jax from his drink.

Jax looks up in surprise at the intrusion. “You must have been talking to mom.” He sourly replies.

“Jackson Teller, a father.” Katrina teases him as she nears the table.

“Yeah, for how long.” Jax grumbles.

“Your mom said that you haven’t seen your son yet. Why not?” She asks as she takes a seat at the table across from Jax. She notices the sadness in his eyes at the question.

“Don’t really want my heart broken.” Jax replies, staring at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, she mentioned the heart defect and stomach issues. Something about a junkie whore. Regardless of that, if it was my son, I would be spending every second I could with him.�� Katrina tries to encourage him. “Besides that, he’s got a tough as nails father, so he’s gonna be a little fighter. He’ll pull through.”

Jax smiles a little at that last comment. “So what brings you by? Besides doing mom’s dirty work.”

Katrina knows Jax is trying to change the subject. At least she can tell Gemma she tried. “I came by to apologize to your mom about leaving the dinner early after the funeral.”

Jax nods his head softly. “Yeah, everyone was disappointed you left.” Especially me.

“I thought I could handle hearing the stories about my father, but it got to be a little too much to handle at that moment. Brought up a lot of memories.” Bad memories.

“So where have you been for the last 11 years.” Jax asks pointedly.

And so it begins. Katrina can’t help but wonder if it’s too late to walk out the door. She knew Jax was going to have questions, and she had really hoped to avoid them. She gets up from the table to grab herself a shot glass and a coke from the bar, before returning to her seat. This conversation is going to require an excessive amount of alcohol. She grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of Jax and pours herself a shot. Katrina quickly downs the shot, welcoming the burn of the amber liquid as it travels down her throat. She then takes a sip of the coke to calm the burn. Jax patiently waits for her response, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand.

“When I left Charming, I bought a bus ticket to Vegas. I got a job working at a casino restaurant as a server, and then I found myself an apartment. I became really good friends with a tattoo artist at a parlor in the casino. He let me apprentice under him and has been teaching my how to tattoo and the ins and outs of the business. One day, I hope to have my own shop.” Katrina decides to leave out the part about Vince.

Jax is surprised. The club has a charter in Vegas that he’s visited numerous times over the years. If only he had known Kat was there too. He might have been able to convince her to come home sooner. At the very least, been able to visit her. He’s missed his best friend. When Katrina left, it hurt more than when Tara left for school. It wasn’t until she left that he realized how wrong he was for not pursuing a relationship with her, despite his fears.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised that you and Tara aren’t married with a few little ones running around. And what’s this about a ‘junkie whore’?” Katrina asks. Turn about is fair play.

Jax lets out a soft sigh. “Tara left shortly after you did. She went to the university to become a doctor. Then she went out to Chicago to intern at a hospital. She begged me to go with her. To get out of this ‘cess pool of a town’, but Charming is my home. She was pissed that I prospected into the club with Opie, even though it’s what I always wanted. To follow in my father’s footsteps, and be a part of the club that he helped build. We fought about our futures, more than we got along. We started to grow distant from each other. I wasn’t to heartbroken when she left, like I thought I would be. I was more upset about you leaving than her, even though mom blames her for breaking my heart.” Jax confesses. “Tara just recently returned home and is working at St. Thomas hospital.”

Katrina shakes her head, not surprised about Tara trying to change Jax. She had tried to warn him when they were teenagers, but she had alway felt her comments fell on deaf ears. Some people have to learn the hard way. Katrina pours herself another shot and quickly downs it.

“The junkie whore is my ex-wife, Wendy. She was a club hang-around. Her and I started spending a lot of time together. For me, it was about fighting the loneliness I felt after you left. I never really loved her. We got married a few years ago. She started using drugs, so we grew apart. Separated for awhile. Then she got clean, and did a stint in rehab. We tried to make things work again and got back together. That’s when she got pregnant with my son. Things just didn’t line up for us. I wasn’t happy, so we started growing distant again. I filed for divorce a few months ago. Told her I’d help pay the doctor bills for the pregnancy. Haven’t heard from her in a while. Apparently she started using again even though she was pregnant. Mom went over to our house yesterday and found her passed out on the kitchen floor, bleeding between her legs, with a needle stuck in between her fingers. Mom rushed her to the hospital where they preformed an emergency c-section. My son was born 10 weeks premature with a tear in his abdomen and the family flaw. He only has a 20% chance of survival. I should have kept a closer eye on them, maybe this wouldn't have happened” Jax replies with regret heavy in his voice.

“You can’t blame yourself. If she wanted the drugs bad enough, there’s nothing you could have done to stop her. She would have found a way.” Katrina tries to alleviate some of his guilt.

“That may be so, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I did beat the shit out of the dealer that has been supplying her with the poison. Wendy apologized for what she did and promised that she’s going to get clean, but it’s going to take some time to rebuild that trust. I think she’s more worried about being charged with fetal abuse, then she is about our son. If Gemma has her way, Wendy won’t be a part of our son’s life. I can’t say I disagree with mom on that.” Jax has a defeated look on his face as he pours himself another shot.

Katrina matches Jax’s shot with one of her own. She’s starting to feel a buzz from the alcohol, but she’s not sure if it’s enough to get through the questions that she knows are coming. She isn’t slurring her speech yet, but it is getting a little easier to talk. It almost feels like old times, chatting with her best friend… almost.

“So… Why did you leave town, without so much as a goodbye?” Jax asks while looking directly into Katrina’s eyes. He sees a momentary flash of pain cross Kat’s face.

There it is. The million dollar question. The one she was hoping to avoid. All the pain and bad memories came flashing back to the forefront of her mind. She knew deep down Jax has a right to know, but it didn’t make it any easier. She can’t help but fear that once he knows the truth about her father, he’ll look at her differently. With pity, or guilt for not realizing what was going on and stopping it. She doesn’t want him to feel sorry for her, she fought her own way out and it made her stronger.

Kat pours herself another shot and takes a sip of it before answering him. “One of the reasons I left was to get away from my abusive asshole of a father. Shortly after my mom died, my father started to become distant to me. It was like the sight of me reminded him of what he lost. Almost like he blamed me for her death, even though she died from cancer. He would loose his temper over the smallest things. That lead to him breaking things around the house. If there were dirty dishes left in the sink, he would throw them across the room shattering them against the wall. If I left my backpack on the floor after school, he’d toss it. He started punching holes in the walls, kicking down doors. After while the only thing that seemed to calm him was liquor. As soon as he arrived home from work he’d grab a beer from the fridge, sometimes a couple of them. When the beer started losing its effectiveness he started drinking more hard liquor and getting into drug use. That’s when I started to become his punching bag. If I got in his way he’d hit or kick me. If he felt I was talking back to him he’d slap me across my face. He told me I was worthless, that I was no better than garbage, and that he couldn’t wait until I was no longer his problem.”

Katrina lightly rubbed the small row of scars near wrist with her thumb, slightly hidden by the skeleton torso tattoo on her forearm. She remembers the pain she felt inside from her father’s words and the relief she felt cutting herself with the small knife she kept in her pocket. She never cut herself deep enough for there to be very much blood, just enough for the physical pain of the blade sliding across her skin to distract her from the pain in her heart.

She glances at Jax’s face and sees the shock and anger in his eyes. Before she continues, she grabs a cigarette from the pack on the table, lights it, then takes a deep drag off it to calm her nerves.”That’s why I used to wear long sleeve shirts and jeans in the middle of summer. To hide all the bruises and scratches on my arms and legs. I stayed out as late as possible with you and Opie, hoping that my father would be passed out before I got home. Some times I’d get lucky and he’d be asleep on the couch, other times I was greeted with him calling me a slut or a whore for staying out so late with the guys. I tried to avoid him as much as possible. When it got closer to graduation I started planning my escape. I saved as much money as I could from my after school job, and used it to buy a bus ticket. I just always seemed to be in the way. So when I got old enough, I got out of the way”

"Why didn't you say something? Tell us that was going on.” Jax is heartbroken and angry to find out that his best friend had been suffering and he did nothing to stop it. He remembered the nights when he, Katrina and Opie hung out. Remembered her reluctance to go home when Gemma said it was time to get ready for bed. Or the nights Katrina begged him to hang out for just one more hour, even though it was already getting pretty late.

"What? So that you could 'save me'. I didn't want your pity or for you to feel sorry for me. I didn't need you to fight my battles.” Katrina defends her silence on the matter, a hint of scorn in her voice.

"So you run away instead? Leave behind every one you've ever known. The people that love and care about you." Jax accuses her, the hurt evident in his eyes.

"Seems to me like you were busy loving someone else." Katrina mumbles under her breath.

Jax gives Katrina a confused look. He wasn’t sure he heard her right, but he had a feeling she was referring to his relationship with Tara. “Now that your father is gone, are you planning on sticking around Charming?” Jax asks, hopeful that there may be an opportunity for them to spend more time together. To reconnect.

Katrina sighs before downing the rest of her shot. “I put the house on the market. The stuff I plan on keeping I’m going to get a storage unit for until I find a new place. I’m not planning on going back to Vegas, but I am thinking of heading north. Maybe towards the Dakotas.” She sees the disappointment on Jax’s face.

“I was kind of hoping that you were going to stick around for a bit.” So maybe I could change your mind about leaving. Jax feels crestfallen, his heart is pounding in fear that she’ll leave and he’ll never get a chance to find out if they would be good together. Ever since Katrina returned to Charming, the what if’s and should’ve beens have been plaguing Jax’s mind. He knows now that it was a mistake hooking up with Tara back in high school. It should have been Kat. She always understood him, never made him feel that he had to choose between her or the club. Things might have been so different for both of them.

“I was going to stick around for maybe another week or two, just to make sure there are no problems with showing the house. Incase something major needs to be fixed.” Katrina reassures Jax, although, by the look of his face he’s not.

“So are you seeing anyone?” Jax isn’t sure he really wants to know the answer, but he can’t help himself. He has to know if she’s involved with another man. If there is even the slightest chance he can convince her to stay.

“I was, but it’s over now.” She really doesn’t want to elaborate on her relationship with Vince, and she hopes that answer is enough to appease Jax.

Jax feels a flicker of hope. “You said your dad was one of the reasons why you left, were there any other reasons?” Despite what Kat was going through with her dad treating her like shit, Jax still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that she would just leave. Without any warning or even a goodbye. They were best friends. He has never felt as close to another person as he did her, and for her to disappear the way she did, crushed him. He has a feeling there is more to the story.

Katrina groans inwardly at the question, but at this point, with the alcohol coursing through her veins she feels there is no point in holding back. She has already confessed one of her darkest secrets by revealing her past with her father, what’s one more secret. It’s not like it can change the past.

“The other reason I left was because it killed me seeing you and Tara together. I’ve had feelings for you since we were kids. I thought as we grew up and got older those feelings would change, but they never did. I was in love with you and it broke my heart seeing you with her.” Katrina confesses feeling extremely exposed. She just laid her heart and soul on the table.

Jax is blown away by her answer. He feels a sense of relief that she shares his feelings. He knew she cared about him when they were younger, but he always felt that she probably cared about him in a sort of brother sister way. To find out that she was in love with him made his heart soar, and gave him even more hope that there is a chance they could be together. If he can convince her to stay and give them a chance. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?” Jax asks, even though he can guess her answer.

“I was afraid you didn't feel the same way towards me, and it would just come across as jealously towards Tara. That it would change the way you felt around me, the way you acted around me. I was afraid of losing my best friend.” Katrina admits.

Jax feels like a dumbass now. All this time wasted that they could have been together. If they wouldn’t have been so afraid to tell each other. “I also have something to confess. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Since we were kids.”

Katrina looks at Jax with surprise on her face. She never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe it was the whiskey talking. "So why didn't you ever tell me how you felt?" Katrina asks, genuinely intrigued.

"Because I was terrified that if or when I fucked things up between us, I would not only lose the woman I loved, but I'd also lose my best friend. It wasn’t until after you left that I realized the mistake I made. And I lost you anyways." Jax admits, his voice filled with sadness and regret.

“If you had feelings for me, then why did you hook up with Tara?” Katrina asks in confusion.

“I had some feelings for Tara, but I don’t think I was ever truly in love with her. She was more of a distraction from my feelings for you. Same with Wendy. Every time I was with them, it was your face I saw.” Jax feels a little weird for revealing that part, but it was the truth. Every woman he’s been with he pictured Kat’s face. Wished it was her, he was with.

“When you were dating Tara, I always felt invisible to you. I felt like you saw me as just one of the guys. You started to become distant to me, so I started spending more time with Opie. It seemed like every time you paid even a little bit of attention to me, Tara would snatch it away. It got to the point, where I started avoiding you, to keep myself from getting hurt.” Katrina confesses.

Jax winces at her words. He hates himself for how he hurt her, even though that was never his intention. In his mind, he was trying to protect her and their friendship, by avoiding what his heart yearned for. “I am so sorry, Kat. I never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to bury my feelings for you because I was afraid. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way towards me and I’d ruin our friendship. I didn’t want to lose you. You have no idea how much I regret those decisions.” Jax sincerely apologizes. He takes Katrina’s hand into his and looks into her eyes. The years of pain and hurt shine in her eyes and he feels heartbroken that he caused some of that pain.

“Yeah, well, that’s all in the past.” Katrina tries to brush it off. She still feels the sting of all those memories, even if it feels like a lifetime ago.

“What if we gave us a shot?” Jax asks, hopefulness in voice. He has vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever came up to be with Kat, that he wouldn’t hesitate.

Katrina looks at Jax in surprise at his question. She feels butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of finally getting what she had always wanted. To finally be with the man that she has been in love with most of her life, but another part of her feels cautious. “I don’t know, Jax. A lot has changed since we were kids. We’re not the same people we were back then. We’ve both changed. Hell, you’re a father now, and VP of SAMCRO.” Katrina is trying to rationalize in her head why this is a bad idea, even though her heart is pounding with excitement. The alcohol running through her veins isn't helping the situation.

“Come on Kat. We both have feelings for each other. I know the first time I laid eyes on you, when you got back into town, I felt butterflies in my stomach. All of those old feelings I had for you came rushing back. I can’t stop thinking about you, and how much I want you in my life.” Jax pleads with her. He has never wanted something as bad as this. To make a life with Kat by his side.

Katrina hesitates to give Jax an answer. This isn’t something to just rush into, especially with her alcohol hazed brain. She needs some time to think this through. She is supposed to be getting out of Charming, not tying herself down. She can’t help but be concerned about Vince. What if he tries to track her down. As much as she hopes that he’ll take the hint, that she’s not coming back, she can’t help but fear that he won’t be so willing to let her go. Even though she has no doubt that Jax will do everything in his power to protect her, she doesn’t feel it should have to be his problem.

“Jax, it’s not that easy. We both have other things going on in our lives. There’s no guarantee that us being together will even work.” Katrina tries to dissuade him. She doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something that may just be a pipe dream.

“At least we could try. If it doesn’t work then so be it, but I can’t live with the what ifs and could have beens without at least giving it a chance.” Jax tries his best to convince her. If he has to get down on his knees and beg he’s not afraid to do it.

“Maybe we should think this though. Preferably when we’re both not drunk.” A part of Kat wants to say yes….god yes… but she also doesn’t want to agree to something she might regret.

Jax is a little disappointed in Kat’s hesitation, but at least she hasn't said no yet. There may be hope.

Katrina gets up from her chair, her legs feel a bit wobbly. “I should probably head home, it’s getting late.”

“Like hell, you are” Jax replies a little too sharply, while grabbing the keys to her bike off the table. He rises from his seat to face her.

Katrina stares daggers at Jax, a little miffed at his tone. If he thinks he can control her and what she does, he’s got another think coming.

Jax quickly realizes how that came across. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. It’s just, we’ve both been drinking…a lot. You’ve pretty much matched me shot for shot. I wouldn’t feel safe getting on my bike right now, and I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to either. I’d hate to wake up in the morning, and find out that you wrapped your bike around a tree or something. You should probably crash here tonight.” Jax tries to explain.

Katrina is a little relieved at Jax explanation. It makes sense, although she’s not sure its a great idea to spend the night at the club house.

Jax approaches Kat, the draw of being near her to great to deny. He gently places his hand on her check, the memory of the bruise around her eye flashes across his mind. His thumb lightly caresses her check bone, but when there is no flinch from her, he is relieved that the wound has healed. He still feels that flash of anger that anyone would dare to raise a hand to her. He slowly lowers his lips to hers, aching to feel their softness against his. He has longed to kiss her for as long as he can remember.

Katrina is a little nervous at Jax’s closeness, but her body is quick to respond despite the warnings in her mind. When she feels Jax’s lips against hers an excitement courses through her veins. The feel of his velvety lips against hers was almost as intoxicating as the whiskey they have been drinking. Jax’s hands start slowly sliding down Katrina’s neck then around to her back, where he gently coaxes her into an embrace. Her body melds to his like it was made for it.

As the kiss deepens, warning bells go off in Katrina’s head. Her rational mind warns her that she should stop this from going any further, but years of pent up longing urge her to keep going. Katrina is swept up in the smells of leather, smoke and light cologne, with a hint of vanilla that seemed uniquely Jax. Before she realizes what is happening, she feels Jax’s hands lightly caress the sides of her breasts before traveling down her waist to rest on her hips. He draws her hips in closer to his and she can feel the evidence of his arousal. His breathing gets heavier, and Katrina feels the butterflies in her stomach.

Even though in her mind she knew this was a bad idea, Jax was like a drug, and she was jonesing for a hit. There was a passion between her and Jax that she had never felt with Vince. Maybe it was because it had been building since their youth. The feelings they had been holding back finally able to be explored. Katrina gives as much as she takes, returning Jax’s kiss with a fever of her own. She lightly rubs the tip of her tongue on Jax’s lips until he grants her access to his mouth. She hears his groan as he starts grinding his erection into her stomach. Jax starts guiding her to his dorm room without breaking the kiss. By the time they enter the room, they are both breathing heavily. Jax kicks the door shut with his foot, not wanting to break contact with Kat.

Katrina reaches for Jax’s belt intent on releasing it as she starts to kneel down in front of him. Jax grabs her arms and lifts her back up. “As much as I’d love to see your beautiful face going down on me, I want tonight to be all about you. I want to show you how strong my feelings are for you.” Jax expresses to her.

This is a new experience for Katrina, and she can’t help but feel a little excited about it. When she was with Vince, it was all about what he wanted and how he wanted it. Often times it seemed their lovemaking was very one sided, with her left feeling unsatisfied. Like she was just a toy for his pleasure.

Jax cups Katrina’s face and gives her another soul searing kiss. She can’t get enough of the taste and feel of his lips on hers. His hands wander down to the hem of her shirt and he gently lifts it up. They break the kiss long enough to get the shirt over her head. Jax then goes after Katrina’s belt, pulling it loose from its buckle, then he quickly releases the button on her dark jeans. He slowly slides her jeans down her legs then ghosts his fingers over her panty clad pussy. He smiles when he hears her sharp intake of breath. Katrina toes off her boots then slides the jeans off the rest of the way.

Jax takes a step back to take in Kat’s beauty while he kicks off his own shoes. Her black bra and panties compliment her tanned skin. He takes off his kutte and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair. The question of whether Katrina has more ink finally being answered. He has seen the tattoos on her arms, but now he’s seeing a large dreamcatcher on one of her sides and a colorful feather on the other. There is a black crow with a purple background on her collarbone and an angry wolf surrounded by roses on her thigh. He can’t help but admire the art adorning her body and is surprised that he finds himself getting even more aroused seeing it.

Jax guides Katrina to the bed where she sits on the edge and watches as he removes his pants and white t-shirt. He tosses them onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Jax approaches her in just his boxers not bothering to hide the fact that his cock is straining against the material. He tilts her face up for a quick kiss before his lips and tongue start wandering down her neck. He can’t help himself as he leaves a small hickey just above her collarbone. Jax caresses her breasts over the fabric of her bra, before reaching around to unclasp it and watching in awe as her perfect breasts are exposed. He takes one nipple into his mouth sucking and using his tongue to tease it into a peak, while he lightly caresses the other bud. His gently pinches and rolls her exposed nipple with his calloused fingers until it hardens and becomes sensitive. He then laves the other nipple with his tongue, sucking until he feels Kat squirm. Kat feels a tingling sensation travel from her stomach to her core. She can feel wetness gathering in her panties.

