#Ignore fords ass slightly in frame

[clayclayton332]

FIDDLEKITTYS!!! I made him a lykoi cat :3!!! Im not sure what his warrior name would be hmmm...

[strugglingwriterwattpad]

cherry bomb pt 1 glen Mcreynolds x reader

everybody wants some 2016 - Glen McReynolds x reader.

In 1980s Texas, college athlete Jake Bradford moves into the communal house of his baseball team. The roommates soon begin to navigate the ups and downs of growing up unsupervised. The houses are in need of renovation bringing in the new landlord that quickly takes Glen McReynolds, captain, of the team, interest.

Word count – 20,996 in total

The baseball team was known throughout campus, with tons of sex and lots of broken hearts. Glen McReynolds being one of the biggest heartthrobs in his senior year. if he took a girl home it was for one thing. Sex. That evening though was different, it was a surprisingly quiet one with games of ping pong, basketball and a lot of beer. The freshers were already introduced, settled in and partly drunk due to the booze at the jolly fox. It was fun until the phone rang. The team captain answered the phone realising it was their coach. The coach spoke in a rush explaining to the senior he would be coming to the house to cover the year. "See you in a bit coach." As McReynolds hung up the phone to his coach, he raced downstairs shouting for his team in a panicked haze placing the device on the bench outside his bedroom. "Coach is coming in 10 minutes, get rid of the beer!" he bellowed. Everyone vaulted from their stations racing around the house to collect the broken bottles and cans. Kenny and Glen prioritized the fresh supply hiding it at the back of the garden between the mess they had already made and the wild weeds.

As they finished up their extreme clean, Finn watched the coach pull in along with another truck. a teal blue Ford pickup shaking from the volume of a song cherry bomb. As he kept watching, a girl jumped out the driver’s side, her ass facing towards the window blocking a view of her face. "Look, alive gentleman." As she turned around, the rest of the group landed on the sofa observing her with amazement. "This one's got a nice ass," Kenny muttered. Glen stayed silent watching her thighs as she walked alongside their coach. The woman wasn't as tall as the guys but stood with more confidence than most of the girls they hung around with. her skin was tanned from the Texan sun, with (H/C) fluffy locks styled to frame her cheeks. He watched her shake hands with the coach with a strong grip her (E/C) eyes sparkled in the summer sun. She was wearing cobalt denim shorts that cut off just above the start of her ass and a navy-blue crop top. Her lean neck was decorated with a thin silver chain just brushing her collarbone. She seemed a lot different to the girls they usually brought home. She walked with confidence, and independence but still portrayed a hint of shyness. "Holy shit."

The coach and the female stepped into the run-down house; the older man immediately ordered the group to sit on the sofas in the living room. Each guy that followed in eyed the young woman in shock she quickly stepped back, slightly feeling uncomfortable. "If you haven't met yet, I'd like to introduce you to the new guys on the team." The coach started. "Freshman Ty Plummer, catcher. Stand up, Ty. Come on, son. Alex Brumley, outfield. Sit down. All right. Jake Bradford and Billy Autrey, both freshman pitchers." Each boy stood up with a small wave before sitting back down on either their seat or on the floor. Glen ignored the freshers, keeping his gaze on the girl as she fiddled with her chain awkwardly. "Also, I'm taking a leap this year on two transfers, trying to shore up our pitching staff. From California, senior Charlie Willoughby. Stand up, Willoughby. And from Detroit, Jay Niles." As Jay stood up swinging a strange item in his hand, he winked towards the lady making her roll her eyes with a disgusted look. She could already tell he was gonna be the pain of the group. He was smug, with an ego probably bigger than himself. "All right. For you vets, I expect you to show the new guys around. Hopefully, be a positive influence on them. I'd appreciate that, all right? Okay, for the eight of you living in this house and the eight of you living next door, there's gonna be some guidelines for living here."

Finally, the coach turned his attention to the girl as she moved forward. "This is (Y/N) (S/N), your new landlord." The boys all leaned over in surprise. She was their age possibly a senior. How could she be their landlord? "She been generous enough to donate these houses to help with the overcrowding situation in athletic dorms, and we've agreed to be responsible for them." She owned the two houses. How was that possible, Glen thought. "So, two rules. Number one. No alcohol in these houses, okay? It's against school policy. Need I say more? Now, we can't stop you from having a drink down at that Jolly Fox and Sound Machine, or whatever. You're all over eighteen, all right? Just no booze in this house. Okay. Number two, and it's a biggie, gentlemen..." (Y/N) smiled lightly and snickered making Glen watch her before turning his attention. the coach spoke something he didn't want to hear.

"No girls upstairs in those bedrooms." Each boy let out a giant growl. "Yup. I'm sorry. She's gonna have to take it back to her place or, if you want, you can spend as much time as you like together down here. There's plenty of room in both these houses for socializing. So, if you just gotta bring some little gal back to the house, you keep her buns downstairs. You got it? Don't want the program taken down by a piece of poontang." The coach turned towards (Y/N) again stepping back as she started to speak. "Okay guys, I'm gonna be around for a few months. The plan is to get the houses in order and up to code. For now, I'm gonna focus on the kitchen ceiling so whoever's rooming above it for the time being I need your stuff out of that room." Kenny and Glen both raised their hands. "We'll get that sorted before we head out tonight," Kenny promised she nodded her head in thanks. "To add to that. (Y/N) has my personal number, if you boys do anything to upset make her uncomfortable and I find out about it, there will be consequences. I'm not gonna lose these houses because you boys couldn't be respectful." Each boy nodded their head, Niles rolled his eyes but still nodded.

"Okay, that's it. Voluntary practice is on Sunday. That's players-only now. Rulebook says I can't be on the field, so I'll see you fellas on Monday. Be responsible out there this weekend, okay? Think before you do something stupid, please." Glen pushed himself off the sofa alerting (Y/N) to his presence. She couldn't deny he was handsome. They were the same age, so she knew of him and his reputation. "All right. Mac, you got something?" His dark hair was styled thick and neck length with a matching moustache sitting on his top lip. His eyes were sharp fern green and intense. His body was typical of a sport major muscular thick and strong. "Yeah. Hey, new guys, listen up. Just so you know, "voluntary" means mandatory, okay? Everybody's got to be there. If you're not there, then you probably don't care about beating those fuckers from Arizona. And if you're not serious about that, you might as well go home." from the way he spoke she could tell how seriously he took the baseball league. A true leader in his major.

"If you guys don't mind, I'm gonna get started and have a look at the ceiling before you all leave. I'm assuming you’re heading to the sound machine." (Y/N) asked as the coach left in the car speeding out the drive. "I'll show you to the kitchen." Glen voiced pointing towards the door leading to the room. "Thanks..." she paused pretending to not know whom he was, not wanting his ego to balloon. "Glen McReynolds." He shook her smaller hand feeling her look him up and down with a leer on her plump rose lips. "Well, the ceilings are pretty much on the verge of collapse." He laughed as she turned her attention back to the room. The once white ceiling was now a murky grey, decorated with multiple cracks and chips. "No kidding." She muttered. As Glen watched her leap onto the counter, the boys peeked around the doorframe observing her tight ass almost in their captain's face. "Sorry." She spoke tapping the creaking wood as he turned to his teammates with a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, not wanting his group to ruin his view. He turned back round to the new landlord as she pulled out a blade dangling from her van keys, stabbing the ceiling with light momentum. she twisted it, black shavings fall out like it was snowing. "Damn it," she grumbled, dusting it off her shoulders and stepping down. "Looks like you've got a bad case of dry rot. 'I'll have to replace the whole ceiling." Glen stood in fright, worrying about the cost of such a replacement but stopped as she observed him a petite smile plastered on her cheeks. "don't worry about the money I can see your brain trying to figure out how much it is." She giggled delicately nudging his shoulder as she wandered towards the stairs towards the upper level. "Well, it is kinda my fault." He spoke. "How is wood rot your fault, McReynolds." She asked opening to door to his and Kenny's bedroom. "Oh."

A waterbed. A half-full waterbed. (Y/N) tried her best to hold in her laughter but Mac caught her. He liked seeing her laugh. The faint wrinkles under her nose when she stretched her skin to form a beautiful smile. "don't knock it till you try it miss landlord." She walked towards the cold mattress; she poked it giggling as it jiggled. "No thanks. Can't imagine sleeping on it let alone fucking on it." she laughed, "It would be like fucking on a pool float." Mac joined in on the amusement. He could already feel himself getting comfortable with the smaller female. Her aura was like a beacon of light like colours had been reintroduced to him. "Oh, believe me. It’s heaven." As the laughter died down Glen called out to Kenny hearing him marched up the stairs to join them. "Ready to get moving?" he asked, Glen nodded his head. "I'll try and finish the floor as fast as possible, but it depends on how quickly my dad can get the supplies cross our fingers, tomorrow." The boys nodded making sure she knew it wouldn't be a problem. (Y/N) watched the two guys carry their stuff into the hallway slightly enjoying the view of their clenching muscles and sweaty bodies. "Enjoying the view miss Landlord." Mac joked with a wink. As she lightly blushed, muttering a shut up towards the captain, making him laugh.

As the sun started to set (Y/N) moved her tools inside the house placing them just outside Glen and Kenny's room. "You know (Y/N) you can happily stay the night if it means you get more work done, we definitely don't mind at all." Finn joked as he rested on the windowsill. She rolled her eyes holding back a chuckle as she punched his shoulder. "Fuck off sex pest." She hid her blush from the blonde watching Glen finally finish setting up his base for the next few days. "Hey (Y/N). If you need any help with the house don't hesitate to ask. I'd be happy to lend a hand." The captain followed her down the stairs and to her truck eyeing her up and down one last time. He briefly noticed a small black mark down the side of her inner thigh where the fabric of her shorts pulled away. A tattoo? "I'm a big girl captain, don't need to worry about me. I've been doing houses like this since I was thirteen. This job might be an easy one for me anyway." Glen picked up her bag that sat on the dusty drive placing it on her passenger seat. While doing so, he trapped the girl between her car and his body the blush returning to her cheeks as she smelt his musk. The smell was addicting already. It was clear he had done some sort of exercise that day as his smell was strong of sweat but to her it was irresistible. The rest of his scent was a strong cologne mostly around his chest where her head levelled with his body. "And whys that miss landlord." He asked looking down at her smaller figure. He too was taking in her scent, a hint of vanilla but the main smell was like a sour sweet. Maybe a cherry or strawberry. He couldn't tell just yet. "I'll have some very entertaining tenants to stop me getting bored." He smiled widely loving the sight of her own smile. "You going to sound machine tonight?" she nodded her head following him to the driver’s side not expecting him to open the door for her like a gentleman. "I'll be wearing a pink two-piece, if you decide to come looking for me." Glen couldn't understand this girl. She seemed confident with him but nothing like the confident girls they usually brought back to fuck. From what he witnessed earlier with Finn, she was embarrassed by the innuendos and flirting. But his actions only made her blush and add to his flirtatious comments. "Is that an invitation to come to find you?" he asked shutting her door and leaning on her closed window. "However, you want to interpret it, McReynolds." She whispered swiftly driving away from the house sighing lightly as her heartbeat slowed down finally.

Glen walked back into the house, a big smile under his dark facial hair. He noticed all the guys watching like hawks from the doorway and up to the staircase. "Well, well well, captain." Nesbit laughed the rest of the group moving away and sitting on the sofas beers in hand. "Looks like she likes what she sees." Kenny joked. Glen sat down by his fellow senior a cold beer entering his hands before he could ask for one. "She seems fun," Jake spoke up. "Fun?! She's awesome." Finn argued. Niles sauntered inside the living space placing down the item he had been swinging since the landlord was introduced. "I call dibs. I want a piece of that ass" Jay ordered brushing out his facial hair with a sinister smile, Glen didn't like the look of that smile. "Hold on there, raw dawg, I think she's already chosen our captain." Nes argued making Mac laugh with pride. "she's not some piece of meat for you to hunt Detroit. Coach said to be respectful so do it." Glen stepped closer to the rebellious teammate; an intense stare plastered on his face. "Seriously Niles, don't mess this up for all of us. If we lose this house because of you, you're off the team." He threatened to hear the transfer student huff in disagreement. He didn't know why he was defending the girl he had only just met. Maybe he liked her maybe he just respected her. He couldn't tell.

(Y/N) finally laid down in her bed the teal cover wrapping around her legs, and she held onto the phone she was using. "I'm serious Bev, these guys are hilarious." She spoke clutching a pillow under her chest for support. Beverly, her art friend sighed heavily over the line knowing the group she had just introduced herself to well. "Remember (Y/N) not all of them are good news. That Glen McReynolds, the captain, there are all sorts of rumours about him." (Y/N) blew a raspberry, knowing she was right. There was barely anything good going around about McReynolds. But the dark-haired stallion seemed so nice and fun around her. It was a tough thought for the girl. Was he acting around the guys or was he acting around her? "I'll have to see Bev. I can't deny he is really sexy. I've got to go I’ll speak to you soon." As she hung up the phone, (Y/N) pulled herself up picked up the two-piece garments and headed to the bathroom.

As night fell on the campus, the baseball team sauntered their way into the sound machine. The building was filled with young men and women some drunker than others some hornier than others. The baseball team scattered themselves on the dance floor drawing woman after woman into their dance of lust, but Glen hadn't joined them. McReynolds sat comfortably in a booth with Kenny, but for the first time in a while, there was no girl clinging to him. He sat alone arms resting across the bag of the sofa with Kenny eyeing his sober companion. "Come on Mac what's your deal tonight?" Kenny questioned, taking his shot with no expression as the two girls surrounding him did the same. Glen took his shot, as he surveyed the girls he usually went for circling like vultures. He never realised how many girls he had used over the 3 years of college until now. There were at least four there that night just watching him almost begging him to come over. "I don't know man," he confessed. "Look dude, get your head out of the clouds. (Y/N) is a respectable girl do you really think she'll even give you or any of us a chance? You're a stud. The king of college pussy. And I'm sure she knows all about that, the rumours don't exactly do you any favours." McReynolds downed another shot slamming it down on the coffee table. "I know man. but... I don't know maybe it's time to pack it in. It’s our last two years of college, maybe it's time to grow up." Kenny stared his captain down intensely. Since (Y/N) had stepped out of her van he could tell Mac had almost changed completely without even realising it. he didn't know whether to be happy for his friend or concerned.

Later into the night, groups of people filled the dance floor one particular group of girls including (Y/N). They pushed their way to the bar ordering their shots as they continued their conversation, they had been having all night. "Look (Y/N), I get it he's cute, but if you want something more what's the point? He's just gonna break your heart as soon as you tell him you don't want to have sex." Her friend spoke licking the salt off her hand for a tequila shot. "I don't know. They really don't seem as bad as the rumours say. He was sweet." the young girl picked up her shot necking it back like it was nothing. "It's bullshit honey all bullshit. You deserve more than that."

Finn sat himself down next to Glen finishing his beer in one last gulp. "Eyes on the bar Mac. Your future wife has arrived." He joked. Glen quickly snapped his attention to the bar seeing her suck on a lime her friend had secured between her teeth. "Well...that I definitely didn't expect from her." He was not expecting to see her doing make-out shots. She didn't seem the type of girl to do those sorts of games "Wake up man she's not worth it." Jay mocked collapsing down by Finn. The group rolled their eyes trying too hard to ignore him. "she's just another weirdo. A bitch. She Ain’t gonna give you jack shit. You know from that little show I bet she's a lesbian" Before Jay could continue his rant, Glen got up, making his way over to the girl. "Shut the fuck up, Niles. your just mad she's got her eye on Mac and not you." Finn argued.

