#I meant to have something written for day one but brain went blah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tae-cup · 4 years ago

Text

Give Me Love | KNJ Oneshot

Inspired by: Ed Sheeran’s “Give Me Love”

Pairing: non idol!Kim Namjoon x Cupid!Reader

Summary: You spent your life, destined to be alone, putting two pieces together. Suddenly, you meet someone that just refuses to be struck by your arrow.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k Words

A/N: I’m sorry, I wrote this at like 1 am so it’s a little rushed. My brain just threw up onto the page and I couldn’t stop myself. Ahhhhhhh school is back and I’m dying. Pardon me for slow updates!

Other: Masterlist

Give me love like never before 'Cause lately I've been craving more And it's been a while but I still feel the same Maybe I should let you go

The string bends with ease despite the thousands of years you have used it. No one saw the golden light shimmering around you. In fact, most people passed you by without a second thought. No one paid a second of their time to watch the odd girl pulling back her arms like she were drawing an arrow back. You just felt it would be better if people thought you crazy instead of seeing your bow and think they were about to die. Die of love, maybe. You shot the arrow into the unsuspecting woman and then wrapped the red string from the previous arrow around the end of a new one. Once both were securely tied together, you pulled the string back and hit the front of a man walking in the other direction.

They met, fell in love, blah blah blah, the rest is history. You shouldered your arrows and continued on the way to work. You had to check in for a new assignment today. The goddess had proclaimed it was of the utmost importance.

You weren’t exactly the warmest person, but you weren’t cold. After all, your job was to make people fall in love with each other. You obviously had to love love. There were many cupids who could be content with this, you were one of them. Watching others fall in love should be a replacement for your own hole. That’s what the mentors had always said.

Well, you excelled at that. Despite the loneliness, at least you were immortal and at least you could live a somewhat normal life. The goddess of love herself gifted all her cupids expensive apartments and, despite being immortal, gave them unlimited spending money. What for? Who knew. However, she always looked kindly upon those who were frugal and modest. You somehow managed to convince her that you were one of those cupids. So, you could get away with quite a bit of rule breaking.

Such as procrastinating on assignments and sweeping them under the rug if you felt like it. As long as you got it done before the deadline, you were in the clear. You owned exactly half of Seoul. The other half was run by Jimin, an excitable cupid with high hopes.

Together, you two oversaw all love affairs in Seoul, Korea. Jimin dealt with the more northern side while you handled the more southern side. Which was why it was a shock to have the packet of a Mr. Kim Namjoon thrown in front of you. Not only was this a task better fitted for an experienced cupid, not that you didn’t have 45,000 years of experience, but it also took place on Jimin’s turf.

“Who is this and why?” You demanded.

“Read the file and you’ll learn about him. Now, I won’t tell you why, that would spoil the fun.” The goddess’ eyes twinkled. “However, I want you to remember your contract, Y/N.”

“You’re just teasing me now. I can’t fall in love. You don’t need to remind me.” You frowned, glancing at the paper. The man was handsome, you’d give him that. Whoever is his soulmate is a lucky person.

It was tricky, the whole cupid business. Mainly because soulmates are decided by the cupids. It’s an immediate draw. You just know. If a cupid messed up...well, that’s why there was divorce. Just two people who weren’t meant to be. Those cupids were always reprimanded and depending on the severity, maybe even fired. You had a squeaky clean track record and had learned to close yourself off rather quickly.

All new cupids go through a period of depression, hopelessness, longing. It was simply because they were born into a contract that prohibited the thing all beings so innately desire; love. A cupid cannot love and give love at the same time. It distracted from the job and made you blind.

Kim Namjoon is an odd fella. You thought to yourself as you observed him. You needed to know everything you could about him in order to correctly match him. Yes, you may get the sense, but cupids that solely used their sense had often been fired.

Eternity can be boring too, but you wanted to see what the world looked like in a thousand years, or even a hundred. That’s what kept you going. You had been watching Namjoon from a distance for the past month. He traveled around Seoul a lot, often for work, and you had yet to feel his soulmate’s presence. When you did get close, there was a pleasant tingle in your stomach that spread to the rest of your limbs. It disgusted you.

You had experienced love enough to know that feeling, but it was impossible. So you pushed it down, full well knowing it would never go away. Perhaps if you just matched him with another woman who had similar compatibility, you could get away with that. And even if they divorced, surely it would be okay to have just one strike on your record?

In all honesty, you were terrified of love. But as you observed him day after day, each one marching towards the deadline, you couldn’t help starting to like him. You noticed the little things.

Like how he always ordered his coffee; black with two creams and no sugar. The way he smiled with the smallest of dimples, the way his knee moved up and down when he was nervous. How he always leaned in and gave you his undivided attention. It was the little things that made this so hard. Could you even find someone who would notice them as you had?

It was much to your happiness, or dismay, when he ran into a nice looking girl at the coffee shop. You watched their interaction. The girl was obviously interested, pretty looking too, while she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Perfect. You looked at your watch. You had two weeks and this had already taken too long. You needed two weeks to show that a match worked before it was approved by superiors. Y/N, you’ve got to do this now.

Your hands shook but you drew the arrow back. Despite the nerves, you never missed. You tied the end of a red string to your arrow and then the other end to another. With a deep breath you aimed eyes squinting against the sunlight’s glare as it hit the big windows of the coffee shop. Just as you were about to let fly, he turned and looked at you, surprise written across his face.

Impossible. But that wasn’t the first time you had used that word in correlation to Namjoon. You let fly, your hands not fidgeting, as you tried to shake off his gaze. It missed. It crashed into the wall before disintegrating entirely.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him turn to look at the wall and back to you. He didn’t seem scared and when his eyes met yours, you felt...calm. Namjoon mouthed something to the girl and exited the coffee shop. As quickly as you could, you shouldered your bag and ran. Your heart thumped wildly against your chest as you raced away. I’ll get him another day. It must have been a trick of the light. And yet you weren’t quite sure if the quickened pace of your heart was because of the running or you chance encounter with the man that could ruin your life.

You tried your best to remain a silent observer, but that was proving harder as the deadline drew closer. Every morning you would wake up with a splitting headache and the strong urge to find something missing. But there’s nothing that’s missing! You thought as you gathered your bow and arrows. At first, you just thought he was clumsy or that you were nervous. But it became apparent as the days stretched on that you just couldn’t hit him. It was frustrating, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth or to match him with someone he so obviously wouldn’t be right for.

Namjoon was watching out his car window. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel in his parking space. He had felt the eyes of someone watching him for a long time. It made him paranoid. Then he saw..you. He didn’t know who you were or why you were watching him, but he needed to find out.

Somehow, he never felt uncomfortable under your gaze. You even relaxed him sometimes, a supporting presence from far away. Namjoon himself felt like a lost cause. Most of his nights were spent at a club, trying to fill the hole in his chest or drowning in his own bile while swallowing drink after drink. With your presence, he just didn’t feel the need to and if you were being forced to watch him, he didn’t think it was fair to drag you to that noisy place every night.

Yet, he just needed to meet you, talk to you. Every fiber of his being was calling out for you. It had been a dull ache, but now that he saw you, he couldn’t take his mind off it. The pain had a name, the pain had a face, the pain had a voice. And he wanted to know all of it. He wanted to devour the information, to get to know every inch of you.

It was so silly. Namjoon was an impulsive person, but he was never this stupid with his emotions. The ache didn’t go away, as much as he pushed it down. Sitting in his car, thinking, and watching the passing cars, made his mind up. He was going to figure out who the hell you were.

So here you were, quite literally an angel in the darkness. Slipping through the dense cluster of bodies on the technicolor dance floor and ignore the bass that pounded into your bones. You followed him, a man far too clumsy to be in such a place. He pushed into the crowd, and therefore you did as well. Your arrow was in hand. I surely cannot miss at such a close distance. You could feel yourself getting lost in the music.

You tried your best to pay attention solely to the man disappearing in front of you and the breathing in your own chest. Clubs always made you dizzy, like you were about to lose your goddamn mind. Your fingers splayed, reaching out to grasp his arm. Your hand found purchase on his shirt and you tugged, pulling him back towards you.

“It’s about time.” He smirked. You let your hand fall. You’re not supposed to directly interact with assignments, remember? Well, you had just fucked that up big time. You had been played.

“So who are you? Some angel? A soulmate? What’s with the arrow?” He shouted over the music. Ah, Namjoon, ever the curious one. If you spoke now, would you be able to take it back? But your mouth was moving faster than your brain.

“Well, technically, I’m a cupid.” You explained lamely. “I’m supposed to find your soulmate, but you refuse to be struck and-wait you can see this?” You held up the slim arrow in your hand.

“Uh, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re holding a goddamn arrow.”

“Most people can’t.” You murmured inaudibly. The pulsing music made your head feel fuzzy, out of control, and though you wanted to pull away from him, he held onto your waist.

“So you’re a cupid? Tell me more.” Namjoon grinned, unbothered by the new information. He had a feeling you were something supernatural with the arrows, the presence, and watchful eyes.

“I make people fall in love.” You tried to be vague, but he made you want to open up about yourself. He made you want to pour out all your heartache, the pain of watching others but never having that joy for yourself. It was a curse you were blessed with, a certain pain that had been pushed down.

“So why haven’t I?”

“You’re...difficult.” You faltered in your words. “The arrow misses you every time.”

“Is that possible?”

“My aim has never been off. It must be the fates.”

“Am I destined to be loveless?”

“Join the club.” You smiled softly, your gaze long broken.

“Well, you’ll always have love in your life as a cupid, right?” His hand gripped your waist tightly. He leaned in, his lips dangerously close. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t even be interacting, but here you were, unable to pull away.

“I’m not allowed to.” You turned away. There was only one way you could do this, and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to be that way. The goddess of love always allowed one night stands for her cupids, but nothing more. She was merciful. That’s what they always said.

“Then how about tonight, no strings attached?” But the look in his eyes said otherwise. You frowned. Did you want him for only one night, never to touch again? Yes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You murmured, pulling away abruptly and rushing to the exit. The room was heating up, the music was too loud, the place was too crowded. You felt nauseous.

“Wait!” He shouted, chasing you out into the street. “What’s your name?”

You turned your head, pausing as you thought it over. It wouldn’t be too bad, right? After all, you knew everything about him and he knew nothing about you. Your hair whipped around in the breeze of the night.

“Y/N.” The cars passed by and you were gone.

You had never failed a mission so poorly. Your superior didn’t look very happy as she watched you shift uncomfortably.

“You could’ve had a one night, you know? But no, you made him a liability. You told him the name of a cupid. Your name, yes, but a name nonetheless. You need to find his soulmate, not meddle in his business.”

“I just...” You twiddled your thumbs awkwardly. “I just get this feeling that his business is my business.” You placed a hand over your heart. “There’s a pain, right here.”

“Ridiculous, Cupids don’t have soulmates. That’s how the goddess makes sure we are doing our jobs.” She scoffed and stood, pulling out his file. “Unless you want to leave behind your job as a cupid, you won’t be going anywhere any time soon.”

As she left the room, stating the rules plainly, you couldn’t help but wonder ‘Is the unknown future more important than my present?’ Death scared you shitless. You actually admired humans for this. They had death thrown at them at every angle and yet they lived on, oblivious. How foolish, humans were. Or maybe you were foolish for having one as your soulmate.

The future was bleak, but at least you could hope for a future. Your hands felt over your waist, caressed the spots he touched. His lips that were so tantalizingly close that night. You pressed two fingers over your mouth, wondering what it would feel like if he had just leaned in a little closer. But proximity was the biggest worry. You just needed to avoid him and it would all be fine.

Avoiding him proved harder than you thought. He was somehow always where you were. Most of the time it was easy to lose him in a crowd or walk right past him in the street, but there were certain times where that got a lot harder.

“Y/N? Y/N?” The barista called your name and set your drink down. Two people looked up. You. And Namjoon. With a sigh, you stood from your seat and grabbed your drink. When you turned around, he was standing right there.

“Did I do something wrong, cupid?” His smirk was not helping your racing heart.

“I can’t talk to you right now.” You said quickly, pretending like you had somewhere to be.

“Fine. But can I at least take you out for dinner sometime? I get it, you’re one of those girls who doesn’t do one night stands. It’s okay.” He rambled. “I’ve been getting better at that as well.”

“I’ve got to go.” You physically couldn’t bring yourself to say no. It was terrifying and...exhilarating. You wanted to go on that date, you wanted to get to know him better. The longing made your chest hurt. But alas, things just don’t work out sometimes. You pulled away once more, trying to ignore the ghost touches on your hands, your hips, your waist. His breath against your face, like a warm caress. You needed to distance yourself and once he was dead, it would all be over.

200 Years Later

Things were good. The hole in your heart was back, but at least you were seeing the future, you lived another day.

Do You believe in reincarnation? The words rung in your head. The goddess had asked you just yesterday, but now you knew what she meant. Your heart was aching, chest pounding. It was hard to breathe.

You turned from your spot in the coffee shop, breath halting. Those dimples, that smile, those eyes. The hands that touched you, once again far away. He turned, he saw you, he smiled.

You waved and he waved back with a confused look. It was him.

“Namjoon?” You walked towards him, the slightest of trembles in your voice. You couldn’t do this again. Last time, you avoided him successfully, but this time, you knew you wouldn’t be so lucky. The soulmate bond was back and it was bigger than ever. It felt like your heart might carve out of your chest if you didn’t do something.

“Do I know you?” His expression was of pain, a confusion you wished upon no one. Would he remember you? Of course not, but you could start again. If it wasn’t meant to be in that time, maybe now? But you were a cupid and he was a human.

“Yes, you do.” You said firmly. And you weren’t going to let him go so easily this time. You hesitantly reached out and laced your fingers together. “But I’d like to get to know you better.”

He wasn’t sure why he followed you, but he knew it was right. It was like all he ever wanted was laid out in front of him and he was left trailing like a lost puppy.

But last time isn’t this time. You smiled across from him at dinner. The restaurant was cozy, but the atmosphere was not.

“Wait so you’re a cupid and you’re breaking your contract...just to be with me?” He tilted his head. “Now that makes no sense. Soulmate or not, this just doesn’t seem like the right move for you.”

“I told you, I already met you, 200 years ago. You were a little different, but mostly the same.” You tried to explain. You just wanted to get through with this date and kiss him, but you had to remind yourself that you had 200 years to think and pine over him while he had about six hours.

“Okay...” He mulled it over, the pasta growing cold. “I think I know you, I can feel it.” He murmured. “But I’m going to have to think this over.”

“Of course, take all the time you need.” Just not too long. You watched him carefully. “Hey Namjoon?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna get out of here?”

One Year Later

Mortality was...endless. Death was a finality that forced you to live until you could no longer. Mortality brought you closer to him.

“Namjoon, wait up!” You shouted, racing across the street as he got out of his car.

“Y/N!” He lit up, waving at you as he grabbed his things. It was warm like a summer’s day, despite the season being winter. When you reached him, he swung you around, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in.

Your lips touched, an explosion of galaxies. Moving against each other like waves lapping upon the beach. he’s here. And he’s with you. That’s all you could think of as you pulled away. Your cheeks were flushed as he smiled at you.

“Hi.” You said breathlessly.

“Hi.” He responded, in a similar state.

Your heart let out a kick, the butterflies gathered. Impossible. You had once thought it impossible for someone like you to feel it...love. Yet, impossible was a word you often associated with Namjoon. And you wanted more.

You tied a red string to the end of an arrow. The last two arrows your goddess gifted you. She claimed you had to use it for something ‘worth it’ As she said. You took out the arrow and pointed it at him.

“You ready?”

“Ready as ever.” He grinned, staring at the sharp tip. You nodded and shot him a gentle smile as you stepped forward, closing your lips around his once more as you plunged the arrow into him. He didn’t make a sound, it felt like a soft touch, not an arrow plunging into his skin. You tied the string to the end of the other arrow and pulled away. You placed the tip to your chest and his heart leapt at the image. The red string hummed with energy.

You took a deep breath and pressed the tip into your chest. The arrows disappeared and a red string glowed vibrantly in between you two before slowly fading. You wanted his love, wanted more of him. And you didn’t have to hide it anymore.

He stepped forward cautiously and then swept you up in his arms.

“It feels like I’ve been waiting years for that.” He said huskily.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited.”

Give a little time to me or burn this out We'll play hide and seek to turn this around All I want is the taste that your lips allow My, my, my, my, oh give me love My, my, my, my, oh give me love

#bts #bts x reader #Cupid #Give Me Love #Oneshot #tatafics #non idol au #namjoon #Kim Namjoon #Namjoon x reader #fluff #angst #I'm so sorry it's so messy #castlebangtan

63 notes · View notes

ambrosewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Pack Retribution

SUMMARY: Ambrose is attacked by a werewolf with a grudge against the River’s pack bring out a dark secret from the pack’s sortied history

TRIGGERS: murder tw, blood tw, gore tw

WRITTEN WITH: @ofwesvlys, @bullshitwizcrd

Ambrose: Ambie was just closing up his shop ensuring all the animals would be well taken care of for the night. He'd made plans to hang out with John and Wesley which made him more excited then he could possible understand. It had been so long since he'd spent time with Wesley even if it wasn't alone he took great happiness from it. He'd just finished locking up his shop looking through his text seeing that John was going to grab Wes and meet him in the ally. He shot back his reply when he felt eyes on him, he didn't have time to process just who it was when he felt a dagger slash at his arm making him stumble back. "What the Hell??!!" He mused taking a more defense stand.

Jo: She had watched him for days now, trying to figure out who he was and what his connection to John was. She knew he was a wolf. That had been pretty obvious from the start. Which pack he came from, that was her real worry. Her fears were all but confirmed when she spotted the crest of the Rivers Pack on his arm. A bolt of fear had gripped her at the revelation but that was soon overtaken by anger and the need to protect what she had left. So she waited for him to be alone, watched all the employees leave and the wolf close the door to the pet shop. Faster than any human she moved, slashing at at arm with the knife she kept on her. She didn't say a word as she kicked him into the alleyway beside the building and out of sight of any nosy humans who might interfere. She growled low, her eyes flashing with anger as she advanced.

Ambrose: He didn't know this women, no not women, a werewolf that stalked him in the alleyway, he let out a grunt as she kicked him further from view loosing his phone in the process. He could feel the blood running down his arm covering his Pack Crest as he tried to think of a plan. He felt himself crawl away from the wolf, he never liked hurting people it just wasn't in him but he wasn't just going to lay down at take it either. Choosing not to show all his cards he chose first brute strength over his magic, looking around he noticed the trash can he'd been all but kicked into grabbing the lid he hit the knife out of her hand growling back before pushing and pinning her to the wall. "I'll ask again What the Hell do you think your doing?"

Jo: She felt the knife fall from her hand and went with her claws instead. He was strong. She could feel it as he held her against the wall but she strong too and she was angry. As he yelled at her that anger only grew. He wore that crest and had the gall to ask her why she was attacking him? She took hold of his arms and let her body weight drop only to swing both of her legs up and slammed her boots into his chest. She followed after him slashing again and again as her eyes blazed with fury. "I'm doing what I someone should have done years ago. I'm putting you down. You and the rest of your pack of savages!" Where there was one there was others and it was only a mattered of time before the rest of the Rivers Pack found her and finished the job they started. Only this time John would be a target too and she couldn't let that happen.

Ambrose: He felt her claws trying to scratch at him but he held her in place for a moment before he felt her strength as she kicked him in the chest sending him against the brick wall. He could tell she'd bruised his rib without even trying which allowed his brain to work in almost fast motions as he thought about who this was. In that moment he realized two things, She was a born werewolf much like Wesley, meaning his strength was nothing compared to hers and second it was his pack that caused so much trouble. He had no idea what she was talking about his pack was far from Savages as Wesley came to mind, he remembered the other was coming for him along with John he just had to hold out long enough. He grunted feeling her slash across his chest making more blood pour from his form before he yelled "KCAB FFO!" The spell propelled Jo back knocking her into the walls making her head bleed. "I'm not a savage and neither is my pack!" To survive he was going to need to use his gift even if it made the fight a bit unfair.

Jo: She had expected a fight but she hadn't expected, whatever it was that the other did. Her head hit the wall hard and she felt a vague fuzzy sensation trying to cloud her mind but her anger cut through that like a knife through butter as she shook it off. Whatever trick he used only meant he was that much more of a danger. She had to finish this. She strode toward him, cracking her neck as she felt her bones begin to shift under her skin. "No?" crack "What would you call call a group of wolves that slaughter others for no reason?" c-crack "I don't care what you call yourselves. It won't matter when you're all DEAD!" She lowered herself and her form shifted completely. She snarled baring her fangs as she charged at him.

Ambrose: He eyed the women he always forgot how powerful spells were, he felt a bit of guilt at hurting her but he couldn't allow her close to him with the amount of blood he'd loose. Her anger was too much he needed to think of a way to hold her so they could chat while he was lost in his thoughts he heard her bone shifting into her wolf form something he couldn't do. "I don't know what your talking about! I only joined them five years ago after they saved my life!" He tried to explain but it seemed a lost cause he was going to have to put her down but he could sense the hurt and pain coming off her in waves that when she shifted he moved with slightly enhanced speed out of her way so she ran into a another trash can. "Please Stop, I don't want to hurt you, especially given how much pain you are in now!"

Jo: In wolf form her human side took a back seat as she let her animal instincts take over. Like this his words didn't matter as much as things like his body language and emotions. She knew he was still fighting and when she hit the trashcan she used her momentum and the brick wall of the alley to get airborne. She leapt at him ready to tear him to bits. She hadn't heard him say he wasn't there when they killed her family. It didn't register that he was a fairly new turn. All that matter was he was them and she had to stop him before he called them and history repeated itself. She timed her strike perfectly as she felt her teeth sink into his arm and she bit down hard.

Ambrose: Knew that John and Wes were on their way he only had to hold out a little while longer and he could get their help in restraining this girl. Hopefully with Wesley came knowledge of what she was talking about he knew Shumani was quite an ass at the best of times always pulling the strongest of their pack to intimidate others but he never saw then out right kill anyone before unless an attack was coming from the other side. He didn't have time to utter a spell when he felt the wolf sink her teeth into his arm making him scream out in complete pain. The Teeth pulled as if trying to tear his skin from his bones when he heard the voices. Wesley and John had found his cracked phone and heard his scream of pain knowing that he had to get away from her less he arm be destroyed he mutter two things "I'm sorry, Diffindo" His Spell sent a thousand tiny blades to slice into the wolf hitting her side. When she howled he was able to get his arm out. He quickly moved away from her before sending another blasting spell sending her away from him. "JOHN!, WESLEY! HELP" He screamed feeling some of his blood loss in that moment.