Jax lightly pushes on Katrina’s shoulders, encouraging her to lay back on the bed. Settling between her thighs he continues to lavish her body with attention, kissing and licking his way down to her panties. He starts rubbing her clit lightly through her underwear, just enough to cause her to squirm towards his hand. Her breathing becomes erratic, hitching every time his fingers touches the right spot. He can sense a bit of frustration from her at his teasing, causing his lips to curl into a smirk. Finally Jax runs his fingers along the top edge of her panties, slowly pulling them down her thighs, and leaving a trail of kisses and licks in their wake.

That first flick of Jax’s tongue on Katrina’s clit causes an explosion of sensations coursing through her body. She can’t remember the last time someone went down on her, making this time feel like the first time. Jax’s warm breath, and the feel of his whiskers rubbing on her most sensitive area threatening to send her over the edge. Jax can sense her body tensing up, like a coil ready to snap, so he starts kissing the inside of her thighs to give her a chance calm. Once her breathing returns to some semblance of normal he focuses his attention back on her core. The light ghosting of his tongue in her folds and around that little bundle of nerves feels like heaven to Kat. It doesn’t last long though. Jax quickly starts licking and sucking her bud like a man starved for water.

“God baby, you taste like honey to me, and I can’t get enough.” Jax praises her between breaths, as he laps up her juices.

It takes everything inside of Kat not to lose control. She runs her fingers through Jax’s hair as he continues his assault on her clit. His tongue then prodding her slit, going directly to the source of her sweetness. Katrina’s moans increase, and Jax’s name becomes a silent prayer. She then feels his finger teasing at her entrance. Lightly caressing through her folds, gathering moisture before sliding the slender digit inside her. He pumps his finger in and out, surprised at how tight she is. The feeling of her walls clenching on his finger sending a fresh surge of arousal straight to his already straining cock. He could tell the tip of it was already leaking pre-cum. Jax adds another finger inside her to help prepare her for what’s to come. He twists his fingers around and starts doing a come hither motion. Jax quickly finds that little bundle of nerves inside her that will probably be her undoing. He can feel her clench around his fingers and her thighs start to squeeze. Kat starts pulling his hair as he continues licking her clit and rubbing that hidden gem inside her. He can tell Kat is getting close to her release by her ragged breathing and the tightening of her muscles.

“Fuck, Jax, don’t stop.” Katrina manages between shuddering breaths. She can feel the knots in her stomach unraveling. Her impending orgasm right on the cusp of sending her over the edge. Her moans get louder the closer she gets.

“It’s ok baby, you can let go.” Jax encourages her. “Cum for me. Give me some more of that sweet nectar.”

That is her undoing. Jax’s husky voice beckoning her to release the flood gates. Wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over her. Her vision starts to fade and she is seeing stars. Her body shudders and her juices dribble straight into Jax’s waiting mouth. Jax laps every bit of it up as he slows the movement of his fingers. He tries to ease her down from her climax before removing his fingers.

When Kat’s breathing returns to normal she looks down at Jax’s smiling face. The evidence of her release glistening on he mustache and beard. Jax gently withdraws his fingers from inside her pussy, and she instantly feels a void. “I need you inside me.” There is a hunger in her eyes as Kat pleads to Jax. She wants…no needs, more.

Jax stands up and removes his boxers, finally unleashing the beast. Katrina is a little taken back by the size of his cock. She had no idea he was packing that much heat. Explains the loose fitting jeans. She feels a rush of excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear that it’s going to hurt. Jax sees her concern and reminds himself to take it slow, give her some time to adjust. She is nothing like the crow-eaters he’s fucked, girls that have taken so many dicks it a wonder they can feel anything.

“Do you have a condom?” Katrina timidly asks, suddenly nervous. Jax has already produced one son, she doesn’t want to take any chances that tonights actions result in another.

“Yeah, I do.” Jax can’t help but feel a little bummed about not being able to experience her pussy bareback, but he understands. He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a little foil package. Katrina watches in fascination as he tears it open with his teeth and pulls out the rubber. Jax strokes his straining cock a couple times then rolls the condom down from the tip to the base.

Katrina scoots up the bed giving Jax room to join her. He settles between her legs and pulls her face in for another passionate kiss. He then guides his cock to her core rubbing the head along her folds, gathering her wetness to help ease his passage. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his cock into her wet slit, going an inch at a time. He slowly rocks his hips back and forth, gaining an inch each time he pushes forward. When he finally bottoms out, he pauses for a moment, giving Kat time to adjust to his girth. When Jax stops, Katrina releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She has never felt this full before. There is a slight burning from the stretch in her pussy, as well as an intense pleasure at the fullness.

“Relax your muscles, baby. It’ll help.” Jax whispers in her ear, concern in his tone.

After a few calming breaths, Kat feels ready for him to start moving again. She tilts her pelvis towards him, and then gives him a slight nod. Jax sets a slow pace at the beginning. The feeling of her tight, constricting walls threatening to send him over the edge. He feels like a damn teenager, ready to blow his load after only a few quick pumps. It takes every ounce of his control to prevent that from happening.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” Jax whispers almost reverently. He’s trying to stay in control, but he feels it slipping fast as he picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, fast and faster. His balls crashing against her ass, as her walls clench around him. The tip of his cock brushing against her cervix each time he bottoms out.

Katrina feels the knot in her stomach growing. Every time Jax trusts into her pussy a tingle travels down her spine and straight into her core. She can feel her climax quickly approaching. She wraps her arms around his chest, her nails digging into his back. The moans coming from her mouth getting louder and louder each time his cock brushes against her sweet spot.

Jax can feel her tightening around him, and he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer. “It’s ok, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Jax reaches down to her clit, rubbing circles over it with his thumb.

Katrina is plunging over the edge as another intense orgasm rips through her body. Every nerve ending in her body is tingling as her juices coat Jax’s dick and balls. She clings to Jax’s body as she rides out the high. Jax follows her after a few more thrusts, a wave of euphoria washing over his body as his cock releases rope after rope of warm cum. Jax collapses next to her on the bed, then he draws her into his embrace. His twitching cock still nestled in her depths. They both lay there for a moment trying to catch their breath.

“That was amazing.” Jax says in awe, his breathing still labored. His fantasies of her never even coming close to the bliss he just experienced.

Katrina nods her agreement, exhaustion claiming her body. She nestles into Jax’s warmth as he squeezes her against him. Jax kisses the top of her head, as a feeling of contentment washes over him. He doesn’t want this night to end.

After a few minutes the twitching of Jax’s cock subsides and it begins to soften. He wraps his hand around the base of it to hold the condom in place as he withdraws it from Kat’s warm depths. Even as sleep starts to claim Kat, she can’t help the groan that escapes her mouth at the loss of the fullness in her pussy. Jax chuckles a little at the pout now gracing her face. He disposes of the condom in the trash, before heading into the bathroom to clean up. Once he is done cleaning himself, he returns to the bed with a warm washcloth to gently clean Kat. She flinches a little when he wipes around her sensitive bud. He has no doubt that she’s going to be a little sore tomorrow. When he finishes with the washcloth, he tosses it into a nearby laundry basket, before turning off the light. He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over them. Katrina seeks out his warmth again, resting her head on his chest as his arm wraps around her back drawing her close. Sleep quickly claims both of them.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Tagging: @momc95 @jerseynurse82

#redwood original #reaper crew #SAMCRO #soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfic #jax teller imagine #jax teller smut #jax teller

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 3

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 3

1996 (Three years later)

Liam got a letter in the mail that morning, another one, from New York this time. Liam didn’t know anyone in New York who would send this kind of letter. In any case, they were all from the same person, no matter the constantly changing postmark, and they all said the same hateful, frightening things.

Liam had just tossed this one into the drawer with the others when Kurt appeared out of nowhere, as only he could. Liam had done a bit of research on vampires in the three years he’d known Kurt (as much study as he could on something that was supposed to be fictional), and teleportation was not a common vampire ability. But then Kurt was not a common vampire.

“Morning,” Kurt said, dropping into a kitchen chair. He looked a bit bed-rumpled, but Liam honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because Kurt had been sleeping or because Kurt thought that humans should look bed-rumpled in the morning. “Been for your run yet?” Kurt asked.

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Want company?”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Liam pointed out, waving a hand at Kurt’s blue jeans, and that caused Kurt to vanish again. Liam was lacing his shoes when Kurt reappeared, this time wearing athletic shorts and, crucially, no shirt. Liam’s fingers tripped over themselves and got tangled in his shoelaces like clumsy people with jump ropes.

Liam had seen Kurt without his shirt on occasionally over the last three years, most memorably when Kurt had shown Liam the scars he still carried from the earliest thing he remembered— a Bronze Age battle. There was a scar above his heart and two on his left shoulder, the marks of flint arrowheads, presumably the wounds that caused his death.

But that was not what caught Liam’s attention when Kurt was shirtless. Kurt had the build of a fighter: a slender waist, sturdy legs, broad shoulders and strong arms. His chest was smoothly muscled around the scars. Meanwhile Liam had the body of a thirty-year-old history professor who went for a run most mornings, but also had a fondness for rocky road ice cream.

Liam wasn’t sure if Kurt knew about the threatening letters. He was also not sure if Kurt knew how fervently Liam desired him. If he was aware of either, or, most importantly, felt any desire in return, he had never said. And while Liam was sorting out the shoelace mess, Kurt pulled on a shirt, so the distraction passed.

The morning was cool, with fog still gathering around the trees. While they ran, Kurt told Liam about a morning in 1914 outside of Ypres, when snow had fallen silently, covering fallen leaves and fallen soldiers alike.

Liam had learned by now that Kurt did not feel the cold. It must have been obvious during a winter campaign, when Kurt’s fingers did not stiffen with frostbite, or his toes blister with trench foot. Sometimes, Kurt had told him, his fellow soldiers thought of him as an indestructible good luck charm. Sometimes they looked on the only member of their group to emerge from a battle unscathed and called him a demon.

A countless number of Kurt’s stories ended with him holding a fellow soldier as he succumbed to injury and passed out of this world.

When they turned back onto Liam’s street, there was a blue car in Liam’s driveway that belonged to one of Liam’s students, Martina. She was standing beside the car, waving at them. Of course, she wasn’t there to see Liam.

When Liam got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Kurt in the kitchen alone, drinking the coffee that Liam kept on hand for him. Coffee and water were the only things Liam had ever seen Kurt eat or drink. “Martina didn’t stay?” Liam asked.

“No. She was just returning my jacket.” Kurt looked melancholy for a moment, a brief flash across his features before it faded back into his usual somewhat detached expression. “She met someone else. He’s moving in.”

Liam looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m happy for her. She’s about to graduate anyway, so we were going to break it off.”

Martina was not the first of Liam’s students that Kurt had dated. Kurt was very good about it, really. The students he chose were from the graduate program, so all in their mid-twenties or older, and they’d all known what Kurt was. They’d chosen to be a part of his life for a while, providing him with companionship, and, though they didn’t usually state it so plainly, with blood.

“I don’t get attached,” Kurt said. “And I pick those who won’t get attached to me. I don’t have the patience for a line of angry exes. Better to be with those who will part as friends.”

“Have you ever been wrong?” Liam asked. He didn’t look at Kurt, carefully focusing on the toaster and butter dish.

“Accidentally broken someone’s heart, you mean?” Kurt asked. “Or lost my own?”

“Either.”

“Not in a long time.”

“Ah.” Liam buttered his toast with perhaps more force than was called for.

“I investigated him, though. Martina’s new boyfriend. His name is Devon.”

“Investigated,” Liam repeated. He sat down at the table opposite Kurt, accepting the cup of coffee Kurt passed to him.

“He seems like a very nice man. And he loves her.”

“So you read his mind.”

“I can’t read minds.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

Kurt looked amused. “I know. But not because I read your mind. In any case, Martina is my friend. She’s under my protection. And so are you.”

This last part was said gently, but Liam caught its meaning as overtly as he was meant to. He let out a groan and pushed away what was left of his toast. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough. The letters are mailed from around the country, but I am almost certain the sender is local. He probably travels a lot, and also has other people mail the letters without knowing what’s in them.”

“That’s what the police think. They also think they’re not serious.”

Kurt seemed immensely unimpressed by this opinion. “So did you do something that some bastard holds a grudge for? Murder his wife? Steal his parking space? Or do you think it’s because you’re gay?”

Liam’s sexuality was not something that had come up in conversation before, so Liam was a bit startled to hear it accurately described. “I have no idea,” he said. “I certainly don’t recall murdering anyone.”

“I’ve looked over the letters. No fingerprints, and I can’t find anything distinctive about the printer he uses.” When Kurt got emotional, he wore it strangely, as if he could be both agitated and unaffected at the same time. Right now his green eyes were bright and his mouth tight. His fingers curled sharply around his coffee cup, blanching white where they gripped too hard. But the rest of his body was still relaxed in the chair, stretched into the sort of lazy pretzel shape that sore legs often took after a run. Liam sometimes wondered what Kurt would be like if he stopped trying so hard to seem human.

“They’re not serious,” Liam told him.

“I’m not convinced of that. You really don’t have suspects?”

Liam shrugged. “Nobody in particular.”

“Ex-lovers?”

Liam focused on his coffee. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

“Family?”

“It’s just my sister and me, and we get along fine as long as she can pretend I’m not gay.”

Kurt’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup again. “This is a very intolerant period of history.”

Liam laughed, not unkindly. “It is all history to you, isn’t it? This is just another era to walk through. How odd to—”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Colleagues?”

“I’ve never had any problems. Anyway, the letters are all anti-university. Anti-technology. Unabomber-type stuff.”

“I’m not sure I trust the subject matter. Why send anti-technology missives to a history professor? It still feels personal to me. The one you got today talks about kidnapping you, Liam. That’s a very intimate threat.”

Liam groaned. “How the hell—”

“I read it while you were in the shower.” Kurt did look a little regretful, at least. “Look, I know you don’t like me being all— the way I am—”

“If I minded the vampire stuff, I’d never have agreed to work with you. What I object to is your being sneaky and intrusive on an entirely human level.”

Kurt seemed surprised, which was not a common look on him. He stared at Liam for a moment before saying, “Well, I object to being kept in the dark about your safety.”

“Kurt—”

They were interrupted by the ding noise that Liam’s computer made when he received an email. Normally Liam might ignore it, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction.

The email was from a colleague in Germany, and as Liam read it, he forgot all about their argument. “Kurt,” he said, in an entirely different tone than the one he’d just used. Kurt was behind him in an instant, moving with that silent speed he had.

Liam traced his finger across the screen, aware that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hadn’t quite yet learned not to treat emails like they were pieces of paper. “Look at this. Someone found an arm bone with a flint arrowhead in the bank of the Tollense River in Germany. It’s not— it’s not a giant battle, not yet, just with one body, but it’s the right place, the right time. My colleague thinks this could be what we were looking for, and I think he’s right. Your earliest memory. Your origin. It could be Tollense.”

Kurt had knelt down so that he could read the screen more easily. When he turned his head it brought his mouth so very close to Liam’s. “You did it,” he said softly. “You found it.”

“Well, I didn’t find anything. Someone else—”

“But you put your neck on the line, theorizing about a battle in a time and place no one expected.”

“It’s not like I don’t have eye-witness evidence.”

“But no one knows that. You’ve endured a lot of controversy, trying to help me.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. I care about—” Liam cut himself off before he could say it.

Kurt seemed to hear it anyway, because he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Liam’s.

It was a light kiss only for a few seconds, until Liam made an intensely hungry noise and Kurt responded to it, bringing his hands up around Liam’s face to hold him steady. Kurt deepened the kiss, sweeping into Liam’s open mouth with his tongue.

Liam had thought about a kiss like this, thorough and overwhelming, fantasized about it, wondered if it might happen someday because Kurt would read his mind and know how much Liam wanted it. But Liam was suddenly sure in that moment that Kurt could not read minds, or at least, that he’d left Liam’s to its secrets. If he had read it, he would have known not to kiss Liam. Because unlike the students Kurt sought out, Liam was already attached, far too much, to this utterly alien man who kissed with a technique undoubtedly honed over millennia, ranging from soft to strong all in a single lick of his tongue, instinctively knowing which parts of Liam’s mouth were most sensitive, and all with a kindness Liam had never before felt.

It was the kindness that made Liam put his hands up and push Kurt gently away. Liam didn’t want kindness at that moment, didn’t want Kurt offering this kiss out of gratitude or friendship, or because Kurt knew Liam was attracted to men and would probably enjoy it. Even because he was worried about Liam’s safety. Kurt was three thousand years old, and he’d no doubt live for many thousands of years after this. Liam’s lifespan was a drop of water in the river of Kurt’s life. Kurt had said it just this morning— he would never allow himself to get attached.

After the kiss broke, Kurt looked at Liam searchingly for a moment, and then moved away.

“We should— we should visit Germany,” Liam managed to say. Kurt just nodded.

************

The battle of Tollense is a real thing! Here is the wikipedia and another article.

************

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years

Text

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 9

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Chapter 9

Word Count: 3,432

We're going to skip the formalities Ashleigh," Colson strolled into the study and pushed Ashleigh's chair back, "Why did you you do it??"

"Colson I-" Ashleigh looked at him, frightened, "Slim said if I didn't do it then-it would have been me instead," she hung her head in shame.

"Hmm.." Colson held his chin and pretended to be in deep thought, "so you gave up Y/N instead..makes sense I guess," he shrugged.

"What?!" her head snapped up.

"Slim is a crackhead and is blazed half the time..what's your excuse for taking part in this Ashleigh," his eyes were fire and ice all at once.

"He threatened me-" she cried out.

"But you made conscious decision to help him f*ck my wife didn't you?!" Colson shot back, "you even spiked her drink with a double dose of the drug!" He shouted, "why did you do that? Huh?!"

"I was scared!" she said as the tears pooled her eyes,

"Ahhh..I see.." Colson stood up, " are you scared Ash?" Colson got up stared directly into her eyes.

"Y-e-ss.." she gulped and looked at the bodyguards that towered behind Colson.

"Good," Colson said with satisfaction, "it's good that you're afraid," he paced around her chair, "At least I've got the decency to plan this thing in front of you; and not behind your back like what you did to someone that considered you a friend," he stopped in front of her, "Now I'm going to get one of these guys to lock you in a tiny bathroom and have his way with you? How about that? Sound familiar?"

"Don't! Please! I'll do anything!" she fell at Colson's feet and grovelled.

"Guys can I have a volunteer to take this lovely lady into the restroom and do what ever you feel like with her? Actually I want you to go as far as Slim did with my wife..or further maybe? Rog? Andre? You're game?" Colson asked.

"Let me at her Col. I think I will do a good job than Rog over here," Andre motioned with his head.

"No, no, no. Please allow me Col? I will do a better job than Slim," Rog said smugly.

"Okay Rog you're our guy!" Colson patted Rog on the back, "don't worry Ashleigh I'll just turn a blind eye like you did and I hope, for your sake, there's someone that cares enough to come and knock the door down-like I did," Colson stepped away from her, "Hey don't forget to rough her up and spike her drink before-just like Slim did to my wife."

"Waaiiitt! Don't leave me! I'm sorry! Please! Slim made me do it-he-he threatened me," Ashleigh wailed.

"Why didn't you come to me?! You had a choice and you did the wrong thing Ashleigh! That makes you as bad as Slim!" Colson yelled at her, his blue eyes blazing. "By the way-enjoy your stay in prison," he informed her before he left the room.

"Take her away Rog and don't come out until she passes out just like Y/N," Jax looked down at her with disgust.

"Jax! Please don't do this!" she pleaded but Jax was having none of it.

"You saw it fit to do it to Y/N so why should I feel sorry for you? Take her away," Jax said.

"Noooo! Please!" Ashleigh screamed as Rog threw her over his shoulder; to carry out orders.

"How far do you want to take this Colson?" Jax asked as they walked to the car.

"As far as Slim took liberties on my wife," Colson replied tersely, "I want her to experience everything that Y/N went through. She should have a play by play version and we'll see how she feels being in the same shoes."

"So they're not going to actually...?" Jax raised his eyebrow.

"No! I gave them strict instructions not to take it that far," he reiterated.

"Okay," Jax opened the door for Colson and he jumped in.

"Please take me to the hospital? I need to check on Y/N before I lose my mind," Colson sighed heavily, "the doctor has assured me that he didn't..get very far."

"What a relief!" Jax sagged on the driver's seat.

"If he had-I was going to kill him with my bare hands," Colson clenched his fist.

"Not if I got to him first-with a bullet straight through his head," Jax said with conviction.