She wore a two-piece top and skirt with hot blush and with floral design all over in a lighter shade of pink. Tiny pom poms decorated the top and bottom brushing her thighs. Her enchanting legs were accentuated by a pair of neon orange heels that made her the same height as McReynolds. Her fluffy hair was curled around her face framing it perfectly with the orange liner she had on her lids. "Have a nice evening, miss landlord." He spoke softly leaning on the bar as her friends gasped. He had dressed in a light orange shirt, tight blue jeans and a deep pink belt wrapped around his waist. The group of boys knew he added the pink to match her. "Hello, tenant. Having a good night?" she asked. She ignored her friends whispering behind her focusing all her attention on him. He nodded his head eyeing her up and down as if he didn't that afternoon, the light tattoo markings on her leg were slightly more exposed showing a word. bomb? "No girl tonight, McReynolds?" she asked continuing her assault on the lime in her fingers, the juices trickling down her digits. "Not yet. I had a particular one in mind. She's very smart, extremely cute and currently, is being a tease with that lime in her cute little mouth." She let out a muffled laugh placing the lime down in her empty glass. The same red blush from earlier decorated her cheeks making his smirk wider. "I think you're getting too confident McReynolds. I don't drop my panties for just anyone." She told him sternly. "Well, it's a good job all I want is a dance tonight." She smiled wider looking down at his open hand begging her to take it. "Sure." She took hold of his larger hand; he felt her smooth skin as he place his second hand around her waist. "she's gonna get her heart crushed." Her friends spoke watching the two join the rest of the baseball team on the dance floor.

The team quickly changed their attention from their dance partners to their captain. the smile under his thick dark moustache was the biggest they had seen since college started. He led (Y/N)'s hips swaying side by side as the two laughed and talked above the loud music. "You confuse me." He started wrapping his hands around her waist pulling her closer. "You are completely shy when it comes to the other guys. I mean you completely blew off Finn's joke earlier. but with me you’re fine, you smile try and flirt back." Her hands went up to his neck curling the pieces of hair that brushed his neck in between her fingers. Their hips still danced to the beat of the music, but they slowly started drowning out the music. "I guess I just feel comfortable around you Glen." She confessed. "I'm glad you do." he slowed down their pace pushing her front closer to his own in an attempt to bring the beautiful red colour back. He succeeded. "We have baseball practice in the afternoon Sunday, you should come. I can show you why I was chosen as captain."

The team slowly made their way to their booth expect one. Their captain. Kenny and Finn watched the two, laughing as their friend got deeper and deeper into the trance of love. "he's already whipped." Finn commented. Jay quickly snapped his attention to the two examining their dance of sexual frustration. "Fucking idiot." He muttered. "Jealous much Detroit." Kenny laughed. Jay rolled his eyes necking his drink. "The raw dog doesn't get jealous. Especially when it comes to that frigid bitch." The two older students looked at each other mentally agreeing jay was jealous due to his lack of pussy. "Do you think he has a chance here?" Finn asked. "Oh yeah look at her she's mad for him. it's up to him though."

(Y/N) watched Glen as his hands got tighter around her waist loving the feeling of his larger fingers tracing her body. "Am I going to regret trusting you, Glen?" She asked seriously. "I hope not (Y/N). I really like you." He confessed. Her (E/C) orbs widened at his confession smiling brightly. "Then I'll come to practice. You better get a home run for me." The two laughed continuing their dance. Both feel like they can't let each other go just yet.

Seeing the run-down house made (Y/N) beam. Another day surrounded by surprisingly fun and pleasant baseball players. She was more excited knowing Glen would be there, but she wouldn't let him know how he made her feel just yet. She quickly jumped out of the car and grabbed hold of her favourite tool of all. her very used axe. "Hello, my friend." She joked to herself tying her hair up again and pulling her sleeves up.

"Here comes the landlord," Plummer called the boys all whistling towards Mac who surprisingly was not dressed in lounge clothes and was sat in jeans as a tight grey crop shirt. The boys could tell something had quickly changed about their captain. all night he had been ignoring girls, where he would usually be quick to eye up his next victim for the weekend even when (Y/N) left the bar he carried on ghosting women. His mind seemed to be in another world. They assumed it was their new friend. And they loved it. "Aww, poor Mac. I don't think I've ever seen you so desperate for pussy." Finn joked earning a hard smack from the captain. "Shut up Finnigan. Just trying to make her feel comfortable." Glen could defend himself all he liked but he knew they were right. "You mean comfortable around the stud of campus. Glen heartbreaker McReynolds." He couldn't get the beautiful, independent woman out of his head. He didn't know how he felt. Weak? Vulnerable? Whatever it was he was conflicted about whether he liked it or not. he knew one thing for sure. He liked her. "Sure, you are." Jay groaned marching himself upstairs to his room with a hard slam.

The girl was wearing a short jumpsuit made of blue denim, a tie in the middle pulling her waist in to show off her curves. The top buttons were slightly undone if another button came off her chest would be out. Her chain from yesterday was on and a large axe was swinging in her hands. "Morning gentleman." She smiled leaning the axe on her shoulders. God, she was sexy, Glen thought. He looked down at the tattoo again. Nothing but the bomb word poking through still. "I'm gonna be taking down the ceiling could you guys clear out the kitchen?" the group all agreed quickly getting to work on the task. "Oh, Glen. Have you got another axe by any chance?" Mac suddenly brought his attention back to her. Her eyes twinkled towards him like disco balls. "Yeah, in the garage." He said confused. "Go find it and come give me a hand upstairs." As she left to get started Glen raced towards the garden stopping as Kenny ruffled his hair annoying him. "Get some alone time with her dude!"

(Y/N) slowly ran her axe along her lines on the floor she had made yesterday, showing her where the rot had spread from the wound. She cut lightly into the wood to loosen it up but not enough to send it flying down on the group below just yet. As she finished up, McReynolds finally joined her telling her the kitchen was empty. She took hold of the axe in his hand brushing her fingers along his own. Her skin was slightly rough from her job but still soft, he was starting to like the feeling of her skin. "Take a hit at something other than baseballs, captain." she joked pointing the axe towards a plank of healthy wood. "Okay so this plank hasn't been cut yet there are two pieces currently holding the whole thing in place. when I say three give it the hardest hit you've got." She instructed. She passed the axe back over to the baseball player not expecting him to pull her into his muscular chest. "I don't know about the floor. But ill defiantly be hitting something. Maybe this fine woman leaning on my crotch." He groaned leaning his face into her soft hair. With a big sigh, she pushed herself away rolling her eyes playfully as she tried to hide her blush. "Good luck with that McReynolds, remember what I said last night. I don't drop my panties for just anyone." She spoke swaying over to the other side of the room. "And stop looking at my ass McReynolds focus on the axe. Don't want to lose a finger." The captain laughed through his breath. "No mam." She couldn't tell if she liked this attention. (Y/N) reminded herself of what Beverly had said the night before. The heartbreak, being left alone in bed in the morning. Was it worth it for this guy? She didn't know. But she knew she wanted him in a way she never wanted a guy before.

"Okay, one two, three." The two seniors took a big swing smacking the wood. Nothing "again. One, two, three." Another hard swing. Nothing again. "Leave it," she ordered. Glen rested the axe on his shoulder listening to the sound of cracking wood. "Step back." She grabbed hold of his shirt as the floor slowly sunk to the lower level with a hard bang. It looked like the main kitchen appliances had survived but the dead wood had shattered pretty much everywhere it had room to land. "That was pretty cool." He admitted. "I'd suggest getting takeout tonight." She joked laying her axe by her tool bag. "Can I use the phone I need to call my dad." He nodded his head looking down at the floor in a hunt for the phone cord. He took hold of her hand following the small cord into Beuter's room. "Beuter times up need the phone for work. hurry up." He ordered banging on the door. "What?" she asked her head tilting along with her ponytail. "Beuter hogs the phone to call his girl. Whom we suspect is also his cousin." (Y/N) lightly laughed punching his shoulder at the horrific joke. "Gross." The fresher quickly opened the door holding the phone out with a sorry. (Y/N) quickly picked up the phone thanking Glen as he left her in private. "Hey, Dad!"

The group rested on the sofa eyes locked on the tv screen. Glen laid his body down, his lower stomach exposed from the crop top. Before the guys could continue the show, Billy marched down the stairs carrying bags on his shoulders. "Hey, Beuter, you leaving us already?" Kenny laughed acknowledging the country boy carrying his stuff down the stairs. "Running home to Mama, Perkins?" Billy slammed his bags down on the ground in annoyance. "Come on, y'all, my name Ain't Beuter. Okay, guys? It's Billy Autrey." "Bullshit!" Glen interrupted, "It’s Beuter Perkins until we tell you otherwise. Now, where are you going, BP? You running back to that corn-fed girlfriend of yours already?" Glen joked taking a swig of his beer. "No, sir, I'll be back Sunday for practice." Once the kitchen had finally been cleared out the rest of the group joined in on the bantering. "Well, well, well! Looks like Beuter Perkins is getting laid this weekend. Huh? You finally trading in that phone for the real thing?" Dale laughed. "Shoot, y'all. Man, guys, she says she might be pregnant." As the words left his mouth (Y/N) stood behind him. her signature blush all over her cheeks and nose. "I came in at the wrong time." She muttered earning a smile from the captain.

She placed the phone on the coffee table thanking Glen for letting her use it. The captain swung his legs around allowing her a place on the sofa. As she sat down, he passed her a beer and swung his legs to the rest of her soft thighs with a wink. Her cheeks flushed with more colour at his move making him laugh under his breath. He already loved the colour her cheeks went from his actions towards her. "Yeah, man, that's what she says." Billy continued the conversation. "How late is she?" Jake asked. "She's a day late." The jeering quickly started confusing the poor country bumpkin. (Y/N) Heavily sighed a typical boy who had no idea how periods work. "Are you shittin' me Beuter? She's one day late on her period, and she's giving you shit?" Plummer groaned. "Billy. You're a dumbass." (Y/N) added making the guys laugh. "Even (Y/N) knows what's up. Listen, dude, she's just testing you to gauge your response. Are you the guy who says, "Don’t worry, I'll pay for the abortion," or do you start talking about marriage, which is what she's hoping for? Either way though, at this point, you're fucked. Give up Beuter Perkins." Glen leant up slightly shuffling (Y/N) closer to him. The warmth of his body radiated off him onto her. " No trust me, man, she's not fucking pregnant, all right? We've all been through shit like this. Except for Nes, of course, 'cause he's still a virgin. Look, she's just taking your little chicken-fried nuts and she's running them through the wringer, okay?" (Y/N) nodded her head calming Billy down knowing a girl agreed with what McReynolds was saying to him. "She's just giving you shit for it because you left her back on the farm with all the other little pigs you used to fuck." The laughter erupted in the room at the thought (Y/N) included covering her mouth trying not to snort from the strength of her laughter. "I Ain't never put it in a pig! What do I say to her if she is? (Y/N) what would you want to hear?"

The girl quickly stopped laughing embarrassed by the boy’s question. "God, I don't know I've never had to worry about that." She spoke leaning up to get her beer from the coffee table. "I don't believe that for a second." Finn laughed, "You’re extremely hot, funny and have a good laugh. Guys must be lining up for you." As she finished her swig of beverage, she shook her head. "I've only been with one guy, and he was shit and the last two times I've slept with someone were with girls." Each boy's eyes blew up in shock the night before was enough for their fantasies to run wild with the way she kissed her friend for the lime trapped in her mouth. But knowing she's been with a woman the way they had was extremely sexy to them. Especially Glen. "Just take responsibility for it. let her know you know it's not entirely her fault. At the end of the day, it's not up to you what she decides. You can't stop her from keeping it or getting rid of it. it's not your body." Billy quickly snapped out of his fantasy nodding his head at her order. "Seriously (Y/N) you've never had a little slip-up," Kenny asked genuinely curious. Glen could feel the heat from her nervousness. "God no!"

"Stop embarrassing her," Mac ordered interrupting any more questions towards the girl. "School hasn't even started yet and you're well on your way to the official freshman numb-nut of the year award." He continued pointing towards Billy. Before the group could continue the conversation a honk from a van stopped them. "Shit. I forgot" She muttered jumping up forgetting about glens legs resting on her. "that's my dad." she jumped out the door towards the new van parked up by hers. A fairly large man stepped man close to retirement age. The boys quickly sorted themselves out intimidated by his large strong build.

"Hi, daddy!" (Y/N) shouted as he started spinning her around in a crushing hug. "Hey, pumpkin." His voice was extremely strong and rough spooking the group of boys. Glen quickly pulled out his acting skills making himself look more gentlemanly than he was. "Boys! Make yourself useful and grab some planks." McReynolds ordered watching her dad unlock his pickup. They instantly sprung up taking their fair share of the material and taking it upstairs. "Good man, I'm guessing you're the captain of this 'team'." He air quotes confusing Glen looking down at (Y/N) for an explanation. "Dad stop." She spoke, "You’re scaring them." (Y/N) stood herself by Glen making him smile at the smell of her perfume. Sweet with a hint of mint.

Glen stuck his hand out towards the large man trying hard to not show how intimidated he was. "Glen McReynolds sir. "If he thought (Y/N)'s grip was strong, her dad's was ten times stronger. If he wanted to, he could break the college senior's arm. "Finally, someone with the balls to talk to me without pissing themselves. Brian (S/N)." (Y/N) quickly pulled Brian away lightly touching Mac's hand as she did. "Please stop scaring them, Dad. I promise they have been nothing but welcoming." She spoke softly obviously calming her protective parent. "We appreciate what your daughter is doing for us and for letting us live here sir." The older gentleman laughed through his nose looking Mac up and down as (Y/N) walked back into the house, her hips swaying as she took each step. "So...judging by your staring McReynolds, eyeing my little girl like some prize. You've already smitten with her" Glen's palms suddenly felt sweaty. "I can't deny sir, she's probably the most beautiful girl I've ever met. But unless she instigates anything I have no intention of pursuing it." Brian's intense eyes didn't budge from his green orbs. He sighed heavily shaking his head. "Get your boys out here." He ordered.

One by one the boys lined up almost like soldiers in the war shaking from fear. How could such a fun, happy girl come from the balls of such an intimidating, terrifying man? "I'm only gonna say this once boys." He growled pointing his scared fingers at each boy as they gulped. "If my daughter comes home pregnant by one of you sad sacks. I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your empty skulls. I don't care what you think you can pursue here but without my permission, it Ain’t gonna end up being anything." The group quickly nodded their heads with force almost in sync, Glen recognising her father used his own words against him. "Okay Dad I think it's time you go!" as (Y/N) finally joined them outside, she grabbed hold of her dad's arm pulling him back towards his van.

The morning had gone quickly for (Y/N). The planks of woods the boys, fearfully brought in for her had all been set in place and the overworked girl wiped the sweat off her forehead. The boys had decided to take their fun outside hoping to keep out of her way until she needed help. "I'll bet you 10 bucks." Glen and Nesbit had once again set themselves up with a bet, involving an axe and a baseball. "Ten bucks?" Glen questioned taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah. Ten bucks." He picked up the axe tapping the blade along his trainer. "You wanna go... That's steep for you. Best out of three. So, I gotta get two?" the captain started walking back keeping his distance for a good swing. "Yeah, Mac, two." As he readied his axe exposing more of his toned stomach, (Y/N) walked outside wiping her wet face with a towel. Glen watched her intensely; the droplets of sweat made her (S/C) skin shine like liquid gold. "Oh, man. I mean, this is gonna be fun." He snapped himself out of his trance focusing on his teammate. "This is gonna be very fun, Nesbit." He smirked. To him, it was his chance to impress the girl he was drooling over.