JOHN: It was meant to be a quiet night with the boys. He'd promised Zatanna he'd stay out of trouble because she didn't want Ambrose to fall into anything and jeopardize his job and any sense of future. Blah blah blah. He heard that song a dozen times, but he kept his promise and tried not to drag the kid through the pits. With his hands in his pockets and the collar of his trench coat propped up to keep the bitter cold out of his bones, he walked down the sidewalk path with Wesley toward Ambrose's shop. They were meeting the young wolf there before heading to a dive bar not too far from the shop. John froze, cigarette still in his mouth, when he heard the kid yell for him. The sound was coming from an alley way next to the shop so John sprinted in that direction. He slid to a halt long enough to see the two wolves scrapping with each other. "Bloody hell!" He held out a hand, muttering a quick spell to keep both of them rooted in place so they wouldn't jump at each other again. The lighting in the alley was dim and dreadful, but he could make out the shape of Johanna. She was bleeding now almost as much as Ambrose was. "What in the seven hells is going on here?"

WESLEY: he was looking forward to the night out with john and ambrose. he hadn't gotten to do things like this a lot back at home, having too much fun would only make shumani mad, so he was gonna enjoy the normalcy of it. he'd been in the middle of cracking an admittedly bad joke when he heard the snarls and ambrose's shout for help. wes quickly took off after john, his enhanced speed allowed him to get to the alley first and once he saw the wolf with it's teeth in ambrose all he could see was red. with a running start he leapt at the wolf, shifting in mid air, putting himself between them. his teeth bared and hackles raised, growling deeply at the stranger almost daring them to try again.

Jo: Another wolf joined the fray and it was almost enough to make her back down. Fighting 1 on 1 was ok. But fighting 2 at once and with the one having whatever strange abilities, that was another thing. But John was there and surely he'd back her up right? Not that she wanted him to. Wolves fought hard and she didn't want the only human she ever trusted getting hurt. An idea came to her and without hesitation she acted on it. She felt whatever forced was holding her still flicker slightly and in that moment she broke free and charged the larger wolf. At the last second when her momentum was at it's highest she shifted back to human form and slid right under him. She scoped up the knife and had it at the young turned wolf's throat before anyone realized what was happening. But what the hell was she supposed to do now? "John go away! I'll handle them."

Ambrose: He watched Wesley turn full Wolf when he noticed the attack it had been years since seeing the male take on his wolf form which was always a sight that took his breath away. He could feel his blood puddling under him as he casted a small healing spell to keep his wits about him. "She attacked me claiming I killed her family...Well that my pack did" He mused slightly unnerved by that last part, how could someone as kind and sweet as Wesley kill someone's pack. He should've known better then to let his guard down when he felt the cold steel against his throat and the women behind him urging him to move less his throat get slit. When she spoke to John his gaze moved from one of fear to hurt, had John keep something from him about his new pack...or worse was he going to allow her to hurt him and Wesley? "John you know her?"

JOHN: "Ah for fucks sake," he sighed as Wesley joined the fray. It appeared John was the only one with brain cells today. That was dangerous in and of itself. "Johanna, put the knife down and Wesley put the bloody fangs away," he griped. Leave it to John to get involved in a fucking werewolf turf war. "I'm not going anywhere, luv," he assured Jo as he held out his hand for the knife. "Come on. These two are mates of mine and we don't hurt mates. Let's talk about this like rational, two legged beings yeah?" God he needed a drink. "Mate, don't look like I peed in your morning cereal," he replied when he saw Ambrose's hurt and accusatory eyes. "I know all three of yous so how about some introductions, yeah?" He placed a hand on his chest. "John Constantine, tired and not nearly inebriated enough for this mage. Then we have Ambrose Graves, my almost brother-in-law: it's complicated. Wesley Rivers, clearly in love with Ambrose. And here we have Johanna Pierce, a wolf pup I found after her pack was demolished. Now that we're all acquainted, we can't kill each other. So," he patted his pockets, looking for his smokes. "What the bloody hell is this about a pack attack? What's your involvement in it?" he asked, eyes turning to Ambrose and Wesley for answers.

WESLEY: the wolf was a stranger to wes, usually he recognized whoever it was that had a problem with the pack but not this girl... what was odd though was that her scent was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it at this distance. hearing john's complaints had him distracted at the moment when she went for the knife. seeing her with a knife to ambrose's throat only agitated both wes and his wolf even more... but her movements had let him get a better whiff of her scent, that tied in with john's introduction sparked a memory. years back when his brother started taking out packs, wes had followed the group and took a very fiesty pup to safety. he had tried to save more but he couldn't do much without drawing attention to himself. at this point wes knew there were two ways to keep ambrose from getting killed. one: john somehow summons zatanna's ability to get people to do what they want... which had a low probability of happening. two: wes gives himself up in ambie's place. that one had the highest probability of working even if it wouldn't turn out well for wesley. ignoring the protests from his wolf, wes shifted back to his human form and held his hands up in surrender "look, the pup had nuthin' to do with what happened back then." he glanced over at john before sighing "it's part of why i left. shumani wanted ta' expand the pack and he was bloody 'bout it. i've been trying to get him to stop but he won't listen ta' me anymore." he shifted his gaze to ambrose, giving him a look that hopefully said everything will be alright before looking back at the girl "johanna right? look, i was there that night your issue is with me."

Jo: Now that she was in human form again and there seemed to be a pause in the action her head was clearer. The rage she had felt had cooled now in favor of surviving this encounter. When the wolf changed back to a human and seemed to yield she was even more confused. "Pup? This one?" He glanced at her hostage, the knife still at his throat. The rest of the explanation came and a realization hit her. John hadn't run from them. He had arrived at the same time as the older wolf. The older wolf who she now knew also belonged to that pack. Did he know this whole time that they were there in the city?

Then the older wolf said her name and a flash of memory hit her just as she finally caught his scent. 'I was there' he'd said. Yes he was. She remembered. She remembered a wolf she didn't know taking her away from the fight. Away from her parents and hiding her. Leaving her alone to face the destruction his pack had wrought until John came. Without realizing it she lowered the knife as her legs shook. A tiny whimper came from her and if she was in her right mind she would have punched herself for such weakness. He was the one that hid her that night but, why? It didn't make sense. She wanted to run. She wanted to protect John. She wanted to tear the answers from that wolf's hide. In the end she could do none of those things and just stood there as that old fear gripped her heart in it's iron claws.

Ambrose: Ambrose took in everything around him, John's explanations along with Wesley's He'd knew That Shumani was quite the aggressor which left Wesley cleaning up whatever messes he could. Part of him ached for Wesley and the things he'd seen simply because he felt the need to protect his brother. "Its what he calls me, during my time with the pack I spent it with Wes as my trainer" He mused softly as he looked between the three it was obvious they all needed to talk especially Jo and Wes but part of him feared her reaction to him.

He felt Jo lower the knife as Wesley shot him a look saying everything would be alright but he felt his wolf growl at the idea of getting hurt in his place. He shot a look back that said You will not pay your brothers price before he slowly moved so he could look at Jo, he keep himself still close if she wanted to stab him but firmly placed himself between Jo and Wesley's forms. "I'm sorry Shumani did that to you, I had no idea about the past, All I know is Wesley's kindness is the reason I'm alive today. I can't begin to understand what you went through or how much this has changed you but if you are willing to put the knife away and listen calmly we can both get the whole story." He paused looking at John for a moment before returning his gaze back to Jo. "Please Johanna, let us help you"

JOHN: He sighed, running his hands over his face as Wes offered up a sacrifice play. They weren't kidding when they said love made ya absolutely fucking stupid sometimes. He noticed the small change in Johanna as Wes pleaded to switch places with Ambrose. Jo didn't remember much about that night and John didn't push her, but he could see a flicker of remembrance cross her face. And from the small sound that escaped her lips, she was remembering that night. "Johanna, love," He cautiously approached her and held out his hand for the knife. "I'm willing to vouch for these two. They're idiots, but they aren't monsters." Neither Wesley nor Ambrose would hurt someone intentionally. They were honestly probably better men then John because sometimes he couldn't say the same for himself. "I pulled you out that day and I made you a promise that you would be safe." It was dumb and he shouldn't have made a promise he couldn't keep, but he did. "You're safe with these people but you have to trust me on it."

WESLEY: this god damn reckless pup i swear every god out there is testing me wesley thought to himself as he bit back a growl after watching ambrose put himself in between himself and the girl. he didn't really want to get stabbed but ambrose had nothing to do with what happened... and yes, neither did wes but he could have tried harder to stop his brother... he could have challenged him. looking over at john he rolled his eyes "wow, thanks so much john." idiots. like he's one to talk. he scoffed before looking back to the girl "i know this is a lot to process, why don't we all just take a breath and we can talk this through." carefully, wes stepped up to stand by ambrose in case she tried to attack again.

Jo: There was too many emotions. Too many thoughts running through her head. So many revelations in one moment, it was overwhelming. Her brain battled with her instincts and her memories as she tried to make sense of all of this. John reached out his hand. Another memory. That same hand reaching for her as she growled at him as a pup, trying to protect her parents. Flash forward to a different memory of that same hand giving her food after days of eating nothing. A blanket when she was cold. The words of the others sat on the surface of her mind but John said they were safe. She held on to that like a life raft and nodded minutely. "I...I trust you. John." Hesitantly, she placed the knife in John's hand and stepped back from the other two wolves. Her arms automatically wrapped around herself, more or less as a form of security than to stave off the cold night air against her skin. They might have been safe and they might have said they wanted to help, but what help could they offer her now? Did she even want it from them? These thoughts were too complicated to tackle at the moment so instead she stepped closer to John and let the other two wolves return to each other.

Ambrose: He could tell that they were slowly getting through to her, part of him wondered what his pack was like before he'd joined and he knew with Joanna's arrival they could find out together. He could still feel the sting of her attack on his bones and the blood that now ruined his clothes. Feeling a naked Wesley directly behind him did little to focus his brain on the task at hand but he knew they couldn't very well walk around naked like this wolves or not. "I'm going to cast a clothing spell, while I'm sure this is beyond normal for you both I'd rather not see us all in jail for indecent exposure" He mused muttered a simply spell giving Johanna and Wesley their clothes back opening his chest wound again. "Fuck...okay where can we go to have this talk cause I need to focus on healing and some bandages" He mused moving to lean against Wesley's legs feeling slightly weaker then he meant to. He still needed to close the slash marks on his body if didn't want to sleep into a blood loss coma. "are you okay?" He whispered looking up at the older wolf hopefully he was alright.

JOHN: His gentle but focused eyes watched Johanna process the scene. It was a lot to take in. Had he known Wesley and Ambrose's pack was the one that ambushed hers, he would've helped them come to terms with this in a safer manner, but that was null and void now. "That's my girl," he smiled when she handed him the knife. John placed it safely in his pockets as Jo stepped off to the side, allowing the other two room to check on each other's wellbeing. John began to take off his trench coat to give it to Jo when Ambrose muttered a healing spell. "Mate!" John called out to him. He shouldn't have done that. He was already injured enough without performing additional magic. "The church is a couple blocks away, we can go there." He suggested. Zatanna's magic shop was closer but he didn't want to bring that up as an option. Not with her brother this injured. Zee would find out sooner or later what happened in the alley tonight, but he'd rather she find out once they were all patched up

WESLEY: seeing her give john the knife, wes relaxed slightly and turned his focus towards ambrose. he knew that he had to be in pretty rough shape already and doing more spells wasn't helping him any. "damnit pup, what did i tell ya' about over doing it?" there was a slight edge to his tone, but one look at wes you could see concern written all over him. "of course i'm fine, nuthin' happened to me." he wrapped an arm around ambrose's waist when he felt the younger wolf's weight on him "stop with the spells 'brose, if ya' wanted me to carry ya' around you can just ask." he grumbled before bending down to pick ambrose up "no need to make yourself pass out." wes looked over at john, nodding at the suggestion "i'll follow you and keep him from doin' any more spells."

Jo: Once again Jo was surprised when the younger of the two wolves did some sort of magic and suddenly she had clothes on. Truth be told she would have preferred the familiar trench coat John was about to hand to her rather than these strange things but she made no comment. She let the other wolves do their thing, the interaction between them was odd to her but she had other thoughts occupying her mind. There was no glance spared at them but she paused when she was close enough to John to speak softly while the other two were distracted. "I trust you. But if you knew they were here and said nothing..." Honestly she didn't know what she would do but she was sure his imagination could fill in the blanks. More than angry she felt hurt by all of this. He knew better than anyone what she had lived through, what the attack did to her and what it was still doing to her. To see him so at ease with them felt like a betrayal but she desperately wanted to believe it wasn't. She needed answers and she needed them now. Without waiting she stepped quickly and made her way to the church.

Ambrose: He felt himself glad that John had been able to get the knife away from Jo, he wanted to learn more about this story and if there was a way they could help her heal. He never would've thought that his pack had such a dark past. Wesley always made him feel welcome and like he belonged but to completely kill another simply over power and land was something he'd never stand by. "I know I see my mistake but they couldn't just stay naked!" He groaned before looking up at Wesley smiling softly as the male lifted him up "I'm not a pup, and you hardly ever give me what i want, But I promise no more magic tricks" He pouted rather cutely before snuggling closer to the male. He felt weak but his heart ached at Jo's words about John knowing something, John of course knew they were in town long before Christmas would their involvement ruin whatever relationship John had with Jo? He most certainly didn't want that. "So you'd rather take punishment from your Priest then my sister? That's rather smart seeing how quick she'd blame all of this you" He teased the other letting the other lead the way resting a bit.

JOHN: "I've known Ambie," he gestured toward Amborse, "since he was a teenybopper, Jo. I dated his sister. He only just became a wolf himself like five years ago. There's really no way I could've known the pack Ambrose joined was the same one that hurt your family. I never laid eyes on 'em," he pointed out. John himself had only been a little shit of 17 when he found Jo. John looked over his shoulder at the two lovers. "What's Jesse gonna punish me for, mate?" he shrugged. "I ain't done nothing wrong." Zatanna would see reason too, but he preferred not to drag this to her doorstep. Especially given that Jo was the one that threw the punches. "Come on, love," he crouched down, putting one of Jo's arms around his shoulder so that he could help the young injured wolf limp her way toward the church where they could both be cleaned and healed.

WESLEY: the wolf followed behind john, grumbling in spanish about how ambrose wouldn't just listen. he'd end up with grey hair because of it, wes knew it deep down but he also couldn't deny that he enjoyed every second of it. "oh ya' not a pup? my mistake." wesley smirked at ambrose "i'll make sure ta' not call ya' that no more. would hate ta' call ya' sumthin' ya not." no matter what ambrose says he'd always be a pup in wes' eyes, the younger wolf brought out a protective nature in him that he didn't fully understand... wes had never felt that way before. when they would end up reaching the church, wesley knew he'd have a lot to explain and answer for. while he may have been a kid himself at the time, he knew that what shumani was doing was wrong and he should have been more adamant against his decision of attacking jo's pack. he let out a small sigh before looking back down at ambrose "i hope ya' won't hate me too much after all this."

Jo: Jo listened as John explained his reasoning. It was all very sound logic and made perfect sense but the instincts in her still felt riled and tense. All of this was a lot to take in and she felt like her brain was splitting in two trying to wrap her head around it. She hesitated for only a moment before giving a small nod and putting her arm around John. His scent alone was comforting and she subtly leaned into his touch without really thinking about it. As they walked she watched the other two, wary but now more confused then anything. They made no sign to signal their pack, far too caught up in each other for that. Maybe...maybe she'd made a mistake. A dangerous one at that. She looked down feeling guilty and sore and tired. "I'm sorry. I thought they'd found us. M' sorry."

Ambrose: "I don't know you seem like the type with a punishment kink" He smirked listened to John's explanation before relaxing in Wesley's hold he had to admit if he wasn't in complete and utter pain he would've loved this show of protection and doting he was receiving at the moment. He had to admit his heart went out to Jo the girl seemed lost and broken but then who wouldn't be when their family was taken from them. "Well lets not get to hasty, Only you can call me pup no one else" he pouts cute trying to use puppy dog eyes at the older wolf giving him his full attention. He didn't even know how to explain how easily Wesley had stolen his heart but he had to stop and wonder just what type of things did Shumani really get Wes into. The male when he'd returned to the pack had placed him back in Wesley's care but at times he'd almost manipulation him when Wes voiced his disagreement towards something the alpha wanted. He could feel the hesitation and almost a hint of fear coming off Wesley as he moved to nuzzle his head under Wesley's chin "I could never hate you Wesley, I'm alive because of you...I shall listen to this story but I don't have much to stand on judging you. I've seen first hand how Shumani acted towards you and towards me when you disagreed with him." He replied softly meaning every word.

JOHN: "Ay, that's for the bedroom, not for daily living," he fired back playfully at Ambrose. He couldn't yet determine whether all of the affection between Ambie and the older wolf was disgustingly cute or just too much but he let them be as they walked toward the church. They'd been through enough, he'd reserve judgement for now. He could practically feel the self-hatred and loathing rolling off of Jo as she questioned her decisions. Jumping to violence had been extreme, but she was reacting on instinct and fear. Ambrose and Wesley would see that and they would forgive her. Each and every one of them had been in a position like this at least once in their lives. As they arrived at the church, John pulled out a spare key from under one of the hollowed out rocks and unlocked the door for them. It was late now and Jesse was likely asleep. He wasn't going to disturb him, but he would explain what he could in the morning. "Come on, in you go. Let's get you all out of the cold and healed up."

WESLEY: he let out a quiet grunt, more of a laugh really, but a gruff laugh... whatever the noise he made was called he made it at the quick backtracking that ambrose was making. wes was quiet the rest of the way to the church, partly lost in his thoughts and partly lost in his memories of that night. he had hoped that the actual pup would have been too young to remember the carnage that the night had turned into, hell he wished that he could forget all the carnage that his brother had brought... but life didn't always work out nicely. at the mention of shumani wes was pulled from his thoughts, a look of almost disbelief on his face from ambrose's words "sweet thing" he sighed lightly "shu' is so much worse than ya' know... zatanna scared 'im pretty good so he didn't try much when you was there..." he trailed off as the entered the church. wesley moved inside and gently set ambrose down on one of the benches, inspecting his wounds as best he could. "jo... i'll uh, i'll answer any questions you have. whatever ya' want to know just say tha' word and i'll start talkin'." his dark eyes glanced over towards jo and john for a moment before turning his gaze back to ambie.

Jo: Johanna wasn't religious in any sense of the word, even if maybe she should have been given her association with John Constantine. Still she felt somewhat safer stepping inside the church and out of the cold. The whole encounter just made her feel drained and tired, emotionally and physically. She discreetly hunkered down into a seat somewhere away from the other two but still close to John just in case. Her mind was in a whirl the entire way there and even though things had calmed down it still took her a second to realize the older wolf was now talking to her and not to his pup. Her brow furrowed and she looked away, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to say or think about all this. "What's there to ask when I already know the answers. Your pack destroyed mine on the orders of your alpha. It's not the first times wolves have fought and killed each other for no reason." They might all look human at the moment but in the end this was nature. "Kill or be killed. Isn't that just how things go?" Deep down what she didn't understand was why he or John had bothered to save her in the first place. Hell did she even want to know? The damage was already done and there was no undoing it. She'd become as much of a monster as their alpha and she'd hurt people because of it. Quietly she glanced at the young one she had attacked, guilt weighing on her like a shroud. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I guess an apology doesn't seem like much but...it's all I can offer you right now."

Ambrose: Ambie chuckled at John's words "That is so much more about your sex life I didn't need to know, though I will admit Jesse has the nicest hands" He teased back before looking at Wesley, he could sense how much this tore him up inside and it hurt him to see one he loved so in pain. He may not have been part of the pack back then but Shumani wasn't the most thoughtful person. He still remember the one time during his training he'd almost lost Wes to Hunters. He felt himself nuzzle the elder's neck for a couple more moments after he called him sweet thing, he liked the names Wesley came up with when he was speaking about him. "Of course she did, if there is one thing My sister knows how to do well, its cut a man down with a single glare. I know i joke and mess around but it doesn't mean I don't notice certain dynamics or feelings around me." He replied softly glad to be near the church. He could heal but it would take a lot out of him and he wanted to hear the story about what happened. He sat up groaning at the movement before looking for something to clean his chest wound with before he heard Jo speak. "You were scared, when you saw my crest, while I don't condone the violent way you handle this situation I can understand why you did it. Just know that during those five years I traveled with them...they didn't murder anyone, I...didn't murder anyone" He replied softly looking up at Wesley moving to hold his hand.

JOHN: He was useless in these matters so he let the other two wolves take the lead in explaining themselves as he busied himself getting clean rags and water (Jesse was going to kill him for tainting the supply of holy water again but it was the closest body of water around) to clean up some of their wounds so they could be properly healed. He knew enough about wolf packs to know they were territorial and violent on occasion like Jo had mentioned, but that wasn't the pack he and Zee sent Ambrose to. Zatanna had vetted the bastards pretty hard. She wouldn't have willingly let Ambrose travel with a murder pack. "He's right," John agreed as he began to tend to some of Ambrose's wounds. "My ex is pretty fucking terrifying. She must've scared the bejesus out of Shumani..." Enough to make sure Shumani never involved Ambrose in his murder business. John wasn't concerned Shumani would be making his way into town anytime soon. Zatanna was now flanked by an army of angels which made her twice as dangerous. But he was worried that Johanna might go off looking for him. He would need to keep an eye on her over the next few weeks. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this was a fragile time for her and she was almost as irrational and reckless as John himself even on her good days.

WESLEY: he was hesitant to back away from ambrose when he was injured, the mere thought of it put all of his nerves on edge, but he had john there he'll be okay... wes told himself as he stood and sat across from jo "we weren't always like that... we'd never been like that." he sighed, hands clasped in his lap and his eyes down towards the floor "when shumani stepped into the position he kind of got drunk on power, i should have challenged him but i wasn't interested in the responsibility that came with being the alpha. he somehow got it in his head that the pack wasn't strong enough, that we could be bigger than we were, and he decided to make it happen through bloodshed." wesley looked up at jo, his eyes full of regret and a bit of shame "when he decided that he wanted to attack your pack i tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen to reason so i followed him hoping that i could try and save as many as i could... i should have stopped him and for that i'm sorry."