"I think we need to leave this place. Just me and Y/N," Colson said, "please make the arrangements?"

"Where are we going to this time?" Jax questioned, knowing he was part of the plan.

"Jamaica," Colson replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning baby," Colson sat on the hospital bed and held Y/N's hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

"You told him," she snatched her hand out of his grasp and turned aside.

"What?!" Colson asked, confused.

"I told you something in confidence," she cleared her throat, "and you told Slim so he could use it against me," she sniffled.

"Sweets.." Colson jumped onto the bed and lay in front of her, "look at me? Please?" he held her face tenderly.

"I honestly have no idea what you're going on about" his blonde hair flopped over his eyes and he tossed it back, "can you at least fill in the blanks so that we can be on the same page?" he stared at her intently.

"He knew," she whispered, "he knew about Bobby," she dropped her gaze.

"Who's Bobby baby?" Colson asked gently.

"My ex," she gulped as she twisted her hands nervously.

"I didn't tell him anything about it sweets. I swear. Maybe he overheard me talking to Jax the other day..I wanted him to help find him so you wouldn't have to worry about him coming back-I didn't want it hanging over your head," Colson explained "plus you never really told me his name.."

"Oh," her eyes focused on chest.

"You like my t-shirt?" Colson joked.

"I've always found plain white t-shirts fascinating," she rolled her eyes.

"This isn't just any white t-shirt babe-it's an original Levi," Colson held out the hem of the t-shirt and grinned.

"I'm sorry for spoiling your night," Y/N apologized.

"Hey..don't do that," Colson held her chin up and gazed into her e/c orbs, "I should be the one apologizing actually. I was supposed to protect you but-"

"Can we not talk about this?" she frowned and looked away.

"Sure," there was an awkward silence. "I'll go and check with the doctor if he's done with your discharge papers," Colson hopped of the bed and left the room.

Y/N looked up the ceiling and sighed heavily. How did she end up in this situation for a second time? If Colson hadn't kicked down the door when he did then-she didn't even want to think about it. She would rather keep it buried in her emotional archives.

"Good morning!" Jax stood at the door with his hands in his pockets, "is there room for one more?" he smiled.

"Jax!" Y/N gave him a genuine smile, "come in!" Jax got to her in two strides and engulfed her in a bear hug.

"You okay kid?" he leaned back and examined her.

"Yeah," she grinned.

"Good. The doctor has given you the green light, you can go home" he nodded with satisfaction, "did your husband tell you that we're going on honeymoon?"

"No Jax," Colson cut in, "but you might as well tell her."

"Tell me what?" Y/N asked.

"We're going to the Caribbean baby," Jax smiled.

"What?! Really babe??" Y/N gushed and Colson nodded with a smile.

"Let's get out of here I need to pack."

***********************************

It was a beautiful day; the birds were singing, the sun was shining and all was alright in the world. For now at least.

Colson woke up early and went to take his usual swim. The beach was deserted as he walked towards the water, in his shorts and his towel slung over his shoulder. He loved to take an early morning swim as part of his workout routine because it helped him to think; and he had a lot of thinking to do this morning.

At the end of this week they were going back to reality and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. The press that constantly stalked him and pried into his private life unashamedly, his fake friends, the pressure of staying at the top and last but not least his dear mother in law. Mrs Y/M/F/N L/N had called him, breathing fire and threatening to castrate him as soon as his jet touched the ground of Cleveland. He would definitely chose dealing with the press over that any day.

While he understood that she had genuine concerns, Y/N was a grown woman and the only thing that mattered to him. The way he felt about her frightened him. After Dani he had promised to never fall in love again. Love was complicated, it was too intense and it made you vulnerable; but worst of all you could risk getting your heart broken. He had loved Dani more than was humanely possible-he could have done anything for her and he did, but after she slept with his best friend she did irreparable damage to his heart. He couldn't risk it again-and yet he found himself totally consumed by Y/N Y/L/N.

Her eyes captivated him and sent his heart spiraling to the ends of the unknown. When she laughed or smiled at him he felt like he could take on the world. Making love to her was an indescribable feeling..he couldn't put it into words even if he tried. She was always on his mind and he just wanted to be with her all the time. He was selfish when it came to her-he didn't want anyone else around when they were together; he wanted all her attention; all of her.

Colson swam back to the shore, his body was exhausted. He bent over and held onto his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Smile," Y/N said and as he looked up startled she took a pic with her iPhone.

"Hey sweets," his face broke into a smile and his heart skipped a beat.

"I could wake up to this every morning..some girls have all the luck," she sighed and took a few more pics of Colson in his swimming trunks, water dripping from his gorgeous body.

"You know what Bambi..I think you need to be in the pic as well-"Colson lunged at her and grabbed her, making her wet. She was dressed in a short floral caftan dress which did nothing to protect her.

"Baker!" she squealed, "you're making me wet!"

"Just what I love to hear sweets," he crushed her against his solid chest and their lips merged, melting into each other. He wove his fingers into her silky soft hair and she in turn slid her fingers into his wet hair.

Jax stood behind them clearing his throat and got their attention.

"Just on time Jax-please take a video and post it on Instagram asap okay?" Colson handed the phone to him.

"A video??," Y/N asked. Before she got a response Colson swooped her off her feet and threw over his shoulder. He ran back into the water amidst Y/N's screams and protests.

She landed in the water with a splash and Colson laughed at her as she spluttered in the water.

"Baker you are dead!!" she jumped onto his back and they both keeled over back into the water. Y/N tried to escape but he caught her foot and dragged her back in. They continued a full out make out session and would have taken it further if Jax hadn't reminded them that they were in a public area.

"That's enough you two!" Jax yelled, "breakfast is served, let's go."

"Let's get changed first. Come one," Colson put his arm around her shoulder as they walked back to the villa. They had a quick shower and dressed up before going for breakfast.

"Can't we go out somewhere for breakfast?" Y/N suggested, "We're in the Caribbean so we might as well take advantage of it."

"As mi 'lady wishes," Colson bowed.

"Baker!" Y/N swatted his arm.

"But I went all out and made breakfast for you two?" Jax grumbled.

"Sorry Jax. Guess we will have to stay and eat," Y/N said.

"Killjoy," Colson muttered under his breath.

"Don't worry babe, we can explore after breakfast," Y/N squeezed his arm.

"Ooh, I like the sound of that.." Colson murmured and leaned in to kiss her.

"Can we eat now?" Jax complained.

"I would rather eat what I'm looking at right now.." Colson continued to suck on Y/N's lips and she giggled.

"Gosh! I think I'm going to throw up," Jax rolled his eyes, "I'm going to eat at my villa. I'll leave you kids to it." He threw his napkin on the table and stood up.

"Hey Jax," Colson said, "You're officially off duty. We'll call you when we need you."

"Thank you!" Jax said with a sigh of relief, "at least I won't have to witness you two sucking face any longer."

"Makes two of us," Colson replied. They laughed as they watched him leave.

"You're not a nice person Baker," Y/N said as she nibbled on a piece of bacon.

"I know but I'm still yours," he tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you really?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Sweets-let's not do this? Please?" he raked his hair.

"So nothing has changed," she nodded and her gaze as she twisted her fingers nervously.

"I'm going for a walk!" Colson pushed back his chair and it screeched as he stood up.

"Fine!" Y/N shouted at his retreating back.

Y/N thought that things had changed. That somehow his feelings had changed and he was finally ready to admit that he loved her, that this was more than a casual fling, that they had passed the stage of testing the waters. She had hoped they had established their relationship on a solid foundation but his outburst had proved that they were still on ground zero.

Two steps forward. Two steps back.

**********************************

Y/N spent the day watching Netflix in the guest room at the villa. She had ordered room service because she didn't feel like cooking. She didn't feel like doing anything but wallowing in self-pity. Colson hadn't shown up for lunch or dinner and Y/N went into further depression. There was a fully stocked bar so she decided to take full advantage of it and drowned her sorrows.

She heard loud music coming from outside so she got dressed in her best outfit and headed out. There was no way she was going to sit at home while Colson was probably out there having a good time. She stumbled into a local club that seemed to be happening tonight and made a beeline to the bar.

"Can I have a cosmo?" she asked the barman and he nodded. She sipped on it slowly and watched the revelers grinding on each other; having a good time.

"Care to dance?" Colson came from behind and whispered in her ear.

"Get lost Baker," she retorted without swinging around.

"Look sweets, I'm sorry for walking out on you," he turned her around and he took her hands, "I shouldn't have done that-please forgive me?" he pouted.

"We can't make progress if that's what you going to do every time we have a fight," she said, "where have you been all day anyway?"

"I went scuba diving and surfing with Jax," he replied. "Can we just be Colson and Y/N tonight? For the rest of the week maybe?" he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, "No fighting, no arguing-no nothing-good vibes only. Just me and you enjoying each other's company? Can we do that baby?" he implored.

"Okay Baker. I'm sold," Y/N rolled her eyes and picked up her drink.

"I know we need to do grown up talk soon but can it be when we get back home?" he asked, "for now I just want to enjoy my honeymoon with my beautiful and sexy wife," he took her drink and gulped half of it down.

"Hey! Get your own," she slapped his arm. He ordered another round for them and then a couple of more. She was feeling light headed and her face was tingling. The alcohol had clearly kicked in and she could feel it.

"Let's go dance!" Colson pulled her to the dance floor.

"I don't even know how to dance to this music!" she shouted into his ear. She looked around her and all she could see was people gyrating on each other. If they didn't have any clothes on it would have been x-rated.

"There's nothing to it sweets. Just follow my lead," Colson started grinding against her and she followed suit.

They got lost in the moment as their bodies intertwined as they moved to the rhythm of the music. He turned her around and fitted her back into the contour of his body, his hands slowly gliding down her thighs. She weaved her hands in his hair and pressed her backside into him and he groaned into her ear.

"You're killing me Bambi," his lust filled voice whispered into her ear, sending chills down her spine. He gripped her hips tightly and sucked her earlobe and she gasped.

"I learnt from the best," she said breathlessly, as she continued to grind against him.

"Bathroom-now!" he growled.

"What?!" her eyeballs almost popped out. This was so hot but she had to be the voice of reason here. He grabbed her hand and led her to the ladies restrooms, "Colson-you can't be serious?!

"This is Jamaica sweets. We can't come here and not have hot, spontaneous sex in the bathroom," he slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked.

"What if we get caught?" she asked breathlessly, as he planted hot kisses on her neck.

"Too bad-they will just have to hear you screaming my name," he said in a husky voice, before he pushed her against the door and took her right there and then.

Welcome to Jamaica.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the night was a blur and just when Y/N thought she was ready to head home, Colson told her the night was only beginning.

"We've been invited to an after party at Sean Paul's and I have been trying forever to get a collabo with him. This is my chance," Colson said as they jumped into the limo.

"Can you maybe drop me off at home? I'm totally wasted," Y/N groaned and leaned back on the leather seat.

"Not a chance sweets," Colson leaned in and kissed her until she was breathless, "better?" he asked with a smile.

"Hmmm," was all Y/N could day.

"We won't stay long. Promise," he assured her but they both knew it was a lie.

Colson kept her entertained throughout the night and never left her side. They danced, talked, drank and danced some more. Finally she couldn't stand on her feet any more so they went to sit down again. The people at their table were smoking a joint an passing it around and Colson pulled on it a couple of times before passing it to Y/N.

"No way!" she pushed his hand away.

"Don't tell me you've never smoked weed sweets?" he looked genuinely shocked.

"Never..not interested," she slurred, "I don't smoke."

"This is different. Besides-we're in Jamaica sweets. You can't be here and not experience this," he looked at the joint like it was gold, "come on just try it. Just one drag," he coaxed and his new found friends cheered her on.

"Okay, okay" she relented. Against her better judgement she took it and smoked it until she choked on the smoke.

"Yeah!" everyone cheered for her.

"Well done Bambi," Colson chuckled and rubbed her back.

To this day Y/N couldn't remember how she got home that night.

Colson teased her about it the next day. Apparently she danced on the table and almost did a strip show but he had stopped her just in time. He even got a lap dance.

"You're a bad influence Baker," she groaned and went back to sleep.

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #fan fiction

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

_____

prev chapter

_____

Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

_____

next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes romance

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izzielizzie · 3 years

Text

Footnotes in the Story of Your Life

Nancy Drew never wanted to move from everything she knew in New York to an unwelcoming town in Maine, and she secretly refuses to enjoy her upcoming final year of high school, but that might not even happen when she and four Horseshoe Bay natives - Bess Marvin the socialite, Ace the stoic son of a single mother, George Fan the town foster child/screw up, and Ned Nickerson HBPD’s favorite ex-con - are accused of attempted murder. Nancy’s startled - when she said she wanted something interesting to happen she didn’t mean this - but soon she starts to notice that not everything is as it seems here (AU).

Title from “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift

Nancy’s mother finds her sitting on her bed on the first day of summer with a framed photograph in her hands. Kate Drew softens at the sight of her daughter, her usually perfect posture long forgotten as she wilts into the bed.

“Nance,” she says quietly, and Nancy instantly looks up, her face crumpling. Kate crosses the bare room to sit next to her only daughter, wrapping a secure arm around her shoulder. “Moving must be hard, huh?” For the past month, the family of three had been packing up their New York home in River Heights, loading things into trucks as their friends came by with endless casseroles and ceramic dishes they didn’t know what to do with. Nancy, as social as her mother before her, had drawn into herself more and more as she made her goodbyes.

“Liven up Nance,” Carson, Kate’s husband and Nancy’s father had said not too long ago as they ate the tuna casserole Helen Coring - Nancy’s best friend - had brought earlier that day as they put the contents of Nancy’s room into a U Haul truck. “We’re moving to River Heights Drive. Not that much of a change, right?”

Nancy had spent the rest of the night glaring at her father, resenting his audacity, and Kate had taken over with the reassurances.

“Yeah. I just hate the idea that I’m missing senior year.”

“Well, you’re not missing it per say. You’re still going to school here.”

Nancy looks at the picture of her, Helen, and another friend named Burt at the junior prom, their arms around each other. Nancy sighs. She considers launching into a tirade about how New York and Maine are very different places and no she is missing school, the important parts at least, but she knows that this move is hard on her mother too, so she refrains. “I guess so,” she says, reluctantly putting the picture on the stand she had placed next to her bed.

Kate kisses the top of Nancy’s head. “Good. Now why don’t you explore and I’ll see what casserole I can heat up.”

“Ugh Mom,” Nancy says, already grinning as she pulls her blue raincoat from one of the boxes on the floor in front of her.

Nancy’s wanderings lead her to a small seafood restaurant with a great view of the Atlantic. Nancy’s not used to being this close to large bodies of water, and it’s making her a little nauseous. Her father, a native of Boston, assures her that she’ll get over the salt air smell, but Nancy’s not so sure.

She looks up at the claw shaped sign, creaking eerily on its pole. The Bayside Claw Nancy reads. What a fitting name. And a fitting sign. Nancy’s about to turn and keep walking, since she’s not a big seafood person, but she sees a handful of well dressed men enter the restaurant. Nancy’s spent enough time in New York City to know when a well dressed person is just fashion conscious, or when they’re rich and up to something. These men are definitely the latter. Nancy pauses for a few moments to make sure that the men have had the time to settle, since she locked eyes with a young man with sandy blond hair and the beginnings of a goatee, and she doesn’t want him to think she’s following him.

Nancy is an unnecessarily paranoid person.

She pushes through the doors of the restaurant and is nearly mowed over by a person the moment she steps into the dining area. “Whoah, I’m sorry,” she says, stepping back in time to see a woman with long black hair and an oversized cardigan stagger backwards, clearly discombobulated by well… everything.

“Ugh, Victoria,” A girl about Nancy’s age in a green uniform grumbles. She catches sight of Nancy. “Sorry about that ma’am,” the waitress says, reaching down to haul the woman (presumably Victoria) off the ground. The waitress pushes Victoria out of the door that’s still held open by Nancy. “Go be drunk somewhere else!” The waitress - whose name tag reads George - turns to Nancy. “Can I help you?”

Nancy freezes, not quite sure why to say she’s here now that she’s been spotted by this rather vocal waitress when she’s saved by another waitress, this time in yellow.

“George, Mr. Hudson wants us to give his wife food,” the waitress says in a posh British accent. She’s holding a wobbly plate of fish and salad in one hand.

George turns from Nancy to the new waitress, annoyance crossing her face. “Well what do you want me to do? Roll it onto a cart for her? Go bring it outside!”

“Mr. Hudson left his wife outside?” Nancy asks, without thinking.

“Yeah, that fellow over there,” the waitress in yellow points to the sandy haired man Nancy had tailed into here.

“And that fellow is both incredibly rich and able to give us a boost and my foster dad so maybe you should shut up and give Tiffany her food,” George snaps. Both Bess and Nancy flush.

“Sorry,” Bess mumbles, stepping away and around Nancy to slip through the front door. Nancy’s a little jostled when Bess passes her, and she spins a little, turning towards the kitchen. She catches sight of a young man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt ringing the bell to signify an order. They lock eyes - ice blue on sky - and Nancy feels a wave of déjà vu pass over her, but she shakes it off. She turns back to George, who’s still looking at her, waiting for Nancy to say something.

Finally, Nancy makes up her mind. If she’s going to be stuck in this tiny town she might as well do something to occupy her time. “Are you hiring?”

George looks her over. “Are you new here?”

Oh. So it’s that kind of tiny town. “Yes, my family just moved here.”

George nods. “Right. Well, we could always use a new waitress. We had one leave for college and Bess isn’t the brightest so…” George trails off, cocking her head. “Do you hear that?”

Both Nancy and George tilt their heads towards the front door of the restaurant, where they can hear muffled shouting. Both girls look at each other for a moment before Nancy spins and pushes the door open. George is hot on her heels, and after a few moments, a third pair of feet joins them. Nancy turns to see shaggy blond hair under a black cap and knows that it’s the boy from behind the counter.

Nancy stops suddenly when she sees Bess standing over a body, shock on her face. “Omph,” Nancy says as both George and the other guy come barreling into her. She stumbles, and George catches her around the waist. Nancy opens her mouth to ask the very obvious question hanging in the air-

“Bess? What happened?” a decidedly male voice asks, taking the words straight from Nancy’s mouth. She looks up to see a tall boy with cocoa skin exiting a blue truck parked a foot behind Bess, the body, and the sleek car looming over the person Nancy can only assume is Mrs. Hudson.

A strangled cry escapes George, and she rushes forward, dropping to her knees next to the woman. “Help her!” George says, looking up at the four of them as she lifts Mrs. Hudson’s head to rest on her knees. She cradles it in her hands like an injured bird.

“What happened?” the Hawaiian shirt boy repeats. Bess is sobbing now.

“I turned to go back to the restaurant and all of a sudden she cried out and fell! I don’t know!”

Nancy, still not quite sure what in the world is happening, crouches next to George and Mrs. Hudson. She lifts one of Mrs. Hudson’s hands, feeling her wrist for a pulse.

“She’s not dead,” she says as sirens come wailing towards them.

Fifteen minutes later, Nancy, Bess, George, and the two boys are sitting in the hospital waiting room with Mr. Hudson, George leaning against Mr. Hudson’s shoulder.

“The Hudsons have been her foster parents for the longest out of any of her homes,” Bess says, leaning over to whisper in Nancy’s ear. Nancy smiles at her. “I remember what it’s like being new. I only moved in with my aunt here in Horseshoe Bay last month. I used to live in London. I’m Bess by the way.”

“Nancy,” Nancy says.

“Welcome. Where did you live before?”

“New York.”

“City?”

“State.”

“Oh that’s nice. I love the city, did you go often?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Nancy says as the waiting room doors swing open. She’s startled to see a man in a uniform striding towards their little group. He’s probably in his thirty or forties, and he’s got a no nonsense look on his face.

“Are you the people found at the scene of the crime?” he asks in lieu of greeting.

“Woah, woah, crime?” Mr. Hudson asks, standing up, startling George, who had been dozing on his shoulder.

The officer turns to Mr. Hudson solemnly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “There was poison found in your wife’s system, Mr. Hudson, which means that someone had attempted to kill her.”

Everyone turns to Bess, except Mr. Hudson and the officers.

Mr. Hudson stares at the officer for a moment before sinking into his seat, a look of genuine fear on his face. “Who would want to kill Tif?”

“Not me I swear!” Bess cries, latching on to Nancy’s arm. Nancy gently pries her fingers off her arm.