"Come on. Come on, Mr Axe. Strong Man." Nesbit grabbed hold of a baseball swinging his arm in preparation. "Anytime," Glen spoke aiming the axe above his neck. Nes’s hand finally left the ball. It moved quickly towards Mac, but he didn't seem fazed by the speed. He swung the axe just as (Y/N) focused on the bet in motion. The ball quickly split into two, almost perfectly in half. "Fuck. I don't believe what I just fucking saw." Brumley looked down at the fallen pieces in shock. "You know how strong you'd have to be to do that?" Kenny replied. (Y/N) picked up the closest piece to her looking at each layer to the ball not realising Glen had joined her with the other piece. He slowly laced his hand with her own placing the second piece in hers. She quickly looked up towards him, his forest green eyes looking deep into her own (E/C) ones. For a split second, he thought she looked down at his lips but brushed it off as a change in the light. Before anything else could be attempted from the baseball player, (Y/N) snapped from their staring contest being alerted to a voice calling to her. "Hey (Y/N) could I borrow you for a sec," Jake asked, the (H/C) haired woman followed the freshman placing both slices of the ball into her pockets. Glen has left in the middle of the path an annoyed expression slapped on his face. "Damn bro, you were eye fucking her." Nesbit chuckled slapping his captain on the back. "Fucking pitcher's gonna get it when she leaves." He groaned.

Jake and (Y/N) sat down in Willoughby's van drinking the beers they had picked up on the way. "Do you know the auburn-haired girl in 307 I think she does drama or something creative?" he asked. "Beverly? Yes, why?" The freshman took a long gulp of beer before continuing. "I want to get to know her, but I don't want to come off as creepy you know?" the landlord sighed heavily drinking her drink thinking. "Well, she's a performing arts student so something creative would work." The two were silent for a moment listening to the groups enjoying the evening sun. As they did Glen looked over watching her lick her lips tasting beer. He listened in on their conversation. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was jealous. He wanted her attention. He wanted to talk to her. "I've got it. since you know where she lives... creep. Draft a poem on a piece of paper with your number on it. tape it to her door with some flowers on it. not a full bouquet just some light flowers like daisies or something. a sweet gesture without looking like a creepy secret stalker." Jake nodded his head taking the idea into mind before smiling heavily. "That sounds perfect. Thanks. I'm guessing you would want that for yourself." She shook her head lightly finishing her bottle.

"I'm not sure what I want to be honest. I've only ever dated one guy and he cheated and the girl I was sleeping with was more of a friend-with-benefits thing rather than a relationship. shows how much I know about this stuff." She placed her beer down on the grass under the van as Glen stepped closer to listen in. "what happened if you don't mind me asking." Jake looked up towards his captain realising he was eavesdropping and smiled. "He wanted sex almost every night it got too much. So, when he couldn't get it from me, he got it from someone else. I woke up one morning with a note calling me a prude and he started fucking a cheerleader. that was in freshman year." Jake's eyes blew up at the store, and Mac's as well. It explained a lot about her like her cheeks blushing at the conversation with Perkins or calling Finn a sex pest. But it didn't make sense to him why she was happy to be around him, knowing his reputation. "Damn that's fucking awful." He huffed and finished his drink as well. "What do you think of McReynolds? He seems to like you a lot." The pitcher turned towards Glen with a light wink. "I don't know. he's cute and very attractive. but I want something more than just a good fuck and an empty bed when I wake up. you guys don't exactly have a reputation for romance and faithfulness" Jake nodded his head in agreement twisting his body to face McReynolds. Maybe it was time to pack in the bachelor reputation like he had suggested to the boys last night. He never realised how much damage it was doing until now. He couldn't deny it was nice getting girls anywhere he went but now. It was finally coming to bite him in the ass.

"Just call her Mac, invite to her join us tonight." Jake had decided to help out (Y/N) as thanks for helping him. McReynolds wasn't exactly the man she wanted but he could sure try to be. The romance didn't come easy to him, opting out of the sex-first romance-later approach. "What would I fucking say, freshman. 'Hey (Y/N) I fucking like you. wanna join me tonight so I can show you I can be a man and give up the bachelor life." The captain mocked himself holding a handphone to his ear as he got ready for the sound machine. "Almost, just be honest. 'Hey (Y/N) I really like you and want to take you out tonight'." Glen rolled his eyes necking the last bottle before putting his cologne on and rubbing it into his hairy chest. "What are you doing?" he asked watching Tyrone rub the liquid onto his neck like perfume. "Putting it on." He muttered. "First time wearing cologne? Get it on there, man. Get it under your arms and on your chest. Don't just put it on your neck. Come on." Jake rolled his eyes towards the senior, ignoring his blatant attempt to hide his nervousness with smugness. "Trying to help you out, and you're gonna question me? Jesus. I'm telling you, man, chicks dig this shit. All right? Now you can come back here and do the five-knuckle shuffle all night if you want to. I don't really care." Before Glen left the room Jake pulled him back lightly earning a hard glare. "And that's why she won't think you’re serious about being with her Mac. She wants loyalty, a partner not a fuck buddy."

Glen marched himself back up to his room grabbing hold of the phone that had finally had a break from Beuter's constant use. He dialled her number left by the coach, praying for some sort of confidence boost. "Hello?" her angelic voice entered his ear drum pushing his smile upwards. "Good evening miss landlord." He smiled hearing her light laugh back. "Well, hello to you tenant." She giggled. "I know it’s short notice, but I want to hang out with you tonight. The boys are all going to the sound machine wanna join? I can get you so you're not walking up alone in the dark." He tried so hard to be as emotional as possible hoping the idea of his worry about her walking alone would help his case. "Like a date?" she questioned. "If that's okay with you?" he stuttered. Fuck he stuttered. "I'd like that, Glen." She smiled twirling the phone cord between her fingers. "Cool. I'll get to you at eight. Wear something cream." She bit her lips lightly agreeing and hanging up the phone before squealing into her pillow with excitement.

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - Part 1

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. This Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life. 

This story is obviously non-canon. It will include characters from multiple seasons; some of them having never met on the show. In this universe, Tara didn’t come back from Chicago. I’ve done this to get the story I wanted.

I’ve also decided to give the protagonist a name in this story. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it.

1

“Move, you goddamn piece of shit!”. My car had stalled just a few yards before a sign that read Welcome to Charming – our name says it all. So far it hadn’t been very charming at all. Multiple cars were passing me and blaring their horns. “Do you think I just decided to park here?”, I yelled at a white Honda, with a blonde behind the wheel. She gave me the finger in response. “Shit!”.

I heard a roar of engines behind me; and a leather clad man on a motorbike pulled up next to my window. “You found a hell of a place to break down, luv’”, he said, with a Scottish drawl. “Yeah, thanks. I hadn’t noticed”, I sneered. “Pardon me, I was just stating facts”, he smirked. I frowned. “Sorry. I’ve just had a long ass drive”, I mumbled. “Mind if we take a look at it?”, he asked. I gestured for him to go ahead; and stepped out of the tired, beat up car; that had been my home for the last 4 days – driving from Chicago, to my new home in the town I’d chosen by its name alone. Charming.

I needed something charming at this point in my life – the last few years having been chaos – so I’d thrown everything to the wind; and had basically run away from the city, when I’d applied for, and been offered a job at Charming Middle School.

Behind my car, two more mc’s were parked – one of them a tall bearded man who sent me a friendly smile; and the other a blonde, lean guy, wearing a white t-shirt and white sneakers. Interesting choice for riding a motorcycle, I thought. All three men had the same patch on their backs – a skull-headed reaper. The writing said Sons of Anarchy – California.

The scot had opened my hood, and was looking into the steaming entrails of my car. He let out a long whistle. “When was the last time you checked our oil, luv’?”. I decided to ignore his choice of nickname for me. “I have no idea. I just bought it a week ago; haven’t really done anything but drive it”. He smiled and shook his head. “Jackie!”, he called. The blonde man looked up; and took of his sunglasses – revealing a pair of piercing baby blues. “We’re gonna need the tow-truck”.

The blonde got off his bike, and joined the scot at the front of the car. “Shit”. He drew out the word, ending it with a full-on laugh. “Darlin’, you’ve killed it”. I sighed. “Great…”. “Were you going far?”, he asked. “Charming was my destination; but I didn’t even make it past the sign”. I ran my hand through my hair. “Shit!”.

Blonde guy called out to the bearded biker. “Ope! Call TM. Get Rat out here with the tow”. “We can’t leave her here, on the side of the road”, the third man answered. Blondie chewed his lip. “You up for a ride?”, he asked me. I was caught off guard. “What?”, I asked. “We’ll get your car back to our shop. You can wait there for it; and figure out your next step”. I shrugged. “Yeah, why the hell not”.

Blondie walked up to me and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson. Scottie here is Chibs; and the kind man calling a tow-truck for you, is Opie”. I took his hand and shook it. His grab on mine was firm, but gentle. “I’m Cat”, I said cautiously. He smiled brightly at me; a glint to his eyes that made me blush slightly. “Welcome to Charming”, he said. “Now, come on”.

He handed me his own helmet; and got on his bike; patting the seat behind him. I grabbed my purse from the front seat; leaving my keys on the left front wheel. Welcome to Charming, indeed, I thought, and got on Jacksons bike with him, looking for something to grab on to “You’re gonna have to hold on to me, Cat”, Jackson smirked. I put my hands on his waist – noticing his firm and muscular frame – and he started up the bike. The force of the engine between my legs made me jump a little; and I heard Jackson chuckle in front of me. “Don’t worry, I got you”. He revved the engine, and we rode in to town.

—

We drove into a big lot about 10 minutes later. I noticed a large amount of motorcycles; and more bikers clad in leather. They all wore the same patch as the three men I’d just met – though some said Nevada. There were two large buildings; one was an auto shop – Teller Morrow – and the other seemed to be some sort of a clubhouse.

Jackson halted his bike at the end of the line of motorcycles; seemingly a spot reserved for him. I climbed off, almost stumbling; and he grabbed my hand to steady me. “You good?”, he asked. I nodded.

A tall middle-aged woman, with an amazing rack, came out of the office of the auto shop. “Jax; Clays been looking for you”, she said. Jackson smirked, and backed his bike into his spot. “What else is new?”, he said. The woman kissed his cheek. “I’m picking up the kid in a few. You need anything at home?”. “Milk. And coffee”, Jackson answered. He looked towards me. “Ma; this is Cat. Her car stalled just by the edge of town”. The woman looked at me; her eyes enquiring, but mostly friendly. “The one Rat and Juice went out for?”. Jackson nodded.

She shook my hand. “Gemma Teller”, she said. “Cat Rose”, I smiled. “You’re the new teacher down at the middle-school”, she said – more a statement than a question. I nodded. “Yeah, I am. How’d you know?”. “Gem knows everything”, the biker named Chibs said; and kissed Gemma’s cheek. “Hi, mom”.

I chuckled. “You seem a little too young to be his mom”. “Around here, I’m everyone’s mom”, she answered. “Though my only biological kid, is the cheeky blonde you rode bitch with”. I took that as meaning Jax was her son. The cheeky blonde sent me a smile. “Gemma will take care of you from here on”, he said. “See you around, teach’”. I smiled in return; and Jackson walked towards the clubhouse.

I followed Gemma into her office. “What’s the Sons of Anarchy?”, I asked. “Sweetheart, stick around long enough, you’ll find out”, she said. “Coffee?”. “Yeah, thanks”, I smiled.

I didn’t see any of my new biker friends the rest of the day; as my car arrived not long after we did. A mohawked Latino named Juice, of all things; informed me that my cooler was shot; and I needed a completely new starter. None of this made any sense to me; as I didn’t know anything about engines – but looking at the costs of repairs needed to have the vehicle function again; I decided to sell it for scrap.

“Too bad, honey”, Gemma said. “I had one of those as a teenager”. “You wanna buy it?”, I grinned. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in it”, she answered, and lit a cigarette; offering me one. I accepted. “Juice; is Tig still selling his old chevy?”. “Yeah, he hasn’t gotten a buyer yet. I think it’s ‘cuz it smells like wet dog”. I shook my head. “I won’t be able to afford it; with or without the smell”. Gemma winked at me. “I’ll get a you a good deal; and you can make payments”. I smiled. “I’m gonna like this town”. “We all do”, she smiled back.

—

Gemma gave me a ride to the motel I was going to stay at, until I found a new place. I got my four boxes and two suitcases out of her trunk and backseat; thanking her for all her help. “It’s me who should be thanking you. The school had been looking for a good arts teacher for over a year”. “I’m taking over 6’th and 7’th grade English as well”, I said. She laughed. “Mrs. Bloom finally decided to retire, huh?”, she said. “She taught both me and Jackson”. “Wow…”, I grimaced. “I’m not that old”, she said. “That’s not…”, I began. “Just pulling your leg sweetheart”, she smiled. “See you around”. She drove off, and left me to settle in to my new temporary home.

I spent the evening scanning the newspaper for cheap rentals. Money was scarce; but I knew the motel needed to be short term – especially after noticing the thin walls inability to hide the sounds of my neighbors having kinky sex. Some woman kept screaming Yes, Daddy!; making it difficult to concentrate on my apartment-hunting .

In the evening; after ordering a pizza; I decided to take a shower. I let the water run for a bit; before stepping in – trying to ignore the metallic smell of it. Washing 4 days of roadtripping off my body; I finally felt clean enough to face my new situation.

I’d left Chicago in a hurry; leaving my furniture, and only bringing my most cherished belongings. I wanted to get as far away from the city as possible; but a ticket to Hawaii was out of the question on my teachers’ salary – and I wasn’t ready to go back to dancing at clubs. Most of my last cash had been spent on the now dead Ford; that I’d sold for scrap through TM.

Chicago wasn’t my home town; but I’d thought it was the place for me. I’d been proven wrong, when a relationship had gone wrong. Very wrong. I’d needed to get away from the guy in question; as his possessive nature throughout our relationship had ended up scaring me. Trying to get a restraining order hadn’t worked due to his own contacts within the court-system. I wanted a new life. Maybe Charming could be the base for that.

Stepping out of the shower; I wrapped myself in a towel. There was a knock on the door, and I went to open it. Outside stood Jackson; a grin the size of the county on his handsome face. “You’re not pizza…”, I said. “Not the last time I checked”, he chuckled. “You left behind some paperwork at TM”. I looked down at my lack of clothing. “I should get dressed”, I smiled. “Come on in. Sorry about the mess”. He stepped inside. “It’s fine, darlin’. You should see my place”.

I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms, and a tank top from an open suitcase; and went into the bathroom. “Do you usually order pizza in just a towel?”, he called after me. “Only if the delivery-guy is really cute”, I called back. Shit… now you’re flirting with the biker. Good one, Cat. “I’ll have to change professions”, I heard him mutter.

I stepped back into the room, fully dressed. “What’s the paperwork?”, I asked. He handed me an envelope. “Just a signoff for the scrapping of the car”, he said. “It’s too bad. My mom had one of those back in the day”. “She told me”, I smiled. “Coffee?” He smiled. “Nah, sorry, I gotta run again”. “Too bad”, I said. Dammit! Stop, you idiot.