Jo: Johanna knew she'd messed things up for most of the people here she'd attacked an innocent and become just the Rivers pack who destroyed her family so long ago. She should've known that if John was find with the two of them they weren't a threat but the fear ate away at her from the moment she'd seen the crest on Ambrose's arm. She'd promised to listen with an open mind as she looked at Wesley as he spoke of the worse part of her life. She could feel the regret coming off him in waves as he explained how and why his pack came to their back in the day. "While I can't give you the forgiveness I'm sure you seek right now, I can understand how you tried to stop him, I wouldn't even be alive without John's and your help even as I fought you, you didn't abandon me." She replied looking at Wesley, she couldn't forgive him for the part he played yet it was too much happening at once but she could promise that she wouldn't attack what looked to be his mate any more. "I'm sorry for attack Ambrose in retaliation," She offered Wesley patting hand hand for a moment before turning her eyes to John before slipping to the hurt pup he'd been looking after she felt the ping of guilt at the pain she'd caused him and she still had the idea to be kind and understanding he was nothing like this Shumani she'd heard about yet at the same time she didn't think she could stay here, knowing the truth was one thing but she still felt such rage in her heart at the man who'd taken her family away. She would leave New York tonight and allow what few Rivers pack members a chance at the happiness she'd been denied.

Ambrose: Ambie was grateful for John getting him so nice clean rags though did note that he'd dipped them in the holy water which made him laugh at the fact that his wounds would at least be blessed. He took the rags from John carefully taking off his shirt so he could properly get to his wounds as he moved to clean the cuts on his chest he listened to Wesley's story, he knew how hard it was getting Shumani to see reason and how hard they fought when the alpha got an idea in his head. So part of him wasn't even shocked that Shumani had killed another pack over something as stupid as territory. but Wesley ever the kind heart moved to save anyone he could, part of him was glad that Wesley's involvement wasn't as bad as Jo had made it. He was also glad to hear that Jo had taken the truth from Wesley and not out right attacked him as she did himself. He let out a light hiss at one part of his cut seemed to sting which seemed to have gotten deeper then he first thought. "I'm aright, just going to take a bit longer to heal that last swipe it definitely went deeper then i thought, I also want so many shots after we are done here, it isn't even funny" He mused.

#Pack Retribution #«Write it on the bottom of your shoes for the devil to read» ☾ «Replies»#«We all have our secrets I won't tell them if you don’t» ☾ «John»#«You don't love someone because they're perfect you love them in spite of the fact that they're not» ☾ «Wesley»#discord chat

4 notes · View notes

justjessame · 4 years ago

Text

Put Me In Coach 7

After saying good night to my parents, who were surprisingly quiet and accepting about me wanting to ‘spend some time with Mr. Negan alone’ (I gag at the very nonsense of calling him that, but I’d kill to say ‘sir’ see his fists clench and my mom take note.), we got into his car and headed over. I had wanted to take my OWN car, but something in the way he’d looked at me told me that there was a motive behind the madness.

I had just buckled myself in, Negan beside me when I had to ask. “Why one car?” I watched him keep his focus straight ahead. Fuck. “Negan, why only one car?”

He sighed. “Your mother wanted to make sure that I would bring you home tonight.” He answered, side eyeing me. “Two cars meant, in her mind, that you’d fake out and call in a sleepover with Eric,” I saw his eyebrow raise at the theory that even a sleepover with Eric was better than one with him, “or Mary.”

Shit. It had been on my mind. Pack a bag, rush downstairs, tell Mom and Dad that after Negan’s I’d just hop over to Mary’s since it was further away and stay there. I even had the perfect reasoning for it. Mary lived closer to Negan’s. Damn that woman and her ability to close loopholes. That must have been why, when I’d moved to grab a bag, Negan had stopped me. Damn fuck shit.

“Ugh.” I groaned. And then I pouted. I wanted a FULL night with him. What’s the point of them knowing, if I was still being treated like a child. “I’m an adult, Negan, this is stupid.”

“You’re an adult, but you’re still their little girl, Amara.” He reached over to take my hand as he drove us to his place. “There’s a silver lining.” I glanced over at him and saw him shooting me a look with a grin. “This stipulation is ONLY until you walk across the stage and get your diploma.” I felt a smile tug at my lips. “If you hadn’t zoned out during dinner, you might have already known all that.” He rolled his eyes and I snorted.

“I’ve lived through more dinners with my parents than you’ll ever have to worry about, Negan.” I linked our fingers. “Trust me, you’ll zone out soon enough around them at dinnertime.” I smiled and brought his hand to my mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Besides, I was doing math. That should count for something.”

He laughed and I caught his eye again. “You were thinking dirty thoughts, princess.” I nodded and bit my lip. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

“Me fucking either.”

Negan barely got the door closed before I was wrapped in his arms. “Now we’re in MY house, princess.” That clench of lust in my stomach hit and his mouth was on mine. Kissing Negan was almost enough to get me over the first hurdle of pleasure, ALMOST. “I think I made a promise in your room,” his breath fanned my lips. Another tightening. “Come here.” And then he was pulling me through his apartment to the bedroom.

He flicked the light switch and adjusted the light to the dimness he wanted. When his eyes met mine again, I was suddenly incredibly appreciative of the fact that we had the privacy his place afforded us. My room would have been a terrible idea, because when his fingertips met my skin, I couldn’t hold back any of the sounds that fought for freedom out of my mouth. And, when we finally came together, naked and on his completely decadent bed, over and over, I realized that I’d be counting down the days to graduation with more fervor than I’d ever considered before.

The countdown began in earnest. Eric and Mary eyeballing me as Prom drew near. Like I was going to try that shit again.

“No.” I bit out, turning up my nose at Eric’s offer of a handful of his disgusting pickle flavored chips. “Does everything you put in your fucking mouth have to have phallic connotations?” He was grinning at me as he tossed one in his open mouth and made an indecent moan. “Ugh. Gross.”

“Was the ‘no’ for the chips, or because I asked if you wanted us to save you a seat in our limo?” Mary grinned, knowing my head was going to explode if I had to be asked this stupid fucking question one more time.

“Both.” I snapped, taking a drink of juice. “You both know that I’ve had my fucking fill of dances at this fucking hellhole.” They snickered. “And NO I don’t care that Prom,” I rolled my eyes and practically spit out the word, “is happening at the country club. I don’t go to THAT hellhole when Mom and Dad beg, why would I willingly go for this?”

“Didn’t Coach ask you?” Eric asked, putting on a pout. I glared at him. “Ah, come on, Amara, it’s NOT like you’re an ADULT or something.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking see what the big fucking deal is. Your parents know, they condone it,” I snorted. “OK, so they won’t let you have raunchy sleepovers with Coach Big Dick, but they aren’t having his ass arrested for ‘grooming you’.” I bit my lip wishing I hadn’t told his sorry ass about that. “Why can’t you fucking come?”

“I don’t think her ‘fucking cumming’ is an issue,” Mary offered with her own evil grin. “I mean, have you seen her AFTER she ‘updates his grade book’?” Shit, they were gonna kill me. “I kind of want to find a grade book of my own to update.” Dear fucking God. I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m not sure Coach wants to spend another night at ANOTHER school dance. He looked like murdering the entire group of kids was on his mind, when it wasn’t laser focused on killing Joe.”

I sighed at the memory of that night and the two weeks that led up to it. “How is Joe?” I asked, shooting Mary a look.

“Big and pea brained.” She offered with a shrug. “He was a ‘fun’ distraction.” Mary offered me a loaded look. “Not repeatable.” Yeah, that was Joe.

“Didn’t think you’d take him to the Prom.” I offered, and she grinned. “Steven is still on Eric’s menu, I see.”

“Hush, whore,” he grinned at me, licking his fingers of the salty dill flavor that I could smell from my seat. Blah. “Steven and I are fated.” I raised an eyebrow. “What? I can do monogamy.”

“You can do a lot of fucking things, Eric, but why settle down so quick?” I asked, and realized that they both shot me a look. Pot meet kettle. Shit. “What I’m doing with-”

Eric was watching me with amusement. “Yeah, what you’re doing with dot dot dot,” he grinned, “is planning for the future. I’m not fucking saying Steven and I are necessarily end game, but he’s Mr. Right For Now.” He winked at me and I shook my head. “Did you ever read the note?” He glanced down to pick up his soda, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah.” I breathed. I had read Negan’s note that had come with my jewelry and it had made it much easier to face Mom. Even if I had wanted to eventually, having read what he’d written had made it simple. When she jumped to the assumption that he was some creep who molded me into his perfect sex kitten, I knew that wasn’t nearly what Negan and I had. Not a tiny shred of what we were to one another had to do with him making me into what he wanted. Because in that letter he’d told me that I was already everything he could wish for. That I was IT. That he was done for with me.

“Can’t give you shit for that, not after knowing that he thinks all that about you.” Eric smiled, and took my hand. “Jealous as shit that you get to be on the receiving end of-”

“His hand, his mouth, his fucking cock.” Mary nearly moaned, lightening the mood. “Yeah, we KNOW, Eric.” She grinned and took my other hand. “We’re both green with envy, you bitch.”

Prom came and went. Negan and I went to the drive-in and got pizza on the way back to his place. We managed to eat, and we also managed to take full advantage of an entire evening without interruption. Because, even when we managed to find time, my best friends and parents managed to interrupt. Texts, calls, I was almost amazed that none of them had followed me to his place and knocked on the door. Eric and Mary wanted to double check dates for different finals. Pretty sure Mom just wanted to cock block both of us. In the end, Prom marked an end to Mary and Eric’s need for reminders. We were done. Classes over. We had our caps and gowns. We’d taken our class picture for the yearbook. Now, we only had graduation to get through.

I should have been focused on walking across the stage to get my diploma and get the accolades for my accomplishments, but mostly I was focused on the night that would follow. Negan and me, together for the entire night. We’d never slept in the same bed. Napping after sex didn’t count, not really. And showering, a hot flash of heat ran straight through me at the thought of Negan wet and naked. Fuck.

“Princess?” His voice drew me back to the pizza dinner in front of me. “Sweetheart, you just made that noise again.” Deep, raw, and needy. That's how his voice sounded. I bit my lip and his eyes were drawn to the movement. “What made you make that noise?” He went back to studying my full face.

“Pizza?” I offered, hoping for a second to calm now the almost overwhelming heat that was still burning through me.

He shook his head, fuck he looked like a hunter. “Don’t think so.” I waited. “You haven’t taken a bite of your slice, Amara.” Oh, fuck. “What idea just ran through that overactive brain of yours, honey?”

Damn it, I felt like I’d been running a fucking marathon I was so fucking thirsty. “Graduation night.” His eyes flashed and I saw his hand fist his napkin. “And-” I stopped and took a breath to still the raging horniness that was risking to take over my entire body and force me to crawl across the fucking table to tackle him. “I was thinking about the stuff we haven’t done. As a couple.”

Negan tilted his head and waited. Fuck. Teacher mode, twelve o’clock.

“We’ve never actually slept in the same bed.” I offered, and he squinted, knowing that passing out wouldn’t have me making THAT noise. “And,” I licked my lip at the mere thought of his body dripping with water. “Showering.”

That’s all it took. I thanked God he’d put the pizza box on that bar of his, because the paper plates that held my slice and what had been left of his were swept onto the floor, unopened cans of soda, gone. And then I was on the fucking table and he was devouring me.

#coach negan x student #negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

8 notes · View notes

discotreque · 5 years ago

Text

Picard 1.10: Et in Arcadia Ego, Part 2

I don't really do predictions or theories when I'm watching something. Partly because I prefer to go along for the ride while it's happening and wait to judge with the benefit of hindsight, but mainly because I'm very bad at it.

Anyway, let's discuss Episode 10 of Picard, in which a bunch of things happen that I would have sworn up and down were never going to happen, and a bunch of things I thought would for sure happen did not.

Spoilers for the season finale:

I think I feel about Picard S1 the same way I feel about Discovery so far: I like every single thing about it more than the writing. The casting is great, the actors are pretty much all superb, I'm horny as hell for the production design, the VFX are the best I've ever seen on television, I absolutely love Jeff Russo's music...

...and the scripts are, you know, fine. Mostly fine. Moments of excellence, no doubt, especially at the level of individual lines and scenes, but overall? New TV Trek has yet to pull off a complete season-story that really impressed me. (I have reasons for extremely high hopes re: Disco S3, but I will save them for another post.)

With all of that said: I didn't come here for the writing. I wanted to spend time with my old friend Jean-Luc Picard at the end of the 24th century, and I got it. The rest is gravy. Not, like, the awesome gravy my sister makes at Thanksgiving; decent B+ restaurant gravy. I'm still gonna dip my fries in it.

"To say you have no choice is a failure of imagination." The first great Picard line of the episode, but not the last.

Blah blah Romulan incest siblings blah blah blah. They couldn't have mentioned sooner that Narek was the family fuck-up or whatever? He would have been like 6% less boring.

Raffi and Rios constantly, lovingly dunking on each other is one of my favourite dynamics on this show.

Okay I was just joking last week about Saga's whole brain being in her eyeball but the fact that the damage to her eye fucked up her memories...

Why are they sitting outside the ship having a campfire? Isn't the ship basically fine? Why not hang out inside?

"The Thousand Days of Pain" is the name of my metal band.

Agnes using Saga's ripped-out eye to bypass the scanner had big Minority Report energy. Thank god she didn't have to chase it down a ramp while it rolled away from her.

"The way that children learn most things: by example."

RSVP Sutra, the only interestingly-written villain in this entire season. Tamlyn Tomita is super duper watchable as Commodore Oh/General Nedar (and looking fiiiine in that black uniform), but she has no personality or motivation beyond "grr, robots bad." Sutra lives in a society that's mostly twins, but her twin sister was fucking murdered. Obviously I don't agree with her actions, but I understood and cared about her motivations, which is more than I can say for any of the Romulans.

All those exterior shots of La Sirena wobbling through space with Picard at the helm were adorable.

We literally never see Narek again after the androids take him away. I hope they just threw him in a dumpster. Bye bitch.

Seven didn't do a ton of hand-to-hand combat on VOY, and she sure didn't fight like this. Jeri Ryan moves like she's heavy, like her bones are made of metal, like she's still full of dense Borg technology. She practically lumbers around, using her limbs like clubs; Peyton List bounces off her like she's hitting a solid steel wall. It's excellent choreography and so well executed by both women (and presumably their stunt doubles).

GET FUCKED, RIZZO. You were barely interesting enough to hate, but I did hate you.

"'The Picard Maneuver.' Wait, that's actually a thing, isn't it?" Ell oh ell.

Loved the way the Romulan ships' disruptors sizzled and crackled when they were powering up.

What was wrong with Planetary Sterilization Patterns 1 through 4?

That motherfucking fanfare when the Starfleet ships came in. Awwww yeah.

ACTING CAPTAIN WILL RIKER. Still kinda wish it had been Worf on the Entrepreneur, though, because I'm greedy: we already saw Riker!

I do have my problems with the writing, but I loved the way they resolved the three-way standoff between the Romulans, Starfleet, and the ch'khalagu: not with an epic space battle, but with diplomacy and self-sacrifice and trust in the essential goodness of each other. (Plus, I guess, the threat of an epic space battle.) It was so perfectly TNG in so many ways.

All the Riker stuff was so fan-servicey. Which I'm mostly fine with: I'm a fan, after all, and I like to be serviced from time to time. But it felt a little like one slice too many of chocolate cake.

I wish the tips of the tentacles had got cut off when the portal closed. That would have been cooler, right?

What can I say about watching Jean-Luc Picard die. He's been my captain for 30 years. I physically fucking felt it. And making an android copy of him, while awesome, did not really diminish the emotional impact.

On a lighter note, I need to know what Jeri and Santiago were actually drinking in that scene, because it straight-up looked like soap. Yuck.

I also really like the dynamic between Rios and Seven. They both act a little harder than they are, and I think they see through each other's acts, but there's enough mutual respect (and self-interest) there to let each other get away with it. And no romantic tension whatsoever. Delightful.

I want to hug all of them so much :(

The blank grey surface of everything in the simulation was very creepy.

Oh Data. Oh, Data. My heart was already aching and then...

Listen. Like a fucking idiot, I went and saw Nemesis on opening night. I don't even remember what I was expecting, but I do remember walking out of the theatre with my friend and agreeing never to speak of it again. Data died, but the movie was so shitty I could barely feel anything about it. This episode gave me the emotional closure I've been waiting for since December 13, 2002.

It's also, if you think about it, a pretty hilarious "fuck you" to Nemesis in general: "You guys did such a bad job of killing Data we had to bring him back to life just so we could kill him properly."

They've been slightly aging-up Patrick Stewart all season. I stopped noticing it after a while, so seeing him without it at the end was quite a shock.

"You... you haven't made me immortal?!" "Relax, man. Everyone was paying attention." Okay, Altan can stay.

Speaking of ol’ A.I., can't he just make another golem for himself? Was there something unique about the one they put Picard in?

I thought I recognized the voice of the woman singing "Blue Skies" on my first watch, but I couldn't place her. Turns out that was Isa Briones herself, which meant I cried even harder the second time through.

"And our little life is rounded with a sleep." Goodbye, Data.

Seven and Raffi???????

SEVEN AND RAFFI?????????????

And once again, Jeff Russo ends the season with a mash-up of the old theme and the new one. Give my man another Emmy! Give him two!

God damn. What a ride. Let me climb into my clown shoes for one last shitty prediction. I think next season is going to be what I wanted from this season: Picard and his motley crew of rogues bopping around the galaxy having roguish adventures. Fingers crossed!

And thanks for reading. Star Trek is always more fun with friends.

#star trek picard #star trek picard spoilers #picard spoilers #amy's episode notes

12 notes · View notes

neffi3 · 7 years ago

Text

School reunion

Written for JayDick-Hell as a part of the Jaydick Winter Blahs Fic Exchange.

Prompt: It’s my highschool reunion and I need a hot date so I can rub it in the faces of the people who hated me

The night was going well for Jason; his men completed drug raids with added bonuses, nobody that wasn’t supposed to got hurt, Batman stayed out of his way; so of course the Golden Boy was waiting at Jason’s apartment for Red Hood to get back home.

For a second Jason contemplated shooting him, but decided it wasn’t worth having to clean the blood or worse – abandoning the apartment.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick greeted him casually, like he didn’t just break into the house of a crime oriented former Robin. In his civvies no less.

“What do you want?” Red Hood growled walking past the couch and his not-brother lounging on it to his bedroom to shed his gear.

“Can’t I just visit my favorite little brother?”

Jason dropped his guns and helmet in shock and rounded on Dick to stare at him in disbelief.

Dick send him a small, uncertain smile, eyes darting away and to Jason never settling on anything more than a few seconds.

Jason squinted at him suspiciously. Dick was acting weird and the show of vulnerability just added to Red Hood’s unease. Whatever he wanted, Dick knew Jason wasn’t going to like it and unfortunately for him no matter how much buttering up the Golden Child did wasn’t going to change that.

“Talk or get out,” Red Hood ground out, crossing his arms irritably.

Dick dropped his head, huffing out a nervous laugh. In the next second he lifted his head slightly, peering at Jason from behind the bangs of dark hair, biting his lip.

Jason viciously stomped on the thought of how adorable Dick looked like that.

“Will you be my date?” the older of the two asked quietly.

“Excuse me?” Jason blinked taken aback.

Dick jumped to his feet and started pacing a little to burn off some of the nervous energy. He flapped his hands around as he tried to explain to Red Hood why he needed a date in the first place. He sounded like he wanted to convince not only Jason but himself too, but the younger male decided to cut him some slack, because him even asking Jason to pretend to be his boyfriend was too bizarre to be real. Even if Jason wished it to be real.

“I have a case I’m working on,” Dick said, “and it turned out one of my acquaintances from high school is involved. But it would be suspicious if I just showed up out of the blue, especially when they would learn I was a cop. Fortunately in a few days I have a school reunion and they would be there. It’s a perfect opportunity to snoop around a bit and I would appreciate some backup.”

“Why don’t you take the Replacement?” Jason asked. “Or Babs? Anyone from the long line of your friends?”

“Tim is too young,” Dick shook his head. “Babs went there too so she’s known and her being Commissioner’s daughter would make things more difficult. And everybody else is busy.”

“I’m busy too,” Jason pointed put.

“Please?” big blue eyes begged him. “I really could use the help. Besides,” Dick added, a blush started to redden his cheeks. Jason watched, fascinated. “This is one of the events where you’re supposed to bring a hot date with you.”

It took a few seconds for Jason’s brain to process what was just said, but then Red Hood smirked confidently.

“You think I’m hot, Sweetheart?” Jason drawled.

Dick’s blush deepened, but he maintained eye contact resolutely.

“So, will you?” the older man demanded plaintively.

“There better be a lot of food, Goldie,” Jason agreed indirectly. “And booze.”

Dick’s smile lit up the whole room and left Red Hood dazed enough, that he barely reacted as Dick danced away with an excuse of not bothering him any further and that he will text him the details later.

It was how Jason found himself at the manor four days later, dressed in an expensive suit that – according to Kori and Roy – accented his hotness, tugging at the tie to get rid of the choking feeling at his throat. He came to pick Dick up, but apparently the Golden Boy wasn’t ready yet so Jason was forced to wait for him in his former home and hope that other Bats had the sense to stay away from him.

Red Hood wasn’t so lucky apparently.

“Huh,” Tim hummed with his mouth full, looking Jason up and down. “After your spiel about how you hate us all I didn’t think you would agree to this,” he commented after he swallowed whatever he was eating.

“What is it to you?” Red Hood sneered. “I’m always up for a case with ass kicking, free food and drinks.”

Tim blinked at him in confusion and then smirked with amusement.

“There’s no case, Jason,” he revealed.

“What?!” Red Hood’s jaw dropped. No it couldn’t be, the Replacement had to be lying, but Jason couldn’t think of any reason why he would do that. “But Dick said...” he trailed off, realizing he had been played. The fucker, Jason thought betrayed and angry, when I’ll get my hands on him…

“Dick wanted you to be his date,” Tim said, derailing Jason’s thoughts of murder of the eldest son of the Bat. “Apparently he assumed you wouldn’t agree if he just asked you outright.”

What? Red Hood stared at his replacement, mouth opening and closing without any sound. Dick wanted Jason to be his date? What did it mean?

“Jay!” Dick shouted excitedly from the top of the stairs. “You came!” he sounded a touch surprised, but it did nothing to dim his wide, happy grin as the acrobat bounded down the stairs in his hurry to plaster himself against Jason in a hug.

Jason’s arms automatically went up to hug Dick back, while his mind still tired to process the new information it was given. Did the Golden Child, the mighty Nightwing liked a street rat like Jason Todd in a romantic way? Jason was afraid to even hope.

“Let’s just crack that case of yours,” Red Hood said, pulling away.

“Yeah, the case, right,” Dick agreed, releasing him reluctantly. His smile dimmed a little and he shuffled awkwardly like Jason just reminded him this was not a real date.