The officer shakes his head, ignoring the distraught waitress. “I’m not sure sir, but it’s our job to figure it out. Why is why I need to speak to these five.”

They all look at Mr. Hudson: Nancy, George, Bess, and the two boys whose names Nancy still doesn’t know. But Mr. Hudson’s face is ashen, like he’s going into shock. The officer motions at the young people. “Come along.”

The five of them look at each other uncertainly before standing and following the officer into the hall. Nancy catches sight of his badge: Chief E. O. McGinnis.

Now, Nancy, being the daughter of a lawyer, should know her rights, and the right to remain silent is the biggest one, especially since she’s a minor, but she’s too confused and terrified to think straight.

She’s being investigated for attempted murder. Attempted murder. God her mother’s going to kill her.

The unlikely five line up against the wall. Chief McGinnis paces in front of them. “Alright. I’m looking at an ex-con,” he pauses in front of the guy from the truck. “The town screw up,” (this time he’s in front of George). “A city girl,” he’s in front of Bess now, who looks rather guilty in Nancy’s opinion. He moves to the fancy shirt guy standing next to Nancy. “An HBPD legacy and Nancy Drew.”

Except, that’s not what he says.

He pauses in front of Nancy, and tilts his head at her. “Who are you again?”

Nancy stares at him as the weird feeling of déjà vu hits her again. No. That’s not right. He knows who she is.

But she doesn’t know who he is.

Nancy feels her hands start to shake. Everything here is wrong. She should be sitting at the police station. She should know what’s happening. But she doesn’t because she’s being accused of attempted murder.

But it shouldn’t be attempted. Nancy slides down the wall, her hands pulling at her skin where she can feel the ghost of a locket.

My mother’s gonna kill me she thinks. But no, her mom’s dead. And Ryan isn’t George’s foster dad. He’s her dad.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t ri-

“Okay just give her space.”

When Nancy comes to, she’s looking up into the face of the boy who had been working at the Bayside Claw. Nancy’s laying on the ground, her head against the cold tile. The boy gently slips an arm under her shoulders, helping her to sit up.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Nancy doesn’t know the answer to that. He can tell, so he tries a different question. “What’s your name?”

“Nancy Drew,” she croaks. He smiles.

“Hi Nancy Drew. My name is Ace Hardy.”

“Hi,” Nancy mumbles back.

“And that’s Nick,” Ace says, pointing to the boy from the truck who’s hovering on the outskirts of the circle of people around her. “I hear you’ve met the girls.”

Nancy nods and Ace gently slips his other arm under her knees, lifting her up in his arms like she weighs nothing. He walks her towards the waiting room, talking as he goes. “That, Nancy, was a panic attack. Have those often?”

Nancy leans her pounding head against his muscular shoulder. “No.”

“Well, first time for everything. Got anyone we can call?”

“My dad,” she mumbles. Ace nods to Bess, who rushes forward with her phone out. Nancy recites her father’s number, and Bess puts it to her ear.

“Hello? Hi, yes, this is Bess Marvin. I’m calling about your daughter. She’s in the hospital, she had a panic attack.” Bess is quiet for a moment. “Nancy Drew, yes.” After a moment, Bess rattles off directions and hangs up.

Ace puts Nancy down on a chair next to Mr. Hudson. Nancy looks at him sideways. She’s about to say something to him when suddenly - as if her brain has been reset or something - she forgets what she was going to say.

“Want some water Nancy?” Ace asks. Nancy smiles at the unfamiliar boy.

“Yes, please,” she says. He stands and heads to the water cooler, Bess taking his spot. “What did the officer mean by Ace is a legacy?”

“Oh, that,” Bess says sadly. “Ace’s father was a Captain on the police force. He was in a chase once when Ace was a child. His car got hit, and he didn’t make it.”

“That’s so sad,” Nancy says.

“I know,” Bess agrees. “His mother is all he has. She’s a librarian, but she doesn’t make a lot of money. They just get by with her salary and the pension from the state. That’s why Ace turned down MIT. To work at The Claw.”

“That must be so hard,” Nancy says. She can’t imagine giving up her dream of going to Columbia.

“It is,” Bess agrees as the doors to the waiting room are pushed open. Nancy sees her father and mother being trailed by an annoyed McGinnis.

“You can’t just take a suspect home! She has to be fingerprinted! She has to give her statement!”

Carson turns on McGinnis. “Excuse me, but my daughter is a minor and she’s had a panic attack.”

“We’re taking her,” Kate adds. She spots Nancy and rushes to her, crouching to put her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “Nancy, baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay, we’re taking you home, don’t worry, Mom’s here.”

It’s a simple statement, and normally Nancy would complain that it makes her sound like a child, but it relaxes her nonetheless. She slumps into her mom, letting the exhaustion and confusion sink over her.

Kate runs her fingers through her red hair as Carson argues with McGinnis, who finally relents.

“Fine, fine, you all can go if Drew is going. But I expect you back at the station at eight am sharp.”

Nancy is pulled to her feet by her mother, and before she moves, she puts a hand on Mr. Hudson’s shoulder. “Your wife will get better sir,” she says. Mr. Hudson puts his hand over hers.

“Thanks.”

Nancy waves goodbye to everyone else before following her parents. As she falls asleep in the back seat of her dad’s car, all she can think is that something about this entire night is off.

#cw nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew #ace #bess marvin #george fan #nick nickerson #au #queued

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hotchscotchh · 3 years

Text

Reimagined; Chapter 1 - Chester Hardwick

The comparison between this and the first time I wrote this chapter is honestly kind of crazy. I’m so excited for this rewrite! I will only be redoing chapters 1-7 :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: mentions of sexual activity, canon typical violence

Word count: 1.8k

Reid helps Hotch sort out some issues

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

Based on 3x14, Damaged

Chester Hardwick. A serial killer that managed to take the lives of twenty-three women before he was caught. Hardwick had decided he was ready to talk, and Spencer Reid couldn’t be more excited to get into this man’s mind. Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was just plain angry, and for good reason. Haley was being completely unfair with this divorce. He figured that if he had something else to focus on, the pain and anger would leave the forefront of his mind, at least momentarily.

None of that interview had gone as planned, though. Hotch had tried to fight Hardwick after he revealed his plans of killing two FBI agents as a way out of the death penalty. He thought maybe he’d put some of his anger to good use. Thank god for Reid, though, who had been able to talk the psychopath down, probably saving both of their lives in the process. He’d managed to talk for a full thirteen minutes until the guards returned. Hotch shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, he’d heard Reid go on for hours about nothing before. Even if no one was listening.

He might’ve been surprised, but he was also impressed. Extremely impressed. He’d never seen someone district an unsub for that amount of time, let alone completely throw off his plans of killing. But, play on narcissism was always a strong one.

Reid was… well, Reid was turned on, to say the least. This sort of adrenaline got him going for some godforsaken reason that he would probably never completely understand. That combined with seeing his (extremely attractive) boss puffed up, ready to kill a man in their honor? Well, that memory was one he would reserve for a later date.

“So, Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested to nobody wastes money on lawyers,” Hotch started when they were in the FBI issued SUV on the way back to D.C.

“You don’t want to?” Reid questioned.

Hotch sighed. “What I want I’m not going to get.”

Confused, Reid answered, “What is it you want, Hotch?” He didn’t get an answer.

----

Back in Quantico, the rest of the team had just wrapped up a case of their own. Reid was currently witnessing an encounter that he didn’t understand one word of. Technical Analyst Kevin Lynch confronted David Rossi, claiming they needed to talk “man to man,” whatever that meant. Then JJ sang some song about Garcia and Kevin and a tree. He had no idea what was going on. Rather that continuing to sit there confused (no one would explain it to him, apparently what was happening was obvious), Reid decided to go check on Hotch. His superior had obviously not taken the request from his soon-to-be-ex-wife well, and he was sure to get some flack from Strauss about the outcome of the interview.

“Hotch,” Reid said quietly, rapping his knuckles on the door frame to Hotch’s office and poking his head in.

“Come in, Reid, close the door,” Hotch answered, not looking up from his paperwork.

Reid sat in the chair across from his superior and handed him a file. “My reports form the interview, sir.”

Hotch looked up then, meeting Reid’s eyes with a smile that didn’t quite reach his own. “Thank you. I appreciate you getting this done so quickly. I wanted to apologize for the situation I put you in today, it really was not appropriate. I shouldn’t have provoked him the way I did.”

“Hotch,” Reid started again, pausing to make sure the words that were about to come out of him mouth were going to come out correctly. “Let me take you out for dinner tonight. I think you need someone to talk to, and honestly, I probably do too.” Reid didn’t really need to talk, he had been doing much better in the aftermath of Tobias Hankel recently, but he did know that Hotch would be much more likely to say yes if he thought it wouldn’t only be benefitting him.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork again, giving Reid a look he couldn’t quite decipher, and thought for a few moments. “Well,” he finally answered, “that actually sounds great. Let me just finish this last file and I’ll come get you. I’m assuming you took the metro?” Reid nodded. “Okay. I’ll drive us and bring you home after. Think about where you want to go.”

Reid left his superiors office with a smile on his face. Sitting down at his desk, he thought back to the way Hotch looked preparing to defend himself and Spencer from the psychopath that had threatened their lives just hours before. He felt himself getting hard. He shook his head as if he could shake the thoughts from his head as he stood back up and made his way to the bathroom. There, he splashed some cold water across is face. He wasn’t supposed to think about coworkers like that, especially not his boss.

Reid reminded himself that his boss was married. Sure, it was a failing marriage, but a marriage, nonetheless. That single thought sobered him up. He made his way back to the bullpen to find Morgan giving him a weird look.

“What, do I have something on my face?” he asked.

“No,” Morgan replied. “You just were in Hotch’s office, come back all pale, and ran off to the bathroom. Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer huffed defensively. “Fine, just got a little nauseous. I’m okay now. Thanks for asking though, I appreciate it.”

An hour later, Hotch descended the steps from his office, finding Reid lost in a book at his desk.

“Reid,” he called out softly, placing a light had on his shoulder in an attempt to not startle him too much.

Reid jumped anyway, and looked up at him. “Hotch! You scared me,” he exclaimed before looking around and realizing that his coworkers had left without his noticing.

“Sorry,” Hotch chuckled. “I’m also sorry I took so long; I got a call from the Wichita police department.” Reid looked back over at him; disappointment evident in his eyes. “No case,” Hotch amended quickly, “they were just letting me know how that case from a few weeks ago turned out. Our unsub was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, landing him a life sentence, no parole. Have you decided where you want to go for dinner?”

Reid took the change of subject and went with it, nodding, standing, collecting his belongings, and making his way towards the doors of the BAU.

Spencer didn’t begin to feel nervous until his was sitting in the front of Hotch’s SUV. When they were settled, Hotch turned to look at him and asked, “so, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Reid answered with a blush. “I’ll be your personal GPS. Turn right out of the parking lot.”

----

Twenty minutes later found them in from of a small Greek diner. “Did you know that Greek is my favorite?” Hotch asked, a small smile playing across his lips.

His very kissable lips, Reid thought. He blushed again, not breaking their eye contact, before answering, “Yeah, thought you might want some comfort food. I’m not well versed in the realm of divorce, but I know what you’re going through can’t be easy.”

Hotch’s smile grew imperceptibly. “Thank you, Reid.” They got out of the car and made their way into the restaurant, finding a secluded booth towards the back.

“I’ll bet you that I can order for you and it’ll be exactly what you were thinking about ordering,” Hotch said out of nowhere.

“What’s on the line?” Reid asked.

“Loser pays for dinner.”

“You’re on, I’ll make the same bet,” Spencer answered, silently deciding that he would wait on the difficult conversation until they received their food.

The waitress approached their table, and Hotch informed her that they would be ordering for each other. She gave a small smile, looking between the two of them. “Of course,” answered, leaning down to look over Hotch’s shoulder to see what he was pointing at on the menu before turning to Reid and doing the same.

The next fifteen minutes were filled mostly with Spencer finally getting an explanation as to what had occurred between Garcia, Kevin, and Rossi. Spencer laughed, not believing he hadn’t picked up on it. Some profiler he was. Their food arrived, putting a stop to their conversation. The two men looked down at the food set in front of them. Reid had ordered a Greek soup for Hotch, and Hotch had order Reid a pork gyro.

They looked back up at each other and both said, “you win,” before laughing.

“How about this,” Reid proposed. “I’ll pay this time, and you get the next one.”

“The next one?” Hotch asked.

“We’ll I was hoping there would be another. I don’t know about you, Hotch, but I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight.”

Aaron looked back up, smiling in a way Reid had never seen before. “I have too, Reid.”

“So,” Reid started cautiously. “Let’s talk. You never answered my question in the car before. What is it you want?”

Hotch heaved a sigh, looking down at his lap before resignedly looking back up to meet his subordinate’s gaze. “You can’t tell anyone about this. I want to keep it quiet.” Reid nodded earnestly, excited that the man was going to open up to him. “Haley wants full custody. Which, in reality, makes sense because of how often we’re away, but it means I’m not going to be able to see Jack anywhere near as much as I want to.”

Reid thought it over for a few moments. “Why don’t you ask for a Skype or phone call at least every other night? I know he’s little, but hearing your voice will be good for him. And for when you’re home, ask to have him at least two nights a week. Weeks we have off and holidays can be negotiated by the two of you privately. You know, her lawyers probably just making an unfair offer to get you to contest it so they can make more money. She’s a reasonable person. I’m sure she’ll be willing to compromise.”

Hotch took a moment to process that. Letting out another sigh, he looked back up at Reid and replied, “that’s actually fairly realistic. I’ll talk to her about it. If she’s not wiling to change, this is just going to have to get messy.”

Relaxing back into his seat, Hotch gave a small smile. “I should come to you for advice more often, Spencer.”

Thant night, when Spencer got home, he got himself off to the thought of Hotch. The strong man he saw earlier, and also the soft one he had seen that night at dinner. He only felt guilty about it for an hour. Maybe two.

#hotchreid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #criminal minds #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #Derek Morgan #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #fic #my writing

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sylvies-chen · 4 years

Note

Brettsey please “so not to be rude or anything but i’ve been coming to this cemetery at this time on this day every week for fucking years and i’ve always been alone up until now seriously what the hell” au

Ok anon I REALLY have to apologize because this request has been sitting in my inbox for probably a month or two now but I didn’t get the inspo to finish this until last night. That being said, I got this into a short little oneshot so I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: alternate universe, grief, mourning, light emotional hurt/comfort, meet cute

Word count: 2922

183 days.

It’s been 183 days since Sylvie last visited Julie. 183 days thinking about how things should have been different. How Julie was supposed to survive, how her and Scott and Amelia were supposed to be a family. How Sylvie was supposed to reconnect with her, to finally know the woman who had given Sylvie her own life’s blood.

She was supposed to have more time.

Instead, Sylvie ends up feeling like more of a stranger to Julie than ever. The last time she visited was the funeral, and that hadn’t done much for her in terms of closure. If anything, it made her feel more out of place. Random strangers came up to her, asking how she knew Julie. Sylvie can still remember the confused looks on their face as she’d told them Julie was her birth mother who had given her up at sixteen years old, and the awkward condolences that came stuttering out of their mouths afterwards. She’d felt too guilty eventually, and left early. Who the hell was she anyway, to be tainting everyone’s view of her birth mother at her own funeral?

She hasn’t been to visit Julie’s grave ever since. All Sylvie had done was stay with parents for a few days to clear her head. A few days turned into a few weeks, and then a few months. Today marks month six of her stay there. Her parents had told her they’d be happy to have her. They hadn’t been receptive to the idea of Sylvie meeting Julie in the first place, so they were more than willing to help her through the loss. The only condition was that she had to go to therapy and work through her grief, which Sylvie happily agreed to. But last week, her therapist suggested she visit Julie’s grave to get ‘true closure’, whatever that means. It’s a strange idea to Sylvie but nothing else seems to be working. Her boss had assured her that Fowlerton was much too peaceful (the polite way of calling the town boring, and rightfully so) and it would do just fine without its favourite paramedic for a few days. So, reluctantly, she accepted.

That’s why Sylvie’s now halfway through an hour-long drive to Chicago, all the way back to the cemetery. She buys hydrangeas at a tiny flower shop she passes by when she first enters Chicago territory. They’re Julie’s favourite. They were Julie’s favourite

Her fingers anxiously tap at the wheel when she finally pulls into the cemetery. It’s a dreary Sunday, grey clouds hovering in the sky bringing the prominent threat of rain. The graveyard is empty when she gets there, from the looks of it, except for one single person. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a man around her age sitting on a bench near a grave, his eyes observing her curiously from over his shoulder. He’s not someone she knows-- she doesn’t really know many people here in Chicago after all-- but she ignores his lingering eyes. Shades of grey stick out against the field of green and wilted flowers are scattered across other tombstones. It feels like a ghost town, for lack of a better term. It’s gloomy and it looks like no one’s visited this place in a while. Even for a cemetery, the sight is a depressing one.

Sylvie slams her car door shut and takes a deep breath. Relax, she thinks. Just a quick drop by to see her, place the flowers, and then leave. You can get through this.

She makes a beeline towards Julie’s grave, less than 100 feet away, and stops dead in her tracks when she gets there. Her feet feel heavy in her pink rain boots, sticking out like a sore thumb against her black coat as she observes the tombstone.

Julie Walters

Loving wife and daughter

1973 - 2019

Sylvie doesn’t know how to feel reading those words. A whole life, one she only scratched the surface of, reduced to a mere four words and eight numbers. It’s underwhelming, and she doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Julie’s entire being wasn’t etched onto stone or insulted that they could summarize her in so few words.

Maybe it’s for the best. What else would they put on there anyway: that she was a flawed human who left behind a child who she wasn’t ready to have, only to die before she could see her second daughter years later when she was finally ready for one? When she was finally ready to reconcile with her first born? Yeah, it was definitely for the best.

She places the bouquet of hydrangeas on the wet grass next to the tombstone and stands back. Man, this is harder than she thought. The words are there, racing in her head, but they don’t come out. Every time she wants to say something, it gets caught in the back of her throat.

Sylvie’s trying to pick from a list of infinite questions and countless ways to begin when she feels a chill on the back of her neck. At that moment, a voice comes from behind her. “Hi, are y--”

“Ah!” Sylvie shrieks, the voice startling her. She nearly jumps out of her skin as she turns around in shock, only to see a guy standing in front of her. It’s the same guy, she realizes, that had been staring at her earlier. Now, up close, she guesses that he can’t be all that much older that she is. He has blonde hair that’s short at the back and longer at the front, his eyes a soft shade of blue-green. His jacket and boots are a little worn but other than that, he looks completely normal. Except for the fact that he’s the only other person in this whole cemetery, and he just came up to her from behind without making a sound.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assures her, his hands up in surrender.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Sylvie lets out a big breath, shaking off the nerves from the jumpscare.

“Not to be rude or anything, but I just-- I’m usually the only one here,” he explains awkwardly.

“Are you a groundskeeper or something? I can leave if you guys need me to.”

“No no,” he laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. “I work in construction, actually. But I’ve uh.. I’ve been coming here the same time, every Sunday for years now to visit my dad. Nobody’s ever here when I am, so I figured you must be new.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers. So okay, he’s not such a creep after all. Actually, he’s kind of sweet. “He must have been a really great dad, for you to be visiting him every week after all these years.”

“He… had his moments,” the man explains delicately. “Honestly, he wasn’t the most affectionate guy. I guess I just don’t want to end up like him. Jaded and cruel.”

Sylvie nods understandingly, because she gets it. Her parents are loving and supportive, but she’s had some exes that have put her through the ringer. Her first real love, Harrison, had been manipulative and heartless. She’s always hoped that these awful guys wouldn’t change her for the worse either.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I’ll get out of your hair,” he offers. “But uh, here. Take this.” The guy holds out a single rose, which Sylvie accepts.

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion at the gesture. “A rose?”

“Yeah, well, my dad has been getting a dozen roses a week from my family since I was 17, he won’t turn over in his grave if he gets 11 just this one time. I’m sure whoever you’re grieving could use it a lot more than he could.”

Sylvie’s confused expression softens into gratitude, a faint smile pulling at her lips. This guy, whoever he is, didn’t have to do this for her. It’s a sweet gesture. He really does seem nice. No catches, no mind games, just simple and kind. She hasn’t met a guy like that in a while, at least not one her age. “That’s actually really sweet, thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she introduces herself awkwardly. Everything about this situation is awkward, frankly. But she extends her free hand anyway. “Sylvie Brett.”