He chuckled. “It’s good to have some fresh blood in town. I hear you’re starting at the school. You’ll be teaching one of Opie’s kids. Ellie – sweet kid”. I signed the papers he’d handed me, and gave them back. “I’ll remember to give her good grades”, I said. “Yeah…”, he answered sadly. “She’s been through it. Her and Kenny both. Their mom died a year back”. “I’m sorry to hear that”, I answered earnestly. “Donna was a good mom. And a good old lady”, he said. “What’s that?”, I asked. “An old lady? Shit, you are new in town”, he smirked. I shrugged. “Just not used to biker lingo”, I winked. “I’ll have to get you used to it, then…”, he said with a smile. I chewed my lip, a rush of heat going through my body.

He remembered himself. “The car – the one you’re buying”, he said. “Tig will be down at the shop tomorrow night. You can pick up the keys then”. I exhaled; trying to calm down my budding crush on the gorgeous man in front of me. “Thanks. I’ll be there. 7 pm good?”. “We should be done with church by then”, he said. “Tomorrow’s not Sunday”, I answered. He chuckled. “Not that kind of church”. I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Biker lingo…”, I said. “Biker lingo”, he smirked.

We stood there for a while, both unsure what to say; before Jax broke the silence. “Tomorrow; it’s Gemma’s birthday. There’s gonna be a party at the clubhouse”, he said cautiously. “If you wanna stick around for a while…”. “Maybe”, I smiled.

“Yes Daddy! Slap that ass!”, we heard from next door. We both laughed. “If I’m not mistaken; Tig might be right next door. But it’s probably not a good time to disturb him”, Jackson said. “I’ll wait”, I agreed. “See you tomorrow?”. “I’m looking forward to it”, Jackson winked; and walked out the door; giving me a final grin; before closing it behind him.

Cat. You can’t have sex with the biker, I told myself. But the warm sensation streaming though me, told me I’d probably have a problem sticking to that, if I had the opportunity.

—

The next day I slept in; enjoying the feeling of being in an actual bed for the first time in days. I did some light shopping for groceries – the fridge in my motel room not being very big. The people I met seemed friendly enough, though a bit standoffish. I figured it was because I was new in town.

Walking back towards the motel; a group of bikers rode by – one of them being Opie. He lifted a hand in a wave at me. I noticed that the bikes were ridden almost in a procession; with a leader in front; and everyone else keeping to their assigned position in the group. It was led by a grey-haired man with a prominent jaw. He looked at me, and nodded. I nodded back.

Back in my room, I had a light lunch; and decided to figure out what the hell one wore for a birthday party at a biker club. I figured some skinny jeans and an off the shoulder, black t-shirt would have to do. Putting on my favorite necklace – a silvery hand with an eye in the middle; a Hamsa symbol – I let my hair hang lose; and put on a little makeup. Black cat eye; and red lips. It usually did the trick. You’re actually dressing up for the biker now, I smirked at myself.

I was early; so, I tracked down a coffee shop to sit and read a book. My shoulder bag usually had at least one volume in it. This week, it was American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I was completely concentrated on my book; when suddenly Chibs and a large curly haired man stepped in to the shop. “Well, look who we have here!”, Chibs smiled. “Bobby, this is the young lady who killed her car just outside town”. I grinned. “Thanks”, I said. “I needed a reminder of my bad mechanic skills”. “I aim to serve, madam”, the scot grinned. Bobby stuck out his hand. “Welcome to town, my lady”, he said; and kissed my hand chivalrously. “Careful Bob. VP’s got his eye on this one”, Chibs said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked. “Don’t worry about it”, Bobby grinned.

I took a sip of my coffee, and shook my head. “What are you doing here?”. “Coffee run for church. It was a long night”, Chibs winked. The man behind the counter handed over some coffees to Bobby; who pulled out his wallet. “Your money’s no good here”, the barista said. Bobby nodded. “How’s your mom?”, he asked. “Much better, thanks”, the man answered and smiled. “I’ll pay you back”. “We know you’re good for it, Gary”, Chibs said. He looked at me. “See you later?”. I nodded.

The bikers left the shop; and drove off towards TM. The barista walked up to me with my check. “Welcome to town”, he said warily. “Look… Samcro; they’re a part of this town; and they do a lot of good. But they’re in to some pretty bad stuff as well. Be careful”. He didn’t wait for an answer; but just went back behind his register. I frowned, and tried to wrap my head around his words. I paid Gary, and left the shop myself.

I decided to do some light sightseeing. It was Saturday; so most of the small shops closed early; but I made my way to the middle-school that would be my new place of work the coming Monday. The trek was a bit longer than I’d anticipated; so I was glad that I had a newish car set up for me. The building wasn’t large, but I figured it was large enough for the amount of kids in the area. The look of it gave me some peace of mind. It would be an easy start, I thought. And I was looking forward to it.

—

Walking back towards TM, I stopped by a florist who was closing up. I got a nice bouquet for Gemma, and walked into the auto-shop lot. The place was bustling with people. At least 20 bikes were parked in the lot; and everywhere people were shaking hands, and grabbing wrapped presents out of their cars. The men were all clad in leather; except for a man in a sheriff’s uniform; and the women were mostly wearing miniskirts and dresses – their boobs on display as much as possible.

I didn’t recognize any faces, and felt a bit anxious, before someone grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, darlin’”, Jax was beaming at me. He leant in and kissed my cheek; his stubble and short beard scratching my chin in a delicious way. “I’m glad you made it!”. “Yeah, me too”, I smiled. He took my hand, holding it confidently. “Come on. I’ll introduce you”.

We walked in to the clubhouse. It smelled like motor oil and whiskey, and the air was heavy with smoke. It should have put me off; but I was enjoying it. It reminded me of my former profession as a  dancer, and the kind of trouble I’d gotten in to then. Jackson let go of my hand, and put his own on my lower back, leading me to the bar counter. “You remember Opie”, he said; gesturing at the tall bearded man. With his helmet off, he was now wearing a hoodie, and had a beautiful blonde on his arm. Opie shook my hand and smiled at me friendlily. “This is Lyla”, he said softly, and gestured at the woman. “Nice to meet you”, she smiled. I thought I recognized her face from somewhere, but I couldn’t make the connection. “Cat”, I smiled, and shook her hand.

Jax led me on. “Chibs and Juice, you know as well; and I’m told you already met Bobby”. The men both nodded at me. “Then there’s Happy…”. A tall menacing man sent me a warm smile. “Piney; Opies dad”; Jackson said, gesturing at an elderly man with an oxygen tank hanging from his shoulder. Jackson looked at a scrawny looking guy, and a tall heavy man standing next to him. “Those are the prospects. They don’t matter”. I scrunched my brows at him. “Trust me”, he chuckled.

We walked towards a dark-skinned, kind looking woman, holding a beautiful baby in her arms. “Hey Neeta”, Jax smiled, and took the baby from her; holding it to his chest. His face was glowing with pride. “And this is my boy. Abel”. I let the baby hold my finger, and smiled at his chubby face. “Hi, Abel”. Jacksons eyes met mine; gleaming. “Is… his mom…”, I tried – fearing the answer. “Not around”, Jax answered. “It’s better that way”, he said meaningfully. I nodded. It wasn’t the time.

Abel started fussing. Jax took a baby-blanket from a diaper-bag on a table. “Did you bring…?”, Jax said, before Neeta handed him a bottle. Jax smiled warmly in thank you. He put the bottle to Abel’s mouth. “Here you go, little dude”. He bounced the baby up and down softly. “You’re good at that”, I smiled. “My mom would have my ass, if I wasn’t”, he grinned. “Besides, he’s my little man”. I stroked a finger over the baby’s forehead. “He’s perfect”. Jax looked at me proudly. “Yeah”, he smiled.

I looked around. “Where is your mom, by the way?”. “Shit, yeah”, he said, looking at the watch on his wrist. Jackson kissed the top of Abel’s head, and handed the bottle back to Neeta. “Gemma and Clay will be here in 5”, he called into the room. “She doesn’t know why she’s here. So quiet the hell up!”. There was a rumbling of an engine outside. “Shit, they’re early!”, Bobby said. “Turn off the lights!”.

Someone hit the lights; and about ten seconds later the door opened. “Goddammit, Clay”, Gemma grumbled, as she walked in. “You promised to take me to dinner, you jerk!”.

“Surprise!”, everyone yelled; and the lights turned on again. Gemma stood, mouth agape; flanked by the grey-haired man I’d seen on the road earlier; and a black-haired man with piercing eyes, I figured was Tig. “Oh my God!”, Gemma cried out. “You assholes!”. She laughed, and began hugging the people around her. Jackson walked up to his mom; and embraced her warmly; Abel still in his arms. Gemma kissed first Jackson; and then the baby, taking him from Jax’s arms. “You guys are dicks”, she said; happy tears in her eyes. The grey-haired man – Clay – put his arm around her waist, and kissed her warmly. “Happy birthday, baby”, he said. “At least you remembered it this year”, Gemma pouted playfully at him.

She looked towards me, a sense of wonder in her eyes. I smiled, and mouthed happy birthday. She mouthed me a thank you in response; followed by a warm smile. For a second her eyes shifted from me to Jackson, and she narrowed her eyes at him; whispering something in his ear. He laughed in response, and looked at me, biting his lip. He nodded at his mom, and walked back to me.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asked. “Please”, I said, smiling nervously. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re here with me”. I laughed. “Maybe that’s why I’m worried”. He winked at me. “In that case, you should be worried. Word around the street is, I’m dangerous”. He kissed my cheek again, and put his arm around me. “Rat, get this lady a beer”. The scrawny prospect handed over a cold bottle, and I took a welcome sip of it.

Opie joined us. “You’re teaching my kid this year”, he said. “Yeah, Jackson told me”, I answered. The tall man looked a bit uncomfortable. “She’s been having some issues… It’s been messing with her schoolwork”. I smiled comfortingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a hard-ass”, I said. Opie smiled softly. “Thanks”, he muttered.

Jax looked at his friend. “I told Cat about Donna”, he said. Opie nodded and met my eyes. “So you get it”, he said. “I do”, I said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”. Opies expression warmed. “Thanks”, he said. “Cheers”, he said, raising his bottle at me. We clinked our beers, and both took a sip.

Opie looked meaningfully at Jax. “We got that thing, brother”, he muttered. Jackson frowned slightly, and looked at me. “I need to do some business”, he said, and put a strand of hair behind my ear. “Be back in a bit”. He walked off with Opie, leaving me to sit on a stool by the bar.

The black-haired man walked up next to me. “I hear you’re in need of a car”, he said, accepting a beer from the larger prospect. “I’m Tig”. “Cat”, I answered. “I know”, he winked at me. “It’s a piece of shit old chevy, but it’s better than the one you came to town in”. “Anything is better than that”, I laughed. He handed me a set of keys. “80 a month for a year work for you?”, he said. “That’s cheap”, I said, frowning slightly. “We take care of our own”, Tig said, and patted my shoulder. “By the way; if you get sick of the VP, let me know”, he smirked. I laughed again. “Sure, Daddy”, I grinned. “So the was you, next door”, he chuckled. I shrugged, and nodded.

Juice stepped up to stand on the other side of me. “Hey”, he said, giving me a crooked smile, and a lifted brow. Tig tapped him over the head. “Hands of, Juicy!”, he said. “Jax territory”. The young biker took a step away from me. “Sorry”, he laughed nervously. I shook my head, laughing. “This place is weird”, I said. “Welcome to town”, Tig said; and clinked his bottle to mine, taking a sip of beer. I joined him in the drink. We took a shot of whiskey together, before Tig’s attention went to a busty brunette in the corner. “Excuse me”, he muttered; and sauntered off, leaving me alone again.

I decided to look for a friendly face in the crowd, being a bit uncomfortable on my own. Jax hadn’t come back for his business yet, and I was worried he’d leave me alone all night. Lyla was standing with another woman, looking like they were gossiping about something. She caught my eye and waved me over. “How are you holding up?”, she asked. The other woman walked off; climbing on to Happy’s lap, where he was sitting on a couch. “Uhm…”, I began. “I just got in to town, and I’m already having drinks with the local biker gang. I’d say I’m a little out of my comfort zone”. She smiled friendlily at me. “You’ve already bagged the vice president. You’re doing just fine”, she said. “I haven’t bagged anyone”, I smiled. “He’s known you for 2 days, and already invited you to his mom’s birthday. I’d say you’re a bit more than some crow-eater”, Lyla responded.

I took another sip of my beer. “What’s a crow-eater?”. Lyla chuckled. “Ok, quick lowdown on the women in the club”, she began. “Most of the women in here, are what we call crow-eaters. They hang around the club, make the men feel good about themselves… you know”. “An easy lay”, I muttered. “Yeah”, Lyla smiled. “Some of us are what you’d call old ladies. We’re the ones who have locked our men down. See this…”. She showed me a tattoo of a flying crow on her shoulder. “This means no one but Opie touches me”. “Doesn’t it feel weird to be… marked, like that?”. I grimaced. “Sorry… I didn’t mean…”. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I get it”, Lyla responded. “This is just my way of showing everyone around me that I belong to Opie; but also, that Opie belongs to me”.

She smiled, and took my hand, squeezing it. “You seem nice, so I’ll let you in on a secret. This life… it’s not easy; but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love Opie – and his kids. He takes care of me and my boy”. She looked at me meaningfully. “But if you’re unsure about whether this is your idea of a good life; you should walk away. I mean that in the nicest way. Please don’t take it as anything else”. I gave her a crooked smile. “I’ll take it a day at a time”. She nodded.

A hand grabbed mine. Jax was standing next to me. “Hey”, he said softly. “Come say hi to my mom”. I followed him over to Gemma. “Hey sweetheart”, she said. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful”. “You’re welcome”, I smiled. “This is my husband, Clay”, she said, and the man at her side shook my hand. His eyes were deep and menacing; and I was unsure whether to be afraid of him or respect him. “Welcome to town, teach’”, he said. “Thanks. It’s been good so far”. Clay nodded at me, and looked at Jax. “Did you finish that business?”. Jackson clenched his jaw. “It’s done”, he said. “I made the call”. “Good”, Clay said. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow back on us”.

Gemma patted his chest. “No club business on my birthday, baby”. Clay smiled at his wife, and kissed her again. “Yes, ma’am”, he muttered. Gemma looked at Jax. “Do you need me to take the baby tonight?”. Jax looked at me, and then back at his mom. “Would you?”. “You know I love taking him”, she smiled. “Make it my birthday present”. Jackson chuckled. “Shit, I’ll take back the diamond necklace then”, he said. He took my hand. “Come on, let’s find somewhere quiet”. My breath hitched, and I followed him out of the clubhouse.

We sat down by a picnic table just outside the door. Jax had brought us a pair of freshly opened beers. “You doing ok?”, he asked earnestly. “Yeah”, I smiled. “Just … a bit out of my element”. He bit his lip and looked at me enquiringly. “What element is that?”, he asked. “I dunno… I usually don’t go to mc-parties”. He chuckled, and took my hand. “I’m glad you’re here”. “You don’t even know me”, I said quietly.

He sighed. “Tell me, then”. “What do you want to know?”, I smiled nervously. “Whatever you want to share”, he shrugged. “Why?”, I asked. He looked at me with a genuine warmth. “Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since you wrapped these hands around my waist, and it sent chills down my spine”. He took my other hand, linking his fingers with mine. “Where did you come from?”.