Holy shit, Dick wanted it to be a real date!

Jason grinned like a shark. Oh, this was going to be great!

“So?” he prompted. “Let’s go,” he elaborated as Dick blinked up at him in confusion.

“Oh, of course!” the acrobat let out a painfully fake laugh and practically fled the manor. “See yea, Timmy.”

Red Hood turned to the Replacement, waggling his eyebrows and found him glaring at him protectively. He snorted and waved, following Dick out.

Jason’s plan on having fun was tampered slightly by one fact. On the way to the event Dick was kind of nervous and Red Hood got the feeling it had nothing to do with him or the fake-real date situation. No. When they got to their destination and Dick got all quiet and tense Jason realized why. Dick was scared. Dick Grayson, the social butterfly, the man who could and would laugh in the face of worst criminals the world had to offer and then some, was afraid.

Now Jason wasn’t stupid and guessed the probable cause almost immediately. He wasn’t a stranger to being bullied in school, but he didn’t had the chance to attend his classes too long. Dick however had the full experience and apparently it was bad. And the fact that Dick could have taken down his tormentors in a few seconds flat but couldn’t had to add the salt to injury.

For a moment Jason wondered why Dick even went to this reunion. Then some flashes of the cameras light up the surroundings and, yeah, right. Dick Grayson was a public person, it would be suspicious if he didn’t show to this party and the following scandal that was sure to be created by the gossip columns just wasn’t worth it. But that meant Dick couldn’t do anything if whoever had tormented him didn’t grow the fuck up and tried something for the same reasons.

Suddenly Jason’s role in this mess became clear to him. Dick didn’t want to take anyone else with him not only because he wanted Jason, but because they were widely known as well and had certain expectations to fulfill in the public eye. But Jason? Jason was nobody. He had a clean slate and could be practically anyone he wanted and do whatever he wanted. And having his hot date punching people in Dick’s defense was a lot more manageable scandal than the possible others.

Still, it didn’t make Red Hood any less irritated that the Golden Boy wasn’t upfront with him about the situation and still proceeded to have his fun, but keeping a more attentive eye on Dick through the evening. The Golden Boy was adorably flustered when Jason did nice things for him like bringing him some food or drink or whisking him away from highly uncomfortable conversations playing the good boyfriend card harder than was strictly necessary. Other than those random moments Jason left Dick alone stating, despite Nightwing’s dismay, that he won’t interfere with Dick’s reconnecting with his peers and went to mingle and pretend to fish for a non existent information. Red Hood caught a few wistful glances Dick send his way, but did nothing about it. Let Dick stew in the reality of his own making.

Ever since their entrance they both gathered jealous looks from some people. Dick more than Jason and hell, if it didn’t make Red Hood preen. In the course of the evening, Jason got hit on five times already. He let himself flirt a little, but ultimately turned the suitors down. One of them, a pretty woman just left with a huff she couldn’t quite hide when Jason glanced to check on Dick and found him all tense and posed to retreat.

At first Dick was too nervous, so Jason stuck close to him, reminding him of his presence. As the evening progressed the acrobat relaxed more and more and Red Hood decided he would be fine on his own and increased the distance between them. But now a single man had Nightwing jumping into flight mode in an instant. So this was it then. Jason finished his drink in one gulp and made his way over. It was his time to shine.

Despite everything Dick was having a good time. There were a few bumps here and there, but he managed to get through them on his own or with Jason’s help. However all good things didn’t last, not in this company at least, so Dick was hardly surprised to hear a posh snotty voice – even snottier than Damian’s and that was saying something – slightly deeper than he remembered calling his name. With dread he turned around and his fears were confirmed as he came face to face with his high school nemesis – Nathan Canavan.

“It is you, Grayson,” Nathan sneered. “Still living off of Wayne’s money like the charity case you are, I see. You have to be really good for Wayne to keep you this long.” He eyed Dick up and down making the acrobat feel dirty just from that, “I can see the appeal.”

Dick contemplated just fleeing the scene, but a hand landed on his lower back rubbing soothing circles and a solid body plastered itself along his right side. Dick leaned against it gratefully, instantly feeling better and grinning inwardly in delight as Nathan’s eyes widened in fear.

Canavan was solidly build, he was Dick’s height but had more muscle mass than the acrobat, making him bigger and probably stronger. Clearly he was counting on that as he approached Grayson to do whatever he had planned. But Jason was still taller and bigger, especially when he puffed out his chest, making the seams of his shirt scream in protest as his muscles buffed out in already too tight clothes.

“Who’s your friend, Sweetheart?” Jason drawled, sneaking a possessive arm around Dick’s waist making him shiver.

“Jason,” Dick allowed a fraction of the smug grin appear on his face, “this is Nathan Canavan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Red Hood stated pleasantly, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” Nathan replied faintly, paling as Jason put far more strength into the handshake that was considered polite accompanied by a warning glare.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jason apologized, “but Dick expects a call in a minute, so we need to find someplace quiet.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Canavan stammered hurriedly. “I was just leaving anyway, just came over to say ‘hi’.”

“Mhm,” Red Hood hummed and tugged Dick outside of the ball room, through the back entrance to the cool air outside.

Dick didn’t even know he was shaking until Jason leaned against the railing and pulled him flush against him, rubbing his hands along his spine, murmuring soothing nothings.

“Thank you,” the acrobat leaned back when he felt steady enough, but Jason kept him trapped, looping his arms around his waist loosely.

They looked each other in the eyes, the air around them suddenly charged with something.

“Jason?” Dick asked in confusion as he realized Red Hood’s face was getting closer to his own.

Hot mouth collided gently with his own, sending a shock of electricity through Dicks’ body. His lips parted automatically, but before Jason could take advantage of the invitation Dick pulled away abruptly, remembering.

Jason hummed questioningly.

Dick looked down, guilty and ashamed.

“I lied,” he confessed.

“I know,” Red Hood said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement.

“There isn’t a case,” Dick continued.

“I know,” Jason repeated.

Dick didn’t register what he said, too determined to explain himself fully.

“I just wanted you to be my date. Not just today, but period.”

Jason smiled fondly and gently hooked a finger under other man’s chin to lift his head up. He leaned in closer.

“I know,” he stated and placed another kiss on those plush lips.

It took Dick a few seconds to pull back again this time.

“What?” he asked with wide blue eyes, shocked and yet hopeful.

“Can I kiss you?” Jason huffed out with an irritated breath.

“Y-yes,” Dick replied breathlessly. “But-”

“Good,” Jason purred, pulling Dick closer. “Kissing time now, shut up.”

#fic #mfic #batmanfic #fanfiction #jaydick #Jason Todd #dick grayson #Jaydick Winter Blahs Fic Exchange #JayDick-Hell

46 notes · View notes

traincat · 7 years ago

Note

If you're still taking word meme requests, how about the spirit of the internet: cat/camera?

I’m not, but since you picked ‘cat’, I’m going to take the opportunity to fic amnesty this accidental kitten acquisition Spideytorch WIP. This was originally supposed to be the sequel to New York Minute, which I wrote after CACW came out to play around with what we knew of MCU Peter at that time, hence the appearance of Claire Temple in this fic. I told myself I should finish it before Homecoming came out, which I obviously didn’t, and then that all happened, so I’ve kind of lost the taste for finishing it now, but a pretty big chunk of it is written. I was going to turn it into an established Spideytorch version of The Coming of Galactus, so I cut those parts in case I want to use them in a separate fic later. What’s left is fluff:

Itwas raining when Peter found the kitten. Three pounds of soaked fluff, it was staggeringaround down in the gutter on Mott Street, so light in Peter’s hand when hescooped it up that it seemed to weigh less than nothing, at once the lightestand heaviest thing he’d ever held.

“Heythere, buddy,” he said to it. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Thenoise it made was tiny and pitiable, a squeak instead of a meow.

“Iknow that feeling,” he said, fumbling a one-handed swing up off the street andonto the nearest fire escape, out of the rain where it was dry, if stillmiserably cold. Peter’s breath ghosted up through his mask like fog. “Alright,let’s figure out where the nearest place I can get you dropped off is…”

Awarenessprickled across his neck as people down below gasped. His head snapped up justin time to see the final letters form fiery in the sky: WE NEED TOTALK.

“Seriously?”Peter said, squinting up at the bright flickering letters. “Right now? He’sgonna do this to me right now?”

Thekitten squirmed in his grasp, tiny little needle teeth and claws sinking intothe heel of his palm. Peter shushed it, wincing when it just earned him more ofa struggle.

Asecond message appeared under the first, a bad side effect of having beentangled up in each other for almost two years: RIGHT NOW.

The‘idiot’ was unwritten, but read all the same. Peter cringed.

“Man,the media’s going to have a field day with this one,” he told the kitten,bringing it up to his face. It squirmed in displeasure. “Okay, emergencyboyfriend detour. At least he’ll warm you up while he’s biting my head off.”

They’dtalked about it early on and agreed that theirs was a relationship best kept secret,at least from the public and at least for now.

Itwas on both of them, really. Peter, obviously, had his dual identity – wouldJohnny date Peter Parker, or would he date Spider-Man? They went back and forthon it, unhappy with either option -- and his ten-ton bag of neuroses related toit – would someone try to hurt Johnny, if he was with Spider-Man? Johnny alwayssniped back that he could take care of himself, like Peter had never had tofree him from a glass cage and a team of supervillains before.

Wouldsomeone try to hurt Peter’s aunt, if they knew Johnny was dating Peter? Thatone made even Johnny fall silent.

AndJohnny had his life – his very, very public life, and the dozens of maniacalweirdos who regularly tried to blast him and his family into space or trap themin an underground kingdom. Spider-Man had enough enemies; Peter Parker didn’tneed to be a target on top of that. So that was that. Table the discussion,revisit at a later date, and keep Peter’s face out of any and all Snapchatstories

Johnnywasn’t built for secret-keeping, though. It weighed on him, made him squirmwhen interviews asked about his love life, if there was anyone special. Madehim angry when people accused him of making his mystery boy up. Made him twisthis fingers in Peter’s hair, head thrown back, begging him to bite instead ofkiss, leave a string of marks up his neck, proof of their time together that hecould see and touch and feel even when they weren’t together, to grip histhighs harder when he spread him out.

And,okay, Peter got a little jealous sometimes – Johnny, just turned nineteen andgorgeous, had celebrities and billionaires and other, mask-less superheroeslined up around the block to date him. How could Peter compete? Peter, who,when he was lucky, had enough money to bring snacks to movie night?

Movienight, which was always at the Baxter Building. Because Peter had a secretidentity.

Okay,so it was mostly on Peter. What else was new.

Andthen there was college.

“What’sso wrong with a gap year?” Johnny had asked, straddling Peter’s lap andplastering roughly three bandaids too many across a fresh scrape on hisforehead. Peter healed too fast for minor injuries to need patching up, butJohnny didn’t seem to care. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Peterhad a handful of college acceptances; Johnny had a reluctance Peter didn’tunderstand and Johnny wouldn’t explain. With the Fantastic Four’s money, hecould have gone anywhere he wanted, done anything he wanted, and instead he’ddecided to stay home and help his sister pick invitations and tableclothcolors.

“You’vealready had a gap year,” Peter had pointed out, perhaps unwisely. Johnnyhuffed, dramatic. Peter squeezed his waist, apologetic.

“Butnot with you,” Johnny said, sliding out of Peter’s lap to put the first aid kitaway. “We could do Europe! The whole backpacking thing, it’d be fun.”

“Yeah,I, um, I’m picturing you in a crappy hostel and it’s…” Peter trailed off,laughing helplessly. Johnny smacked him over the head. “Ow!”

“Baby.You didn’t even feel that.” Johnny yawned, settling back down next to Peter onthe bed. He grabbed Peter’s hand, twining their fingers together. He droppedhis head to Peter’s shoulder. “I could totally do the hostel thing.”

“I’dget stuck carrying both our improbably giant backpacks,” Peter said, smirkingand abandoning Johnny’s hand in favor of his hair, curling sweetly across hisforehead. He tugged gently, forcing Johnny to look up just enough so Petercould kiss him. “We’d – we’d die on Everest, probably.”

Johnnylaughed. “That’s not even in Europe.”

“We’ddie on some big mountain in Europe,” Peter amended, just to keep Johnnylaughing. “Very tragic. Floundering around in the snow…” He tossed an armdramatically over his eyes. “Go on without me, Johnny!”

“Iwouldn’t,” Johnny promised, all sincerity. “I’d keep you warm.”

“Iknow,” Peter said, kissing him softly. “You gotta go to college.”

“Nextsemester, maybe,” Johnny huffed. Peter stroked his jaw with the back of hisknuckles and hummed disapprovingly, a poor copy of May’s signature tone. “I’mhelping Sue with the wedding. You know I’m helping Sue with the wedding.”

Becausepicking flowers really takes up all of your free time, Peter wantedto say, but it seemed unimportant in the face of Johnny swinging himself up andinto Peter’s lap, straddling him and running his hands down Peter’s chest, hismouth hot over Peter’s.

Peterslipped a hand up the back of Johnny’s shirt and decided to postpone the argument.

Whichjust meant that when they had the argument, it went much, much worse.

(blah blah blah)

“Right,”Johnny said, voice tight and eyes damp, angry flushed all over, “because it’s reallymy brains you date me for.”

Itfelt like Peter had been sucker punched. It hurt a whole lot worse than that.

“Johnny,”he said, not fast enough. He reached for him, not fast enough.

“Getout,” Johnny said. When Peter didn’t move, he repeated it, hotter in more waysthan one. “Get out!”

“We’reat the Statue of Liberty, where am I supposed to go?” Peter demanded.

“Fine!”Johnny shouted. He lit himself all the way up and took off, an angry trail offire in the sky.

Peterknew he should have followed him. He still didn’t.

Johnnywas loitering out on the rooftop, the heat shimmer around him keeping the worstof the drizzle away. He jumped a little when Peter landed behind him, spinningaround. It wasn’t fair how the first sight of him after any time apart, be itminutes or days, took Peter’s breath away.

“Hi,”he said. He wanted to rip off the mask and kiss Johnny in the rain, like ascene out of a movie, but he didn’t know if he was allowed. People touchedJohnny without his permission all the time, like being famous meant they wereallowed, like his celebrity meant they owned him. Peter hadsworn he was never going to be like that, so his hands stayed at his sides.

Correction:one hand stayed at his side. The other one stayed on the cat.

“Hi,”Johnny echoed, sounding miserable. Then his gaze dropped to the tiny bundleheld in Peter’s hand. “Is that a kitten?”

Hisvoice had risen sharply. Peter blinked.

“Uh,pretty sure,” Peter said. “But did you ever hear the one about the little oldlady and the Chihuahua?”

Johnnywasn’t listening, though – he scooped the cat up out of Peter’s hold and, toPeter’s alarm, started cooing at it.

“It’sso little!” he said. The kitten didn’t try to bite Johnny at all, which Peterfelt was unfair. “Where’d you find it? Are you keeping it? It’s all cold! Weshould take it to Sue.”

“Uh,”Peter said, but Johnny was already headed for the rooftop elevator. Peter hadthe speed advantage when Johnny was flamed off, but he still had to scramble tokeep up.

(blah blah blah)

“Ifsomething’s not on fire, I’m going to –” Sue went slightly cross-eyed as Johnnyshoved the cat in her face. “Where did that come from?”

“Peterbrought it,” Johnny said, handing his sister the kitten.

“Oh,of course,” Sue said, rolling her eyes a little.

“Hey,”Peter protested, futilely.

Suetook the cat gingerly from Johnny’s hands and carefully turned it over. Itdidn’t yowl for her either; Peter couldn’t exactly blame it for being weak forthe Storm siblings.

“She,”Sue said. “It’s a she.”

(blah blah blah)

“Iwas going to apologize,” Johnny said. “I know I kind of blew up on you theother day. I was just being dumb.”

“No,”Peter said. “It’s my fault. I was – I was being my aunt.” He inhaled sharplythrough his nose. “I didn’t mean to be like that. I just – I worry about you.”

“Don’t?”Johnny implored, leaning into Peter. He tilted his head; Peter read the silentcue and kissed him. It was soft and sweet, an apology pressed to Johnny’s lips.

“Youknow, right?” Peter said. “That I don’t think you’re dumb?”

Johnnyshrugged, gaze fixed on the cat, eyes shadowed by long lashes.

“Idon’t think you’re dumb,” Peter said.

“Okay,”Johnny said. Peter waited, but he didn’t continue.

Aftera moment, though, he reached out and took Peter’s hand. Peter rubbed a thumbover his knuckles and tried not to ruin the moment.

“Wehad a cat, before,” Johnny said, out of nowhere. He flipped Peter’s hand over,holding it in both of his. “Back in Glenville. Left her with the neighbors whenSue and I went out to California for Reed’s big project.” He was quiet for along moment, idly drawing patterns on Peter’s palm. He always got quiet when hetalked about life before the crash, like he didn’t really want to think aboutit. “They left the door open one day and she ran out. Didn’t bother to tell usuntil Sue and I went to get her, after the accident.”

Peterturned his head and kissed Johnny on the temple.

“M’sorry,”he said. “World sucks, sometimes.”

“Yeah,”Johnny agreed. “But you don’t.”

“Yeah?”Peter said.

“Yougot me a kitten,” Johnny said, settling his head down on Peter’s shoulder andlacing their fingers together. “Best boyfriend ever.”

Peterbit his tongue before he said anything to the contrary.

Thecat didn’t love Peter.

Thecat kind of hated him, actually.

“Whoa,hey!” Peter said, spider-sense tingling. He jumped back when the cat, ears allpulled back, took a swing at his hand and only his ability to stick to wallsand spider-given grace kept him from toppling right back out of Johnny’swindow.

“Louis!”Johnny scolded, scooping the cat off the windowsill. Instantly the cat wentboneless and starry-eyed, letting Johnny skritch it under the chin.

Okay,Peter thought, shaking out his hand even though the cat had barely madecontact, he knew that feeling all too well. “Louis?”

“Vuitton,”Johnny said, putting the cat down on the bed. It purred at Johnny, and thenturned those eyes on Peter like it knew exactly what his evening plans hadbeen. “I’m doing an ad campaign.”

“Ofcourse you are,” Peter said, rolling his eyes under the mask a little. Not thathe cared what Johnny called the cat – Monster would’ve beenPeter’s choice. Louis Vuitton eyed him from Johnny’s bed like she knew as shedisdainfully washed herself.

Heswung a leg over the sill and Johnny met him halfway, sliding Peter’s mask upover his nose so he could kiss him. “Hi.”

“Hi,”Peter replied, sealing his lips over Johnny’s.

Therewas a crash. Johnny startled; Peter grabbed at him out of instinct, mostly,spinning them around so whatever Dragon Man or the weirdo with a sound hand orwhoever it was this day would have to go through him, first.

Thenhe realized his spider-sense was silent.

Hejust stood there, stunned at the lack of any explosion or ensuingultraviolence, while Johnny burst out laughing.

(blah blah blah)

“Sowe meet again, Spider-Boy,” Claire Temple said when he limped his way into herclinic on a Thursday night, blood dripping down his arm and making a mess outof her floors.

“Spider-Man,”he corrected. It was their usual greeting exchange. No hi, how are yous, savedany good cities lately for Peter, no, it was always with the name mockery.

“Upon the table,” she said. “Let me see what I’m working with here.”

(blah blah blah)

Petersighed, long and low, and rolled his masked head in Claire’s direction. “I’mMystery Boy.”

“Yousure are,” Claire said, still stitching up his arm.

“Imean, I’m that Mystery Boy,” Peter said. Claire’s faceremained blank of recognition, her gaze steady on her work. “The Human Torch’s?You know, Johnny Storm?”

“I’veheard of him,” Claire said mildly.

Petersquinted at her from behind the mask. “Do you like, not have the internet?”

Sheglanced up. “Don’t make the nice lady with the needle hurt you.”

“Hey,just asking,” he said, holding up the hand belonging to the arm not currentlybeing stitched.

“I’mfamiliar with his sister’s work,” Claire said after a beat. “And it’s hard toavoid his face when you’re in the supermarket checkout. Cute, if I were ten years younger.”

“TheHuman Torch has a boyfriend,” Peter said. “His face isn’t in anything buty’know, you can see parts of him in photos.” Claire quirked an eyebrow. Peterfelt his face heat up. “Not that kind of parts.”

“Good,”Claire said, returning to his arm. “Not that I can tell with the full bodycostume and the lack of ID, but you do seem on the young side.”

“Justlike. A hand, a knee. But there’s definitely a guy, um, a boyfriend,” Petersaid. “And that’s me. I’m Mystery Boy.”

Clairewhistled.

“MysteryBoy, Spider-Man… you lead a complicated life, kid,” she said.

“Tellme about it,” Peter sighed. “I got him a cat.”

“Acat?” Claire repeated.

“Ididn’t mean to!” Peter said. “We were having an argument, and I showed up withthe cat, and then he had to go and fall in love with it!”

“Whydid you show up to an argument with a cat?” Claire said.

“Lady,look at what I’m wearing,” Peter said. “My life is just weird.”

“Noarguments there. Alright, we’re about done here. You love him?” she asked,looking him straight in the mask.

“I– yeah,” Peter said, sitting up and ducking his head. “Yeah, I love him. A lot.”

“Alright.”Claire smiled, pressing a cell phone into Peter’s hand. “Then call him to comeget you, because there’s no way you’re swinging anywhere on that arm tonight.”

Petergroaned. “He’s gonna yell at me.”

“Good.Someone should, and I have enough vigilantes to yell at as it is,” Claire said,cleaning up.

(blah blah blah)

“Nope,”Johnny said, kissing Peter square on the lips, short and sweet. “Bed now.Stupid argument later.”

Heshoved and Peter let himself be shoved, down onto Johnny’s plush mattress. Hesighed and pressed his face into the pillow, wiggling under the covers. After asecond Johnny joined him, knees knocking, warm toes against Peter’s cold feet.

“Hey,”Peter said without opening his eyes. He buzzed with awareness – not quitespider-sense, but a pleasant alternative, the electric tingle of Johnny in bednext to him, the soft sound of his breath and the bonfire-faded cologne scentof him. “You know I love you, right?”

Johnnybreathed out, slow, and settled his head on Peter’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“Nice,”Peter said, smiling.

Johnnyflung an arm over Peter’s chest and Peter hummed sleepily, relaxing into hishold.

Hewoke up around sunrise to the pad of paws on the pillow, a two second warningbefore five pounds of fluff settled on top of his head and immediately startedpurring. A tail swished in his eye.

“Ihate this,” Peter said without conviction.