“Matt Casey. I wish it were under nicer circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is wide as he takes her hand and shakes it. It’s confusing, but it makes Sylvie smile all the same.

“You seem awfully cheerful for someone who’s in a graveyard,” she observes.

“Like I said: I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m sort of all talked out now,” Matt explains with a shrug.

“Right,” she nods. “I wish I could relate. Normally I’m the one who’s cheerful and talkative, but it’s hard with this sort of thing. Everything I want to say just doesn’t seem to come out. Sometimes, I think if I start talking…”

“You’ll never stop?” He guesses.

“Yeah.” How did he know?

“Well I can tell you from experience that you definitely do stop talking at one point. I got all talked out two years ago. I looked around one day and realized I was talking about types of screwdrivers to my dad’s grave with no one else around. Eventually, you’ll run out of topics like I did. And then new ones will come, and you’ll talk some more, and then you get quiet again and then you just… stop talking.”

“I hope so. I’m a big talker-- I mean seriously, I never shut up-- but I just… I don’t know where to start with this one,” she explains.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you visiting?”

“Julie Walters.” She points to the tombstone in front of them. “My birth mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Sylvie’s heard those six little words before. She had to stomach every single insincere, fake utterance of sympathy when she was at the funeral. But for some reason, the way Matt says it to her makes her think he really means it. She’s not used to people meaning it when they offer their condolences. It’s strange. Then again, this whole interaction is strange. “It’s okay,” she brushes it off.

“It’s not. At least, it doesn’t have to be,” he soothes. Something about his voice is so horrifyingly comforting. It’s calm and low, and it feels like warm tea and honey in her ears. It’s enough to make her want to burst into tears right then and there .

Sylvie takes a deep breath and then, before she can stop herself, breaks the silence to ramble. “I love my parents, you know? They raised me, they fed me, they’re responsible for the person I’ve become. But I’d always wondered where I came from, why my birth parents gave me up for adoption. And when Julie sought me out, I panicked at first. I wasn’t ready to give up that fantasy in my head of who she was, to have all my questions answered. But now I’m standing here, visiting her grave for the first time in the six months since her funeral by recommendation of my stupid grief counselor, and I… I just can’t stop thinking of all the questions I was too scared to ask. And man, it sucks.”

Matt stands there and nods understandingly, his gaze unwavering even as she turns her eyes towards Julie’s tombstone.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, wiping tears from her cheek. “We just met, and I’m rambling, and--”

“No no, it’s good for you,” he assures her. “ And I don’t mind it, I-- I like hearing you talk.”

“Oh.” Sylvie looks around, unsure of what to say. This Matt Casey guy, whoever he is, hasn’t run for the hills by now which is strange to say the least. But weirdly, it’s comforting.

“You’re right, you know,” he continues, switching the subject. “It sucks. Life… life sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agrees, letting out a small laugh. This makes Matt laugh a little, which makes Sylvie laugh even more, until they’re both smiling and giggling in a cemetery like a bunch of blushing lunatics. It’s quite possibly the weirdest thing Sylvie’s ever experienced and yet somehow, it’s exactly what she needed. A bright light in the vast sea of darkness.

“You’re smiling again, that’s a good sign.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Am I crazy for that? I mean, I’m smiling and laughing in a graveyard with somebody I just met. Isn’t that weird?”

“A little,” he admits with a shy laugh. “But you’re not crazy. Sometimes people need a little bit of weirdness in their lives.”

“I guess stranger things have happened,” Sylvie shrugs playfully.

“Yeah.” He flashes her another smile before turning his attention towards Julie’s grave and facing it with her. Sylvie stares at the marked stone. She fondly remembers the few memories she had with Julie, and the countless ones they never got around to. It’s unfortunate, really, but it feels more manageable with someone there. Even if it’s someone she barely knows. Matt stands with her for a moment, the peace and quiet taking over. It’s nice. Sylvie’s never had silence be so comforting; it’s always made her anxious and uncomfortable up until now. Matt sure is a puzzling guy in that sense. She sneaks a peek at him through the corner of her eye, this guy who’s supporting her even though they just met. He’s lost someone too, he could be going back to his father’s tombstone. Instead, he’s staying there with her. Sylvie decides at that moment that Matt Casey is an unfailingly kind, weirdly solid guy. And, admittedly, a little attractive. Ok, a lot attractive.

“Hey, and don’t worry,” she adds after a few minutes of silence, “about being like your father. We aren’t our parents. And you seem… good. That’s all you can ask for I guess, is to be one of the good ones.”

“Thanks,” he nods, his eyes filled with a bit of confusion and a bit of something else Sylvie can’t quite place. Wonder, almost.

Sylvie turns back to Julie’s grave, tracing over the words with her eyes. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so scary. Sylvie’s still sad, and wounds take time to scar over, but it doesn’t feel like she’s bleeding out anymore. She sighs, and she can sense the weight on her shoulders blowing away into the wind.

Unfortunately, when the sorrow blows away with the wind, it brings in the rain.

“Oh god,” Matt groans, wincing while looking up just on time to catch a raindrop in his eye. He squints and turns to Sylvie, who’s standing there laughing. “I didn’t see this in the weather forecast for today.”

“Me neither,” she giggles. “Today’s full of unexpected things, I guess.”

“It is.” He gives her a shy smile, nodding in agreement.

“Do you mind the rain?” She asks, looking up at the gloomy sky with a smile on her face.

“No,” he replies gently.

“Me neither.”

They stand there, hoods pulled away from their heads, letting the rain wash over them. There’s no shelter in sight anyway. They talk for a while about Chicago, about their lives, their friends, things that make them happy. But then they fall into a comfortable silence, smiling peacefully in the rain. Sylvie only moves a few times to brush raindrops off of the bouquet of flowers she’d placed at Julie’s grave. She looks at it, the name and the date etched in stone, and she doesn’t feel sick anymore. No questions unanswered, no bitterness. Her loss feels manageable.

She’s okay. More than okay.

“Hey, this might sound a little crazy, and I know we just met,” Matt starts after a while, “but would you want to… go get dinner or something?”

“What, like a date?” She snorts at her own joke, the idea being very nice in theory but impossible. It’s seriously impossible that this guy is actually asking her out, right?

“Er, yeah,” he nods. “Like a date.”

Oh. Okay, so he was asking her out. This is unfamiliar territory for Sylvie. She’s been asked out before, of course, by the small-town idiots in Fowlerton. But by an admittedly very good-looking stranger, under these circumstances no less? It’s a bit of a bizarre situation. That’s the crux of it, though. Matt Casey, whoever he is under all these sweet, charming layers, doesn’t feel like a stranger. Somehow, through one chance encounter, it feels like catching up with an old friend.

When she considers the facts, she’s had fun today. Every interaction they’ve had has come with such ease, and from a place of goodness and light. Yeah, maybe it’ll go absolutely nowhere. But one date in a public place won’t hurt her. She’s in Chicago for the rest of the weekend anyway. If anything, going out with someone like Matt Casey would do her a lot of good. And she hadn’t realized it until now but god, she really really wants to. So she does.

“I’d like that,” she finally replies while brushing rain off of her coat.

“Yeah?” He asks to make sure, his face lighting up with hope and slight excitement. Sylvie finds it adorable.

“Yeah,” she assures him.

He nods and grins excitedly as he leans in closer, and Sylvie feels the happiest she’s felt in a long time when he finally replies. “Me too.”

#this is a little rushed lol #also ik if i met anyone at a cemetary i would be weirded out but i tried to make this cute???#i just hope i was successful lol #brettsey #au prompt request #alternate universe #meet cute #light emotional hurt/comfort #mourning

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Text

A Truth and a Lie - Henry Deaver x Mistress

Warning: 18+ smut/mentions of cheating/mature themes/strong language/spousal conflict. **mentions of impregnation and fertility issues in this part**

Note: This is Angstville. But that’s nothing new for this series! I know it’s been a while since I posted anything, but I’d really appreciate comments and reblogs. It would truly help me get back into the mood to write if you let me know your thoughts and whatnot. No pressure!

Read past Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost

Sudden drumming on the desk startled you from your morning daydreams. Henry peered down at you with a secret smile, one reserved for the rare occasion he caught you slacking off, though Henry would always follow it up with a forgiving wink. Henry rarely caught you off guard at work, and when he did, he was lenient with his reprimands. Most of the time, you were an astute secretary and completed assistive tasks before Henry mentioned them. You were trustworthy, capable, and much better at keeping track of dates and meetings than his last assistant. In a professional sense, you were the perfect employee, which was why it pained him to ask you into his office that morning.

You sat down in front of his desk as he closed the door. Henry tried to smile while adjusting his tie and fiddling with the button of his suit jacket. By the time he sat down, Henry looked frazzled.

“I’m sorry to take you from your work,” Henry began.

“That’s all right, sir.”

You still insisted on the formal address, even behind closed doors. It never failed to twist his mouth upward. Still, he shuffled a few papers on his desk, sighed, then wiped invisible sleep from his eyes.

“What’s the matter, Henry?” You asked, realizing the meeting wasn’t an excuse to keep you close.

Henry let out another distressed sigh, touched your knee and then sat back in his chair. “I don’t want this, darling. Truly, I don’t.”

“Oh, God. Are you firing me?” You whispered.

“Baby... If you haven’t changed your mind about marrying me—and don’t worry, I’ll still propose to you in the traditional way—then we must separate work from home. And since you are my home, and every time I look at you, I feel my heart drop-kick in my chest, it means you won’t be able to work for me here. It’s only to spare us the headache and gossip. I can’t have my soon-to-be-fiance and mother of my children working for me.”

You pressed your lips and exhaled, as you’d suspected your days at the office would soon expire, especially after the news about Mary’s covert investigation. Henry had insisted he would take care of it, and you’d keep her job, but with the promise of marriage and children on the horizon, his guarantee lost substance.

He reached across the desk and motioned for your hand, intent on squeezing it until the urge to kiss the back of your palm overcame him.

“Please don’t be mad at me, sweetheart. You’re the only person I want at my side.”

“I understand,” you said.

“Really?” His eyes glistened.

You nodded, determined to soothe the regret on his face. “Of course. I want to start our family more than anything. More than I want this job... No offence. It’s a great job, my boss is ridiculously good-looking, and the pay is nice, but... I’d rather marry you and start thinking of names for our twins.”

“Twins?” Henry asked, cheeks burning and eyes glinting.

Again, you nodded. “Yes. It runs in my gene pool. We have a high chance of double-trouble.”

The man across the desk relaxed his shoulders and smiled wide enough to leave indentations around his mouth when he finally composed himself.

“Sweetheart, you make me the happiest man in the world. I love you so much; I can’t stand it sometimes. You’ve been the best employee and an even better partner. As much as it kills me to do this, it’s only for us. I’ll even let you choose your replacement.”

“Good. Then I can make sure you won’t hire some young honey to schedule your meetings and book your flights,” you quipped.

“I’d never—you know I wouldn’t.”

“I’m kidding, Henry.”

“So, you’re not pissed at me?” He asked.

“No, silly. I’m not pissed. I thought we’d be having this conversation much sooner, to be honest. But you held out until the last minute, didn’t you?”

Henry bit his lip, sudden darkness taking over his bright eyes. “I just wanna get you pregnant so badly.”

You shifted closer, leaning over the desk and hugging your arms to your side to push out your breasts. “You mean like this morning when you woke me up at six AM to fuck me and fill me full of cum?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, running his hand over his face as his eyes fluttered. “Exactly like that.”

“Well, then I suppose since you’re canning my ass, you might as well take me out to lunch so you can tap it, too.”

“I can swing that,” said Henry under his breath.

You rose from the seat and winked. “I’ll see you at noon. Maria’s?”

“I was thinking more like Steel Heron.”

“Wow! Very fancy. I hope I can get us a reservation.”

“Make it under Deaver. That should do the trick.”

With a wiggle and a smirk, you quirked one shoulder while crossing to the office door. “My powerful Mr. Deaver.”

“I love you, baby. I wish I could kiss you.”

“You can kiss me all you want in the car later on.”

Henry chuckled. “You got it, gorgeous.”

~*~

When your food arrived after twenty minutes of indecision, you both wolfed down overpriced entrees, then rushed to the parking lot to duck into the backseat of Henry’s car. Once he closed the door, you wrestled his pants down to his knees, taking hold of his half-firm shaft to massage until he grew hard and breathless.

“Get your panties off,” Henry panted. “Quick. Pull them to the side and ride me.”

You scrabbled to sit astride his lap, stretching your underwear over so Henry could prod your entrance with a few mild strokes. He bucked his hips up and met resistance, groaning already.

“Fuck, Henry. I’ll never get used to that cock. You’re so big.”

“And I’ll never get used to this tiny little hole. Oh, my gosh, but you take it so well.”

You sank, moaning from every inch of flesh sliding inside. Clutching at each other, kissing with ferocious intensity, Henry gripped your thighs and guided you back and forth, the momentum rocking the car. The top of your head grazed the roof until Henry wrapped his hand around your nape and pulled you in for a crushing kiss.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, breath hot on your cheek.

“Yes,” you squeaked.

“God, I’m already close. I can’t fucking take it. You’re gonna make me bust.”

“Do it,” you said. “Cum inside me, sir.”

Henry let out a satisfied laugh. “Oh, I will, honey. You’ll be a mommy when the day is through. I’m taking you home later on and fucking you again and again just to be sure.”

“You’re gonna be a daddy soon,” you replied, running your hands through his soft brown hair.

He stuffed his face between your shoulder and jaw, licking at your pulse. “I hope so, baby. Fuck, I hope so.”

As promised, Henry lasted no longer than a few well-angled thrusts. The pulses and spurts filled you, sending shivers over your shoulders and up your neck. When he slackened from his fading orgasm, Henry placed you gently on your back and stared between your legs as your panties rolled back into place, a dark blot forming where his seed leaked out. He couldn’t help himself and reached over to rub your pussy over the thin cotton, feeling the wetness he’d left inside.

“Does it matter how long you keep it inside?” Henry asked after you both rolled down the windows for fresh air.

“I’m not sure. Maybe we can go to a bookstore to find some reading material? We can do some research together.”

“That’s a great idea, honey. But I have that meeting at 4:30, so I might be a little late getting out. If you want to leave, I’ll grab you afterward. You know how those guys gab.”

Henry helped you out of the car, offering his hand for support while you wobbled to the passenger side door. When you ducked in and put on your seatbelt, Henry leaned into the vehicle and kissed you long and hard.

You gave him a knowing smile. “I can’t wait… Daddy.”

Henry blushed all the way back to the office, happy to have you at his side wrestling with a smirk as cum smeared between your thighs underneath your grey pencil skirt.

~*~

As predicted, Henry’s meeting ran late, and you didn’t wait to go home to shower before your outing. Though he’d smattered your legs with cum and it had dried in crusty blotches, you didn’t care. You’d shower and change into comfier clothes for your outing with Henry later.

You whistled on the way home, the repetitive song playing over the radio—something that would usually irritate you—catching you in just the right mood. The drive was long, but you didn’t mind. All you thought about was finding baby books with Henry, then going home to try your luck at becoming parents again.

Daydreams of Henry’s future proposal tickled your insides and had you smiling as you turned street corners. Even the rotten news from Henry’s latest encounter with his soon-to-be ex-wife fell away, and you navigated the busy lanes without a care. A pleasant warmth filled your chest, reminding you of all the fond memories and good times with Henry to come.

Your love for him expanded day by day, with each minute at his side, and every breath you took. Why Mary tossed such an attentive man aside baffled you, but only enough to make you scoff to yourself and thank the higher powers for putting that same loving, selfless man in your path. Sure, your past wasn’t the most sterling love story, but it had room to grow into the relationship you’d always wanted.

Recalling Henry’s smile reflected on your face. His emotive looks and passionate eyes were always enchanting, even when he wasn’t in your presence. Sick with the intoxication of love, you sighed as you pulled into the visitor parking spot. Henry kept meaning to get you your own spot next to his, but extra work had taken away most of his free time.

You shouldered your purse, selected the fob from your ring of keys, and locked the car before sauntering toward the door leading to the parking lot stairwell. Up those stairs was the elevator, but you didn’t get that far before somebody cleared their throat from behind.

Whipping around, you noticed a woman standing near a Lexus. She wore a burgundy business suit with a knee-length pencil skirt that hung loosely about her thighs. Her hair twisted into a bun on top of her head, thin-framed glasses perched on her nose. The woman looked familiar to you, but in the dimly lit parking garage, it took you a few steps forward to realize who meant to grab your attention.

It was Mary.

“Uh, hi?” You said.

“Hello, Missy.”

You sneered at the address but soon dropped your sour expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to deliver you some bad news.”

“Henry isn’t here—”

“No, not Henry,” she interjected. “You.”

“Me? What do you want to speak to me for?”

Mary smirked, taking two steps away from her vehicle. You clutched your bag and drew your shoulders back. The woman posed no physical threat, but something about her was worrisome. Your only knowledge of her temperament stemmed from two encounters—both leaving an unflattering impression. Would she come after you? Did she have it in her to shed all professionalism and launch into a physical assault?

“There’s something I think you should know about Henry.”

You looked around the parking garage. Soon, cars would pull in, tired people walking by to reach the elevator. Mary had lived there at one point. Surely she wouldn’t try to hurt you when she knew about the surveillance cameras planted around the lot.

“I don’t understand. How did you know I’d be here?” You asked.

Mary chuckled. “Well, it’s the last Friday of the month, and Henry always has his board meeting at 4:30. He and all those stuck-up codgers never get out of the office until they’ve spent twenty minutes talking business and two hours discussing the prostitutes they took to this place and that, their golfing tournaments, their second and third wives. Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve been in your position before. I know Henry and his associates front-to-back. Which is why I’m warning you.”

A sinkhole opened in your gut, swallowing all the warmth and happiness you were feeling throughout the day. You scraped your thighs together, feeling flakes of semen come off from the motion. If only Mary knew her husband’s cum had been dripping from your slit since lunchtime. This secret fact made you smirk for a moment until you read the seriousness lining her forehead and framing her mouth.

“Well?” You encouraged with an air of impatience. “Out with it then.”

Not one to take orders, Mary clicked her tongue and shook her head. She longed to watch the disappointment on your face as she trampled upon your joy, so she prolonged the silence until you grew visibly perturbed.

“I assume Henry told you about what happened when he paid me a visit the other day?”

“Of course, he did. I’m helping him handle the case.”

Mary tilted her head with an audacious smile. “Yes. That comes as no surprise. He’d never clean up after himself. Henry always needed a woman to do it for him.”

You made a disgusted face, adjusting your purse strap and rolling your eyes. Mary carried on as a sleek black Audi pulled into the parking garage, missing you both by inches.

“He must have made you all kinds of promises when he got home, am I right?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because that’s what he does after he’s fucked up. Let me tell you something... After he jumped in the sack with you, he came home to me and promised to be a better husband. He told me he’d go to counselling, take me on a second honeymoon, buy me whatever I wanted. All because he felt guilty. I’m willing to bet he came home that day and made similar promises to you. Maybe even told you he plans to marry you after all is said and done.”

Your mouth trembled, and you were thankful for the dimness. You wanted to tell Mary off, but she had your curiosity hooked.

“How do you know that?” You whispered.

“I already told you. I know Henry better than anyone. Better than you ever will. We were married for over fifteen years, remember?”

There wasn’t enough air entering your lungs, so you opened your mouth and took in a deep breath.

“I wanted to test him. I had to see whether he really loved you or if he was just using you to fill the void. It turns out he has genuine feelings for you, but not enough to keep him from fucking me.”

“What?” You gasped.

“That’s right,” Mary said, smirking. “I told Henry if he took me then and there, right in the kitchen, I’d call off the renegotiation and let him have what he wanted—the clean break he needed to continue with his happy, albeit staged, little happy life. He took the bait immediately.”

“No, he did not!” You exclaimed.

Mary chuckled, taking another step toward you. “You idiot. He cheated on me. Do you honestly believe he wouldn’t do the same to you? That man was raised in one of the worst misogynistic environments I’ve ever witnessed. Look at the men he calls friends! Sure, they all have their trophy wives, but when they go away on business, it’s blowjobs in the back of strip clubs, hookers at 3 AM and sushi on naked women. Have you never listened in on one of their meetings?”

“I’d never. I trust Henry,” you said, voice quivering.

“You’re a dolt to trust him or anyone he associates with. Henry is a pervert. A useless, sterile sack of shit. Why do you think I turned away? I was sick of getting cheated on.”