I didn’t know how much to tell him. I was still mentally sore from my ordeal with the guy in Chicago – but his serious expression made me trust him. “Chicago”, I said. “I was a teacher there as well. It didn’t work out…”. “Why?”. I sighed. “The city can wear a girl down”, I smiled theatrically. “And there was… a guy. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer”. Jacksons jaw clenched. “What’d he do to you?”, he almost growled “At first he was fine. We had a few dates, before he suddenly proclaimed his love for me”. “You didn’t feel the same way?”, Jax asked. “No. I mean; back then, he was friendly, had a steady job… He saw himself as a catch; and I guess he was. But I just didn’t care about him like that. He was… possessive. I tried to call it off, but he acted like I’d never said anything, and continued dropping by at my school; sending me flowers; and showing up at my apartment at all hours of the day”. Jackson bit his lip. “Sorry… I guess you’re off men for a while”, he said, and met my eyes again. I smiled. “No. Just him”. “Good to know”, he muttered. “But why didn’t you get a restraining order?”.

I sighed again. “I tried… he has connections. When he didn’t like my way of handling things, he let the word spread in the school council that I had an issue with drugs”. Jax shook his head angrily. “Asshole”. “Yeah”, I agreed. “I managed to get the drug accusations of my record – but it was too late, and I was fired”. “So you came to Charming”. I nodded. “I looked at names of towns on the west coast; and Charming seemed promising”, I smiled. “There was an opening as a teacher the elementary school; so I applied – and they must have been desperate, ‘cuz they gave me the position with just a phone interview”.

He squeezed my hands again. “I’m glad you’re here”. “Me too”, I muttered.

Jax put his hand on my cheek, and stroked my temple. “So if you’re not off men… mind if I give it a shot?”. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile, and shook my head.

He leant in, and stroked his nose against mine. Our lips brushed each other for a second; and he kissed me. I parted my lips slightly, and the tip of his tongue met mine. He put his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to him. He smelled like leather and some musky cologne; a warm smell that fit him perfectly – and his kiss tasted like the beer he’d been drinking, and mint chewing gum.

He exhaled deeply and pulled back a bit. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he asked softly. My body was screaming yes, but I was desperately trying to control myself. “Jax… I just moved into town. We’ve known each other for 5 minutes… I don’t think…”. “I get it”, he smiled. “I’m not expecting you to jump in to bed with me. But I do want to see you again”. “I’d like that”, I smiled.

Our lips met again. “You taste like… pancakes”, he smiled. “Is that good?”, I smiled. “It’s perfect”, he said against my lips, kissing me deeply one more time.

The door opened, and Juice stepped outside with a ginger girl. “Shit, sorry”, he smiled. “It’s fine, Juice, the table is yours. Just clean it up afterwards”, Jackson smiled. “Come on”, he said to me, pulling me with him.

“I think it’s time for me to go home”, I said softly. He looked at me with a kind smile. “You want a ride?”. I jingled the keys in my pocket. “I got a new car; remember?”. Jax groaned. “Shit; I would have loved to have these legs wrapped around me, in one way or another”. He slid a hand over my thigh; squeezing them gently.

Juice looked impatient; and Jax took my hand – leading me over to a black, classic looking Chevrolet. “Wow…”, I said. “I popped an air freshener in there for you. It had a pretty gnarly smell”, Jax chuckled. “Thanks”, I smiled, and looked at him warmly.

Getting into the car – immediately thanking Jax an extra time for the air freshener; as it was needed – I rolled down the window. “Thanks for inviting me”, I smiled at the blonde man. Jax took the hand I had resting in the window-opening, and squeezed it – winking at me. His face suddenly dropped. “Shit, Cat. I didn’t get your number…”. I grinned, and rattled of my digits, and he punched the number into a flip phone from his pocket. Who uses flip phones anymore?

Jax leant in, and planted a final soft kiss against my lips. “Bye”, he whispered, and bit his lower lip. I smiled and started up the engine. My new car purred, and I had a wide smile on my face, as I left the lot – sending a final look towards the picnic table, where Juice was face deep in the red-haired girls cleavage.

Welcome to Charming, I grinned to myself, and drove off.

—

Tag-list: (let me know if you want on it)

@wolf-lover-bookdragon

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​

[the-silentium]

Jinx Pt.2

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 2260 words

Warnings: Angst, torture, blood, swears... I think that’s about it.

Tags: @jossambird​

//General//

//Reset//

//Reset all//

//Enter password//

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

//Resetting//

As the cog turned onto the screen of your iPad, you felt lighter, free of the anxiety that someone could find a way into your tablet or simply see a drawing by accident. Your fear of hurting your new family was too great, even though they had promised to never touch your device again. 

Your relationship with them only got better in the weeks following the revelation of your ability, their acceptance of who you were only increasing the confidence you had in them, leading you to open more about yourself. 

You were throwing the tablet into your bag, put on your red squared flannel coat when Oscar's impatient shout came from the entrance of the apartment. You rolled your eyes at his eagerness, clearly, you'd never understand why he loved hunting people down so much. I wasn't your favorite part of a job, your favorite being when the mission was done and you could go relax somewhere or, as of late, pass time with your new family. 

"Took you long enough." You rolled your eyes, to what Oscar fake gasped. 

"We have all the time we want, relax." Pushing your luck, you ruffled his too perfectly arranged hair, dashing to run for the car where the older brothers were waiting as he went to grab your arm. 

Hurriedly you pulled on the 1968 Ford Mustang door handle multiple times, ultimately finding it locked. 

"Shit." You muttered, the dead leaves cracking under Oscar's boots alerting you of his presence right behind you. 

"You'll regret that." He whispered into your ear, an enormous handful of leaves falling in the back of your shirt making you yelp. 

Your back curved at the rough contact, hands flying to the hems of your coat and shirt to make them fall, some of them getting stuck in the fabric despite how hard you shook it. 

Otto knocked on the window, signaling that it was time to go, your childish behavior would have to wait for later. You sigh, letting the victory to Oscar -this time-, taking place on the back seats. 

The half-hour road would have been pleasant if it wasn't of the leaves crumbles scrapping your back. You tried to ignore it the best you could by humming to the songs on the radio and ignoring Axel's glances in the rearview mirror. 

"This place would be scary at nightfall." Oscar said, whistling in admiration when you all gathered at the door of the building. 

"Good thing we are not staying here for nightfall then." A shiver ran up your spine at the idea of walking in the abandoned factory in the dark. Who knows what could be hiding in the thrashed rooms. 

Axel's hand fell on your shoulder, his gaze searching yours to reassure you that it'll be alright. He'll protect you. His lips did the tiniest of twitch when you smiled wholeheartedly at him, grateful you at least have one brother who you could trust fully to not scare the shit out of you when you'd least expect it. 

Otto snatched the keep out sign, throwing it in the bushes. Immediately, you had to suppress your instincts that were screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible, passing your nerves as a result of Oscar's night plan. 

The silence in the building was strange, although not uncommon. You checked a room on the right for your target as Oscar checked a room on the left, regrouping with the others when you found no one. 

"Why would a guy hide in here?" You whispered to Oscar, who shrugged. Needles were lying everywhere along with broken glass, old tools, torn pieces of fabric and broken furniture. You couldn't progress as silently as you'd like, glass crunching under the sole of all your boots, rising your anxiety slightly. 

You repeated the process a couple more times, checking a room, regrouping, until a metallic door fell from the top of the door frame you just passed, right behind your back trapping you inside a windowless empty room. After recovering from the initial shock, the loud bang of the door landing on the ground almost giving you a heart attack, you tried lifting and pushing the door, not to avail. Bangings came from the other side, Oscar's muffled calls of your name barely reached your ears. 

"Oscar! Axel!" You hit the door, your worst fear coming true. "Ott-" 

A metallic noise behind you killed your brother's name in your throat, your body reacting as quickly as it could, gun at the ready. The absence of light made you press your back firmly to the door, wishing that maybe you would pass through it by some mysterious phenomenon, the incessant hits on the metal stressing you more and more. 

A soft whooshing sound caught your attention on your right, along with a pungent smell. Panicked, you slide on the door, landing on your ass to hide your face into your clothing, praying that your family would get you out of there before the gas had reason of you. You dropped your gun without wanting to, your only source of security disappearing in the dark. You sit there, hearing the banging, feeling your heart rate decreasing, your respiration slowing and you knew. You were screwed. 

"Y/N, are you alright? Kärlek!" Axel… He sounded distressed. It… made you feel… worried? 

A weird sound registered in your brain, your fingers twitching in response. You jerked as a hand grabbed your wrist, a weak scream leaving your mouth as something poked into your forearm. 

The hits on the door became louder, worried voices morphing into menacing ones. 

"Sweet dreams, agentin." The distorded voice whispered, a hand softly closing your eyelids for you since you couldn't do it yourself. 

*********

You were shivering uncontrollably, the cold air mixed with your wet clothes made it impossible for you to gain some sort of warmth. You were tired, oh so tired, but you fought. You fought as hard as you could. Against the nausea, against the cold, against the exhaustion. 

It took a while for you to get seated in the wet tiny cell, the remaining effects of the gas slowly disappearing from your system. 

"We can finally get started." 

Your head was still turning, your mind was still foggy but your instincts were still sharp. Your body moved by itself, retreating as far as it could from the voice, until binds on your wrists stopped your escape. 

"Wh-who are you?" You finally managed to open your eyes, taking in the dark humid cell you were in. Droplet of water ran onto the stone walls, gathering into small puddles where some courageous rats were drinking unbothered. The two oil lamps weren't enlightening much of the room, just enough to show you your dirty cell and all the sharp tools exposed onto the table. 

"Did you seriously think the Commission didn't have enemies?" A vicious smile stretched his lips, your blood running cold. He took out a set of keys, unlocking your cell before stepping in. 

Honestly, no. It never crossed your mind that a time-traveling company full of mercenaries could have enemies. How the hell did the guys in the Infinite Switchboard missed that?

The binds bit your skin the more you pulled on them, trying to evade his sickening form. 

"We knew you'd come for us sooner or later. We just had to set up the perfect time for agents to come do their handy work." He pulled your hair back, a disgusting smell of cigarettes assaulting your nose. "I'm glad to see that our plan worked. So einfach zu betrügen. Ein Haufen Idioten."

 You glared at him, your fear overpowered for a moment by your training, your heartbeat slowing to a steady beat, your muscles relaxing, testing the strength of your legs in an urge to hit him where it hurts. And hit him you did. 

Satisfaction flowed through you in waves at his cries of pain, the way he fell to his knees almost made you laugh. That was before the knuckles connected to your cheekbone, sending your head right into the wall. You didn't have the time to recover that hands wrapped tightly around your neck, his body straddling yours, restraining your movements. 

"No more playing around. Where is your briefcase?" 

The pressure alleviated for a second, allowing you time to spit on his face instead of talking like he wanted. He cursed in what you thought to be german before his hands tightened around your throat once more, lifting your neck to pull you back on the ground. 

Your cries were muffled by his hands, white lights dancing before your eyes. 

"How do you use them?" He yelled into your face. 

As his patience reached its limit, your lack of answer pissing him off, the shine of a knife caught your attention just before it cut slowly, steadily into the skin of your abdomen, superficially enough so you wouldn't die on him, but enough to make you think about a new way to approach the situation. 

"Maybe this will help untie your tongue." 

But it didn't, your mind deeply buried in one of your best memories to resist the pain your body was enduring. 

After a while, the pain stopped, letting in its wake an uncomfortable throbbing. You allowed yourself to return to reality, leaving the comfort of your mom's arms, your brother's teasing, your sister's giggles and your father's laugh. 

Tears flowed from your eyes as soon as your brain registered the white-hot pain, the new many cuts tainting your belly made you feel like you were burning. 

As you dug into your flesh to execute your plan, tears flowed from your eyes, and pleas from your mouth. Pleas for your beloved Swedes to find you in time, because for the first time in 16 years, you wanted to live. 

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

"Ready to talk today?" 

The man came back, lamp in hand, chasing the rats as soon as the light revealed them to the world. You'd had to hit them so they'd leave you alone, the blood under you enough to attract their hungry stomachs. 

"Ready to die?" You answered with a smirk. 

He took the bait, letting his annoyance guiding his actions. Unlocking your cell, he approached, the light of the lamp lightening the drawing on the wall, made of your very own blood. Giggles bounced around the cell as you saw his eyes taking in the monochromic illustration of himself, lying on the floor with a hole in his chest. 

"Think you're funny?" Quickly, he put the lamp on the floor, something metallic hidden in his hand. He jumped on you again, the exhaustion of your sleepless night fending off the rats making you powerless against the needle entering the vulnerable skin of your arm. 

"I guarantee you that you'll talk. I have all the time I want." He got up, grabbed the lamp and disappeared down a hallway. 

"Continue telling you that, asshole." You muttered, analyzing the hole in the crook of your elbow. "Son of a bitch." 

Without losing any precious second, you removed your coat, dipping it in the puddle on the floor and pressing it to the wall to erase your artwork, smudging the dried blood to protect any other eyes that would venture your way. 

You reduced it to a massive stain, or so you thought in the absolute darkness. 

Or was it dark? The hallway was bright again, his footsteps coming your way. 

"Not dead yet? Shame." You shot, uncaring of what you would get in return. 

"Y/N!" Oscar's voice boomed, hurting your beaten head. 

"Turn it down, dude." You whined, massaging your temple. Boots appeared in your peripheral, attracting your eyes. 

"He-"

Arms engulfed your form, tight but cautious of your bruises and wounds. 

"Jag var så orolig. Snälla säg mig att du är okej." He pulled away, eyes frantically running over your face and front. 

"Sorry, I don't speak handsome." You giggled, turning into a full-on laugh when he frowned, checking your head for bleeding. "It's so unfair." You pout. "The perfect Scandinavian stereotype. Handsome, gorgeous and cute all in the same family. Do you guys know how many women's love lives you've ruined just because they've looked at you?" 

Shit, talking so much is exhausting. Your head became very heavy, falling forward on a hard chest. 

"Vad är fel med henne?" Otto asked, bringing the lamp closer to better assess your injuries. 

"The not-so-handsomes can't understand. Not everyone speaks Ikea." Your words were muffled by Axel's shirt, which by the way, was very very soft. 

"I'm fairly sure she's drugged. Or hit her head too hard. One of the two." Oscar snickered, unlocking the chains around your wrists. 

A hum vibrated in Axel's chest, snuggling more into his body at the feeling. Arms moved under your knees and back, lifting your battered body with care, stopping when a hiss escaped you. 

"Sorry." He whispered, waiting for you to smile at him to position you better in his arms and follow his brothers out of the underground complex. 

"You can kiss it better." Your eyes found his captivating ones, his usual stern gaze now replaced by a soft one. 

"It's not you talking, Kärlek." He averts his eyes. 

"No? I wanted it for a year though, not just now." You snuggled in his neck, the tiredness finally catching up to you. You fell asleep to the sound of a frenetic heartbeat, safe in the arms of your beloved Swede.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 4

As shaky as things with Rebus had begun, they quickly settled into a comfortable companionship. The wolf was stubborn and willful when he wanted to be but it was… actually quite nice, to have someone to talk to.

As the days passed Rebus allowed Ford closer and closer, finally permitting Ford to brush his wild fur when more than a few of Ford’s belongings got tangled up in there. If anything Rebus seemed to appreciate the grooming. Ford couldn’t say he liked having his hair brushed (it was too short to do anything with and he’d never had anyone try to touch it beyond casual hair-ruffling) but he had to admit, it was quite soothing to run his hands through clean, silky fur.