#spideytorch #losers who deserve each other #myfic #Anonymous

70 notes · View notes

make-me-imagine · 7 years ago

Text

Fated: Part Three

Part One - Part Two - Part Four/Final

Description: Umm stuff happens. jk, I’m just really bad at summaries. Sam and the reader work on a removal spell but they are interrupted. See? I told you I’m bad at summaries.

Gender: Neutral/Any

Triggers: None

Words: 2,167

When you woke up the next morning you and the boys packed back up and drove home. The ride was silent, but you could feel Dean and Cas looking at you every once and a while. You figured Sam must have told them the excuse you came up with the other night. Hopefully they believed it, but something told you Dean didn’t. He kept looking at you like he was trying to see right into your brain.

Once you got back to the bunker Cas left, he was gonna look for some more cases. Apparently he enjoyed himself on the last one so much that he wanted to go on another. His enthusiasm was actually cute.

You were sitting in your room when someone knocked on your door. Telling them they could come in you saw Sam enter quietly.

Coming closer you saw he was holding a book, he started to whisper to you as he sat on the edge of you bed “I think I might have found a removal spell” he said as he started to flip through the book.

Sitting forward and looking over his shoulder, as he stopped on the page you read aloud quietly "To remove and reverse the effects of another spell?”

“Yeah, the ingredients are pretty basic, I think we have all of them here. When do you wanna do it?”

“I guess we should wait until Dean’s gone, maybe when he goes to get some food. Then we can get everything ready. How long does it take?”

“It seems like it should only take a few minutes to do, the prep might take a little longer.” he said reading through the instructions.

“Alright, now we just wait” pausing you look up at Sam “When you left last night did you tell them anything? I mean to throw them off?”

Clearing his throat he adjusted himself so he was facing you “Yeah, they asked if you were okay so I told them that the witch taunted you and told you some pretty bad things. Cas seemed to buy it, but I’m not sure about Dean”

“Yeah, I figured that. I’ve noticed that he’s been watching me today, I think he suspects something, but I’m not sure what” you said thinking aloud

“Maybe we should just tell him” Sam suggested quietly.

Looking up at him you hesitated “If the spell doesn’t work, we’ll tell him but if it does, I’m not ready for anyone else to know.”

Nodding his head Sam stood up “Okay. Well, I guess we should just..do our normal things until this afternoon”

Nodding your head he left as quietly as he entered. You sat back on your bed staring at the ceiling. “God I hope this works” you thought aloud.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Cas stopped in to say he might have found a case but Sam got him to check it out more thoroughly, you figured it was Sam trying to keep him out of the bunker long enough for you two to do the spell. Dean watched you pretty closely but had yet to say anything.

By the time dinner time came around you had grown anxious. Sitting at your desk there was a brief knock on your door and then it opened. Dean poked his head in and quickly looked around your room, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m gonna go get some food, whaddya want?”

“Um, just a cheeseburger and some fries” you said smiling.

“Alright. Hey..uh, you doing okay?” he asked concern and suspicion both evident in his eyes.

Sighing you turned to him “I’m okay Dean, and I will be better soon. It was just...rough” you said referring to the witch, trying to get him off your case.

Nodding his head lightly you saw the suspicion in his eyes lighten up a bit “Yeah, I get it, do you want me to get you some pie too?” he asked raising his eyebrow

“I’ll say yes only because I know you are searching for a reason to go get some for yourself” you said smirking at him

Chuckling he nodded his head “Yeah, you get me” he closed the door as he left, you could hear him call out to Sam and ask him what he wanted. Leaning in your chair waiting to hear him leave you started to feel a bit guilty. You wanted to tell him, but you were afraid he would tell Cas.

Hearing the door slam and a moment later the Impala start, you heard rushed footsteps coming towards your door. Sam knocked quickly while opening the door “You ready?”

Nodding, you stood up and followed him towards the storage room. You two quickly gathered the ingredients and started placing them on the table. Quickly putting them together in the bowl you looked up at Sam.

“What now?” you asked nervously.

“Umm, slather the potion onto the enchanted object” he said while moving the bowl towards you.

Gulping you look down at the bowl “I have to put that all over my arm?” you asked with a grimace.

He looked down at the bowl with a disgusted face “Yeah”

Dipping your hand and rubbing the potion all over your arm you sneered at the fowl smelling liquid. Sam read the spell over in his head once more, he wanted to make sure he would get it right.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You two froze, looking up at each other and then turning to look behind you, you saw an angry and confused Dean.

“Ah shit” you said quietly.

“What the hell is that?” He said pointing at the potion on your arm.

“We can explain” Sam said as he took a step towards Dean

“Oh you’re gonna explain alright, I leave to go get food and I come back because I forgot my phone and I find you too doing hoodoo in secret?!” he said getting angrier.

Sam started to speak when you interrupted “He’s doing it to help me” you said taking a step towards him.

“Help you with what?” he said walking up to you.

Sighing you looked down at the potion, seeing there was enough to cover your arm again you grabbed a towel and wiped the potion from your arm. You glanced up at Sam and then showed your arm to Dean.

He stared at it for a moment “You got a tattoo of Castiels name?!” he didn’t know if he should laugh or be shocked.

Rolling your eyes you shook your head “No! No-” sighing you tried your best to explain quickly “The witch did taunt me, that was true. But she also mentioned a soulmate, and I got curious what she meant and I did a spell to make the name of your soulmate appear on something you own. For some reason it appeared on my arm. That’s why I’ve been acting weird. Sam found out and he was just trying to help me.”

Dean was silent for a minute, looking between your arm and you, and then at Sam and you he hesitated before speaking “What? Are you saying that Cas is your soulmate?”

You nodded your head at him “Please don’t tell him Dean”

He looked at you and saw fear in your eyes sighing he walked a little closer “Alright, I wont tell him. Now, finish the spell” he said pointed at the potion, “I’ll order the food for delivery” he said taking his jacket off.

Turning to Sam and then back to the bowl you slathered your arm again. Sam cleared his throat as he started to read the spell. Dean stood next to you watching closely. Suddenly the tattoo started to burn and as you gripped your arm you hissed in pain.

When Sam finished the spell you looked at him “Is that it?”

He nodded his head “Yeah”

Dean handed you the towel. Wiping your arm you nervously looked at the tattoo “Oh thank God” you said sighing in relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and then Dean turned towards you “Great, now what? Are you gonna tell Cas?”

Looking between the two you hesitated “I don’t know if I can” you said quietly

Dean frowned at you “You’e scared aren’t you? Of how he will react?” You just nodded your head in response. Sighing he sat against the table “How do you feel about it? I mean, do you even have feelings for Cas?”

You sat down in your chair “I don’t know. I guess I kind of did, or do. I mean...I’m not sure really. But now that I know he’s my soulmate..I’m not sure what to do”

“Well, think of it this way. If he finds out himself, how do you think he will react, knowing you didn’t tell him yourself?”

Looking up at Dean you considered his words “I guess your right. I’m just not sure how to tell him. I’ll have to decide on that first”

The boys nodded at you, Sam patted your back as he started to clean up. You decided to take a shower to get the smell of the potion off of you. Coming out of your room and seeing the food on the table you started to walk forward when suddenly your arm started burning, more than it ever had before. Gasping out in pain, Sam and Dean looked up at you, quickly running over to you. Pushing your sleeve up you see that the tattoo had re-appeared.

“What? No!” you said trying to rub it off as the pain subsided still leaving behind a slight burning feeling.

“What the hell? What kind of spell did you use?” Dean said as he saw the tattoo.

Looking at him and then back down to your arm you straightened up “Good question” you said as you went to find the original spell.

After you showed the boys the original spell Sam did some research on the book. Luckily you found a website all about the author and his spells.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” you asked yourself as you looked over Sam shoulder at the website.

“There” you said pointing to the familiar spell. You started reading out loud “The soulmate spell is simple yet powerful. It allows the user to know the name of their soulmate, blah blah blah I already know that. Does it say anything about removing it?”

Sam scrolled some more before finding it “Here! Um, there is only one way to remove the name permanently. The soulmate whose name is written has to place their hand...oh”

You stood up straight with your eyes wide “He has to touch it?”

“That’s not the worst part” He said frowning up at you

“What do you mean?” Dean said

Sam began reading the rest “The longer the tattoo remains the more painful it will become. It will start burning gradually over the course of the next couple of days until the pain is unbearable”

“What? What the hell kind of spell is that!” you said as you read the words over and over again. Noticing that the tattoo was still slightly burning.

“A mean one” Dean said coming over to read as well. “I guess you do have to tell him” he said glancing over at you.

Taking a few steps back you sighed out loud “Great. I still need to think of what to say though, then I’ll tell him”

“Come on y/n, just tell him, straight out” Dean said, Sam giving him a judgmental look “The more you think about it, the harder it will be to do”

Staring at him for a moment you absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo “You’re right” you knew you were just trying to procrastinate the inevitable. Taking a few steps back you looked up “Cas!” you called, praying to him.

A moment went by with no sign of the Angel “Cas?!” Dean said this time. Nothing. “Maybe he got preoccupied with the case?”

“Or maybe he tried to solve it on his own and is in trouble” Sam said standing up “Castiel!” he tried to call the Angel. Still nothing.

You all looked at each other as you started to panic a little. Where was he?

“Okay, he still has his phone, I’ll try and call him that way” he said talking out his cell. Calling the number and getting nothing he sighed “Sam, see if you can track it, he might have his GPS on.”

Sitting back down Sam started to track the number “Got him, he’s in the same place where he said the case was. Fort Collins, Colorado”

“Alright, let’s go” Dean said nodding at you

Hurrying to your room to grab your bag, you started to worry “What have you gotten yourself into Cas”? you wondered out loud. And for the first time since this started, you actually hoped you would get the chance to tell him about the tattoo, to tell him that you were soulmates.

dun dun dun, we’re finally going somewhere with this, yaay lol

Hope you all enjoyed :)

#supernatural #castiel #castiel story #fated #fated part three #castiel x reader #supernatural story #supernatural x reader #fated part 3 #Fated: Part Three #story

91 notes · View notes

sunken-standard · 7 years ago

Text

Another Prompt Fill

Since both came in together... Great minds, apparently.

"Your great-aunt Eudora died," Molly said, glancing over to Sherlock before going back to her slides.

"Oh good, when's the funeral?"

"Day after tomorrow, reading of the will to follow. I didn't know that was an actual thing people actually did. Like, do you lot just gather in mahogany-panelled libraries with your embroidered hankies and veils and mesh gloves and just faint dramatically when the surprise illegitimate child walks in?"

"I know they say television is a window to the world, but sometimes it would do you some good to actually go outside," Sherlock said, shouldering her aside to see what she was looking at. "Ooh, is that brain?"

"Colon polyp, actually, though in this bloke I don't think there was much difference. Real Darwin Award material, thought a curling iron was a vibrator with a warming feature."

"And that killed him?"

"He tried to cool it off by running it under the tap. While it was still plugged in."

"Which end?" Sherlock continued to look at the slide.

"Both."

"Hn." He finally moved away from the microscope. "So, fancy a trip to the Peak District?"

"Wait, you're actually going?"

"Of course I'm going, I want to see what she left me."

"You're not going to make a scene or anything? I mean, it is a funeral."

"You think so little of me. That hurts," Sherlock said too earnestly. He touched his chest. "Right here, in my heart."

"That's not your heart, you've got a raisin stuck to your shirt."

"Wondered where that went. Had a snack in the cab." He picked the raisin off his shirt and popped it in his mouth, then made a face. "That was not a raisin."

I don't even want to know, she thought.

"Just awful. Taken too soon," Cousin Sybil said, shaking her head sadly and staring into her wineglass.

"Wait, they're serving wine? In a church?"

"Oh no, I brought my own. If you thought the weddings were bad, the funerals will make you wonder how you ever ended up in this family in the first place."

"Not really in the family, but okay."

Cousin Sybil just looked at her, 'you poor, deluded fool' written across her face. Sherlock picked that moment to reappear; he'd been cornered by his parents, back from the Caribbean just in time. Their globe-trotting always seemed to coincide with family functions, but apparently the funeral was enough of a surprise that they couldn't beg off.

"They'll be seating soon, come on. Need a spot in the front row," he said before steering her toward the chapel doors.

"Would anyone like to say a few words?" the vicar said after concluding his sermon.

Sherlock shot up from the pew and dashed to the lectern. He pulled cards from his jacket pocket, fumbling them a bit as he took a steadying breath.

He truly missed his calling, she thought. Though, she'd never have met him if he'd ended up an actor, so there was that.

He started his eulogy and teared up convincingly as he reminisced about her fresh-baked scones and the dish of allsorts she kept by her chair in the study.

Molly leaned into Mycroft. "Really sounds like he was fond of her, that they had a good relationship," she remarked quietly.

"Oh no, the old bat hated him. She hated everyone, but especially him," he said.

Mummy Holmes leaned around Mycroft. "She really was a dreadful woman."

"...And so I've come to understand the fleeting fragility of our time on this Earth, and I realized we've not a moment to be wasted," Sherlock said, choking on his fake tears. "I probably don't have that much time left myself, so I'd like to make the most of it."

He moved out from behind the lectern and came to stand in front of her, pulling her up out of the pew. Her stomach lurched with foreboding.

He dropped to one knee.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she hissed through gritted teeth as everyone in the church sucked in a breath in unison.

He pulled a little velvet box from inside his jacket pocket. "Molly Hooper. Will you marry me?" he asked, looking up at her with his eyes wide as he opened the box. He bit his lip while he waited for her to react.

I'm going to murder him. Two funerals at once, it'll save everybody time, she thought giddily.

He broke character for a split second to lift his eyebrows a hair and widen his eyes even more, play along and make it good.

She put her hand over her chest and heaved a breath. "Oh Sherlock," she gushed. "Yes, yes, of course!"

He grinned and it actually looked real; he made his hands shake visibly as he slipped the ring on her finger. A wave of gasps and murmurs rolled through the crowd.

He stood and pulled her into a hug, bending so his lips were next to her ear. "If I had a mic, I'd drop it right now and peace out," he said. "Is the coffin moving? She's probably spinning in it."

"You are such an arsehole," she said into his ear while she clung to his neck.

"I know," he said, sounding well-pleased. "Never let it be said I don't know how to put the 'fun' in 'funeral.'"

"I'm not helping you fake your own death again." She was sure he had that planned after his little 'not having time left' thing; she wondered how long he'd been sitting on the idea.

"Spoilsport," he said, rocking them back and forth a little bit. "You could stand to cry a little. Pull out a nose-hair if you have to, I'll cover you."

"Words cannot begin to describe the world of hurt you're in for when this is over," she said.

He pulled back and gave her a quick kiss right on the lips. "Do you promise?" he said, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, I promise," she said darkly.

She spent the rest of the funeral fondly recalling dismembering the chocolate Sherlock with a wire saw and a blowtorch, only substituting the real one in the memory.

Molly walked with Sherlock's parents in the procession from the chapel to the churchyard, as both Sherlock and Mycroft were pallbearers; she hoped to God Sherlock didn't do something to make them drop the coffin. She could just imagine the body rolling out and down the hillside to the motorway below, causing a ten-car pile-up when a lorry swerved to avoid it...

"I'd like at least two grandchildren, three if you can manage it. Identical twins run on my side, you might get lucky," Mummy Holmes said. Apart from their introduction, it was the first thing she'd said to her. Ever.

"I'll, ah, see what I can do," Molly said.

"You should honeymoon in Jamaica. The resort we stayed at was Hedonism II, cannot recommend it highly enough. The food was amazing and the view of the beach was simply spectacular."

"The view inside the room was too," Daddy Holmes said, his face innocent as he gave his wife's bum a firm squeeze.

Molly stopped wondering how Sherlock had turned out the way he did.

"Welcome to the Hotel California," Cousin Sybil said as soon as they stepped into the entryway of the actual mansion where the wake and will-reading was being held. Molly was 98% certain it was Aunt Eudora's house. Well, one of them.

"I mean 'the Family,'" she added, pressing a glass into Molly's hand.

"What is this?" Molly asked, sniffing the glass.

"Scotch that they found in an iceberg or something. Trying to drink it all because Billy's set to inherit it. He's coveted it his entire life because he's got a hard-on for adventure and it's some historical... explorer... thing. Ha! Can't wait to hear what he tells the lads on the polo team. He'll probably just dump a bottle of Glengoolie in the decanter and add a few drops of Dettol and pass it off as the real thing. Those idiots would drink horse piss if someone told them it was single malt and stuck a £750 pricetag on it." She drained her glass and wandered away.

"I swear to everything that is holy, if you put your fingers in or even near my mouth again I will bite them off."

"I'm feeding you, it's romantic. Have some more cake," he said, breaking off a piece of the very plain, very dry slice of poundcake on her plate. Apparently even the food was meant to inspire a suitable state of misery.

"Really not. Have you even washed your hands since you carried that coffin?"

"Why does that matter? You touch dead people all day at work."

"I wear gloves."

"Stupid NHS rules. Imagine the budget savings if they did away with that policy. Maybe I'll mention that to Cousin Fred, he's an MP."

"Please don't."

The reading of the will really was in a library with leather furniture and wood panelling. There were stag heads and swords, too.

She ended up on an ancient sofa obviously made of irregularly-shaped rocks and corners of bricks, squashed between Sherlock and some elderly Aunt whose name she hadn't caught who smelled vaguely of mothballs, sour milk, and old money.

The solicitor shuffled a stack of papers and blah-blah-blahed on about his contact information and legally binding whatever-whatever until finally he jumped right into the who-gets-what. "To the worst daughter God has ever seen fit to burden a mother with, I leave the house and all associated properties. Do try not to lose it in your next divorce, you simple tart," he read in a monotone.

"To my idiot son Rudy, I leave my entire wardrobe and a sum of fifty thousand pounds so you can finally get the operation. You did a piss-poor job of hiding it. I never should have let you have that teddy bear when you were six because I knew it would turn you into a nancy-boy, but you begged and begged, what was a mother to do? I hope you find yourself a nice man to settle down with."

"Ha, joke's on her, he's not actually a woman or gay, he's just a cross-dresser," Sherlock said, leaning into Molly and putting his hand on her leg. "Going to have a bit of a kip until they get to me, wake me when it's my turn." He settled back against the sofa, but left his hand on her thigh.

"...And to that little prick William Sherlock," the solicitor droned. Sherlock's elbow slid off the arm of the sofa and he woke with a start when he heard his name. "I leave my departed husband's collection of coprolites."

"Oh-ho, yes!" Sherlock clenched his fists and wiggled in his seat. "I love fossils."

"Eat shit and die, you little arsehole," the solicitor finished in his monotone.

She found herself pressed up against the door of a froufrou parlour this time; she'd excused herself to go to the toilet shortly after they'd got to Sherlock in the reading when it became apparent there was no end in sight and of course he followed her.

She wasn't even sure how it happened. One minute she was walking along, opening doors in the labyrinthine corridors hoping to find the library again, or at least a room with a liquor cabinet, and the next she was inside a lady's sitting room with Sherlock's tongue down her throat and his thigh snug between hers. She really hoped this sudden display of affection had nothing to do with his inheritance. She supposed maybe it was just the fact that it was a funeral; they always made her a little randy, too. Some kind of pushback against mortality, she thought to herself as Sherlock wedged his hand behind her to unzip her dress. Whatever. She was in the sweet spot between bored and drunk and pretty much anything short of arson would seem like a good idea.

"Maybe try to make it last the full minute this time," she said, hiking up her skirt.

"Should be good for longer than that, had a wank this morning before we left."

Her lips pursed into a question, even though it took her a few seconds to figure out what to ask. "Wh— Where was I?"

"In the shower," he answered against the crook of her neck like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where were you?"

"Kitchen."

"You had a wank in my kitchen at four in the morning. Before a funeral."

"I was nervous. It helps."

"Oh. my. God."

"I haven't even put it in yet, must be doing something right," Sherlock quipped before kissing her again.

Molly leaned against the door of the car watching the family members file out of the house with cardboard boxes and paintings and lamps like it was a fire sale. Sherlock had already loaded his boxes in the boot; it was indeed a sizeable collection of shit.

Sherlock flopped against the side of the car next to her, his head lolling back against the roof. "Really hope this is the last one for a while. I don't want to see any of these people again ever."

"Well, at least til the wedding," Molly said, a teasing lilt to her voice that was only half-teasing.

"Oh God, which one's getting married now?"

She held her left hand in front of his face.

His face did a thing where it crumpled in on itself in confusion before smoothing out again with new and different wrinkles; he looked at her askance. "You really would?"

"You're highly educated, quite fit, and rich. I mean, maybe you're not great in bed, but a girl can't have everything," she said lightly.

"That last bit is invalid because we weren't actually in a bed. I lasted the full minute and even gave you an extra thirty seconds this time. Sorry about your dress, though."

"At least it's machine washable. Wouldn't want to take that to the dry cleaners."

"Mine know not to ask questions, it's better for everyone. And I tip well."

"Mm," Molly acknowledged. She knew all too well the kinds of things he ended up covered in. At least he was considerate enough to clean out her shower drain, after. Even snaked the pipes after an incident with tarmac and another with rubber cement. He'd posed as a plumber once on a case, he'd told her. The joke she made about laying pipe had gone completely over his head. Good times.

Sherlock didn't say anything else, but he slipped his hand into hers and interlaced their fingers, leaning against her side.

"You realize we're going to have to invite every single person that was here today, right?" she said, smirking.

"Bugger. How would you feel about a destination wedding? Somewhere far away. With no waiting period."

"Like the Caribbean? Your parents seemed to really like the resort they stayed at. Right up your alley, too, it was clothing-optional."

"...And there goes my ability to ever have an erection again."

Molly opened her mouth to make some kind of joke about size or staying power, then closed it again. Really shouldn't cut off her own nose to spite her face.

"You know, I'm a doctor, I can probably do something about that," she said instead.

Sherlock shifted against the side of the car and cleared his throat. "...Aaand you just did," he said.

"Really?"

"It's a thing," he said defensively.

"This is going to be fun," she said, her lips curling into a smile. If she looked in a mirror she'd probably have devil horns and flames dancing in her pupils.

"Yes," Sherlock said simply.

#rooneykmara #mychakk #drabble ask meme round 3 #sherlolly #sunken's secret stash

128 notes · View notes

songofproserpine · 7 years ago

Text

WIP is now sitting pretty at 44,282 words, making this my slowest day yet, but I don’t really care much. I wrote 5k of Jaime x Sansa slow burn drabbles earlier today, and spent most of the day with my mother running errands. So there was bound to be a little bit of a slump on the WIP.

I have later scenes and chapters sketched out in a bare bones way, including the all important first sex scene. I’m pretty sure that in the draft right now, it’s just one sentence in brackets. [Sex happens here, blah blah]. I have more details written out for the Grand Gesture than I do for the reason why the Grand Gesture should matter, heh.