“Sterile?” You repeated.

Mary cocked her head, then opened her mouth to gasp softly. “That’s right. Henry and I never conceived because he can’t have children.”

Your hands shook, and every breath you took shuddered in your chest. “That can’t be true. He would have told me.”

The woman six feet away from you shook her head with remorse. She allowed an excruciating silence to pass before sighing. Something changed about Mary’s face. One moment she looked smug and eager to rile you up, and the next, she looked calm, distant... Almost sad.

“There was a time when I truly loved Henry. When any time I thought of my future, I saw us together with several kids. And we tried, we really did. For months and months, we tried getting pregnant. Finally, we went to a fertility clinic, but Henry had his qualms. He insisted it was all chance; that if we kept at it, eventually we’d conceive. We got tested, but the results take time. Well, Henry went to Thailand with Frank and some other colleagues—and trust me, you do not want to hear the stories that came back with them—leaving me alone at home, fretting. But that didn’t matter. I was used to it.

“Anyway, while he was off living it up in paradise, I got the results back. The doctor said I was fine, but Henry... Well, I just couldn’t tell him. I knew it would crush his spirit. Something like that would destroy his will to live, and I couldn’t bring that down on him while he was hitting the peak of his career. He was raking in raises and promotions, and I was on my own path. So, I swallowed the devastating news and saved him the heartbreak because I loved him and wanted what was best. But as time went on, my life and our marriage lost meaning. I couldn’t look at Henry the same. I couldn’t sleep with him because I knew he’d try to get me pregnant, and there was only so much stress I could handle. Sex is meant for procreation, and we would never rise to the task.”

The air in the parking garage grew chilly. More and more vehicles filed in, filling the atmosphere with dizzying fumes. Overhead, the lights flickered as nausea worked into your gut. You began to sweat and shiver at the same time.

“No. I don’t believe you. Who would ever do something so cruel? You’re just saying this so I’ll leave. You don’t love him. What kind of wife would keep a secret like that?”

“A wife who only wanted to see her husband become the best person he could be, which, evidently, still isn’t so great when you take into account all the terrible things he’s done to us.”

You shook your head and threw off your center of gravity. The heels of your shoes wobbled, or perhaps it was your knees knocking, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was you needed to sit down before you lost balance and toppled over. Mary saw this struggle and crossed her arms under her bosom.

“Like it or not, Missy, Henry isn’t the man you think he is. He’ll make all kinds of promises, but he’ll disappoint you in the end. Trust me.”

#henry x mistress #Henry Deaver #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #castle rock fanfiction

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saturatedboy · 3 years

Text

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

This can be found on my AO3 page (Use title name)

Word count: 4.5K

Chapter 2 is below cut

The car journey had been rather unpleasant much to Mr Winter’s taste. He normally wasn’t picky but the scent on the car was hurting him and making him feel slightly sick in the stomach. Was he still panic-stricken? He stared down at Rose in his arms, fast asleep with a monkey toy in her clutch. No. He wouldn’t let himself be scared after the car wreckage he went through, instead he’d brushed it off as simple homesickness since the new home was in a neighbourhood filled with those who he was sure to ‘get along’ with well. ‘We will be home soon Rose.’ The blonde thought, turning his direction of gaze to stare at the passing trees. “How long left?” The question slipped through his lips, waiting for an answer off one of the agents that had taken the unoccupied seats around him. Luckily for him, he got the window seat and he did feel a little smug about it.

“There in 5 minutes Mr Winters.” The driver replied, adjusting the mirror at the front to get a better look at the apparent ‘bio weapon’ that was sitting in his car. Ethan looked to be just a normal guy with a daughter, there was no physical difference to him than any other ordinary guy. Well- except from the fact there was scars littering his body on his arms mostly, and the loss of his fingers.

Clicking his tongue and wetting his lips, Ethan sighed and leaned his head against the window having the same sickness feeling wash over him. He just wanted out, to feel fresh air and the ground and to hear something else than the music the agents were playing. Fortunately for him, the rest of the journey was swift and soon the car had rounded off in between trees that had a large dirt road leading further into the mass of woods that seemed to appear as he was just about to doze off. Having a spiked interest in the change of scenery, Ethan pushed himself of the window and looked about. Tall trees hung overhead, turning their leaves into a range of the sunset colours with small flowers blooming and dying mixed together in the grass that settled among the sides of the track the car was driving on. It looked, dare he say, peaceful. How ironic, having a bunch of bio weapons staying in a peaceful area. This was sure to be no peaceful stay if he was going to be surrounded with neighbours off different kinds.

Driving down the path had led them into a circled area, with buildings surrounding the outside edge. The car drove clockwise around the circle, Ethan looking towards the middle the whole way. There appeared to be a small park area settled there Ethan had guessed in the middle of the whole site. It held three benches, a small climbing frame as well as a set of swings. ‘I’m sure the Dimitrescu daughters will enjoy there,’ The father had thought, looking down at Rose with a smile taking hold of his lips. “And I’m sure you will too when you’re a little older.” Luckily no one heard him talk to his dear daughter as the music was still playing, loudly.

Placing his sight back onto the buildings, he saw a mixture of them. There appeared to be 5 houses in total, and he had a fair guessed of whose house was who. The first house was a very large one, elegantly painted in white with a very tall front door. The place had pillars outside it and it seemed to have a total of three floors. At the top there was a balcony that looked to reach around the whole house. Driving past it, Ethan could see the three daughters and their mother stepping out of the car, Bella being the first to run straight into the home.

The next house was a bungalow, making the house to its left (from Ethan’s view) more towering than it seemed. The house was simple, having brick walls and small round windows. What made the place stand out on its own was the moat that built around it. A fucking moat. “Moreau house,” Ethan mumbled, a small strike of cold shifting down his spine at the thought of when he had to fight him and how the other would be constantly throwing up. Unpleasant memories to put it.

The next house, this was the centre house that was splitting the 5 houses, was a really nice modern blue house, having two floors and a porch. The car had stopped right In front of the front porch and the agents had begun to move out of the car after it was securely parked. “Hey Rose,” Ethan whispered down to his once sleeping daughter, awaken at the call of her name and her father's voice. With grabby hands and a tired smile, she reached out to take hold of her father in any way, shape or form. Carefully unwrapping her from his coat, Ethan took his daughter into his arms and reached to open his door only to have an agent open it for him. He stepped out, nodding a thanks in return and looked towards what appears to be their new home. “Look Rosie, this is out new home. You like the baby blue hm?” He asked, seeing his daughter babble random noises and have pleased eyes. Some on-looking agents that were travelling him had silently cooed at Rose’s reaction, looking towards one another with scrunched eyes and happy smirks on their faces. Placing her on his hips, Ethan walked up to the front porch and looked back to see the view. It wasn’t too bad...he could probably make a living of being here. Looking to his left, he looked towards the other two houses. A frustrated sigh left his lips.

The house to the left was two floors like his own, only difference being it had a garage connected to it and the windows were boarded up. “It seemed Mr Heisenberg doesn’t particularly like the light,” An agent pointed out to Ethan as they caught him staring.

“Makes sense.” Ethan replied back, looking towards the last house. The last house was also a bungalow; however, it had a garden with a fence surrounding it. The fence was a deep brown and the garden had a small tree already growing within its square. “I’m sure Lady Beneviento would be there every day.”

Hearing Rose’s babbling had Ethan brought Ethan to coo at his daughter, bringing her to nest smugly in his arms instead of his hip. Holding her close, Ethan walked up to his door and let the agents open it. Inside the home was fairly empty but he could've guessed that before even entering the place. “We will leave you be. Any supplies needed or anything changing just contact us on the home phone settled in the kitchen. You are not allowed to leave this area unless orders of Redfield have been given out. Welcome to you brand new home.” The agent who had been driving Ethan and his daughter there had spoken, signalling the other agents that had decided to walk in after Ethan back out of the house. Being quick to accept orders, they left Ethan to standing in the open hallway of his house. The car leaving was the last Ethan heard before accepting the silence of the new place.

“What do you think Rose, think we’ll like it here?” His eyes caught the stairway that led straight to the second floor on his right, with two doors on the left in his eye sight. More babbling came from Rose as she tried to give her father an answer which Ethan accepted with a laugh. “Yes, you are right my little cub. We should see what we are working with.”

It had been a total of three hours before Ethan had got himself comfortable in front of the television on the couch. It seemed the whole place was coated in the paint of blue and white. It was a fitting theme Ethan had thought, however he felt Rose’s room should maybe be painted a different colour. Maybe yellow, maybe green- he'll ask for paint when he needed to. So far, the father had discovered there was warm water, heater was working however it seemed to be on a timer, there was a master bedroom and a baby room right next door on the second floor, the kitchen had been stocked with what seemed to be a month worth of food and there was a living room along with a study room that was filled with books from his last home.

Last home.

He spent a while fixing that place up with his wife Mia...Ex-wife Mia. The place was their dream home, something they planned for a while into their marriage and they had finally got it, finally settled down-all for it to be taken away because of lies. Ethan had laid on his back, arm draped over his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. The material of the couch under him felt perfect, he could doze of there and then but until he had a baby monitor, he wouldn't be sleeping downstairs until he knew he could be there for Rose in her need. Without realising it, the father had begun to voice out his thoughts to no one but the empty sound of his home.

“I wonder how she is- ha! What am I thinking? She’s going to hate the idea of a divorce. She should be thankful I even let her near our daughter after all this shit. She’s one lucky woman.” A ragged breath forcefully came out of his throat startling Ethan. Leaning up, legs sprawled on the other cushions of the couch, he lunched forward and began to cough into his right hand. Closing his eyes, he could feel a thick substance coat his hand as he coughed into it. Making sure he had his breathing under control, he cautiously opened his eyes to find black substance covering his hand. No- not substance. He knew exactly what it was. Mold was covering his arm. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” He breathed out, swinging his legs so he could stand and go wash the substance off him.

Whilst making his way to the kitchen at a brisk pace, it had appeared the Mold was growing further up his arm. Raising a brow and having a feel of sickness was over him again, he collided against the edge of the sink and began to turn the taps to run the water over his arm, watching as Mold fell into the drain below. Strange, the Mold wasn’t coming off his skin. It was like it was a part of his skin. Reaching for the wash cloth with his other hand, Ethan scrubbed hard against his skin seeing the Mold not disappearing any time soon. ”What the!” The exclaim that left his lips had him scarping the cloth against his skin, digging in with his nail and scratching away. Nothing. The black oozed more over until his full arm had become a midnight black. “No, no no no,” The words fell onto the deaf ears of the world around him as he collapsed to the floor, tap still rushing with gushing water and his back touching the cabinets that were sitting underneath.

The sickness that rotted over him fell deep into his stomach, twisting and playing with his intestines. A few dry coughs sent Ethan to feel a lot warmer than normal. He felt like the room he had settled in, the kitchen, had become as hot as the oven that was switched off. His sight became blurred, and the noise of his child was heard faintly in the back of his head. “Rose,” He breathed out, tears stinging his eyes as he let his head fall onto his shoulder. "I need to calm down Rose,” he told himself, as though the Mold covering him could understand him. He could feel it growing, taking his limbs into their own care and covering the skin of his with a protected layer of their own. Weirdly though, it seemed to only cover his arm and the top of his chest. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to hold his young one, to make sure she knows she is safe.

The cries from the baby had increased, sounding more like a tantrum then just a sadness cry. Ethan pulled his legs to his stomach, trying to steady his breathing and clear his sight of the tears that leaked. It wasn’t till he felt the Mold settle down that he could finally move without feeling like spewing whatever food he last ate. Noticing the change of temperature around him, it being settled to a warm but slightly chilly feeling, he made a quick dash for the stairs that were in the open hallway. He moved swiftly on his feet, not wanting to take any chances of falling ill to the Mold before he could reach his crying Rose.

Scrambling up the stairs, Ethan had busted into his daughter room startling the child more than she appeared to be. “Aw no baby, I’m sorry,” He softly spoke, hurrying to pick her up out of a white crib she was nestled in and taking her into his arms. Being thoughtful with is movements, Ethan cradled her head with one hand and settled her body onto his other arm that was still covered in the Mold to keep support of her. “I’m sorry. Oh, baby papa is sorry. Shh, shh, It’s okay. We will be okay,” He repeated, cooing into his daughter’s ear to help her slow her own breathing. The small bounces he gave and the cradling movements of his body was luckily enough to help her stop crying, the odd sniffle taking out of her mouth instead. “There we go, we are okay. I’m sorry Rose. Shh, we will be okay.” Little Rose had held tightly onto her father’s clothing, smelling the familiar scent of him. She rested her own eyes, her cries making her tired then she had already been in the car and before. “That’s it,” Ethan whispered, “Just sleep my little cub. I’m here now, papa is here.” His voice had soothed her down greatly, the voice bringing her to sleep once more before she was drifted deeply off into her mind.

A dry cry came from Ethan’s mouth as he placed her back into her crib, pulling a blanket and pushing her money toy close to her sleeping body. He stood over her crib, watching the chest of his daughter fall and rise. She was at peace, something she so should always be at. Being a single father was going to hit Ethan hard, if he was down there dealing with the Mold then who knows what he could be dealing with next. He made a mental note to get baby monitors for every single room.

It had been another 4 hours before a knock had awoken Ethan from his lightly sleep. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around, seeing he was leaning his head on the kitchen table. Next to him was his laptop as well as a cup of what he guessed to be a now cold coffee, untouched either way. Checking his arm, the Mold had disappeared as he slept. It was after he placed Rose to sleep, he had come downstairs to turn the tap off and steal a book from his study to do some more research on engineering. He just wanted a normal life as soon as possible, the memories of his job at engineering brought great pleasure to his mind of living normally, a feeling he was already missing and it had just been over a day since he last felt like it.

Brushing a hand down his face and scuffing up his hair, Ethan pushed himself out from under the table and stood up, hearing his bones cracking the process. The feeling was great but the noise was uncomfortable to his ears. Hearing the knocking again, Ethan groaned loudly and exited his kitchen, still hearing the knocking. “What,” He groaned out loudly, the empty space of the hallway making his voice bounce about. The knocking had stopped for a second, only to repeat again. “Oh, go to Hell,” Ethan shouted, hearing the knocks stop for a second time. Smiling, Ethan made his way to his front door, hand placed around the handle. Just as he was about to pull the door open, the knocking once again started again. “I’m going to fucking kill you- Heisenberg what do you want?” Just as the blonde pulled the door, there stood the factory man with a bright smile and hand raised after his activities of knocking.

“Hey there papa, missed me much?” He amused, flashing a smile at the other. Ethan stood, hand still on his door handle looking down at the gruff man. His appearance looked worse than he last saw him at the meeting. He was now all sweaty with droplets pouring off him like a dripping tap, oil was staining his shirt he wore and his hands had become thick with saw dust. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he moved himself o rest against his door frame.

“What you need?” Heisenberg blinked at Ethan, before whistling a tune. “If you not going to answer, I’ll be going, Goodbye Heisen-”

“Wait!” The voice from Heisenberg had stopped Ethan's movements of walking back inside. Hating himself for still wanting to feel kind to the other, Ethan looked back at the man who looked desperate to say something, a pleading stance of clasp hands looking up at Ethan had the father feeling a little weak.

“What?” He asked, waiting for Heisenberg's reply.

“I was wondering...” He started, looking around him as though he didn’t want anyone to hear his next words, “That maybe we should start calling each other by our first names.” The request left Ethan speechless, he stood with furrowed brows trying to read the other. What exactly was he planning?

“First names? Now why would we need to do that?” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, watching Heisenberg huff and look away.

“Because we are neighbours duh? Makes sense. Does it not.” Ethan would have smacked him if it wasn’t the fact he was somewhat right. Uncrossing his arms and rolling his eyes, Ethan nodded at Heisenberg.

“Alright then, what do I call you and the others?” Heisenberg had immediately brightened up, taking a brave move of turning around and sitting on the porch step.

“Easy! You can call me Karl,” he said, pointing a hand at himself as he looked over his shoulder to see Ethan shutting the door behind himself. He waited for Ethan to sit, to which he had to pat the open space next to him for the father to do so. After Ethan had made himself comfortable with legs straight out In front of him and sat at an arm's length away from Heisenberg, the other had carried on. “Dimitrescu, you can call her super-mega bitch. Next is Moreau. Just call him ugly. And lastly is Beneviento. Just call her Donna because she is somewhat decent and call that wretched thing that moves and talks, sawdust.”

Ethan had sniffled back a small chuckle at hearing Heisenberg talk. He’ll get the other’s names later, their proper names when he has the chance. “How about I call you the guy who carries a hammer to compensate for something else.” Heisenberg lightly gasp at Ethan’s words, looking over at him with an open mouth.

“How dare you,” He spoke, expressing his offensives to his words. Ethan couldn’t help but allow himself his release of a laugh, finding the moment rather...amusing to be with the factory man. “I would never take you to by a guy like that...to make jokes.” Heisenberg pulled out a cigar from his pants pocket, only to fetch in his other a lighter. Ethan watched as he lit it, suddenly being annoyed with the habit of seeing the man with one. Leaning over, Ethan plucked the cigar from the man's lips and threw it out on the dirt road in front of them. “Oi, what you do that for,” Heisenberg asked, pointing at his cigar a few meters in front of them.

“I have a child, no smoking in or even near my house.” The air around them both changed slightly, dark clouds overhead had slowly begun to invade the space of the blue that was once there. It seemed the sound around them had soon tried to settle in. “I do enjoy making jokes,” Ethan broke the starting silence between them, wanting to keep this conversation going before the upcoming rainfall would ruin it.

“You should act more like that then- seeing you all stuck up is worse than seeing the tree trunk try think of a new name for her new wine.” The older man groaned out, looking at the other once again.

“I’m just being careful of my kid. I can’t let her be hurt again.”

“You can still be protective and let go of yourself.” The older flicked open the lighter that he had still had in his hand and placed it between them both. Ethan watched as the flame danced, standing at a reasonable height. “See, the flame is surrounded by the wind yet it will stay standing because it has the fuel to do so. Look, it even follows the movements of the world around it. You have the fuel to protect the squirt.” Heisenberg flicked the top of his lighter back down, stuffing it back into his pants pocket before turning back to the other with a small grin. “And you can still let loose. Even if the wind does pick up,” Heisenberg had moved rapidly, wrapping his arm around the young male’s shoulder and brought him into his side. “I’ll be there to shield it.”

Such words and non-thoughtful actions had brought Ethan to look down at his hands. He could feel the burn of his cheeks and the smile that was pulling on the edge of his lips to raise. This. This was weirdly nice, to know someone was there. But that’s what Mia, Redfield and many others had said to him before in the past. “Promise me,” Ethan breathed out, looking up at Karl. Karl raised a brow and tilted his head slightly.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll always be there. And you can’t break that!” Ethan’s tone caught Karl off guard, to the point he had accidently shifted his arm off Ethan’s shoulder and let it fall to the wood just behind him. He swore he caught a glimpse of guilt flash over Ethan’s eyes before his pupils went back to staring at the darkness of his shades sitting comfortable against his eyes.

“Ethan,“ Karl swallowed deeply, noticed by his adman's apple jumping. He didn’t like promises. Never in his life did he have to promise something to someone else. This was big commitment. ‘Promises don’t break. Ethan trusts me to not break something’ he told himself before sighing into the cold air. Using the arm that was behind Ethan, he pulled it around and took Ethan’s chin into his hand. “I promise I’ll always be there. I’m your neighbour, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” He said, laughing as hr watched as dread appeared quickly on Ethan’s face.

“Oh great, looking forward to it,” Ethan had sarcastically said, smacking Karl’s hand away from his face but letting the smile dance across his face. “Thanks though, if you break it, I will not hesitate to ask ‘mega-bitch’ to be there for me.”

“Ey, I said I’ll be there. Anyway, I would do a so much better job than her,” Heisenberg said defensively, huffing and pouting that Ethan would go to her than him. “Just you watch,” He sneered, pointing at the Dimitrescu house in a violent manner, “I’ll be a whole lot better than her.”

Ethan placed his hand on the outstretch hand of the fourth lord, pushing it down gently so it rested between them both n the wooden planks beginning to stain from the rain gathered by the wind. He hadn’t realised he left his hand on top of Heisenberg’s as he spoke, however the other was ecstatic over the fact he felt his hand. “I won’t ask her then. Can’t believe I’m saying this but this your first step of gaining my trust that you want oh so badly,” Ethan teased, looking back to the world in front of them.