If only the wolf wasn’t so frightening to look at.

Ford sighed, standing alone and empty-handed at the front door where the mailman had run off screaming, taking Ford’s package with him. Rebus yawned and stretched and looked generally imposing and wolf-like.

“Could you not scare away the postman?” Ford complained. Rebus looked entirely unapologetic. “Unbelievable.”

 ____________________________________________________________________

­­­­

“You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Rebus growled stubbornly and planted his ass on the porch, refusing to move no matter how much Ford pushed and pulled. If only the darn wolf wasn’t so heavy! Ford was up to his elbows in thick fur.

“You’re filthy, and you’re shedding!” He pressed his back against the wolf and shoved, only managing to slide him a few centimeters. Great. In an hour they might reach the front door. “You need a wash.”

Rebus let out a little growl.

“Oh, stop that.” Ford grabbed handfuls of fur and pulled. The hound sighed dramatically and flopped onto the deck, making Ford squawk in frustration. “Don’t lie down! Rebus!”

Rebus resolutely ignored him. Ford straightened.

“Of course. Of course I have to deal with this.”

Rebus’s outright refusal to bathe almost reminded him of his teenaged years, Ma bullying Stanley into washing. ‘A dip in tha ocean doesn’t count!’ She’d scold. ‘Go get yer ass in the shower or I’ll empty a bucket a’ water over yer head!’

Hmm.

Rebus yelped when Ford dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Ford snickered at the wrinkled nose and dirty glare Rebus shot him as he crawled, wet and dripping, from the rather sudden puddle.

“You were the one who refused to move to the bathroom. Don’t blame me for the consequences.”

Ford got to feel vindictively gleeful, up until Rebus shook and sprayed him from head to toe in dirty water.

  ____________________________________________________________________

­­

Ford went on a shopping run to stock up on supplies. When he returned, Rebus was curled up on the couch and the TV was blaring. Ford froze in the doorway.

Rebus glanced up almost guiltily. Reruns continued to play. The wolf rolled

sideways onto the remote and the TV switched off. Rebus yawned, stretched, and padded away, leaving Ford gaping.

  ____________________________________________________________________

 It was past midnight and Rebus was still bothering him! Ford threw down his pen and turned to glare blearily at the fussing animal. Rebus glared back from his spot in the doorway of Ford’s study.

“What? I already fed you! I’m busy.”

Wait, had he fed the wolf? He must have, Rebus would bark and whine and generally be a nuisance if Ford forgot. So what else did he want? Ford was getting frustrated with all the pacing and the stares. Rebus had been sending him those looks all night! All… morning? Afternoon? Ford wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it. He was pretty sure he’d pulled at least one all-nighter in the last few days but it was all a little hazy.

Tugging – Rebus had bitten his sweater sleeve and was currently tugging Ford out of his chair. Ford yelped and grabbed the desk to steady himself.

“Hey!”

He pulled back. Rebus yanked again with a jerk of his head and sent Ford stumbling forward.

“Let me go – you ridiculous animal – hey!”

Rebus continued dragging him through the house until Ford stumbled and caught himself on the frame of his bedroom door. He grabbed Rebus’s jaw to try and pry the fabric from his teeth but Rebus shook his head from side to side to avoid the reaching hands.

At some point it devolved into a tug-of-war, Ford still half inside his sweater and unable to hold back snorts of laughter at how hopelessly tangled he was quickly becoming. He wrestled Rebus to the ground as well as he could one-armed. Rebus growled playfully and tugged at his clothes.

Ford wheezed. He hadn’t noticed it while at his desk, but now that he was moving his vision was swimming a little. Come to think of it, when had he last slept? He was conveniently near his bedroom, as if that was where Rebus had been so intent on pulling him. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt…?

Rebus seemed to sense that Ford’s head wasn’t in the game anymore, because he quit playing and instead leaned against Ford’s side. The scientist yawned and reached up blindly to pet Rebus’s ears.

“Yes, yes… play can wait. I think I’ll try to catch a few hours of sleep.”

Rebus didn’t seem too disheartened. In fact, he watched sternly as Ford stumbled to bed, letting out a satisfied huff when Ford’s head hit the pillow.

Odd behaviour… Ford thought, before slipping into dreams.

  ____________________________________________________________________

 Rebus growled and dodged out of the way as Ford tried to clip the harness around his chest.

“Stay still! A leash is necessary if I don’t want to get in trouble. It’s either this or a collar, and you made your position clear on collars.”

Rebus glared at the object in Ford’s hand. The scientist scowled.

“You and I both know you don���t need a leash. But the residents of Gravity Falls don’t. They’ll get in a panic if you walk up unrestrained! Do you want to visit the town or not?”

The stare-off continued, until Rebus finally looked away. Ears pressed flat, he slunk forward to unhappily let Ford clip him in.

“See? Not so hard.” Ford said triumphantly. Rebus continued to mope the entire drive down to Gravity falls. That is, until the houses came into view. The wolf perked up, even going so far as to press his face to the window to get a good view of the town around them.

Once Ford parked and they exited the vehicle, getting around became a little more difficult, what with the teen screaming ‘WOLF’ and jumpscaring everyone on the street. Ford lifted his hands, holding the leash in clear view, in the hopes of de-escalating the situation.

“It’s okay, he’s domesticated. He’s my, uh…” Damn, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “…dog. A crossbreed.”

The teen continued to peer suspiciously at the obviously-a-wolf. Rebus wagged his tail helpfully.

“…okay.” She said dubiously. “Er – what’s its name?”

“Rebus.”

The teen tipped her head, still squinting somewhat. “Does it bite?”

“Certainly not.” Ford lied. Well, it technically wasn’t a lie – Rebus didn’t bite people. The wolf in question stepped forward to greet the slightly-less-suspicious teenager, who hesitantly offered one hand.

“Um. Hi, Rebus? I’m Matilda.” She added to Ford, who nodded and introduced himself in turn.

“Stanford Pines.”

Matilda looked up suddenly from petting Rebus. “Wait, you’re the scientist dude who lives in that weird shack?”

Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, yes. I am a scientist.”

“No kidding. Everyone knows about you, dude. They’ve just never met you before. Or heard your name or know anything about you.”

“I tend to keep to myself.” Ford admitted. “How did you know who I am?”

“My boyfriend Dan talks about you sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, Boyish Dan. The lumberjack.”

Matilda sent him finger guns. She seemed quite laid-back when she wasn’t screaming about wolves. Ford decided to chalk up that incident to surprise.

“Well, give him my regards. Rebus and I must be on our way before the shop closes.”

“Sure.” Matilda stood, dusting hair off her jeans. “And, uh, just a word of advice; you might wanna get that dog a collar.”

Rebus shot him a glare. Ford sighed. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

  ____________________________________________________________________

Ford had grown used to the crashing of gnomes raiding his bins every few days. When he first came to Gravity Falls he’d tried to put a stop to it, but they’d always come back the next day. Eventually he had given up. They rarely tried coming inside, and as long as they stuck to raiding the bins and nothing else it was tolerable.

But he hadn’t heard the tell-tail banging and clattering for almost a week now. Ford peeked through the window to check; there sat a row of untouched bins. The gnomes hadn’t just gotten very quiet all of a sudden; they hadn’t come at all. Why had they suddenly decided to leave his house alone? Not that he wasn’t thankful. More often than not they would leave a mess for Ford to clean up after.

There was the clicking of claws, and Rebus brushed against his legs on his way to the lounge. Ford failed to notice the strands of grey beard hair sticking out against his dark coat, and turned away from the window just in time to miss a party of scuffed and bruised gnomes scrambling into the forest as fast as their little legs could carry them.

  ____________________________________________________________________

Ford had made a slight, miniscule mistake.

A lapse of judgment, maybe. He’d gotten so caught up in a recent breakthrough that he had… maybe… forgotten to pay the power bills. And the water bills. And, he was pretty sure, a couple other bills he probably should have been paying.

With the sudden onset of a blizzard he was now firmly shut up in his not-heated house, shivering against the chill. He’d tried lighting a fire but what little firewood he had available had been soaked through by the melting snow. Ford resorted to bundling up in the warmest clothes he could find and huddling on the couch.

He shot a jealous look at Rebus, still shivering slightly under layers of blankets. The wolf’s heavy coat had finally come in handy and now he lay, perfectly warm and content, on the carpet.

Ford pulled his blankets tighter around him, unable to suppress a shiver. He vowed to never forget to pay his electricity bills again.

Rustling got his attention – Rebus had gotten up from his comfortable napping spot and yawned, before jumping up onto the couch next to Ford. Ford lifted one corner of the blankets invitingly.

Rebus squirmed in with him, heavy and warm, like an oversized heater. Ford didn’t object when the wolf lay half on top of him and yawned again. He only buried his face and hands in the warm fur and, toasty and comfortable for the first time in hours, fell asleep.

(he would wake up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a wolf snoring against him, warm despite the frostiness of the air. And after that night Rebus would often sleep by him, curled up at his feet or at the foot of his bed or flopped across him without a care in the world, as if liberated by the realization that he was truly safe and wanted)

[langdvnshepherd]

imagine duncan coming home from a long day at work and he’s just really angry and he yells at you for the tiniest thing and just blows and says hateful things one after another and once he realizes that you’re crying and you go to try and leave he won’t let you. he grabs you and nuzzles into your neck telling you he’s so sorry before dropping down to his knees and giving you the sweetest orgasm with his tongue.

Word Count: 1.2k

The harsh slam of the door caused the minced garlic in the pan you were cooking to jump. The cat took off, running presumably into your bedroom where his fluffy, overpriced pet bed lied on the floor in the corner. 

“Hey, Dunc,” you greeted him hesitantly, peering over your shoulder to see your boyfriend’s rigid frame hanging up his car keys on the hook above the lightswitch.

“Hi,” he answered flatly, his lips pressing right back into the thin line they’d been in all afternoon. 

“Work okay?” you kept your tone lighthearted.

Today was clearly not his day. Hopefully, the delicious pasta you were cooking would put him in a better mood.

“It was fine,” he responded with a huff, shrugging off his thick, Tom Ford overcoat with force.

He tossed his work satchel into the wall by his shoes then padded his bare feet over towards the hallway where your bedroom was located.

“Duncan, wait!” you called out.

You unconsciously winced when you saw Duncan stop in his tracks and exhale loudly before turning on his heels to face you.

“What?” the brunette more or less spat.

“Do you want vodka sauce or pesto for the pasta tonight?”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” Duncan muttered, then spun back around to continue walking towards the bedroom.

“Well, your mom is coming over for dinner on Saturday. Which would she prefer? We can just eat the one she doesn’t want tonight and save the other for her. Although, I guess I could just go buy mo-”

“I DON’T FUCKING CARE WHAT KIND OF SAUCE YOU PUT IN THE FUCKING PASTA!” 

His words rattled against the windows, accompanying an ear-splitting silence as he idled in the hallway, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jesus Christ, never mind then. I was just trying to-” you tried to mediate but were cut off by Duncan’s deep voice piercing the walls of your apartment.

“NO! Why can no one make a fucking decision without me?! It’s always, ‘Duncan this,’ ‘Duncan, that.’ Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone for once?!”

A sharp sting that started in your ears traveled throughout your entire body, heating your cheeks and causing your arms to tingle. Without realizing, cold, salty tears dripped from your eyes and clung to the curve of your jaw. Duncan had never raised his voice at you, especially not over something as mundane as pasta sauce. 

You licked your lips, rewetting your throat after it had gone bone dry from being left wide open as Duncan projected his anger towards you. You turned the burner of the stove off, then threw the still sizzling pan full of herbs into the sink without regard to the loud clank it made as it clattered against the stainless steel.

“Order a pizza then, asshole,” you spat as you barrelled towards yours and Duncan’s shared room, shoving Duncan out of the way and into the wall in the process.

//

You heard Duncan enter the room quietly, but you chose not to acknowledge him. He had cracked the door just enough for him to slide his body through the frame, causing a sliver of light from the hallway to pierce the darkness that you had confined yourself to. You faced the window opposite the door so that your body was facing away from him, your legs folded tightly into your chest.

The bed dipped under Duncan’s weight, and you soon felt his arm wrap around your middle and his chin burrow deep into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he muffled into your skin, the combination of his warm breath and scratchy stubble making you squirm.

You knew why he’d lashed out. He’d been confiding in you for days now about how exhausting his workload had been especially with it being the end of the quarter. You knew him yelling at you in the kitchen was a projection of the frustration he’d pent up, and weren’t even that angry with him, but you were embarrassed that you’d allowed him to see you cry because of it. Which is why you ignored his attempt at an apology, only spurring him on further.

“Work is kicking my ass. I’m extremely stressed and I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. You didn’t do anything to deserve that. I’m so sorry,” his voice trailing to a whisper at the end.

“Are you really?” you asked, still facing away from him.

“Am I really what?”

“Sorry.”

“Of course, Y/N. I would never want to make you cry.”

The covers rustled around you as you turned to face Duncan, your noses just barely brushing against one another.

“Then prove it.”

“Prove what?”

God, he really was clueless.

“How sorry you are. Then maybe I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Duncan sensed your lightheartedness, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly when he realized what you meant.

“Promise?”

“Of course,” you giggled.

Duncan pressed his lips against yours with haste, then quickly flipped you on your back so that his body was hovering above yours.

“Deal.”

He peppered kisses all the way down your body: the patch of skin behind your ear, the dip of your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, the ticklish skin above your navel, the inside of your thighs after he’d pulled your leggings down and over your ankles.

He moved to your panties, mimicking his actions from before, but this time over the fabric that covered your sensitive clit. Duncan was gentle, alternating between mouthing against you with his plump, pink lips and licking flat, broad stripes until the sticky, damp patch on your underwear was a combination of his saliva and your arousal.

“Duncan,” you whined, bucking your hips against his mouth in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Shh,” Duncan cooed, his cold fingers causing goosebumps to litter your skin as he hooked them around the waistband of your panties and slid them off of your body.

His lips attached themselves to your clit, this time sans the barrier of your underwear. Duncan’s tongue slithered itself downward, massaging the thin petals of your folds that ran down your cunt and stopped just above your entrance, all while suckling on your now swollen bundle of nerves. 

You felt your muscles relaxing, your arms and legs melting into the downy comforter as Duncan worked you open with his warm, wet tongue. Your breathing slowed as his mouth traveled down further to taste the nectar that poured from your entrance, your eyes rolling back towards the wall when you felt the tip of his tongue prod at the spongey skin.

Duncan continued to lap up your juices, occasionally drawing his lips back up to suckle on your clit. You felt his fingers snake around from your thighs to the underside of your ass, then felt a flood of pleasure take over your body when his thumb began massaging the puckering ring of your asshole.

The build-up was immediate, the coil in your tummy growing unbearably tight, but not enough to snap, not enough to send you gushing over the edge just yet.

Duncan sensed your impatience. He groaned into your cunt as he felt you shudder beneath him, your breath picking up and your hands becoming more finicky. You reached out to tug at his hair, wanting him as close to you as humanly possible. 

Duncan took note of your silent request, immediately switching from taking his time to wanting to see you unravel as quickly as possible. All it took were a few hard, pulsing sucks on your clit and you came undone, your back arching off the bed as your thighs quivered around Duncan’s head. 

He held you down with his palms through your orgasm, making sure to catch every drop of release that dripped from your sensitive opening.

“So,” Duncan started, lips unhinging from your clit with a wet, popping sound.