I’m ready for this story to be done, so I can move onto the frustrating process of (1) picking out a title, (2) revising/editing, and (3) finding a cover to use. Ideally, I’d like to get this WIP polished up enough to go on Amazon by the end of the month or mid-December. I think I can accomplish that, provided I remember to keep it simple and have fun with it.

That being said, I feel like I’m running out of words to describe how alluring a fine pair of eyes can be in a handsome man’s face. But I feel so stifled because this story can’t be as flowery poetic as I’d like it to be, because it’s a contemporary drama. Or maybe it can, and I just can’t think of a way to do that? Bah.

Anyway, here’s an unedited excerpt.

“Reya?” Kai’s voice was like a light guiding her from the storm of her thoughts back to the gentle shores of his company.

She took in a long, steadying breath and focused once more on his face. His plush lips, so quick to frown or slip even lower into deeper scowls, were now curled up in the opposite direction. His smile was kind, quiet, like the voice he had used to sing her to sleep.

Peering at her like that, with his intense artist’s gaze, the sort that made Reya feel as if he were looking past her skin and bones and down into the very contents of her soul, all but took her breath away. How was it possible that such a man could enter her life and stay there, not for a job or for the seedier demands of his employer, but because he found something worth pledging himself to? What does he see in me that makes him look at me that way?

Reya didn’t think she was unworthy or lacking in any way. Whatever negative thoughts she had about herself were born more out of a need to defend herself than to tear herself apart. She knew she deserved better than what the Mac Tirs had done to her. Of all the problems she had to tackle in therapy, that had been one of the lesser issues in need of mending.

She also knew she deserved someone special, be it a lover or a companion or something more, something dire and wonderful and sweet—that would care for her and stand by her through the worst of life’s storms. She deserved to have a life that was like a song, and wouldn’t settle for anyone who could give her less.

As the silence continued, Kai slowly held out his hand, palm up. He didn’t snatch at her, didn’t make a grab at all, the way Leon would have done. He simply stood there, offering some small part of himself for Reya to take.

If they touched, it would be her choice, her decision to make. If she turned away, that would be her choice, too. Nothing about Kai, not in this moment nor in any of the others they shared before, made Reya afraid of him. He was patient. He was watchful. He listened and learned and withdrew into himself to process all that she showed to him. And he did so without that awful, fiendish expectation of a reward. How many times in the past had she seen Leon look at her with a glint in his eyes and a sickle smirk on his face. Like a lion about to feast, instead of a lover listening to fears.

His mother had looked no different, the few times Reya had been forced to stay in her company. She dressed Reya down with a sharp, sweeping gaze, made her feel stripped bare, and then picked her apart with carefully chosen words, all designed to leave a mark.

“How fortunate you are to have my son tend to your every need. I imagine his wallet is as much a comfort as his company.”

“You carry yourself very well for a girl with so few accomplishments. And how young you are, too. With so little experience in the world. One would almost mistake your confidence for vanity, until they got a better look at you.”

“I always thought that hardships suffered early in life granted someone a certain air of dignity. Something like grace. But that isn’t the case with you, Lunafreya.”

“Lunafreya. What a name. I imagine it came to your parents in a dream or a vision—or at the end of a long, strange trip.”

Reya shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. But the cold wasn’t something that seeped into her skin. No, it was already inside, biting and gnawing at her, every ice pick like a knife ready to tear the skin off her bones.

“Reya? What’s wrong?” Kai’s voice was so soft, so warm. She shut her eyes and felt his words seep into her.

“Say my name,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “My full name. Please.”

Silence filled the room. She opened her eyes and peered up at Kai. His expression was one of cautious concern, the kind that made her heart ache just to see it.

“Reya,” he said. He licked his lips and tried again. “Lunafreya Ahlgren.”

“You make it sound so pretty,” she said, and when she smiled she felt the tears press in, traitor tears that always seemed to lurk just on the edge of her mood, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Reya tried to smile, but she must have gotten it wrong, because the next thing she knew a little bubble of hysteria rose up from her chest and burst free, like a sob.

“How can you do it?” she demanded through her tears. Reya’s gaze never left Kai’s face, but it was getting harder to see him. Angrily, she swept her fingers over her eyes and shook her head, her hair scattering across her damp cheeks. “How can you take what sounds so wrong and stupid, and make it… make… me…”

Her voice trailed off. The last of her strength left her, abandoning her to a fresh wave of shame. Reya knew she wasn’t making sense. Knew that she was trying to put words to a pain that had yet to take on a definite shape in her brain. But this was how grief always came upon her: too demanding to be kept secret, yet too rough and large to stay penned up inside coherent speech.

“Just breathe,” Kai said, his words barely more than a breath themselves. Reya did as he asked, taking in a short, low gasp. But it wasn’t working—her panic was still too near, her skin still frozen solid in fear.

Kai saw this, and wasn’t deterred. “Follow mine if it helps,” he said, and she nodded, eager to begin.

He breathed in slowly, held it, and then let his breath spill out in a quiet hum. Reya listened the first few times before she matched her breathing to his, noticing the way his broad chest lifted up and out with every inhale, and the way his shoulders sank as his breath slid out. His whole body seemed to open and shut like a heart—air came in, and so did tension and pain, nerves all a tangle with fear. And then the air was let out, and with it went all the agony of anxiety.

They stood there, barely a foot apart, breathing in tandem and watching each other closely. The longer they watched and breathed and waited, the silence between them lost a touch of its former frost. As the chill ebbed from Reya’s bones and fled her thoughts, she felt once again the same warmth from the night before. It rose up from the pit of her belly and flourished, like flowers stretching to a newfound sun. She shivered once more, but for a different reason this time—it was for Kai, and the warmth she felt burning between them.

His gaze, so steady and gentle, was like a kiss on her skin. His breath continued, and the closer she listened, the more Reya felt her body relax into the sound of him. It was no different fro the night before, when they shared whispers and fingers trailing over all the secret parts of her that had for so long ached to be touched. Here, now, in the bleak light of a cold autumn day, Kai’s breath continued what he had started the night before, chipping slowly at the ice that had sealed away her heart. And he did it all with looks and breath, did it all without ever needing to lay a finger on her.

Reya shut her eyes and listened. Kai’s breath was a private sound, a small, vulnerable thing meant for her ears alone. She focused all her attention on that precious noise, and let it wash over her. And yet…

I want more. She was a throne of want, and the feeling moved through her like a queen marching to her dais, emboldened by grace and glory. Her want sat rigid and regal in her heart, crowned by desire and reigning with the terrible certainty that only passion could inspire.

“How do you do it?” Reya whispered.

“Do what?”

“You make me feel so brave and holy,” she said, “When all you do is look at me.” Her words as hushed as a sinner at a confessional. But there was nothing wrong here at all, nothing that was in the slightest bit deserving of shame or guilt.

That undeniable fire to once again roared between them, rekindled with a vengeance. Slowly, the way knots come undone after much time and effort. Carefully, with a patience borne of kindness and warmth, not of any demand for a reward.

Without a word, Kai extended his other hand, opening his arms in a silent offer of comfort. He swayed a little as he stood, as if he were fighting off the impulse to dart forward and sweep Reya up into his arms. A part of her wished he would. She wanted him to do the difficult part for her, because the idea of taking even one step closer to him was more than she could bear.

I don’t have the strength to be needy again.

But it wasn’t need that filled her heart in that moment, as she stood teary-eyed and aching in front of Kai. No, it wasn’t a need or a desperation of any kind—it was want. She wanted his warmth, his comfort. Wanted the feel of his strong arms enfolding her, offering her whatever strength she lacked in that moment. She wanted the feel of his heart under her cheek as she pressed herself to his chest and stood there, easing into the shape of him. She wanted to tilt her face back and offer her lips up to his own to be kissed and consumed.

#kindle fic quest #my writing #wip: kiss consume

1 note · View note

theartofbeinganerd · 8 years ago

Text

First up from my collection of one shots is a fic very near and dear to my heart, written back during the post Season 2 summer hiatus when everyone was trying to figure out what the hell the monolith had done to Jemma - and back before we knew anything about Season 3. I’d actually been thinking about this one a lot lately, given the current storyline, so I figured I’d start with it. Enjoy!

Fitz nearly had to throw himself against the wall as yet another of Skye’s new powered recruits came barreling down the hall, barely throwing an apology over his shoulder as he chased after his friend, playing some kind of stupid powered people hide-and-seek or tag or whatever the hell that was.

Rolling his eyes, Fitz muttered under his breath, “Honestly, this is a government facility, not a playground.” Immediately, he grimaced at himself, and knew if Skye had been anywhere nearby to overhear, she would have been in stitches over his unintentional joke.

It seemed the base was full to bursting these days with the Inhumans Skye and Coulson were recruiting and the new group of agents that had joined them when they’d combined with the “other SHIELD”, and Fitz was finding himself seriously missing the Bus and their tiny team. Being at the Playground with all these new, strange people was making him claustrophobic and that was something Fitz was absolutely not okay with, not after being stuck in a box at the bottom of the ocean, thank you very much.

Fitz finally reached the kitchen, and let out a sigh of relief when he found it blissfully and unusually empty, but he wasn’t about to complain about his fortune. He set about starting his tea, allowing his hands to go through the motions on auto-pilot as he puzzled over his latest assignment from Coulson in the lab.

In no time, his tea was finished and he went to take a sip, but frowned and pulled the mug away from his mouth when there wasn’t even a tiny bit of sugar, which was a must for him, and there was a tad too much milk for his tastes. But, Fitz had prepared tea for himself thousands of times, and knew the routine like the back of his hand, so what had happened?

Frowning at himself and writing it off as being stressed by all the interlopers in the base, he simply dumped some sugar in and would deal with the extra milk. He was just taking his first sip when Skye entered the kitchen. “Hey Fitz,” she greeted, throwing him a smile as she grabbed a water bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a sip. “What’s with the look?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Fitz answered, shrugging. “I just made my tea weird by accident.”

Skye’s eyebrow darted up at that. “You ruined tea? How is that possible?” She gave him a teasing little grin, but it didn’t completely reach her eyes, and Fitz forgot about his tea issue as worry for his friend dominated his thoughts.

“How are you, Skye?” he asked, his tone implying that he knew very well that something was wrong.

Skye sighed, pursing her lips, then shook her head. “I’m fine, Fitz. Just…worried about all the Inhumans we aren’t getting to, and what’s happening to them.” She forced a smile and shrugged. “But, Coulson and I are looking into it, so it’s only a matter of time, really.” Curiously, she asked, “How are you doing with the power studies?”

Fitz made a face at the sore subject Skye had unintentionally broached. “Ugh, I’d be doing a hell of a lot better if I had a competent partner that actually understood biology.” He shook his head, disgusted with the scientists he’d had to share his lab with. “Honestly, where did SHIELD find them?”

Skye made a sympathetic noise, reaching over to give his arm a quick squeeze. “Yeah, I know, you’re always complaining about them. But, I guess all the geniuses in the biology field were either HYDRA or…well, are not available anymore. We’ll have to make do with our resident genius, even if he’s only an engineer.”

“Only an engineer?” Fitz repeated, mock-flabbergasted. “I’ll have you know –”

“Yeah yeah yeah, your IQ is higher than all of ours combined and you know more than anyone here, blah blah blah.” Skye grinned at him to soften her teasing words. “Too bad we’re all too dumb to understand your nerd-speak, Fitz.”

“Too bad,” Fitz agreed, his lips twisting into a wistful frown as he wondered what it’d be like to have someone around here that actually understood more than just a fraction of what he was saying – what it would be like not to have to hold back on his intelligence, especially now that he was able to get it from his brain to his mouth so much easier these days.

For a moment, there was a brush at the back of his mind that told him he was being ridiculous, and that he did know what it was like. But, Fitz shook that off because even when he’d been at SHIELD Academy, a gathering of the most brilliant minds in the world, he’d been the youngest to ever pass through its doors, and eventually he’d found that had also meant the brightest. During his time there, he hadn’t met a single soul that was quite on his level, and he’d continued to keep to himself, even into his years in SciOps. It wasn’t until he’d been dragged into the field on Coulson’s team that he’d finally started to open up and make real friends, not forced acquaintances.

Skye gave his arm another pat, paired with a warm, slightly apologetic smile. “I’ve gotta go have a chat with the recruits, but…” She paused, her lips pulling down at the corners at bit. “Well, it was nice talking with you, Fitz. We need to do it more often. I miss you.”

Fitz covered her hand with his, giving it a quick squeeze. “I miss you too, Skye. But, you’re doing something important, and we don’t have much time to loaf around and chitchat, do we?”

“But we need to make time, okay?” She held his gaze, her eyes equal parts pleading and sorrowful, and Fitz’s heart went out to her in empathy. They’d been the first family Skye ever had, and she’d been one of his first – if not his first – real friends.

“Okay,” he agreed simply, and he was rewarded with a brilliant smile. He returned it with a small smile of his own, and she left the kitchen. Fitz’s tea had gone a bit cold during their conversation, but he didn’t feel bad dumping it, because it hadn’t tasted quite right anyway. With a sigh, Fitz decided it was time to stop avoiding the incompetent scientists he was forced to work with and headed back to the lab. Honestly, even when he was at the lowest while readjusting after his brain injury, he could’ve kicked any of their asses at any scientific endeavor.

He was so focused on his internal grumblings about the others in the lab, he almost missed the fact that the door to the storage room was open, but then he registered that something was off and paused, turning back. Sure enough, it was wide open.

Frowning, Fitz moved back over and peered inside. It was empty, save for a few crates here and there, and the sealed glass case dominating the room with the weird monolith that Skye and her Inhuman friends stayed far away from. That was why the door was always closed – they didn’t even like looking at it, half the time. They still didn’t know what it did, beyond being created to destroy the Inhumans, so he didn’t really blame them for wanting to avoid it.

Shrugging it off, Fitz closed the door and continued on his way to the lab. He felt a wave of pure relief when he saw that none of the other scientists were in there, and he quickly moved over to his bench to try and get some work done in peace and quiet for as long as he had it.

He’d barely been working for more than a few minutes when he heard a soft, oddly breathless call of, “Fitz?”

He didn’t recognize the voice, even though there was a tickle at the back of his brain that said he should, and Fitz turned to face the person who’d spoken. He didn’t recognize her, either, but that hardly mattered these days – there were so many new faces coming and going from the base, Fitz couldn’t actually be expected to keep track of everyone.

However, Fitz knew he’d never met this particular woman before, because he would certainly remember those large, expressive brown eyes that seemed to shine in the dim lighting of the lab, the pretty pink lips parted as she sucked in a breath, and the dark hair that fell in soft waves around her beautiful face.

“Uh…” Fitz wasn’t really sure what to say, how this woman even knew his name. “Hello?” he tried, frowning a bit at his lack of finesse.

She made a small, choked sound almost like a sob, and Fitz was alarmed to find that tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks. “Oh my god. Fitz…” She took a step closer, and he noticed that her hands were curling and uncurling into fists at her sides. “I can’t believe…”

“Er…” He really didn’t know what was happening right now, even though he had the ridiculous feeling that he should, and didn’t want to rain on this pretty girl’s parade, but… “I’m sorry, do we…do we know each other?”

And then, he watched as her expression told him very plainly that her heart was absolutely breaking in her chest, and Fitz was overwhelmed with the need to rush forward and pull her into his arms and hold her together before she broke apart. But, he held himself still, unable to believe that his simple question could cause such a reaction.

“Fitz, please,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly in palpable disbelief. “It’s me. It’s Jemma.”

Fitz squinted in concentration, thinking back to if he’d ever met someone named Jemma before. “I’m sorry, Jemma, but…I think you’re making a mistake. We’ve never met before.”

Her hand flew up to her mouth to try and cover for a broken sob as her eyes briefly fell shut. “Oh god,” he just barely heard her whisper, “Please please no, please don’t take him away from me.”

Fitz shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the door to the lab and the empty hallway outside it. The longer and longer their interaction went on, the more Fitz wondered who she really was and how she’d even gotten into the base. “I’m sorry, um…Jemma, but…would you like me to take you to Director Coulson? He’s actually here today, and I’m sure he could help you figure things out if you’re confused.”

“I’m not confused!” she burst out, surprising him. Her eyes narrowed around her tears, and her expression was suddenly fierce and determined, and for some reason, Fitz’s heart warmed a bit at the sight, which was absurd. “You’re confused! We’ve been friends for a decade, Leopold Fitz! For god’s sake, you sacrificed your life for me last year, whether I wished you to or not!”

Fitz’s face scrunched up a bit at his full name, and he was a tad concerned that this strange woman knew it, but there were more pressing concerns right now. “I most certainly did not. And I haven’t had a friend for a decade. My first real friend was Skye, and I just met her two years ago.”

Jemma’s confidence faltered a bit, and she repeated quietly, her voice nearly breaking, “Skye? Skye was your first friend? Oh Fitz, what would you have done without me?”

“Well, I think I did just fine, given that I didn’t have you…” Fitz trailed off at that, giving an awkward little shrug, and more than ready for this weird conversation to be over. “I’m really sorry, miss, but um…I don’t know you, and I’m pretty sure nothing you say is going to suddenly make me believe I do, so…”

Her eyes lit up, her determination back, and it was almost as if he’d just issued a challenge to her – which he hadn’t. At least not intentionally. She took a few more steps closer, and Fitz automatically tried to step back, but his back hit his workbench. Then, Jemma was right in front of him, scant inches between them, her chin tilted up to attempt to bridge the distance between their heights. “If anything will make you remember me, it’s this: I know you’re in love with me, Fitz. I know that it’s hurt you so much over the past year and I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it all out, but I just needed time – you know how I am – and I’m ready to admit it. I’m in love with you too, Fitz.”

Fitz felt something tugging at his heart as he listened to her impassioned speech, and his stomach swooped a bit as though he was excited, but he was more predominantly bewildered that this woman he’d just met a few minutes ago was confessing her love to him and now watching him expectantly as though he was supposed to shout with joy and take her into his arms. “I hate to say this but…yeah, I still don’t know who you are.” His tone was apologetic, because she’d just said she loved him so he tried his hardest not to be rude to her, but he also wasn’t going to lie to her.

For a brief moment, her expression was absolutely crushed and Fitz’s heart went out to her because he knew how it felt to love someone who didn’t love you back (wait – no he didn’t, why was he thinking that he did?) but then her face hardened and she gave a sharp little nod as though agreeing with herself on something, and Fitz was a bit worried. “Alright, you’re leaving me no choice, then…” With that as his only warning, her hands came up to hold either side of his face and she pulled down him in a flash of movement, pressing her lips against his.

His first thought through his complete shock was that she had incredibly nice lips, soft and warm and pliant beneath his, but then his utter disbelief won out and he was staring down at her, his eyes huge. Hers were clenched tightly shut, as though she was willing for something to happen with all her heart. He tried to pull back, no matter how nice her lips were, but she held fast, pushing her mouth more insistently against his.

Fitz let out a little gasp of shock at the strange woman’s incredibly blunt and frankly uncomfortable advance on him, but then her lips parted as well, and they shared a breath and Fitz was hit with a thousand memories, and it felt almost like he was falling into the ocean in that stupid pod all over again – and this time, she was there.

Every single memory he’d had since the day he arrived at SHIELD Academy shifted and changed to include the woman pressing so desperately against him, and Fitz remembered that she was an absolute bloody genius and she would never admit it but she was afraid of what she didn’t understand and she liked her tea with milk but no sugar and when she smiled just right her nose wrinkled and that she had the most beautiful laugh and she held him when he had his occasional breakdowns and she understood him better than anyone in the world ever had. His entire world reshaped and shifted to recreate itself around her, for the second time in his life – only it was much less gradual than the first time around and the overwhelming love he felt for her crashed into him, striking him breathless.

“Jemma,” he gasped against her mouth, his hands coming up automatically to clutch at her hips, tugging her closer until there was no space between them and he remembered the words maybe there is and his stumbled invitation to dinner and then, for some reason, she’d disappeared and he hadn’t even bloody noticed and somehow his life had kept going and somehow he’d actually managed to forget her and somehow the world hadn’t stopped turning. Fitz’s heart ached as he wondered what the hell had happened and where she’d been and he immediately felt the urge to apologize for forgetting the most important person in the world.

“Fitz,” she responded, her hands shifting to the back of his head, her fingers clenching in his hair and pulling him closer and he was so overjoyed to have her back even if he hadn’t known she was gone that he barely realized the dream he’d had for so long was coming true and Jemma Simmons was kissing him – until she slanted her lips over his to deepen the kiss, her tongue sliding along his without an ounce of shyness, her curves melding to his body as though she never wanted them to part. He’d be inclined to agree.

He let out a groan at the feel of her, at how familiar and right it felt to have her this close and her mouth pressed against his, and he was more in love with her than he ever had been – not because of the kiss (though that certainly didn’t hurt) but because every single bit of the love he’d forgotten he had for her had just erupted inside of him all at the same time. It was almost as though she couldn’t possibly be real, and he was holding the stars or the sun and it was burning him up inside that he was experiencing such a privilege.

Eventually, they had to part to breathe properly, and even though Fitz was panting for breath, he used however much he had to whisper over and over again, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” as he pressed kisses all over her face, to every available inch of skin he could reach, trying to show her just how much it was tearing him apart.

“Shhh,” Jemma shushed him soothingly, her hands sliding back around to cup his cheeks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “It’s okay, Fitz. It’s not your fault. It was the monolith.”

“I can’t believe I could ever forget you,” he mumbled against her forehead, barely registering that she’d even spoken, too caught up in his apologies. “Jemma, you have to know, you’re the most important thing in my life. I don’t know how… I’m so sorry.”

“Fitz.” Her voice was firm, and Fitz automatically responded to it, his mind connecting the tone with ‘shut up and listen, Fitz’ as his eyes sought hers out. “This was not your fault. You had no choice in the matter. When the monolith pulled me inside of it, it very thoroughly erased me from existence, and that includes from your thoughts. I…I wasn’t fully prepared for it – I knew it was what had happened, but when you said you didn’t remember me, it just…hurt a lot more than I was expecting it to. After spending so long thinking about you and how to get back to you and everything I suddenly realized that I needed to tell you, only for you to not remember who I even was…” Her bottom lip trembled, and she shook her head rapidly. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. Honestly, I’m not even sure how kissing you worked, but I was out of ideas and I figured that even if you never remembered me, I at least wanted to know what it would feel like and –”

“Jemma,” he cut in, finally bringing an end to the rambling he knew she only succumbed to when she was upset or nervous. “Let’s just…start at the beginning. The monolith did what?”