“You’ll see. I’ll gain more than just your trust.” Heisenberg peered down at their hands, making sure Ethan didn’t noticed and let out a soft happy hum. This was the first step, he would gain Ethan’s trust and then next, he would gain Ethan’s appreciation. For now, he was fine with this. He looked forward too, after tearing his gaze from their connected hands almost and watched as the rain droplets began to pick up.

“Well,” Ethan was the first to speak, standing up to his feet. Karl pouted at the loss of contact but also stood up, feeling excited on what the father would want to do next. “This has been fun. Now go home.” Or maybe not excited.

“Why? can't I hang here?” Karl pouted, trying to make Ethan feel guilty.

“You want my trust? Go home and don’t make yourself sick. I suppose you can call me, seemingly they just give out numbers on paper without consent.” Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance, he was sure Moreau had already tried calling him a total of 5 time today in the space of three house, trying to talk his way of how happy he was Ethan saved them all. If only he could block numbers on the rotary phone.

“Okay fine. But you owe me at least a 2 hour call.”

“You get 30 minutes and that’s it.”

“1 hour call.”

“Don’t push you luck...1 hour and 30 minutes and that’s it.” Karl did a mini-fist pump into the air and nodded eagerly. Ethan chuckled and looked away shaking his head watching as Karl tilted his hat down, a way of saying ‘bye’ to the other and made his way of the porch.

“Good talking with you Ethan! Can’t wait for tonight!” He hollered out over his shoulder as he made his way towards his own home, only turning around hallway to see that the Winter male had disappeared already into his home. Feeling very satisfied with his days' work, and it only being the first day, he looked down at his hand and held it in his other, trying to recreate the feeling of when Ethan had placed his hand on top of his.

“I really am touched starved.” he said before walking straight into his front door.

#Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #ethan x karl #lord heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #the paw of a lion #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #Lord Karl Heisenberg #heisenberg #ethan x heisenberg

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elonscult · 3 years

Text

The Awakening - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“You like this?” Elon asked squinting his eyes and pointing at the colossal piece of metal standing just a few feet away from them. The 120-meter-tall rocket was definitely a sight to behold. Elon lowered his hand to look at Sabrina, her face in complete awe looking at his creation.

“It’s alright.” She said sarcastically grinning. “Can I get one?”

“You want a rocket? What would you do with it?” Elon smiled, the long black coat he was wearing moving along with the wind.

“Go around.” Sabrina said.

“This one is yours then.” He said jokingly pushing her.

“Here, I’ll show you the rest of the facility.” He said taking her hand and guiding her.

They went around for the next hour or so, Elon had to be in his office doing some work and took the opportunity to finally show Sabrina the new things he was working on, not wanting to have her stay at home away from him. He was so proud of his position at SpaceX, it was his little love-project, and there was no better feeling for him than to be close to his two adorations.

Finally, they went back to his office. Elon sat behind his desk while Sabrina sat in front of him going through something on her phone.

Alec: Are you at home?

Sabrina: No, I’m with E at his office.

A near instant response buzzed on her palm.

Alec: I’ll pick you up in 10.

Sabrina gave her phone a dirty look, she didn’t exactly want to explain the last couple of days to her friend. She knew what he’d say.

“Everything okay, Sab?” Elon asked, taking his eyes off his computer for a moment.

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I have this thing with Alec… I also have to go to my office later.”

“You’re always slipping away.” Elon’s lips now forming a subtle smile.

“Well, I like to keep it mysterious.” Sabrina said. “You want to join us for lunch?”

“I can’t, sweetheart. I’m way behind on some stuff here.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed.

“I know, I know. I’ll see you later then” she pressed her palms on the desk to lean forward and kiss him.

He cupped her face with his hands, taking her sweet taste in.

“I’ll miss you.” He whispered, still close to her.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She smiled, thinking of a good couple of ways to make it up to him, possibly in his bedroom.

Sabrina walked out of the building, her sneakers making little noises as she stepped through the polished floors, jeans and a leather black jacket covering her from the cold breeze. She smiled as soon as she saw Alec’s sport car waiting for her in the parking lot.

“Hey.” Sabrina said hopping in the car.

“Why are you acting all jolly?” He asked half smiling. A white button-up shirt scrunched up showing the tattoos that decorated his arms, a small heart with an S on his forearm.

“I’m always jolly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sabrina said, buckling her seatbelt and then looking at his friend.

Alec and Sabrina were both standing in front of the elevator waiting for the doors to open. The entrance of the building Alec lived positioned behind them, marble white floor decorating the lounge and desk area, expensive chandeliers falling from the high ceilings.

When the doors opened, they stepped aside to let a couple of people walk off and then Sabrina walked in followed by her blonde-haired friend.

She quickly pressed the PH button urging Alec to slide his key-card through the sensor.

“Where’s your key?” He asked putting away his.

“I left it at home.” She responded continuously pressing the button to close the door.

“Stop.” Alec laughed. “It’s already pressed.” He placed his hands on her waist pushing her aside.

Sabrina smiled trying to regain her balance as the elevator doors closed. They opened again to expose Alec’s multi-million-dollar penthouse. A place Sabrina was too familiar with, she felt at home here. Everything was neatly ordered, from the fuzzy blankets on the living room to the white flowers placed on the kitchen counter. The smell of Italian food quickly flooding Sabrina’s senses. She hopped on the kitchen counter and grabbed a slice of pizza. Alec leaned on the counter in front of her, crossing his arms and looking at her.

“You’re annoying.” He finally said.

“Why?” She asked, still eating. “Are you still angry?”

“You totally ditched me for your stupid boyfriend.” Alec said.

“I thought you wanted us together in the first place.” She smiled. “And I didn’t ditch you, Alec.”

“You hurt my feelings, I’m such a good friend you know, you don’t appreciate me.” A sharp tone coming from him, now leaning to grab some Pizza.

“I totally do.” She said lightly kicking him. She frowned remembering the night of the assault.

“Hey.” Alec said, reaching out to Sabrina. “I just worry so much about you, are you doing alright?”

“I don’t know.” She unknowingly said. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Alec shoot one last worried look to his friend before giving up the subject. The remaining of the meal they spent catching up and talking nonsense with each other, both comforted by the security they gave one another. A high voice coming from the hallway interrupted their conversation.

“Sabrina!” A short blonde-haired woman approached them almost running, wearing only a long T-Shirt -that Sabrina assumed Alec’s- and some underwear.

Sabrina raised an eyebrow at Alec. He shrugged.

“Hey, Natalie.” Sabrina said making her words last longer, smiling at the girl. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you.” Natalie jumped to put her arms around Sabrina’s neck wrapping her in an uncomfortable hug. “Honey, I’m so sorry about what happened.” Natalie said. “The world is really crazy.” She continued, pouting.

“Yeah.” Sabrina forcingly said. Alec’s girlfriend often got on her nerves. She was as obnoxious as she looked, Sabrina often wondered what Alec had seen in her, other than the fact that she was beautiful- there was nothing too interesting about her.

Alec scoffed.

“Baby I didn’t know you were going to be home for lunch, I would’ve cooked something.” She said placing her arms now around Alec’s neck. The tall guy not moving an inch.

“I didn’t know you were still here.” He sincerely said.

“Well, of course, silly.” Natalie said, now kissing him. Sabrina rolled her eyes.

Alec smiled enjoying the feeling of annoying his best friend.

“I also heard that you’re back with Elon.” Natalie finally separated from Alec. “We should go out to dinner, the four of us.” She smiled. Her green eyes shining.

“Don’t encourage her.” Alec said. “I don’t want them together.”

“Yes!” Sabrina bolted, suddenly interested in the conversation. “What a great idea, would love that.”

“Honey, be happy for your friend.” Natalie said, scolding her boyfriend.

“Yes, Alec. Be happy for me.” Sabrina smiled teasing him. He shook his head.

Natalie finally let go of Alec to go grab a plate to eat. He took advantage of her being away to talk to his friend.

“So, are you moving in with him?” Alec asked.

“No.” Sabrina said. “I just don’t wanna be home right now.” Understandably.

“I don’t know what we’re doing or where we stand.” She continued.

“You never know with him! That’s what I’m telling you.” Alec said gesturing with his hands.

“I know. But we’re trying. He’s done with his ex-wife.” Sabrina said.

“I sure hope so.” he said. “Listen, why don’t you stay here instead, you don’t have to be at his house.”

“I will be back at my place, or here. If that makes you feel better” she smiled.

“It does.” he grinned.

After the encounter with Alec, Sabrina made her way to her office where she spent more than half of the day catching up with the work that she hadn’t done the days before. Somehow, keeping her mind focused on work made her feel a little bit more like herself, being at work and being with Elon took her back to months ago where the two of them had been together for the first time, before it all got ruined. She shrugged those thoughts out of her head.

When the clock struck 6, she texted Elon to remind him about dinner at her parent’s place. She bit her lip in anticipation unsure of how the evening would go.

At exactly 7pm Sabrina arrived at her parent’s house, stepping out of the cab she took a deep breath before entering.

She found her mother in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Her brown hair perfectly blew out giving it lots of volume matching the dramatic vibes from her makeup. The tall-ish woman catching a glimpse of her daughter before hugging her.

“My love.” She said.

“Hi, mom.” Sabrina hugged her back.

“Look at you, all pretty.” Her mom muttered, her brown eyes brightly placed on Sabrina.

“You too.” Sabrina said.

“Dad is in the living room.”

45 minutes later, Sabrina’s three-person family was sitting in the living room together, making small talk while they waited for her estranged boyfriend to arrive.

“Well, is he gonna grace us with his presence?” Her dad finally asked, watching as Sabrina texted him again.

“Of course, dad.” Sabrina annoyingly said. “We can eat, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Sabrina felt a vortex of emotions forming inside of her as they all ate dinner. All except Elon. She tried to appease her father as long as she could while her mother tried to ease the tension between them, as she always would do. Her mind couldn’t come up with a single reason of why Elon wouldn’t be there or wouldn’t be texting her or calling her. She really hoped there was a reason.

20 minutes later the sound of a car’s door closing followed by a loud sound of something breaking startled Sabrina. Then, the door bell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Sabrina stood up hurrying through the foyer to reach the door. She opened it to find a -highly- intoxicated Elon barely standing in front of it.

“Baby.” He said smiling. “I’m here.” He motioned with his hands. He sloppily slammed his lips on Sabrina’s where she could taste the strong taste of whiskey. She moved away.

“Are you serious right now?” She asked. “What the hell?”

“Shh” he shushed her, ignoring her and walking into the house. “What a beautiful house, do I get a tour?”

“Stop, for real.” Sabrina hurried behind him trying to stop him from falling.

“No, baby. I’m here to meet your parents.” He walked through the entrance to the dinning room where Sabrina’s parents where sitting.

As he entered, Sabrina’s dad shoot an angry look at his daughter, her mom still smiling squeezing her husband’s arm.

“Oh, how nice to finally meet you.” Sabrina’s mom stood up. “I’m Rachel, you’ve met Richard.” She smiled.

Elon gave her a wide smile promptly hugging her.

“Likewise, I see where Sabrina got her beauty.” He spoke. Sabrina waiting behind him, not sure of what was going on.

“Elon.” Richard said. Sabrina frowned trying to decipher the tone of her dad’s voice.

“Sir, good to see you in this environment.” Elon jokingly spoke. “I brought you a bottle of whiskey but I’m afraid I lost it on the way.”

“Oh god.” Sabrina whispered.

“Sit, please.” Rachel laughed sitting down again, followed by her husband. “Sabrina, come sit.” She urged her daughter, trying to lighten the situation.

“I think we’ll just go, mom.” Sabrina started to say.

“Sit.” Richard spoke, clearly displeased.

“Yes, baby, I just got here.” Elon said, sitting down.

Sabrina sat down next to Elon, the dim light coming from the spots above them shone through her face, not letting any emotion go unnoticed.

“We just finished eating but I can heat you up a plate.” Rachel said.

“No, mom it’s okay.” Sabrina answered for him. Elon looked at her confused.

“I’ll bring you a piece of pie. You like pie, don’t you? Of course you must like pie.” Rachel hurried to the kitchen while Sabrina buried her face into her hands.

“Honey, cheer up.” Elon drunkenly said, rubbing Sabrina’s back. She scoffed, looking up.

“How’s work going? I-I saw you won an award on TV.” Elon continued, now talking to Richard, his hand still on Sabrina’s back.

“I did, work’s going well. I saw you got sued on TV.” Richard said.

“Richard, don’t be rude.” Rachel said placing a perfect plate in front of Elon, then, sitting down.

“Well, it’s true. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, uh- It’s complicated” Elon began.

“You’re also married.” Richard continued.

“Divorcing.” Elon said, visibly uncomfortable.

“Dad stop.” Sabrina said.

“I’m just getting to know him, what’s the big deal?” He said brushing it off. “You’ve got quite a reputation. Not a good one.”

“I understand.” Elon nodded.

Sabrina moved in her seat while Elon began eating. Rachel still smiling, not breaking her perfect trophy-wife appearance even for a second.

“This pie is so good.” Elon said.

“Thank you, I made it myself.” Rachel said. “Sabrina makes a good pie too, you know. She’s a great cook.”

Elon took a moment to smile at Sabrina. He thought she looked so beautiful with that concerned look on her face.

“Of course. She is good at absolutely everything.” He said.

Sabrina laughed looking at his drunken boyfriend. Her father cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“I would like to know what your intentions with my daughter are. Other than disturbing her life, seemingly.” Richard said.

“Not disturbing her life.” Elon said. “I’m in love with your daughter.” He grabbed Sabrina’s hand.

Sabrina smiled and gave her father a cautious look.

“Right.” Richard said.

Rachel leaned into her husband’s arm. “We appreciate that you take care of her.” She looked at Richard, he rolled his eyes and raised his hands not wanting to elaborate on the subject.

“He does take care of me. And he brings so much value into my life, dad. Believe it or not.” Sabrina said.

Elon nodded.

“You need to relax. Let your daughter live a little.” Elon let out, his tone not firm at all- influenced by the substances going through him-. Sabrina’s eyes widened.

Richard shoot a look at his daughter, not having to say a word.

“Okay, I think we’ll better leave this for another time.” Sabrina said standing up. Elon looked up at her, muddled.

“It was very nice meeting you, Elon.” Rachel hurried. “Hopefully, we can repeat this at a better time.”

“My pleasure, anytime, I’ll be here.” Elon said.

They awkwardly said their goodbyes and Sabrina helped Elon balance himself while they walked towards the outside of the house, there, she found his car parked in a completely chaotic way. She secured his seatbelt while he complained about it and then slammed the passenger door.

“Don’t slam the door.” Elon complained as she hopped on the driver’s seat.

“You are fucking unbelievable.” She muttered.

He frowned.

“What’s with the attitude? I thought it went well.” Elon said.

“You knew how important this was for me. And you got here almost 2 hours late, drunk and now my dad probably hates you.” Sabrina said starting the car and driving off to Elon’s house. “And you drove here drunk.”

“It was on autopilot.” He defended himself. “Kinda.”

Sabrina shook her head, disappointed. Her palms pressing the car wheel.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” Elon pleaded, suddenly feeling miserable. He grabbed Sabrina’s forearm queuing her to look at him. But she wouldn’t. He sat back and closed his eyes while he felt the world around him spin away. The soft movement of the car revolving his stomach. He sighed.

Elon opened his eyes again as Sabrina was opening the door to help him get down of the car. He leaned on her to walk to his bedroom, her small figure steadily holding him. When they finally reached the bed, he let himself fall into it, his legs hanging from the edge. Sabrina cautiously took his shoes off and hopped on top of him to unbutton his shirt.

“Am I getting lucky tonight? I thought you were angry?” Elon grinned, his vision blurry.

Sabrina shook her head. He moved causing her to fall on top of him completely and then he surrounded her with his arms.

“My girl. So pretty.” He sloppily kissed her.

“Stop.” Sabrina laughed pushing him away. “You’re incorrigible.” She finished taking his clothes off and walked into the bathroom to change herself, when she went back, she found a peaceful Elon -now- sleeping. Sabrina limited herself to climb next to him and sleep it off.

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

I will try to upload once a week at least, I literally have only one working brain cell. thank you thank you

#elon musk #the awakening #elon musk fanfic #elonscult

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skygirl5 · 4 years

Text

12 Prompts of Christmas - #8 - Snow

A/N: this prompt begins an all new AU ficlet

EIGHT - Snow

A shiver traveled up the spine of Richard Castle when a clump of snow fell from the branch of a tree above, landed on his neck, and slid down towards his collar bone. Grunting, he hunched his shoulders and zipped up his coat a bit higher, regretting his decision not to grab a scarf before he’d left his Manhattan apartment and traveled two hours north west to his wilderness destination. He’d just been very on-edge and frazzled meaning he’d probably forgotten more than just some warmer items, but he could manage; his trip was only a few days long.

His day had begun just after six a.m., which was at least an hour before he would have preferred to be awake. He’d had himself a quick cup of coffee—no time to savor that morning since he was on a time schedule—and then gone upstairs to wake his daughter. Thankfully, her luggage had been packed the night before (SHE had been the one to remind HIM that was a good idea), but he needed to get her breakfast and then pack some snacks for her to have on the plane.

They shared a quick breakfast together and then, with a heavy heart, he gathered up her things and they made their way to Penn Station to get the New Jersey Transit train to Newark. Since his daughter was a minor traveling alone, Castle was allowed to walk her to the gate and wait with her until it was time to board, at which point the airline representative took charge of her. They hugged goodbye and he’d managed to wait until he was back on the train to the city before letting a few tears fall. The first Christmas without his daughter was definitely going to be as hard as he thought it would be, which was why he’d planned what he thought was a good distraction.

Back at his apartment he wasted almost no time throwing belongings into a suitcase of his own. Then, he got his car out of the garage, and began the two-hour drive towards northern Pennsylvania. He’d heard about the cabin from a friend of his and thankfully the owner said it was still available over the Christmas holiday even though he had only called a few weeks before, once his ex-wife Meredith had officially confirmed that, yes, she wanted Alexis to visit for Christmas.

When he thought he was nearing the cabin, Rick pulled off into the first grocery store he spotted and shopped for some essentials. He made it to the cabin about twenty minutes later and surveyed the interior, which had been advertised as “rustic” and certainly fit the descriptor. The interior had rustic looking wood panels on the walls and exposed beams on the ceiling. The furniture was obviously well used, and the kitchen appliances looked nearly as old as he was, but for a few nights it would do.

Though he hoped to get a fair amount of writing done in his free-from-distractions environment, Castle first knew that he wanted to explore the surrounding woods and lake, which were, after all, the main draw of that location.

He started out walking along the road, which was not the best due to a narrow berm made narrower by piles of plowed snow. After about ten minutes of walking, he noticed a path through the trees and hoped over the plowed banks of snow to access it. The path was well covered in footprints from both humans and dogs by the looks of it and it was paved beneath the cover of snow, which meant he wasn’t slipping or tripping on the uneven forest floor. About fifteen minutes into his stroll he was hit by the falling snow, but he didn’t let it bother his forest exploration. It was so tranquil and quiet. He hadn’t experienced such a walk since that summer when he’d walked down the beach in the Hamptons.

As Rick walked, he tried not to think. Maybe if he was in a different headspace he would have used the time to plot, plan, or think up dialog for his latest book, but in that moment, the turmoil in his chest was too great. He was so distracted with worry over Alexis that he knew that concern could soon consume him and he didn’t want that, so he used the walk as a meditation of sorts. He tried to keep his mind as clear as possible and if he had to think about something, he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him: trees stripped bare of their leaves now that autumn had come and gone, a small bird sitting on a naked branch, some rocks and stones on the ground.

When he came to a divergence of the path, he chose the one to his left, which seemed less traveled. In fact, the further he walked, the less footprints he saw marking the path. After what he estimated to be about twenty minutes, he grew concerned that he was going to become a bit lost and thought about turning back to the divergence and taking the opposite path which might lead him back to the main road when something caught his eye.

The path was well defined enough for him to see it curved to the right up ahead, but to the left he could see distinct footprints in the snow. The virgin fluff was otherwise undisturbed, but for the distinct walking path that cut directly through a cluster of trees. He walked over to the footprints and couched down. From a closer vantage point he could see they were crisscrossed with prints from a small animal, perhaps a rabbit, but were otherwise lone markings in the newly fallen snow.