His jaw was coated in your essence, shining in the moonlight that now shined through the cracks in the blinds.

“Am I forgiven?”

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Call It What You Want (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Modern Summer AU)

Five:

Once they were halfway through the airport parking lot, Bucky led the pair over to a Kermit the Frog green 1976 Ford Bronco with a white top. Opening the trunk, Bucky held his hand out for the bags. Steve readily gave his bag over, but Natasha insisted on doing it herself.

Leading the way again, Natasha started heading around to the passenger side. And since Natasha was heading that way, Steve followed.

"Hold on," Bucky declared, holding his hand up to the pair. They paused and Bucky rushed ahead of them. He opened the door and started throwing empty pop and water bottles behind the seat as he explained, "It's a little messy."

"Yeah," Natasha sneered, pulling out a cigarette. Balancing it between her lips, staining the cigarette with her plum lipstick, she didn't waste any time lighting it. Exhaling a puff, Natasha continued busting Bucky's balls, "We can see, ya know."

A light blush colored Bucky's cheeks and Steve elbowed Natasha in her ribs, but she didn't care. Trying to ease some of the tension, Steve politely stated, "Thank you for picking us up."

"Oh, you don't have to thank me," Bucky brushed off with an easy grin as he walked around the front of the Bronco. As he opened the heavy door to the driver's side. Climbing inside, Bucky said, "You can thank, Brock, though. It's his truck."

Natasha gestured for Steve to climb in first, and Steve did. The bench seat wasn't very large, and Steve's face heated as he slid along the seat, next to Bucky. Trying not to get distracted by Bucky's jawline that was so chiseled that one could cut their hand on it, Steve questioned, "Who's Brock."

"One of Sam's friends," Bucky answered, pulling out of the spot and nearly backing into another vehicle.

"Jesus Christ," Natasha exclaimed, pulling her sunglasses down slightly and looking in the side mirror over the top of the black frames. She sneered, "Do you even have a license?"

"Yes," Bucky chuckled. He shrugged and defended himself, "I'm not used to driving such a large vehicle."

"Obviously," Natasha scoffed and pushed her sunglasses back up her nose and rested her elbow on the door, making sure the smoke left through the open window.

Not wanting to sit in silence, Steve gestured towards the radio and asked, "Do you mind?"

Bucky glanced over at Steve and confirmed, "No, not at all. Go right ahead."

So, with Bucky's blessing, Steve turned on the radio. Immediately regretting it though when they were greeted with a pop-rock song blaring through the speakers. Quickly, Steve turned the volume down. And even though the music wasn't his style, Steve knew that Natasha liked it, so he didn't change the station.

While Natasha tapped her fingers on her thigh to the beat, Steve settled in the seat. Looking at the scenery before them, Steve couldn't help but wonder if they had left New York at all.

Leaving the airport behind, Natasha elbowed Steve. Instantly gaining Steve's attention, Natasha sarcastically mocked, "Don't look so tore up about it. Someone might assume you don't want to be here."

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You know that I can't help it."

"Yeah, yeah," Natasha smirked, "Smiling's your favorite thing. Blah, blah, blah. Settle down, Buddy the Elf, will ya?"

"Shut up," Steve good-naturedly scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes again.

Natasha simply smirked and threw the cigarette butt out the window. Rolling up the window, Natasha paused. Realizing that there wasn't any air conditioning, Natasha rolled down the window again and griped, "Holy shit, how does this dude get around in this sweaty ass weather without AC?"

Bucky shrugged, his elbow resting on the door and assumed, "Used to it?"

"Jesus H. Christ," Natasha complained. Then, as though the thought had just popped into his head, "Hold the fuck up --"

"Nat," Steve softly interjected, a reminder of Natasha to watch her language.

"-- Please tell me that your house has AC," Natasha continued, ignoring Steve.

"Yes, we have air," Bucky chuckled. Glancing over at Natasha, he joked, "We're not completely uncivilized here."

Steve smirked at that. Before he could avert his gaze, Bucky's eyes fell on him. Bucky's lips quirked up even more, effectively causing Steve's breath to halt. Holding his breath up until Bucky turned his gaze in front of him back onto the road.

"Praise the lord," Natasha deadpanned, practically echoing Steve's exact thought as he took in a deep breath.

[thelastspeecher]

Yesterday during my random stream, I asked for suggestions about what to write next for the Angiewolf AU, and was told to write up the Iconic scene of Ford discovering the reason Angie didn’t transform during the last full moon and announcing it to everyone.  So here’s that scene, plus another.

              Angie’s knee bounced nervously.  She chewed at her lip and glanced at the clock, trying to decide what to do.

              Maybe I should just hop down to the drug store and pick up a test.  Then I can get a yes or no answer fer sure.  Certain of what she would do now, Angie stood.  Stan looked up from his magazine.

              “Whatchya doing?” Stan asked.

              “Oh, nothin’,” Angie said evasively.  “Just goin’ to run an errand.”  Stan put down his magazine.

              “I’ll drive.”

              “No need!” Angie blurted out, panicking at the thought of Stan coming with. “I’ll walk.”

              “Babe, Ford said we need to keep an eye on you, just in case you suddenly transform.”

              “It’s three in the afternoon.  I highly doubt that would happen.”

              “Yeah, I know.  But Sixer knows what he’s talkin’ about, so…”  Stan got up.  “I’ll get the car started.”

              “Great,” Angie mumbled.  The front door burst open with a slam that reverberated throughout the house.  A framed picture of Nikola Tesla fell off the wall.

              “Angie’s pregnant!” Ford shouted.  Stan stared at Angie.

              “What?” he choked out.  Angie held up her hands placatingly.

              “Look, darlin’, I’m sure Stanford’s just-”  Ford rushed into the living room, out of breath but clearly pleased with himself.

              “I figured it out!” Ford said excitedly.  He held up a thick book embossed with the title “Lycanthropy, Vampirism, and Other Supernatural Human Ailments”.  “In here, it explains that if a female werewolf were to become pregnant, she would stop transforming into wolf form during a full moon.  It’s for the safety of the pups.  Apparently in utero, shifting from one species to another would be harmful.”  Footsteps echoed down the stairs.  Fiddleford poked his head into the living room.

              “Stanford, what did I hear ya say ‘bout my baby sister?”

              “She’s pregnant,” Ford said.  Fiddleford scowled.

              “That’s what I thought I heard.  Look, that ain’t possible.  There’s no way Angie and Stan are bein’ intimate in that manner.”  Fiddleford looked at Angie for confirmation.  She immediately took a vested interest in her fingernails. “…Oh.”  Fiddleford let out a long sigh.  “Great.  I was so much happier livin’ blissfully ignorant, thinkin’ that Angie never saw a man naked.”  He glowered at Stan.

              “Moving on from the existence of Stan and Angie’s sex life,” Ford said. Angie groaned.  Ford patted the book he was carrying.  “A pregnancy is the only logical conclusion to this mystery of your inability to transform, Angie.”

              “There’s nothing else that could be causing it?” Stan asked.  “Like, maybe she’s got a cold or-”

              “No, nothing else,” Ford said.  “Even a broken bone won’t prevent transformation.  Transformation actually can speed the healing process of broken bones, given how they shift and when changing forms.”  Stan sat down heavily on the chair he had vacated minutes ago. He put his head in his hands.

              “Fuck,” Stan whispered.  Ford beamed at Angie.  Angie eyed him, unnerved.

              “Yer awful chipper ‘bout this,” she said slowly.

              “The data I could collect from studying werewolf pups would be a wonderful addition to what I’ve already collected from examining you,” Ford said.

              “Pups,” Stan echoed blankly.  He let out a loud groan.  “Pups.”

              “Okay, I’m- I’m just goin’ to go ahead and schedule a doctor’s appointment,” Angie said.  “Get this resolved by a professional.”

              “Prob’ly a good idea,” Fiddleford said, switching from glaring at Stan to glaring at Ford.

              “Yeah.  And, uh, I’m gonna go take a walk,” Angie added.  “Fer a few hours.  Or days. However long it takes to forget this conversation happened.”  She walked towards the front door.  As she prepared to leave, she overheard Ford speak.

              “You know, I’d bet money on the pregnancy being a multiple birth.  I mean, it makes logistical sense.  Wolves have litters.  The chances of her having at least two pups are high.”

              “Litters,” Stan said faintly.  “Pups.”

              “Great,” Fiddleford said.  “Ya broke yer own brother.”  Angie stifled a groan and stepped outside.

----- 

              “All right, doc, give us the good news,” Stan said briskly.  “We having a Stan Junior or not?”  Angie sighed.

              “Sorry ‘bout him.  Once he got over the shock, Stan swung pretty far in the other direction.”  The obstetrician, Dr. Rivers, chuckled.

              “It’s fine.  There are worse reactions to upcoming children than being overeager.”  Stan and Angie were at the doctor’s office for the first ultrasound, after Angie’s hastily scheduled appointment had shown Ford was correct.

              “I mean it, Angie, we’re gonna have a boy,” Stan said.  “I’ve got this gut feeling.”  Angie rolled her eyes.  “So, it’s a boy, right, doc?”

              “It’s too early in the pregnancy to determine the sex,” Dr. Rivers said, running the sensor over Angie’s stomach.  She squinted at the screen.  “At this point in time, we’re checking for fetal abnormalities or visible defects.”

              “Yer takin’ pictures, right?” Angie asked.  “We haven’t told my folks yet.  Decided to wait until we had cute pictures to show ‘em.”

              “Gotta smooth over the whole ‘unmarried pregnancy’ thing,” Stan said. Dr. Rivers smiled.

              “Yes, I’m taking plenty of pictures for your family.”

              “Good.”

              “And so far, everything looks…”  Dr. Rivers trailed off, frowning at the screen.  Angie’s breath hitched.

              “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

              “Nothing.  Quick question, do multiple births run in your family?”

              “Not at all.”

              “Well, looks like you can’t say that anymore.”  Dr. Rivers pointed at the screen.  “There’s one baby.”  She moved her finger over slightly.  “And there’s another one.”

              “Oh, wow,” Angie whispered.  Stan leaned over Angie to get a better look at the screen.

              “At least I’m carrying on the Pines twin tradition,” he said idly.  He grinned down at Angie.  “Two kids to spoil rotten and teach to pickpocket.”

              “Not exactly,” Dr. Rivers interrupted.  Stan and Angie looked at her.  Dr. Rivers pointed at another white blob on the screen.  “There’s three fetuses.”

              “Th- three?” Angie stammered.  She paled.  “Triplets?”

              “Yep.  Congratulations.”

              “Son of a- what the fuck?” Stan said, stumbling backwards.  “Holy Moses, I- I- three kids?  At once?  That’s- that shouldn’t be allowed.”  Dr. Rivers raised an eyebrow in amusement.

              “I assure you, Mr. Pines, it is allowed.  It’s not very common, but triplets do happen on occasion.  I can refer you to a specialist, should you opt to continue with this pregnancy without selective reduction.”

              “Why would we need to go to a specialist?” Stan asked.

              “Multiple births are prone to complications.  It would be wisest to consult someone who has experience in handling those kind of complications and issues, should they pop up.”

              “Um, yeah, that- that’d be great,” Angie stammered.  She ran a hand through her hair.  “We’re goin’ to need to talk a bit together, but we’ll let ya know what we decide on.”

              Fifteen minutes later, Stan and Angie exited the clinic and got into Stan’s car.  They sat in silence for a while.

              “Triplets,” Angie said finally.  Stan groaned and slammed his head against the wheel.  “Lord, we’re screwed.”

              “Didn’t Ford say that werewolfism gets passed down by the mom?” Stan asked. Angie nodded.  “Ang, you realize that this means we’ll have three babies at once, and all three of those babies are gonna be werewolves.”  Angie stroked her stomach slightly.

              “To top it all off, these three children are our children.  And neither of us were easy when we were kidlets.”

              “God fuck, we are boned,” Stan said, exasperated.  He rubbed his face.  “At least we got plenty of pictures for your parents.”  He groaned again.  “But those pictures aren’t gonna stop ‘em from kicking my ass.  Not now that it’s triplets.”

              “This won’t be easy,” Angie said quietly.  “I mean, first off, I’ll be carryin’ these three fer months, and then after they’re born, it’ll be one trial after another.”  She kneaded her forehead.  “But…I’m- I still want ‘em.”  Angie looked at Stan.  “Do- do you?” After a moment, Stan nodded.

              “Yeah.  It’s gonna be hell for both of us, but seeing them on that screen…”  A small smile eked its way onto his face.  “I’m not gonna let anything happen to ‘em.”

              “Me neither.”

              “Good,” Stan said.  “You’re the tougher one of the two of us.”  Angie let out a bark of laughter.  “God, I love your weird laugh.”  Angie grinned at him.  “My wolf woman,” Stan said lasciviously.  Angie’s grin turned flirtatious.

              “I love yer laugh, my human man.”

              “Doesn’t sound as good,” Stan remarked, starting the car.

              “Mm, yer right, it don’t.”  Angie leaned back in her seat.  “I’ll have to think of somethin’ else then.”  They had just exited the parking lot when Angie let out a loud gasp.

              “What?  Did you forget your purse or something?” Stan asked.  Angie groaned.

              “No.  I just realized.  Ford was right about it bein’ more ‘n one kid.”

              “God, he’s gonna be insufferable.”

[lesbianstarkx]

Happy Little Mistakes - Agent Kay (Kevin Brown) x Fem!Reader [Josh Brolin Character Imagine]

In which Kevin Brown thought that he was going to live out the rest of his life just working, but then he finds you, a southern agent with a sassy attitude, and he recalls the moment you first met.

This is sorta SHIT but it’s okay,,i finished it. This is also showing up SUPER ugly on mobile, so if it messed up: the italicized is a flashback and there’s supposed to be a little border in between those paragraphs, but if it’s not showing up, just use your imagination I guess 😩 anything not italicized is present time.

If you haven’t seen Men in Black 3, watch this to get a feel for Josh Brolin’s character and his accent! 

NOTE: THIS TAKES PLACE IN THE 1960′S, AND I’M IGNORING AGENT KAY AND AGENT OH’S CHEMISTRY FOR THE SAKE OF THIS :)))))

Warnings: Mentions of smut with no detail, usage of female pronouns

Agent Kay, also known as Kevin Brown, had devoted his whole life to his work. It had been his promise whenever he joined the MIB that his mission would be protecting earth; nothing more, nothing less. He hadn’t had a lot to live for before he joined, and he knew the risks— you disappear, no trace of you being alive outside of the Men In Black, unless you decide to opt out— but he decided that he was destined for this job.

And he was good at it.

Disappearing, that is. Distancing himself from people and keeping a private life, even if he had to spend time with them.

But you hadn’t been part of the plan. 

He had fully planned to live out the rest of his life just working for the MIB, no strings attached to anyone outside of the agency, but then you showed up. It’d been years ago, but he still remembered every detail like it had happened yesterday. 

“Agent Kay, we need you to take a stop by Peter’s restaurant downtown. We have reports that he’s got a underground alien object exchange after hours. He won’t-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Kay sighed against the phone as he began starting his car up again. “Wouldn’t be the first time. See ya, Oh.” He hung up at that, shoving the antenna back in before he tossed it into the passenger seat. Another day at work doing the same thing he always did. He could save the chitchat, he didn’t have the patience for it anymore.

He started up his old Ford and started towards Peter’s restaurant, the familiar rough hum of the car sputtering around him.