Jemma released a long sigh, giving another shake of her head. “I’ll get to all that later. I promise. But the monolith is the very last thing I want to think about right now.” She stared up at him, her wide, shining eyes pleading with him and Fitz would be damned before he ever refused Jemma Simmons a thing in this world.

“Alright,” he agreed, like he always did. “We’ll…talk about something else. Like…” Now that he could think back over their earlier conversation with the clarity of mind to remember everything, his thoughts stuck on the confession she’d made to try and bring his memories of her back. But, at the last moment, he chickened out of asking her about it and simply said, “Did you know Skye’s leading a team of Inhumans?” It was honestly the stupidest thing he could’ve said just then, and he was mentally slapping himself because he was learning to be braver, but apparently still not where it counted.

Jemma’s lips quirked up in a small smile, and then she proved just how well she knew him. “I meant it, Fitz. I wasn’t just saying it to try and force your memories back. It took a lot of overanalyzing and agonizing over how I felt to finally figure it out but –”

Before she could get the words out, Fitz blurted them out first because he’d always pictured being the first to say them, and it didn’t count when he didn’t even remember how he felt in the first place. “I love you, Jemma.”

She gave that adorable little laugh he loved, her nose wrinkling with it, and her face lit up, her hands gently caressing his cheeks, her palms catching on the stubble along his jaw. “Oh Fitz. I love you too.”

And he knew this was far from over because they still had so much to talk about and work out, and there was the issue of her likely still being erased from existence everywhere else but his mind, and whatever the hell had happened with the monolith but just then, everything in the world was exactly as it should be.

#shayna's one shot collection #shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #fanfiction #back when i wrote this i nearly posted it a hundred times #something always stopped me though #guess now's better than never #ps everything i write is so LONG #i'm sorry

14 notes · View notes

acehotel · 8 years ago

Text

INTERVIEW: LYNN BREEDLOVE

Note: The following interview contains sensitive material that could be triggering for some readers.

Lynn Breedlove speaks calmly, honestly and resolutely. Nothing obscured, nothing censored. Through decades of work as a musician — Lynn was the founder and frontperson of the first American out dyke punk band Tribe8 — a writer, comedian, activist, CEO and radio personality, he has become a vanguard and visionary, working fiercely and fearlessly on behalf of trans, queer, POC and working class communities. Lynn Breedlove is revolutionary in his thinking, even if just for the radical potential he sees in unexpected things — the simple act of conversation, the nuances of a joke, a rubber dick, a ride home. In an era of immense uncertainty, Lynn is a light through.

Lynn was a keynote speaker at last week’s New York Live Arts' Mx'd Messages Festival, a series curated by Justin Vivian Bond that examinines the idea of a world without binaries — across gender, politics, theology, sensory perception and race. We were lucky enough to catch up with Lynn to chat about the beauty of vulnerability, the 90s queer punk scene and what daily resistance looks like.

You’re so prolific. You’ve written novels, you’ve toured in bands, you’ve had your own comedy show and radio program and you’re the CEO of a ride-sharing company. Do all of these satisfy different artistic parts of yourself? Or do you feel closer to one, and feel the need to constantly experiment with others?

LB: I have two talents, writing and performing, which I have spent some decades honing in to some semblance of skill. There are a million different options to express myself using those two talents. Stand-up comedy, music, books, radio. The easiest thing for me to do is get up and write, but then there’s the way of organizing the writing. That’s where I have to involve other people to help me, and it becomes a collaboration.

What is the collaborative element to performance?

LB: There’s an energy loop that happens between me, whoever I’m on stage with and the audience. All these different loops inform what happens next. It’s ongoing.

I was struck by your email signature, “Courage is fear with breath.” Writing can be a very private and personal endeavor, whereas performance opens things up in a very public way. How have you found the courage to translate the private to the public?

LB: I feel like self-disclosure is just a totally innate, natural impulse for me. I'm just like, "Blah, blah, I'm sad, my cat died." It's over-sharing. I've had to consider whether or not I wanted to put any boundaries on that. Sometimes I just blurt it all out, run around with my dick out, do all kinds of shit and later, years later, I'm like, "Oh my God. What were you thinking, dude? Really?"

Apparently people were entertained and it made whatever impression it was supposed to make. I don't even know if it made the impression that I wanted it to make. I let my gut tell me where to go and then if I have to make amends later with my brain, then I do.

With One Freak Show, my door was always open. I always loved to get off stage and talk to the audience members.

I was dealing with some pretty edgy stuff — a lot of discussions about what it meant to be trans. The whole LGBTIQ community — which is not a community, but a group of communities and individuals who have a whole bunch of different opinions about what to do and say — was having some issues communicating and accepting each other, so I was really interested in talking to people after the show and getting feedback.

And people would be like, "Well, you know, this part was weird, this other part was weird, too. And I would say, "Well, what do you think would be better?" Or "Do you think this part was too over the top?" And I'd be like, "Dude, can I tell people that I got your permission to say that so that they don't think that I'm making fun of stuff?"So, it was just really great to have that [dialogue]. There was one really memorable conversation with this guy. It was a daytime Tribe8 show where I had chopped off the rubber dick and threw it in the crowd and it bounced off of somebody's head and everybody felt better. Well, this guy didn't feel better. So, he went to talk to me after and said, "My God, this really hurt". And I was like,"Was that upsetting for you?" He was like "Yeah, yeah. It's abusive and I'm triggered." And I said, "Okay, well check this out. Imagine, you walk down the street everyday and you're in constant fear and constantly having to worry, just a nagging basic undercurrent that you're going to get raped. Everyday because everybody everyday is afraid. And every second that you're not looking out, you get attacked and jumped. And everybody you know has been raped. How do you feel about them? If that was the case, do you feel like you might want to sing a song that is symbolic of your suffering? Hm?" And he was like "Hm, maybe". And I was like, "Yeah, well that's how we feel. We walk around, feeling that way and we've gotta have a cathartic ritual. And we've gotta work out the anger somehow." And he’s all, "Oh okay."

So, I could have a friendly conversation with a guy afterwards and turn it around. And hopefully, he could go out into the world for the rest of his life and talk to all the guys that he was gonna talk to about this and spread different news.

Do you think that humor can be a medium to discuss change?

LB: Absolutely. It's the only way for me. Your heart opens when you laugh. Comics can tell funny story after funny story after funny story and then they come in at the end with the zinger and make you cry. Love that shit.

You lower your guard when you're laughing. You've got everybody laughing at themselves and each other and everybody's forgiving. And then you're okay. And that's how we learn.

But if you're constantly wagging your finger at people and saying, "You should do it this way because you're wrong," nobody will listen to that. They shut down. Nothing gets in.

So, yeah, humor is crucial, but comedy rots. Richard Pryor, for years, would say the N word and later, he was like “I'm actually not gonna say the N word anymore”. With One Freak Show, I use the T word a lot and I’ve been discussing whether or not it's okay to use the T word if you identify as trans, even if you use that word to describe yourself and you have for years, and suddenly along come some other people who are like, "Well, I don't like that word." What does all that mean? What does language mean? What does coping mean? So with humor, it's now. And then next week it's gonna be something different. And you have to constantly stay on top of where your culture is, where your society is, where current events are and what is okay to say and what is not okay to say, how to describe your experience and how to not describe it.

Lenny Bruce talked about racism. I thought it was very effective in 1965, but now, the words that he used and the concepts, the points he was trying to make, even if they were trying to take away power from people who had it, couldn’t be made now the way he made them then.

Does it retroactively make it less effective?

LB: If you look at Mark Twain’s Huck Finn, he used the N word quite a bit. But his intention behind using the N word was to say, "This is what southern society and southern culture is now. It's racist." It's built into their language. Language is culture and LOOK AT IT. And the only person that's transcending this culture is a child that's pushed out on the periphery by poverty. That kid is free to choose a different way. Even he is constantly questioning, "Is this right?"

And then they have people saying, "Let’s ban this book." I think we need to use a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer to figure out how we want to discuss ideas.

What do you think daily resistance looks like?

LB: Well, the first thing I have to do everyday is not go to my phone and look at the latest nonsense that DT, Dick Tater, is doing. (That's the drag name I made up for him.) That's not gonna drive me.

What drives me: I wake up and I do spiritual practice, first thing. Prayer, meditation, yoga, shooting hoops with the pals — whatever it is that helps ground me in my reality. And then, I feel solid enough to go connect with my people. And then, after I write my morning pages, and I know what I feel and what I think, and after I’ve written my dreams down and I see that I'm having stress dreams about the apocalypse, I can asses where I am. Then, I can go and look at the news if I want.

Maybe I'm just gonna get to work. I'm gonna hire people that I like, that I feel need work and that I want to work with. People that are POC, trans, queer — these are the kind of people I want to work with, that I want to make art with.

I want to create a world that includes people that I like and that I respect and that I relate to. And people that are all on the same road of resisting together by the things that we do everyday. Whether we're in a band together or we work together. That's how I want to create my world.

And then, if I have to chain myself to a fence, well that's great. Because I'm gonna be ready for that. Because I will have spent the previous month gearing up and being strong. If you keep revving at 100 rpm all day long and go to every protest and sing your guts out, you're going to burn out.

How do you think punk has changed from the time of its inception? How do you think it functions now in terms of art, music and politics?

Well punk seems to be a whole bunch of different iterations now. It started in the late 60s with Iggy Pop and Lou Reed and all those guys, and then later with Patti Smith and Bad Brains and everyone else.

And then you have the “four white guys” for ten years in the 80s. And Black Flag was one of those four white guys bands. But, now there's a lot of trans, queer, non-binary, non-gender conforming, and lots of different cultures coming through with the punk ethic, carried through all different styles of music. It's not as restricted by verse-chorus-verse-chorus 3 chords, monosyllabic grunting. There's drag and guerilla drag that I feel lbelongs in the punk category because of its ethos. Because it's accurate in what it represents, because it’s fucking it up, because it’s folk music, basically.

Like Woody Guthrie, but it doesn't have to be a guy with an acoustic guitar. Anybody that's bucking the system with music falls into the punk category.

Yeah, it's protest music. Tribe8 was insanely influential in that scene. You were deemed leaders of the queer punk revolution. Can you tell me a little bit about the impetus for Tribe8 and how it all came together?

Me and Silas had just gotten sober and we had a lot of energy and we had to put it somewhere. And I was just around, spouting and spewing all kinds of rhymes about being a dyke and all my hilarious mental illnesses like, "I just want to manipulate my girlfriend. I just want to play games with her head. I want her to do some mental push ups. I want her to apologize and beg.”

I thought it was hilarious and so did my friends and they were like, "Why didn't you put that to music and get a bunch of people together and make a band and play at my birthday party?" And we did. So then boom: we were all of a sudden a band and people were throwing panties at us.

But to be fair we did pass out the panties.

You passed out the panties?

LB: We passed out the panties to our friends to make them throw panties at us.

Still, that must have been a really good feeling even if you knew it was going to happen.

LB: It was hilarious. Everything we did was spoofing boy glam rock and stupid stadium rock shit that dudes had been doing for 20 years. That influenced us greatly. And we loved that. Silas grew up in Vermont, listening to Bon Jovi. "Livin' on a Prayer" and Motley Crüe.

We loved it — but it wasn't about us. And it wasn't for us and it wasn't by us. We had to reclaim it and then put a new spin on it. It was [a reflection] of what I was learning as an alcoholic in church basements. Which was that you've gotta look at your shit and then you've got to laugh at your shit. And you've got to tell people, "This is my shit, it's so ridiculous. But here it is."

That's where I was, and I feel like we all got to do that for a minute. We were like, "Oh my God, I fucking love Bon Jovi. That is so dumb but I do. So how are we going to work this in so we love it?"

They have so much fun. People with power and privilege have a bunch of fun. And for the people who don't have power and privilege that’s just sit on the sidelines and go, "Wah, they get to have all the fun..." That’s not necessary.

You see people singing gospel at church and you feel like you can't be a part of it because of your big queer mouth. But fuck you. I just did it. I'm Aretha Franklin and I just sang a gospel song about fucking, how about that?

What was the queer punk scene like in San Francisco in the 90s? Do you have a favorite memory?

LB: What happened is that all of a sudden it looked like the dyke scene was going down because all the dyke bars closed at the same time. I don't know what happened, all the dykes got sober at the same time and they couldn't fucking keep the bars open because they would come in there, order a Calistoga, pick out another babe and come back five years later and do the same thing. They couldn't stay open.

Calistoga, classic.

LB: We had to do something, so everybody started to go to straight bars and asked them if we could have a queer monthly or weekly night. And so we'd start having these queer punk dance parties, like Rebel Girl, Junk, etc. Then all these bands started cropping up all over the place, like DeathCard 13 and Her Majesty the Baby and so much other stuff. All these dykes and fags started to make bands happen and that was amazing because before that queers had to go to the disco if they wanted to hang out with other queers, and they had to order a fucking martini or a beer and they had to listen to Sylvester. Which was great, don’t get me wrong. I love Sylvester to death, and I loved Doing the Hustle in the 70s. But when I went home with my friends, we would listen to Queen and we would listen to Rock and Roll.

But you couldn't hear Queen at The End Up. You had to listen to Sylvester, which was great. Again, Sylvester was amazing. I love Sylvester. Sylvester created an amazing moment in the 70s where we were like, "Oh, my God. This guy is our guy and he is on the fucking radio." (At the time, we called Sylvester “he”).

But what the 90s queer-mo punk scene in San Francisco was about was the culture. It was kind of the epicenter of the queer punk scene and when we went to Europe and stuff we would bring that culture with us. New York had its own whole other thing, which was pretty rad. I would say the dyke punk scene was happening primarily in San Francisco. Then we would carry it like a little flame around the world and say, "Look at what we're doing! We've got the Butch/Femme thing and the Punk thing and we have mohawks and a face full of metal and ink and rubber dicks," and they'd be like, "Whoa."

How did other places respond?

LB: Well, most people were like, "Yeah, that's cool. For you. But we're not going to do that." New York did not actually get the Butch/Femme thing until maybe like the late 90s. I think a bunch of femmes moved there from San Francisco and they had to have a Butch makeover party at Meow Mix because they were like, “There are no Butches in New York. All the Butches are wearing lipstick and barrettes. We can't do this. No. So, they threw Butch makeover parties and, of course, all the dykes in New York wanted to go have babes fawn over them and put them in wife-pleasers and cut their hair and put them in boxers and fucking ties or whatever, but when they were done they're like, "Okay, now can we go on a date?" They're like, "Yep. All right." So, that happened.

But also, when we went to East Germany in the early 90s, well, what HAD been East Germany — the wall had just gone down a couple years earlier, but nothing had changed culturally — people were hella mad at us. They did not get the humor at all. They did not have humor in the DDR. That was wrung out of them and beaten out of them and if you wanted a sense of humor I guess you want to jail in the Yellow Misery, I think that was the name of the women's prison. The dudes were like, "Fuck you. How dare you. Really? You cocky bastards. How dare you walk around acting like you're something. You think you're something? You're not something."

They didn't get all the twists and turns of irony that we were pulling on them. They didn’t have the pool of reference, they didn’t get any of it. Everyone was wearing stonewash and the girls had big hair. They all looked like they were straight out of the 70s. It was scary. They were like, "You are a bunch of privileged Americans walking in like you think you're something, with your dick out."

They hated us, but in San Francisco when dudes would come to our show, they totally got it. They loved it. They fucking deferred. They got into the back, they got out of the mosh pit, they let the dykes take over. Bike messengers and strippers were always dating and stuff and they'd have a gnarly badass sex-positive feminist thing going on. So if you were a dude trying to date some badass chick in combat boots and cleavage in the 90s, you better fucking figure out what the hell she's trying to put down if you wanted to get laid. If you don't do what they say, you ain’t getting none of this. The dudes were pretty rad and feminist and standing up for their babes. And they still are.

We just did the Women's March a couple of months ago in San Francisco. First of all, there was what seemed like a half a million babes walking down the streets for hours, hours, hours down Market sStreet. Some of them had their boyfriends, their men with them, that had the coolest signs that were like “Her body, Her rights.” “Quit telling my woman what to do” kind of attitude. Just perfectly-worded signs that you're like, "Oh, my God. These guys get it."

Usually guys will just be like, "Oh, that's your thing. I'll just get out of the way." In the 60s, when feminists first started doing that, dudes were like, "Yeah, the pill will be good because I'll get laid more." So, I mean, yeah. We're getting somewhere.

I hope so.

LB: But the more things they change, the more they stay the same. Shockingly, there's also been this undercurrent rising — which for some folks has not been such an undercurrent. It's been really obvious and in your face. If you're a person of color or if your trans or a daily target of bigotry, you're going, "Yeah, no, this isn't really a shock."

I kind of thought that we were doing better. I thought people actually were changing. I actually did things that the assholes were in a way smaller minority and I was like, "Yeah, it's too bad you don't like having a black president. Isn't that hard? Shut it." I didn't feel like there would be such a major backlash of a retaliation, "You made us be led by a black man for eight years. Now we're going to fucking fuck you up." Really? Whoa.

Hopefully it’s the last, desperate gasps of that ideology, grasping at it as if for air. At least now it’s becoming visible for everyone that there’s so much darkness among us. We’ve always known it existed, but it’s actually showing itself in large, monolithic, terrifying ways.

LB: That’s really important. Awareness begets action. If any of us have been in denial about what level of bullshit exists, what element of bullshit exists in this country, we now know. Now we can deal with it. It's not going to be dealt with totally painlessly. I'm going to Europe and I feel like I have to sew a fucking maple leaf on my backpack.

What has been keeping you inspired?

LB: I'd say there's a lot of stuff being put out by trans women of color and people of color in general which is very inspiring. There was a video I saw the other day about parents of color teaching their children what to do when they see the police. It was heart breaking. It was fucking heart breaking. That that's what a person has to do to keep their child safe. Telling them, when you see a police officer, that is not your friend but you have to show them respect anyway and you have to put your hands up and say, "I have nothing to harm you," and this child is five years old. You know what I mean? But okay. That is what MLK would say, when you're going to sit at the lunch counter, you're going to have to maintain dignity and not fight back and you'll have to put your hands up. Gandhi said it, too. All the non-violent resistance actually worked and yeah, people understand and they're organizing and teaching them how to do that in the world. I think it is amazing.

What else. Coming together and organizing and saying to each other, "Okay, now who can get arrested? Let's not let the trans people get arrested. Let's not let the people of color get arrested. If they get arrested, they’re going to have shit to deal with, but if you're a white person who's never been arrested before and you're cisgender and you're not too queer looking, great, let's get you arrested. You'll be fine.“

I love the way we're all coming together and willing to resist. We feel because we have lived in a country with certain ostensible ideals, we do feel like we have some power to speak up and the difference between us and Franco’s Spain or Mussolini's Italy or Hitler's Germany is that we have that.

We're all “hell no.” I love how people are rising up. The city of San Francisco is planning a Trans Cultural District at the old Compton’s Cafeteria, named after one of the first riots against the police where trans people rose up and were like, "No, we're not going to tell you what kind of underwear we're wearing." This was before Stonewall. They’re getting a whole block of real estate, and it’ll have transitional housing for trans women coming out of prison. There will viable employment situations. I mean, I love that we just keep delving more into that kind of thing.

The more bullshit you want to raise about what bathroom I need to go in or whether or not I can get an M or an F on my passport and whether or not you're going to let me cross a border or let my friends cross a border, the more I'm just going to make my shit fucking be cool right here, in my house, in my neighborhood. I'm going to really work on my local politics, my local culture.

I love the way cities are saying, "Oh, we are going to be a sanctuary city. No, we're actually not going to do what you say.” The New York Police Department standing up and being like, "No, we’re actually not going to harass immigrants. Fuck you." That's what needs to happen.

The police, the military, the people who have the guns and the sticks and the badges, they need to not fall into the trap. My mom was raised in Nazi Germany so I grew up asking, "Hey, mom, why did the [Holocaust happen]?" She was like, "Well, we were scared." People were always saying, "Well, I was just following orders." It's like no, that can't be your excuse. If your order is wrong, you can't follow it. You do have to take that to your grave, knowing that you're responsible for following an immoral order. So I was really impressed by the New York Police Department.

What advice do you have for queer and trans youth?

LB: One of the first things that happens when a dictatorship comes into power is that people start to anticipate a new law and start voluntarily following that law before it’s even a law. They start doing things that they think the government is going to want them to do as a defensive move. Censoring themselves, hiding who they are...It’s important that we become even more visibly queer. Even more visibly trans.

But again, everybody has their own way to resist and for a lot of people, visibility isn't the thing. That feels unsafe.

Everybody needs to follow their own gut about how to do that, but I feel like maintaining integrity and staying really connected with your community and not isolating oneself is crucial. Because I think it seems really alluring to go lock yourself in your house and sit in front of the little glowing screen and just drink and smoke a lot of weed and take a lot of pills and just pretend it's not there. No. I mean, it's easy for me to say because I’m clean and sober 27 years so I can't expect everybody else that's already been drinking and smoking weed and popping pills all day to suddenly decide, "Now's a good time to stop."

But I do think what's needed right now is clarity. I feel like the higher you are, the easier you're going to be to manipulate and taken down and thrown in jail and have other things done to you. You have to get your brain cells together and connect with other people with their brain cells and we need to be strong physically, mentally and spiritually and fuck shit up. They want us to be scared and to be high and be ineffectual.

Right.

LB: There was a trans person performing the other night who was totally amazing and she was like, "I'm so freaked out, so I am really high right now. I have to be really high all the time because that's how I'm dealing with this.” There were several trans women murdered in New Orleans recently, and that was really, really scary for trans women of color. That is a terror. I definitely would not judge somebody who feels that drugs or alcohol is their only out, but there are a lot of people in the world that will help you out of that. If you feel like that's your only option and you don't want that to be your option, there's a lot of people that will guide you to other options.

Tell us about Homobiles.

LB: Well, there's Homobiles [the rideshare service] and then there's The Homobiles, the band.

Homobiles the ride service was started before Uber. Uber existed as like a limo service, a black car service, and it was kind of high priced and Lyft did not exist. We started zipping around doing this text thing, loosely inspired by my all girl bike messenger and truck messenger delivery company called Lickety Split. Homobiles were really time-oriented and all about queer people and those who are, because of their gender or sexuality, a little more vulnerable at night in the city.

We were handling people coming out of gay bars that cabs were whizzing by and ignoring and then Uber was like, "Wait a minute. This looks like something good. Let’s do what they're doing business model wise, only it’s for profit," and then Lyft came in and they were like, "Yes, we're going to do this." They became billion dollar global industries in that space, but we became a non-profit. Basically, the way it works is if you have money, good. Donate it. It goes into this kind of transportation fund and if you don't have money, then great. You'll still get a ride. There's no price on safety.