Intrigued, several scenarios started to spin in his mind, and he decided to follow them to see where they went. He liked to use his story-on-the-fly exercises to keep his creative juices flowing. At that moment in particular, it would continue to serve as a distraction for him and keep his mind off his daughter.

Were the footprints made by a hunter stalking his prey? An old man missing his deceased spouse and going on a ramble in the quiet early morning? Or perhaps a mischievous child determined to explore, just like he had done during his younger days.

Rick took two steps forward but then thought better of it. Was leaving the designated path really a good idea when he was already feeling a bit lost? Probably not. Disappointed, but knowing it was for the best, he began to turn around when something up ahead caught his eye. Dangling from a tree branch about fifteen steps ahead he saw a green scrap of fabric, notable as all the green was gone from the trees. Curious, he walked forward, but when he reached out to touch the item it immediately fell to the ground; it had evidently barely been hanging on.

Castle scooped the green object from the snow and realized it was actually a green knitted mitten. He glanced between the mitten and the tree for several moments then realized this made sense. The mitten had been hanging at about hip-height in comparison to his stance. It was entirely possible the mitten had been in the coat pocket of the snow footprint maker and was snagged out by the branch.

Still holding the glove, Castle couched down again and examine the footprints ahead of him. In comparison to his own shoes they seemed a bit shorter and definitely narrower. His first thought was that they looked to be from a woman’s boot, and that would have made sense given that the glove in his hand was more feminine than not.

Now even more curious, he found himself unable to turn back and instead pressed on. The thicker the trees grew, the more difficult it was to proceed. He was constantly being hit in the shoulders and arms with twigs and sticks, but he kept going. Sometimes he needed to crouch down closer to the ground to see what direction the footprints were traveling, especially where the thick trees had prevented a lot of snow from falling.

More than a few times during his twenty-minute journey he’d been fearful that he might never find his way to a clearing, and then what would he do? Surely his cell phone wouldn’t work that far into the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, he could soon see a clearing ahead and let the panic dissipate from his mind and instead focused on how he might use his experience in a novel. Perhaps Derrick Storm could track an enemy through the woods—or maybe even a potential lover. Maybe both!

As the trees began to thin, the lake came into view, and Castle smiled to himself; he’d made it through the wilderness! He was so relieved that he almost forgot about the green glove he still held until he stepped into the clearing and caught sight of a figure by the lake. She was tall and wearing a long quilted coat as she stood just a few feet from the edge of the lake. With a grey and green striped hat on her head, he couldn’t tell much about her—at least not from that distance.

The clearing he stepped into gave him about twenty feet of clearance before it turned into the rocky shore of the lake. No other people or structures were in sight, though a low hanging cloud reduced visibility significantly. He took two steps towards her, his boots crunching against the newly fallen snow, then stopped when she turned in his direction just slightly. She brushed some of the hair back from her cheeks with bare fingers enabling him to see her profile. Instantly, the breath was sucked from his lungs for she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Thinking she might have turned in his direction due to the sound of his walking, he decided to approach cautiously. He walked forward, closer to the lakes edge, before cutting over in her direction. From that spot he could see more of her face: her petite nose and the slash of her well-defined cheekbone, in addition to the hints of her honey-brown eyes, which to him appeared heavy with sadness.

He took several more steps closer before saying softly, “Excuse me?” Despite what he thought was a delicate approached, she still jumped at the sound of his voice, so he apologized. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I just…I found this and wondered if it was yours?”

When he held up the glove, her eyes widened with recognition. She glanced down at herself, stuffed her hands in her coat pockets, and only came out with one glove. “Oh, yes, thank you! That must have fallen out of my pocket somehow.”

He gave an easy smile and walked forward to pass the glove off to her. “No problem.”

She took the glove with another thank you and said, “You startled me; I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”

He nodded in the direction over his shoulder and said, “I came from the trees…I just got here, was wandering around. Glad I didn’t get lost to be honest.”

“Are you renting one of the cabins for Christmas?”

“Mmhm. Are you?”

She shook her head. “No; my family owns one.”

He nodded. Her jaunt through the trees made more sense if she was a resident of the area and thus probably not as likely to get lost unlike a newcomer such as himself. “I see. I’m Rick, by the way.”

When he extended out his hand, she shook it and introduced herself as, “Kate.”

He took a moment to study her face now that he could see it closer up. She was definitely younger than him by more than a few years; he guessed her to be in her early twenties. Her eyes were indeed filled with an unexplained sadness, but her smile was warm and friendly. Though he’d wished to speak with her more, his gut told him he should leave her to her solitude, so he reluctantly decided to part ways. “Well it was nice to meet you and I hope you have a good holiday.” He rocked back on his heels, glancing out at the lake for a moment, but then looking back to her with a pit of a pitiful expression. “I, um, well seeing as you’ve probably been here before, perhaps you could point me in the right direction so I’m not circling this lake for hours? I’m afraid I got turned around.”

“What’s the address of your cabin?”

He laughed, having no idea; fortunately he still had the directions in his jacket pocket. “What an excellent question. Hold on. Um…” He hesitated while he skimmed through the folded up piece of paper. “Ah, here its: 817 lakeview.”

Kate nodded and pointed towards his left. “That way. About halfway around that big curve.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Not a problem. Happy holidays Rick.”

“You too,” he echoed. Then, he turned, shoved his hands down into his coat pockets, and trudged his way through the thickly laying snow.

#castle #caskett #castle fanfiction #12promptsofchristmas #my fic: 12 Prompts of Christmas #castleficathonwinter2020

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themagicalmysticalboy · 4 years

Note

Hi. Can I request hurt!John story? I thought it could be based on his car accident in 1969 but let's change some details of it - he was driving alone and ended up seriously injured. You can begin with Paul and the others arriving to the hospital after receiving the news... or whatever you choose 😉. So angsty story with some mclennon (but not necessarily; they can be just friends).

a/n: the thought of writing yoko has kept me from ever writing this request. But imma write it and pretend she doesn’t exist 😜. also I have no self control so this story goes through a lot more than just Paul showing up at the hospital hehehe

Nobody has to guess that baby can't be blessed/‘Til he finally sees that he's like all the rest/ With his fog, his amphetamine, and his pearls

He Breaks Just Like a Little Boy

John had thought himself rather fond of Scotland. He had visited many times before for pleasant vacations and stops to meet family. But in all these years and through all his visits he had never actually driven its roads, having the luxury of a driver. On his solo trip, he remembered exactly why his arrangements were as such.

The sky was dripping with fog that crept down from the foothills, reaching out with thick claws that effortlessly encapsulated the road. The small apertures between the paws of fog were filled with mist that left sheens of dew across the windshield. With his wipers going at a steady metronome's pace he flipped between high and low beams, unsure which way was worse. Mimi had surely told him the correct answer but his nerves and general troubles with driving had him dumbfounded.

The road ahead appeared completely deserted so he had no concerns with continuing to flip back and forth. The distraction of the lights left room for error in the ways of speed. He was pushing 20 over the determined limit. In these conditions the absence of a speedometer, or in the event of ignoring one, it was impossible to determine how fast the world outside was passing by. John kept at his pace, even when he had settled to keep his lights on low beams.

In his vain attempt to see more than two meters ahead, he hunched forward with squinting eyes and tense muscles. Music was playing at an almost unperceivable volume, turned down multiple times over the course of the descent into fog.

Entering another aperture of mist, he relaxed, letting himself blink properly and his fingers release from their bleached white grip on the steering wheel. Once his eyes had opened again, a set of disembodied lights sent him rigid. His senses were set on blast: eyes wide open and bursting with color, the taste of copper coating his mouth, the smell of his leather interior and cigarettes somehow amplified. The intense sensations did nothing to harbor a coherent plan.

He reacted on gut instinct as the lights were backed by the shape of a car. Horn blaring, he jerked the wheel to the side. It was almost instantaneous that his stomach jumped to his throat, body leaving the seat to press harshly into the seatbelt. He was a feather made of lead.

In the late hours of the morning, Paul finished readying himself for a trip into town. He grabbed up his keys and wallet and made for the door. Before his escape could be made, the phone rang. He lowered his lids and shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to decide if he should answer it. With a resigned roll of the eyes, he jogged to the phone.

The words that came through the line left no room for pleasantries, throwing blades that sliced through his reality and let it drain from around him. Pressure built against his skin with each sentence, heart pounding through his limbs.

His voice was void of emotion when he asked, “Have you told the others?”

“You’re the first I’ve called,” Cynthia replied. Cynthia. That's who was talking. Paul had not even processed her voice.

“Okay.”

He hung up, one arm left limp at his side as he gnawled at his fingernail. The world was not coming back to him. It had bled out and left him stranded, unable to move or react. Echoes of what Cynthia had said reverberated off the walls and assaulted his ears.

“... an accident… He’s in surgery… They don’t know if…if…”

Everything ushered back into color like a punch to the gut, leaving him stumbling into actuality. He fell into a chair and caught his breath.

He had to get to him. He had to leave.

Rushing back to the phone, he threw together the fastest trip to Durness humanly possible. The trip, though only an hour and change by plane, was excruciating. Void of distraction, or want of, Paul was shedding strings of sanity like a dog’s winter coat. Nothing was fast enough until it suddenly was all too quick.

Once in the last leg of his journey, a small taxi cab, he began to dread the thought of arriving. Though still a few miles away, the antiseptic smell of the hospital was already pungent in his nose. The cramped waiting spaces and grim reality would tug and drag on his psyche.

And he was not proven wrong. He had arrived first but it wasn’t long before George and Ringo filed in. They all shared anxious glances upon entering the private room they were ushered to but didn’t speak a word.

George ended up slumped in a seat, head in hands, as Paul stood and tapped his foot, his mind still shifting in and out of focus. It was Ritchie that had broken the eerie stillness. He was biting down hard on his lip, pacing the room. As if he had just realized the other two existed, he jumped when his path crossed Paul’s.

Paul’s eyes were dead in their sockets but Ritch’s pinged over his face with something desperate that made Paul want to conjure a sort of reassurance. He fell severely short, only able to muster a thin lipped hint of empathy.

George came in for the save. Paul, too engrossed in his own turmoil, barely noticed him getting up and moving towards them. He took Ringo into a tight hug that was warmly reciprocated. They both breathed in one another before breaking. He patted Rich on the shoulder then turned to Paul.

He hadn’t the heart to tell his friend he’d rather be left alone and was consequently enveloped into his arms. And maybe it was for the best he had not stopped him. Something calming and familiar shallowed a hole in his heart. George’s ever-comforting presence should never be put to question. He hugged George back with a grim intensity that surprised himself. It cracked a dam but did not break it.

“Don’t lose hope.” With that the hug was broken, leaving Paul with a warm heart and cold body.

In time, they all sat together on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall. Coffee cups and ashtrays were all around. The TV that sent extra illumination to the room was widely ignored, set at a low volume. At some point, a doctor had come in to update them. John was under close watch but out of surgery. It hadn’t done much to put anyone at ease but it drove in the hope George was keen to stoke.

So they kept at their quiet conversations and heavy silences. The atmosphere was so odd. No one was bringing up the band dissolving. No one was arguing. Instead, a rather blissful suffering blanketed the room. At an excruciating crawl, night was arriving, the sky drifting from blue to inky black.

Everyone was growing tired from their adrenaline crash, staring at nothing with half lidded eyes. Ringo had taken the plunge and was asleep on Paul’s shoulder. Paul’s arm was wrapped around George and George was slumped back to stare at the ceiling.

With a steady knock at the door, they were startled back to life. As the doctor came in, the three rose to their feet with varying speed.

“Good evening-”

“He’s alright, yeah? Can we see him?”

“We’ll get there, Mr. Harrison.” The doctor collected himself and looked over a messy chart. “Mr. Lennon is recovering as expected. I can’t go into detail, seeing as you aren’t blood, but his injuries were less serious than we first thought.” He looked up at the trio. “He’s asking for visitors in the morning. Have you any idea of relatives arriving?”

“His aunt, at the very least. I’d assume his son and ex-wife as well,” Paul answered cordially.

“I’ll let him know, then. Now, if you wish, you may sleep here. Blankets and pillows can be gathered. But there is a hotel only a mile away.”

They looked between one another and came to a silent agreement. “We’ll stay.” The luxury of comfort would gladly be dispensed of.

Sleeping in the cold and bare room sent Paul back in time. He felt 18 again, sleeping in a backroom in Germany with George nearby and Ringo in the place of John. At least he’d been able to sleep easier then- full of beer and dead tired from performing. Now, it took a long time but sleep finally crept into his eyes.

Though Paul was the last to sleep, he was also the first to wake. He gathered coffee and fresh carts of cigarettes before George or Ringo so much as stretched. As he waited for them to wake, he watched the news. At the moment, the camera was pointed to frame an audience gathered with candles and signs. All with well wishes to John scribbled and painted across them.

“Have we traveled back to ‘63?” Ringo’s voice was full of sleep as he pulled himself off the floor.

Paul was glad to learn he was not the only one feeling the blast from the past. With a nod of acknowledgment, he poured Ringo a cup of coffee from the side table. Leaning back in his seat, he handed him the cup. Ringo pulled a cigarette from his pocket before taking it and mumbled a “Ta.”

It wasn’t long before George woke as well, leaving them staring at the TV that switched between actual news and coverage of the crowd outside.

“Think John’s enjoying this?”

“Think? I know. Deserves the treat of it, anyroad.” Paul huffed.

“We’ll find him off his head with pain meds waving from the window if he’s left alone too long.”

“Flashing the crowd with the backless gown on his way to bed.”

Lifting their spirits with some senseless banter, the wait for their turn to see John was less dreadful. Any bittersweetness, though, drained from Paul’s being when it came time to actually see John. Much like the journey to the hospital, the tail end of his wait for John was coming all too quickly.

They were filed out of the small room and his heart was fading with every step. It did not want to leave the strange safety of the room and Paul could not blame it. It was set and done and nothing dangerous happened. Now he was ushered into a terribly galvanizing and risky endeavor of a fresh space and unknown circumstances. As the door came to view, his heart fast tracked to full opacity and shot into his throat.

George and Ringo looked so painfully normal in comparison to how Paul felt. Surely all they were thinking of was how happy they were to see John. Not how scary it might be to see him broken. Not how one word could fuck everything up.

The desire to pivot on the spot and run was shamefully present when the doctor held the door for them. Paul was last in line and heard the cheery greeting from Ringo before so much as seeing the foot of the bed.

His eyes darted down to stare at George’s heels as he entered the threshold, following their path until he found a seat. Paul meandered in, jumping when the door shut behind him. He stopped in his tracks.

“Glad the guests could finally be bothered to gather. Now the party can really start.”

With the sound of John’s voice pulling at his chest, Paul finally looked up to find him staring directly at him. He was right there, covered in scratches and bandages. There was a cast on his arm, a bruise over his eye, and a large swath of gauze peeking from the neck of his gown. His face was blushed with color, nonetheless, looking as alive as ever. When he truly looked at John he found himself wanting to cry. Why? He couldn’t have explained it to anyone but he knew the feeling swirling inside. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and gave a thin lipped smile.

“Think you’ve done enough partying without us,” Ringo said while he sat at the only other seat in the room, leaning an elbow on the bed. A smile was splashed across his face.

George leaned back pleasantly. “This is why I never let you touch my car, you know.”

John huffed. “I don’t think I’ll be touching a steering wheel ever again.”

The words were all lost on Paul. He couldn’t stop staring into John’s eyes until he finally broke contact to speak with George. Feeling uneasy in the center of the room, Paul moved to the wall, looking John up and down until he’d memorized every cut and bruise. His fingers were filled with pulsing blood, the sensation gathering up his arms as the moments passed.

No one looked at him or asked him anything. He was just a fly on the wall, chewing on his nail. So there was no warning when George and Ringo stood up. Paul jolted back to reality and stood up straight, ready to follow them out.

“Can you stay?”

”Hmm?” Blinking wildly, Paul noticed John was speaking to him.

“We’ll be back in the prison cell,” Ringo quipped before shutting the door on them.

The urge to sob spiked again. He gulped down the lump in his throat and let out a shaky breath. “Hi.”

“I look that ghastly, do I?”

Paul stared at his awkwardly shuffling feet and offered a breathy laugh. “No.” His voice cracked with the single word and burning tears sent pins into his eyes. Something in the moment sent his dam crumbling down.

Alone with John, he found absolutely no reason to hold back. So he didn’t bother. Fully absorbed by his presents, he took long strides to the now empty seat, falling into it. Without losing John’s gaze, he gently took his hand, feeling the rough cuts as he rubbed circles over the back.

Tears tracked down his face. His lip quivered. His heart brimmed full like a tidal wave crashing to shore.

“Hi,” he said again, this time with a voice damp with dejection. He sniffled with a painful smile stretching the corners of his mouth, threatening to rip from the center. He reached out to brush John’s hair from his face with a shaking hand. “You scared me, y’know?”

John pulled his hand away and Paul could feel the tidal wave retreating. He sucked in an aching breath. Rejection.

It all came back, though, when John held the side of his face, losing his fingers in Paul’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

With a fickle laugh, Paul nuzzled his head closer to John’s hand. “Don’t apologize- not for that.”

John’s head tilted as he pet Paul’s hair. “‘Bout thought you didn’t want me any longer. Seeing me all banged up and bruised. And that stare of yours. That should be categorized as some sort of weapon.”

A soft cry, that was supposed to be a laugh, rose from his throat. He leaned forward, hovering over the seat, and gently kissed John’s chapped lips. John fully reciprocated, fingers gripping his hair ever so slightly.

When they parted, poignantly slow, Paul swung his legs into the seat so he could comfortably rest his head on John’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can ever stop wanting you.” His fingers ghosted circles over John’s heart. With a concerted effort, he tried to be as gentle as possible with his battered lover.

They sat in sweet silence as John burrowed his cheek into the top of Paul’s head.

“Really though, was it that scary? Seeing me like this? You didn’t even speak when the other lads were in.”

More tears were threatening to close Paul’s throat. He gripped John’s blanket. “I thought I was scared to see you. But I don’t think I was. I was scared of myself more, y’know?”

“Can’t say I do.”

Paul pulled the blanket up to his chin. “I was afraid of messing up. I just blanked when I saw you hurt like this. I’ve never- I just want to do... New things. New things are scary.”

John rubbed his shoulder blade, soothing him to loosen up on the blanket. “And look at us now! Crying like babies all over each other.” John’s had traveled down to Paul’s bicep. “Guess we were both scared.”

“God. This wasn’t even the scariest bit- not by far. Getting that damned phone call. Thought the world was falling out from underneath me.”

John was kneading at Paul’s skin. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought I was never going to see you again,” He confessed. “Soon as the car went off the ledge, I could only see you and Julian in my head.” His voice was gruff and strained, muffled by Paul’s hair.

“It feels unreal, almost. After all this. Both of us in this room. Both alive. Lennon and McCartney, the dream team- or whatever bullocks.”

Paul felt the rumble of laughter in John’s chest and more tears poured out of him. He glanced down and noticed he was soaking the thin fabric of the gown. He almost felt bad but suspected that John’s tears were dampening his hair. Fairtrade.

“Yeah. Whatever bullocks.”

They quieted for a brief moment before Paul adjusted himself to be closer to John. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No.” A kiss graced the top of his head. “Can’t feel much with these painkillers, really. Besides, my shoulder’s not my biggest issue.”

Paul hummed curiously.

“Go this real groovy gash down my chest,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he coaxed Paul off his shoulder to pull up the neck of his gown. “Here.”

A trail of gauze led down his chest and to his stomach, which was completely wrapped with the stuff. Paul wiped away his tears and peered a little further down. His brow raised and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Aye. At least your willy made it out in full form.”

“Off it,” John dragged out the words like a warning, pressing the patterned fabric to his chest. “Horn dog.”

Paul only giggled, pressing his lips to John’s again. John sighed into it before guiding Paul’s head back to his shoulder, fingers running through his hair.

Betrayed by his own mind, Paul thought back to that meeting. I want a divorce. He pulled in a harsh breath. They had drifted that day, so far from one another. Building it back had been painstaking and soul crushing. “I’ll never let you lose me again.”

“Really, now?”

“Yes.” His tone was serious. “You’re not allowed. Whether or not we’re cross with each other, we won’t lose one another, alright?”

John hummed into his hair. “Sounds fine to me.”

#3133 words #been a while since i’ve hit those numbers #read on ao3 #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #the beatles fanfiction #fan fic requests #anon ask #mclennon fanfiction #fic request

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