We really like to help people get home from their sexual alignment surgery. Maybe they don't want to get in a car with some random person that's not going to treat them with the dignity that they deserve. They want to get into the car with people who have some sensitivity training. The public utilities commission actually pointed out Homobiles when trying to regulate other rideshare services. They said, “See Homobiles is doing it right. You guys should do it like them. Don't discriminate against people because of their race, their gender, any of that. Treat them with respect. Don't gouge them.” I feel like even though Homobiles isn’t the only option, any time you get into a [rideshare] vehicle these days, 99% of the time you're going to be treated fairly and with respect because of the standards that Homobiles put into place. I’m pretty happy about that. It would be nice if we made a million dollars, but the primary goal is everybody's getting home safe.

What about Homobiles the band?

LB: There's a band called The Homobiles. We sing songs about cars and babes but also crimes and change. Ed Varga, who was the creator of Homo A Go Go, is the drummer and his wife, Corrie is the violinist and Stephany Joy Ashley's the executive director of St James Infirmary, which is a clinic for sex workers in the Tenderloin. She’s the singer and I'm the singer and Fureigh from the Shondes plays guitar and Mya Byrne is the bass player and we're about to go to New York to play this fabulous of refuting binaries called Mx'd Messages. And yeah, that's that. We’re having a good time.

Thanks for reading. If you’re an artist, too, feel free to use code ARTSCHOOL for a discount on any room at Ace Hotel New York.

#yes #interview #lynn breedlove #tribe8 #LGBTQ #activism #punk #queer punk #San francisco #resist #music #art

34 notes · View notes

anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

Text

Heart of stone chapter 12

There was a stabbing pain that pierced through my right eye. I tried to blink to rid myself of it, only to find myself blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the blinds of my bedroom window. I brought my hands up to my head and squeezed my temples. I moved to sit up and felt my stomach pitch. I felt like I had been run over by a bus. I slowly opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the light.

When my vision finally came into focus, I remembered the amount of wine that I had consumed the night before.

I’m such an idiot – why did I drink so much?

I glanced over at my nightstand clock to check the time and saw a bottle of aspirin and a note propped up by a mug. I groaned out loud as the rest of the memories from the previous night came flooding back.

Please, let it be just a dream.

A nightmare was probably more accurate. But I knew that was it neither as I reached over for the note on the nightstand.

Take two aspirin and drink this.

There is more in your refrigerator if you need it.

Dry toast will help you, too. No coffee – it will make you feel worse and I want you better for later. Looking forward to tonight.

Affectionately,

The Devil on Your Shoulder

“Oh, no!” I said to myself, and threw myself back onto the pillows. The action didn’t exactly help the rolling in my stomach, but nothing could be more terrible than the mortification I felt at that moment. I could only imagine what he thought of me.

Did I have to tell him about that? The angel and the devil? The stupid, childlike subconscious that had been ruling me lately?

I couldn’t think of a time when I’ve ever felt more foolish in my life.

I looked over at the mug on the nightstand and peered inside at its contents. It was an amber colored liquid with a lemon floating in it. I picked up the mug and took a whiff of the concoction. It smelled like herbal tea. I slowly took a hesitant sip and had to force back a gag at the sickly sweet taste.

What the hell is this stuff?

It certainly wasn’t anything that I kept in the house.

However, after a moment, my parched taste buds recognized that it was in fact something from my kitchen. It was brewed chamomile tea with a ridiculous amount of honey. The lemon was probably to help me detox. Having finally realized what I was drinking, I greedily threw back the entire mug, my mouth and body desperately screaming to be hydrated.

Surprisingly, my rolling stomach settled after only a few moments, allowing me the strength to climb out of bed. I grabbed the bottle of aspirin and went to the kitchen to get more of Justin’s miracle elixir.

When I entered the kitchen, I found a loaf of bread waiting for me on the counter.

Dry toast.

Justin must have left the bread out for me. And, as promised, there was more tea waiting for me in the refrigerator. I smiled at his thoughtfulness, but his actions made me feel even more ridiculous.

I thought about how to handle the events of last night, as I put two pieces of bread in the toaster. My brain felt fuzzy and putting my thoughts in order was a struggle.

I owe him an apology for sure, but I definitely don’t want to call him.

There was no way I would be able to have an actual conversation with Justin after my irresponsible drunken behavior. After the way that I had acted last night, I was sure that he’d want to cancel our plans for this evening, however tentative they may have been. I had to come up with a way to give him an out, as he was probably just trying to be nice in his note.

I needed to be realistic.

Why would the sophisticated Justin Stone want anything to do with a boozing twit like me?

I wanted to just send him a text, but that seemed too impersonal for some reason. Then I remembered that he had programmed his email address into my phone.

Maybe an email would be better.

In an email, I could say a bit more, and maybe even make a joke about my embarrassing angel and devil revelation. Then I could give him the opportunity to bow out gracefully.

The bread popped from the toaster, and the smell of it provoked a hungry growl from my stomach. Skipping the butter as Justin had suggested, I placed the dry toast on a plate and went back to my room. Once there, I sat at my desk and fired up the laptop. On the screen was the agreement that I had written up the night before.

Probably no need for that now.

But I saved the document just in case. Once it was saved, I archived the document into a folder and exited out of the screen to open my inbox.

TO: Justin Stone

FROM: Selena Cole

SUBJECT: My Apologies

To The Devil On My Shoulder,

Thank you for taking care of me last night, but I must apologize for being such a lush. I am not in the habit of losing self-control the way that I did and I hope that you do not use last night as a reflection of my true character. But, either way, after my behavior, I would completely understand it if you wanted to cancel our plans for this evening.

Sincerely,

Selena Cole

I thought my words were apologetic and tactful all at the same time. I gave him the chance to withdraw his invitation, without sounding too pathetic.

Perfect.

Pleased with my email, I hit the send button.

However, after I clicked the key to send my apology into the world of cyber communications, a wave of sadness came over me. I felt like I was saying good-bye in a strange way. Justin had cracked open a door that I had managed to keep closed for so long, and it pained me to think that I would have to close it again.

What if he decides to take me up on my offer and cancel our plans for tonight?

For the first time in years, I had left myself vulnerable and I was afraid of the rejection.

Maybe I shouldn’t have given him such an easy out.

After about ten minutes had passed, my computer pinged, signaling the arrival of a new email. It was from Justin. I eagerly opened the incoming message.

TO: Selena Cole

FROM: Justin Stone

SUBJECT: No Apologies Needed

To My Angel,

No worries. It happens to the best of us. As for your behavior, I must admit that I rather enjoyed your loose tongue. You gave me a small insight as to what you are really thinking, something that I find myself struggling with frequently.

I am looking forward to our evening together. Do not consider canceling. I’ll be waiting in anticipation until I can see you again.

Until Later,

Your Anxious Devil

I smiled to myself after I read his response. It looked like I was about to have a very busy day.

****

I knew that I couldn’t go to Justin’s tonight without a lick of knowledge about BDSM. He was insistent that I know what I was getting into. And if I was honest with myself, I knew practically nothing. Research was key to a better understanding. I had felt very naïve last night, more times than I cared to admit. I needed to broaden my horizons, expand on my awareness – if for no other reason than to protect myself. This was an unknown world to me, but one that I wanted to explore. Walking into it blind would be extremely foolish.

I made myself comfortable in sweats and a T-shirt, and then sprawled out on my bed with my laptop. It was time to get an education.

My initial search results of BDSM turned up descriptive online encyclopedia definitions and various shopping pages.

Boring.

I wasn’t looking to shop for vibrators and leather outfits, and I certainly wasn’t interested in clinical definitions.

Hard limits, soft limits, safe words, blah, blah, blah.

I wasn’t even sure what all of it meant.

So what is it that I’m looking for?

I bit my lower lip, trying to decide on what exactly I wanted to find out. I thought perhaps something with pictures would give me more to go off of. I clicked on the images tab.

Holy fuck!

The extreme images that filled the screen were nothing like what had happened in Justin’s penthouse last night. Even his crazy insinuations would never have led me to envision the things that I was viewing. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw on the screen.

The pictures were borderline frightening, and some were out right disgusting. Women brutally tied up and caged, with weird contraptions hooked up to their female parts. It looked painful, and a lot of it looked dangerous.

Is this what Justin wants?

I thought that I had at least a mild understanding of what he wanted, but now I wasn’t so sure. My eyes grew wide and I felt my heart begin to pound inside my chest as I tried to decipher what the pictures were portraying.

A Nine Inch Nails song began to sound in my head and I slammed the laptop closed. I couldn’t imagine how any sane person would get off from being bruised, burned, or poked at with needles. To me, there was nothing sexual about the sadistic images that I had just seen. They were beyond extreme, for obvious reasons. I could not believe that was what Justin wanted.

Wait…what was it that I was reading about hard limits?

I hesitantly opened the lid for the laptop and went back to the link that I had initially considered boring.

At least that page won’t give me nightmares for the rest of my life.

I read the dry and very long explanations about the history and culture of the dominant and the submissive.

There has to be something better that this!

It was impossible to believe that there wasn’t just a basic explanation available. After reading for more than an hour, I still felt like I knew nothing.

I finally found a page of S&M resources and began scrolling through the articles. The more I read, the more I found that kinky play was actually very normal. But more importantly, I learned of the different levels of BDSM.

Most people’s kinks were fairly mild, practicing only my initial ideas of BDSM. A few spanks and some role-playing. Yet, there were other people who were more extreme – like the scary pictures I just saw. I just couldn’t figure out if there was a middle ground in it all.

This shit is way too complicated.

I could research all day and into the night and still not really understand it. There was only one thing I was certain of – Justin had some serious explaining to do.

I pressed the button for the intercom on my desk, ending the call with George Canterwell. Leaning back in my chair, I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. It was shaping up to be a long week, and it had barely even started.

Stone Enterprise had been purchasing properties from Canterwell for a couple of years. Our transactions had been easy at first, as he was pulling up stakes, retiring and traveling the world. He wanted to be done with it all, and scooping up his properties for a cheap price had been simple. But old age, and his new young wife, had made him a greedy bastard. And while I could appreciate his ruthlessness, I wasn’t willing to pay more than market value for what he had to offer. It was time to cut ties with the old man and move on.

The intercom buzzed and I groaned.

Laura better not tell me that it’s Canterwell calling back…

“Yes,” I clipped into the speaker.

“Mr. Stone, Kimberly Melbourne is here to see you,” Laura informed me.

Good.

My appointment was twenty minutes early, but would be a welcomed change of pace after a stressful morning.

“Tell her that I’ll be right out. Also, I’m going to send over some info regarding a property in Westchester. I need you to set a meeting time with the property agent. I’d like to negotiate a selling price.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have the date and time uploaded to your calendar within the hour.”

“Thank you, Laura.” I quickly sent her the link that contained the information about the listing. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the land as of yet, but I liked what I saw. It would be a great investment if I could obtain it for the right price.

Once the computer gave the swooshing sound that signaled the email was sent, I got up from my seat behind the desk, threw on a navy sport coat, and made my way out of the office.

I found Kimberly Melbourne sitting on the sofa in the waiting area, picking invisible pieces of lint off of her pricy business suit. Her hair was pulled tight into a severe twist that matched her perfectionist personality.

“Kimberly,” I greeted when I approached her. The design engineer looked up at the sound of my voice and stood to extend her hand for me to shake.

“Mr. Stone,” she nodded in return. I took hold of her outstretched hand. Her grip was firm. No nonsense. It was why I appreciated her so much. She was confident, efficient. And she worked fast.

“Thank you for taking on this project at such short notice. I know how busy you are, but my new marketing director will begin her employment sooner than I had anticipated. I would like her space completed before she starts.”

“Oh, don’t even think twice about it,” she brushed off with a wave of her manicured hand. “It’s been a while since you’ve sought my expertise. When you called, I was more than happy to accommodate.”

And I’m sure that the sum I offered had you dropping your other clients to be here.

However she managed to juggle her schedule was no real concern to me. What mattered was that she was here, and that Selena’s office would be completed before Monday.

“I appreciate that. Now, if you’ll follow me this way, I have a large space that I want you to take a look at. The thirty-seventh floor vacated about six months ago, and the old tenants left a bit of a mess. Rather than clean it up, I had the floor gutted until I could decide what to do with it. That being said, you’ll have a fairly clean slate to work with.”

Together, we headed to the elevator and began the decent down to the floor that would soon house the marketing division of Stone Enterprise.

When the doors opened, a dusty construction site was revealed. Plastic sheets hung from the ceiling, blocking off certain areas where work was already underway. The loud vibrations of machine sanders could be heard from various points of the floor.

“I didn’t realize you had already begun work, Mr. Stone,” Kimberly said, seeming somewhat surprised by the mess before us.

“Only the walls, Kimberly. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had the floor gutted. I had my construction engineer get started on the basic drywall work, since that takes some time. Rooms still need to be divided, flooring has to be picked out, paint, the works.”

“And that’s where I come in,” she finished with a smile. “You’ve given me a blank canvas, Mr. Stone. I’m looking forward to the design.”

“Before you leave today, I’ll get you in touch with all parties needed for the job. Very little will be brought over from the existing offices. I’ve already instructed Gavin, my computer technician, to purchase the workstations that will be needed. And as for the blank canvas, you’ll also have a blank check. My accountant will see to it that you have everything you need on this project.”

She didn’t even flinch at that, having worked for me in the past.

“Perfect. Any thoughts on what your Marketing Director might like?”

“Her name is Selena Cole. And honestly, I don’t know much about her décor preferences,” I said with a frown. “She loves music. I think its safe to assume that she will use it often in her radio or television advertising strategies. Whatever you decide, her office needs to incorporate a high end sound system at the very least.”

“That will be easy enough. What about the other areas of the floor? Do you think Miss Cole would want the space divided up into separate office spaces? Or perhaps cubicles?”

“No cubicles. I detest them,” I told her.

“I didn’t think so, but I thought I’d ask just in case. Since this floor will be for marketing, separate offices will most likely work out better. They will allow people to think creatively, without any interruptions from the person at the next desk over.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I agreed. Kimberly placed a finger on her chin and looked around contemplatively.

“Any preference on room sizes?”

“Miss Cole’s office should be spacious. You can’t see them from here due to the plastic that’s hanging, but there are large windows at the far end of the floor. Incorporate those in her personal space. She’ll need a sizable conference room of sorts, a place for meetings and design planning. As for the other areas, I think eight to ten offices should be sufficient enough. You’ll have to get with Josh Swanson on the space layout. He’s here somewhere…” I trailed off, scanning the floor for the whereabouts of the construction engineer.

As if on cue, Josh came out from behind a hanging plastic sheet, his dark hair, shoulders, and arms completely covered with drywall dust. He removed a pair of safety glasses from his face, giving him a raccoon-like appearance. He looked surprised to see us standing there.

“Mr. Stone, I didn’t realize you were here. You’ll have to pardon my appearance,” he joked casually, attempting to remove some of the dust that covered him. “What can I do for you sir?”

“Josh, I’d like you to meet Kimberly Melborne. She will be the designer on the project. Kimberly, this is Josh Swanson, my construction engineer.”

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am,” Josh told her with a nod. “I’d shake your hand, but as you can see, I’m full of dust and drywall mud.”

“That’s okay! You can keep the mud to yourself,” Kimberly said with an easy laugh.

“We just started work. So far, we’ve managed to get the drywall up and seamed. We’re just finishing up with the sanding today.”

“You’ve made great time, Josh. I’m happy with the progress,” I appreciated. “From this point forward, you can take direction from Kimberly. I trust her judgment. Whatever she wants, build it.”

“I have a tight time frame to work with. I promise not to come up with anything too extravagant,” Kimberly assured him.

“Do you want to take a look around? I can show you what we’ve done so far?” Josh asked us.

“Absolutely. I want to get a good look at the space that I have to work with, as well as take some measurements,” Kimberly said. She reached into her oversized shoulder bag and pulled out a tape measure and a pad of paper.

“The two of you can go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you momentarily,” I told them.

Once they had stepped away, pulled out my cell to call Selena and ask her about any specifications that she might have for the office. I dialed her number, but paused before hitting the send button.

If I called her, she would know what I was doing. As of right now, she had no idea that I was giving her an entire floor in my building. She didn’t know that she would have her own domain, her own world within mine, and full access to every convenience Cornerstone Tower had to offer. I wanted her to be surprised.

Deciding to keep her out of the loop for a little while longer, I pocketed the phone rather than calling her. I looked over to where Kimberly and Josh were standing. Kimberly was pointing to something on the ceiling.

What would Krsytina want in a workspace?

I thought about Selena’s apartment as I made my over to the engineers. Her home wasn’t flashy, the colors more muted. Her bedroom was much of the same, only slightly more eclectic, with its Maya Angelou quotes and lily printed bed comforter. Her space was soft. Feminine.

“Josh and I were talking, and we thought about opening up the ceiling. Exposing the ducts will give the floor a more industrial and modern –,” Kimberly started when I reached them.

“No, nothing too trendy,” I interrupted.

“Oh, um…okay,” Kimberly said, glancing at Josh.

But neither of them knew Selena like I did, even if my knowledge was limited. She had a conventional way about her. She would want her office to be warm and inviting, not looking like a busted open industrialized warehouse. It would be too cold for her tastes.

“Stick with traditional. Earth tones will be best,” I advised.

“I can work with that. Once we figure out the floor plan, I’ll collect some paint chips, and then Josh and I will go through them together to decide what color is going where.”

“And lily’s,” I added as an afterthought. “Miss Cole likes lily’s.”

They both took on a curious look, but neither of them asked how I knew that piece of information. They knew better than to question me.

“Music, earth tones, and lily’s. I’m sure I can find a way to tie it all together,” Kimberly said confidently.

Josh looked skeptical, but I paid him no mind. Kimberly was the best in her field. She had twenty years of experience, and five of them were spent working for me. I knew she would find a way to incorporate my wishes into a design that would flow seamlessly.

“I don’t care how you do it, as long as it’s done right.”

****

I left Kimberly and Josh to tackle their new project and headed back to my office. Once I was there, I went through the last few remaining items in my calendar. I sent off an email to my accountant with an update on the construction, and I responded to a few others that needed my attention.

I noticed that Laura had scheduled an appointment with the selling agent in Westchester, and I was pleased to see the notes that she had included in the calendar. Laura was the best PA that I’ve had in my employment to date. Not only was she efficient, but she also had a knack for obtaining useful information. Apparently, the seller was anxious to move on the property.

Back taxes.

That would make negotiations all that much easier. I made a mental note to give Laura a raise.

A call to Justine was the last order of business. I almost dreaded it, only because I knew she was probably waiting for an update on the Charlie situation. However, as much as I wished that she’d let it go and let me handle things, a call to her was a necessity today. We needed to discuss the charity dinner that would take place in a few weeks.

Justine was the driving force behind the fundraising efforts for The Stoneworks Foundation, and I wanted to check on the progress of the largest annual fundraiser that the foundation hosted. The success of this dinner would ensure that Stone’s Hope Woman’s Shelter would open on time.

I dialed her cell number and waited for her to answer.

“Hey, Justine. It’s me,” I said once she picked up.

“I’m so glad you called. I don’t know what you did, Justin, but Charlie hasn’t called or text in the past twenty-four hours,” she launched in immediately, just as I knew she would.

“I told you that I’d take care of it, and I did.”

“Can I ask? What did you do?”

“We got him to sign off on a gag order, or else face an extortion charge. It was a piece of cake. Don’t worry about it. The contract is air tight and the secret is safe.”

“I know that you’re only doing this for me. I’m so sorry,” she said regretfully. “I didn’t want to have to involve you. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

“Yeah, well…if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to worry about the media. Besides, I don’t want a media fiasco any more than you do. Have you talked with Suzanne?”

“Yes. She knows the gist of what’s going on. I had hoped we could meet for lunch today, but she was tied up at work. We planned a spa day for later in the week. I’ll fill her in more then.”

“Glad to hear. How is the planning going for the Stone’s Hope fundraiser?”

“Oh, that’s another thing I’ve been worried about! Charlie knows about the amount of work that goes into this event. It would be just like him to ruin it,” she said, voice full of scorn. “He gets off on causing a scene. I could just see him running his mouth the day of.”

“So, what’s the status on the dinner?” I asked her again, reeling her back in from her rant.

“Oh, sorry. Yes. Actually, things are going smoothly. The tickets are almost all sold. We have some big donors stepping up with large ticket items for the silent auction. Florist is all set and the menu has been decided. I only need to meet with the band and discuss their fee.”

“If you think they’re good, pay them whatever they want. That will be my donation from Stone Enterprise.”

“We’ll see. I have yet to actually hear them play myself. If I don’t like how they sound, I’m going with the band that was used at last year’s Chamber of Commerce Ball. I already have them lined up anyway, but I thought I’d check out someone different than the usual. Once I decide who I’m going with, we can discuss who is paying.”

I was happy to hear that she had everything under control. I was right to appoint her as Head of Relations and Fundraising for the Stoneworks Foundation. Justine was better when she had a focus, a cause that she could throw herself into. Stone’s Hope was a perfect fit for her.

“It sounds like you have a good handle on things. I gotta run now, Justine. But let me know about the band either way.”

“Will do. And Justin…thanks again for Charlie.”

“I got your back. Always,” I said earnestly. Justine was like a fragile bird with a broken wing. It was my duty to be strong for her, to get her through whatever shit was thrown at her. I had to break the endless cycle that was her life – that was our lives. “I’ll talk to you later, Justine.”

I ended the call and eyed the clock. It was a good day – a productive one, but the time had gotten away from me and I still had a few stops to make before seeing Selena tonight.

Satisfied that I was leaving everything in good order until tomorrow, I dialed Hale.

“Calling it quits for the day, boss?” he asked upon answering.

“You got it. Bring the car around. Selena is coming by tonight and I have a few errands to make before I send you to get her.”

The silence on the other end of the line at the mention of Selena ticked me off. I hung up, rather than waiting to hear what Hale might have said.

I could admit that a woman at my place two nights in a row was a rarity for me. But Hale didn’t know how bored I had become as of late. I was tired of the predictable woman. They were mundane. Simple to figure out and easily influenced. Selena was everything but those things.

I locked the desk drawers and then turned to power off the computer. Before I hit the shut down key, I reread the emails between Selena and myself from earlier in the day.

My Angel.

Selena had understandably been embarrassed, but there was no need for her to try to push me away.

Again.

I wouldn’t allow it to happen anymore. It was time to break through her defense mechanisms and tame the firecracker that she was. However, the path ahead was going to get rough, for I knew that Selena wouldn’t go down without a fight.

0 notes