It was a Friday. The wind was blowing in through the window, cooling the warm air that surrounded him whenever he was still. Janis Joplin played gently through the radio, and it was 2:05pm.

He made it to Peter’s in about fifteen minutes, luckily having not been far whenever he started. Peter was an alien from a planet that was nearly impossible for a human to say— Agent Oh was the only one that could do it accurately— and he constantly caused problems. He wasn’t huge trouble, just greedy and always looking for new ways to make money, even if it meant doing shady business. Kay wasn’t a stranger to Peter and his tricks, and yet Peter still fell for his every time.

He checked himself in the mirror before he got out, re-buttoning his suit coat as he pushed the doors open to the restaurant. No sign of Peter at first glance, but his chicken-shit ass probably ducked and hid at the sight of Kay’s car pulling up. He raised an eyebrow and shoved a hand in his pocket as he began towards the kitchen, when suddenly, a voice sounding behind him stopped him in his tracks.

“You look like a tall glass of trouble.”

He turned, fully expecting trouble himself, but instead he was faced with the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on in his life. [h/c] hair that perfectly framed her face, and sparkling [e/c] eyes that seemed to stand out the more than anything he’d seen over the years.

He hadn’t seen you around here before, especially since most people that came in here weren’t actually humans, and you looked as human as they came. You smirked up at him confidently, and he was weirdly drawn in by that.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” He asked, his southern drawl taking you aback slightly, but you rolled with it nonetheless. It matched yours to boot.

“I know trouble when I see it. What you doing here?” You raised an eyebrow at him as you adjusted your top, the pencil behind your ear catching his attention before his eyes fell down to the pad of paper in front of you.

Ah, a reporter. That explains a lot.

“Nothing that’s important to you, and frankly-“

“Watch your back, slick.”

Suddenly, something hard hit Kay across his back and he stumbled forward slightly, falling from the force, but managed to turn around and grab whatever it was before it smacked him again. It was Peter, with some sort of long, metal tubing, and he looked absolutely terrified at the sight of Kay’s face. He frowned and quickly pulled the pipe from his grasp, pushing it forward into his stomach in one quick motion. He didn’t have to, but it was payback for the bruise that was already forming on his back.

And you still sat at your booth, unaffected and unamused, that small smirk still on your lips.

Kay caught sight of it whenever he glanced at you and wanted to say something, but before he had the chance, Peter retaliated faster than Kay anticipated and grabbed a nearby plate, smashing it over his head. He stumbled back slightly before he shook his head, glass pieces falling from his hair.

Alright, that was e-fucking-nough. He reached for his gun, only to realize—

It wasn’t there.

He heard the familiar sound of the weapon whirring to life before he even had a chance to register what could have happened to his trusted weapon, and whenever he looked up, his shoulders dropped at the sight of Peter pointing the gun at him, hands shaking.

“I’m tired of you nosy Men in Black! I’m just trying to live, man! Make a living! This is how things on my planet worked!” He yelled as Kay put his hands up, who was looking over at you, still sitting at the booth with a bemused look on your face and hands crossed.

Calm as fucking ever.

You were an interesting character, he thought, but this was sort of a bad place to be thinking things like that.

You let out a sigh as you took the pencil from your ear and laid it down on the table, and Peter quickly turned the gun on you, his hands beginning to shake even worse whenever he seen that you were unaffected by the presence of the barrel of the gun and only continued to step to him.

“Don’t come any closer, lady! I don’t wanna hurt you!”

You shrugged, “Won’t be a problem.”

And before Peter even had a chance to thing about pulling the trigger, you had pulled out your own gun, but instead of blasting him, an electric current hit the middle of his forehead and knocked him out cold. He spazzed and twitched for a moment before he lay still, and you put the weapon back into the holster that you hid under your top.

Kay looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before he regained his composure, that confident smirk returning to his face as you began to tuck your top back into your skirt.

“And who might you be?” He asked, walking over to grab his pistol from Peter’s grip. Clearly, you were aware of the existence of alien life, didn’t seem like the regular “ALIENS ARE REAL! I’ve devoted my whole life to my alien blog!” nutcase, and carried pretty heavy weaponry for someone he knew didn’t work for the MIB. So you peaked his interest even more.

You tossed him a look over your shoulder as you turned to return back to your booth, paying no attention to the unconscious alien body lying on the floor. “Nothing that’s important to you, frankly.”

Huh. Sass, too. He liked it.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged and put his gun back into its holster. “I’m gonna take a look in the back. You planning on leaving anytime soon, doll?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You sat back and nodded him off. “I ain’t got my food yet.”

He laughed a little and shook his head before walking off at that, stepping over Peter’s body and just leaving him there. Everyone else in the restaurant were pretty much harmless, just Peter’s teenage kids that he used as cooks and excuses whenever he needed an out. They all immediately backed out of the way whenever Kay entered, and after a moment of looking around and seeing nothing suspicious, he finally turned to one of the kids to ask them a few questions.

Before he could even get a word out, they already pointed to a small switch that disguised itself as a spoon lying on the counter, and he nodded courteously at them before pulling it. Two huge doors opened at the back of the restaurant on the floor, and he smirked, already pulling his phone out so he could file the report and get clean up down to the building.

Once everything was set and cleanup was on their way, he had one thing left to deal with:

You.

And despite everything, he still felt like you were going to be the biggest challenge of this whole investigation. He made his way back into the seating area of the restaurant, whistling some tune he couldn’t quite place as he took a seat across from you in the booth, figuring it was better to just sit than ask.

“Deep Purple, I think.” You said, closing the notepad in front of you.

“What’s that now?”

“The song you were hummin’. I think it was a song from Deep Purple.”

He still looked at you completely perplexed, and you laughed, reaching up to push hair from your face. “I could tell by the way you faltered whenever you were whistlin’ that you didn’t know exactly what tune it was.”

His eyebrows lifted from their confused state at that and he nodded, laughing quietly with you.

“You sure do know your way around, ma’am. This scene and people both.” He smiled at you.

“What‘s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean a little innocent reporter such as yourself, roaming around this part of town with weapons on you like that taser, completely unaffected by the alien lying unconscious on the ground? This ain’t your first rodeo.”

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back in the booth. “Won’t be my last, neither.”

He laughed, that bright smile of his making your heart go 90 to nothing before he offered you his hand. “Agent Kay, MIB. What’s your name, baby doll?”

You smiled and promptly took his hand, shaking it. “Agent 9-3, TISCW.”

“TISCW?” He leaned back and looked over at the array of condiments, arranging them casually as he raised an eyebrow. “What in good god is that supposed to stand for?”

“The Intergalactic Safety Commission of Women.” You answered, reaching over to fix the salt shaker that he had put back haphazardly. “While ya’ll down here take care of your people, we take care of people everywhere that are domesticated planets. And, we actually stay true to our name. Women only.”

“Never heard of ya’ll.” He said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. You did the same, your faces only inches apart.

“That’s because American’s never take the time to get to know anyone outside of America.”

“You sound pretty American to me, doll.”

“I’m a special case.” You smirked, then reached forward, picking a small piece of glass from the plate that had smashed from his hair. You watched his eyes fall directly down to your lips, which made your smirk widen further.  “What’s your real name, Agent Kay?”

“I ain’t got a real name.” He shrugged, and you booped his nose gently with your finger as you backed away, drawing him back to reality and away from your lips. “Oh, c’mon,” you scoffed, “Everybody’s got a real name. I know you Men In Black. You may be erased from the government systems, but that don’t mean you don’t exist anymore.”

He looked up at your eyes and smiled. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine?”

“Hm.” You hummed gently and laughed, grabbing your pencil and tucking it behind your ear again. “That’s usually a third date typa thing for me, but I suppose I can make an exception.” You glanced back at the door before looking back at Kay. “Why don’t we get into that fancy Ford of yours and go back to my place? We can get to know each other better there.”

He smirked at you, and that was all the answer that you needed.

By the end of the night, you had learned that his real name was Kevin Brown and that yours was [f/n] [l/n]. And you’d be damned if the both of you weren’t yelling each other’s names out until morning, sweaty and yet stuck together like glue. It’d been ages for the both of you since you’d last had some decent company, work differences usually keeping the two of you separated from getting close to anyone new.

But you found refuge in each other.

It was a Friday that slowly melted into a Saturday. The breeze from outside gently blew into the window, cooling your warm bodies that stayed close together in bed. Janis Joplin plays distantly on the radio in the corner of your room. It was 2:05am.

And you were both overwhelmingly happy. 

It’d been two years since that day, yet sadly, the two of you couldn’t get married. Thanks to the MIB, Kevin didn’t exist in any legal system, so there was no way he could fill out any sort of marriage certificate. He could ask the Men In Black to forge an identity for him so you two could, but that was a whole mess that neither of you wanted to get into. The MIB agency hated the TISCW (they said they were “dangerous” and “reckless” whenever, in reality, Earth would be under attack way more if it weren’t for them), and their best agent asking to marry a TISCW? It’d be the end of the world.

But, you weren’t complaining. You loved Kevin and you were happy being beside him regardless. He kissed you like you were his world, he cooked old southern-style food whenever he knew work had been hard, he told dad jokes in his dry humor (you didn’t really think they were funny, but his smile could light up a room), and not to mention, he was amazing in bed. You had everything you could possibly need.

Currently, you were sitting on the counter in the kitchen in your shared apartment, your legs swinging as Kevin cooked breakfast. Jimi Hendrix played on the radio sitting in the windowsill, and Kevin swung his hips gently to All Along the Watchtower (x). This was a normal routine for your house, and yet, something felt a little off.

So you asked, “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

Kevin glanced up from the eggs he was cooking and raised an eyebrow at you, “What’s that?”

“I can tell somethin’ is wrong. Whatcha thinking about?” You leaned back on your hands as Kevin slid the pan over to a cold spot on the stove.

“I dunno,” He sighed, walking over to you and sliding in between, “I’m just thinkin’, I guess.”

“Anything in particular?” You leaned back up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“About us.”

“What about it?”

“You think this’ll last until the end, baby?” He asked sincerely, looking up at you. “You and I?”

You frowned slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back into place that had fallen on his head. “Of course, darlin’. You’ve got me until my last breath,” you said, lifting his face up so he’d look at you, “What’s got you thinking like this?”

He sighed a little before he leaned forward, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. He pulled away after a moment and pressed his forehead to yours. “I dunno, baby. Our jobs, I guess. We can’t get married and I just I just feel…impermanent, I dunno.” He shrugged a little and you chuckled through your nose, drawing gentle patterns on his upper back with your fingers.

“I think you been working too much.”

“I always work too much.”

You both laughed, and he leaned forward again, stealing another kiss from you. You sighed as he pulled away, poking his nose before you moved to lean back on your hands again.

“I don’t care about none of that, you know,” you said, shrugging lazily, “I don’t care if we make up fake jobs every time we talk to someone, or all the names on our credits cards are fake, or even that we can’t get married. I got you right here, I know you’re real, I know we’re real, and that’s all I need. That’s all I’ll ever need.” You reached up to trace his bottom lip with your finger gently. “So you can let go of all of that silly doubt you’ve got runnin’ through that big head of yours. I’m right here until I can’t be no more, got it?”

He was smiling now, big and bright, and even though you’d seen it plenty of times throughout the years you’d been together, it still made your cheeks flush a light red and butterflies fill your stomach. You’d never get tired of this man and the way his eyes crinkled around the corners when he was happy, with you, or with anything.

You could tell, in that moment, that he’d realized a few things. You weren’t sure what they were, but he looked as if a weight had been lifted, and you were happy for him nonetheless. He’d always thought way too much about everything, even though he wouldn’t admit it, so if you could diminish even some of those worries, then that was an accomplishment.

“Now,” you wrapped your legs further around his waist as you leaned back up, your arms snaking around his neck, “I think those eggs are startin’ to get cold, slick.”

“The eggs can wait.” He decided suddenly, picking you up off of the counter and making you giggle. “We got a whole day to ourselves, darlin’. Let’s use our time wisely.”

And at that, he carried you to the bedroom, the two of you laughing as some Led Zeppelin song started to play on the radio.

It was a Sunday morning. No wind was blowing, the weather was nice and the sun was shining, dripping in through the windows. A Whole Lotta Love played through the radio and filled the house with music, but it couldn’t be heard over the sound of happy and in-love laughter. It was 7:05am.

You may have been a mistake, an unplanned part of Kevin’s life, but sometimes happy little mistakes happen.

And that’s okay.

[rickolinagrimes]

Paranoia - Part 3

“Well mother dick look what the rats dragged on in!” A deep country voice sounded behind you and you turned to see who it was.

“Well look here it’s Sergeant Ginger.” You smiled. “Bring it in big guy!”

The pair of you embraced tightly before pulling apart. “I thought you were off up by the Yukon when I last heard from ya?”

“I was, love, but then I got an emergency call saying to get my ass back to DC when this all kicked off.” You shook your head. “Damn Secretary of State got bit didn’t he! Had to be diplomatic to people for hours on end.” You scrunched up your nose in disgust.

“Abraham, how do you know her?” Rick’s expression was stoney as he evaluated the interaction.

“Well ol’ Peanut here spent a lotta time with ma unit whilst we were on a tour in Iraq. Military black ops. Damn horror story she is, gives the Grim Reaper a run for his bloody money when she’s pissed.” He folded his arms and leant against the door frame.

“Okay, but in my defence they stole our food and then kidnapped Billy.” You bounced Judith on your hip and she happily giggled slightly.

“Never touch your food, we get it.” He laughed heartily. “Is this the lil asskicker I’ve been told about?” He nodded towards her.

“Yes it is. Abraham meet Judith Grimes, Judith meet Abraham Ford. You gonna wave for him?” You nudged her and she hid her face in your shoulder babbling.

“A lil shy one ain’t she?” Abraham said.

“Or maybe you’re just freaky. Rosita Espinosa, nice to see a new face.”

“Likewise.” You shook hands with the brown eyed woman, sharing small smiles.

Rick stood up drawing the attention back to him. “You say I can’t beat you in hand to hand combat but then how good are you?”

“What’s going on?” Abraham asks looking baffled.

“Well our resident Robocop over there said if I crossed any lines he’d kill me. I told him that wouldn’t work.”

Abraham laughed. “Of course that ain’t gonna work is it. I’ve missed your little references.” He redirected himself to Rick. “If you’re serious about a fight ya need to lay down some damn bounderies. She’s ruthless, Grimes.”

“Alright then. One, no weapons; two, no broken or dislocated bones; three, avoid any serious muscle damage; four, two taps for a tap-out; five, we go till the withheld death blow.”

You grinned. “Is that all you want?”

“It’s all I need.”

“Oh honey...” You shook your head smiling. “We do it outside; wouldn’t want to make a mess.”

The whole group followed you outside and on to the grass area a little way from the house. Judith was passed to Carl who looked very happy to have her back in his arms as she snuggled into him tightly. You realised in hindsight it would have been better to unarm yourself inside the house.

“Give me a couple of minutes.” You demanded and you pulled out your first gun and laid it down on the floor.

“Why?”

“I’ve got to take my weapons off as to your rules.” You removed your sniper from your back and your utility belt.

“It can’t take that long.” The short haired woman pretentiously stated.

You unclipped your shoulder sheaths. “Look, I’m fairly sure we went over this inside.” Removing of your thigh sheath. “You, you sweet innocent woman, are completely ignorant to the happenings that went on outside the real world.” You kicked off your boots and removed your socks as well.

You then lifted your top to take the gun off your wait and it’s partner knife before removing the gun from the back of your trousers. Next you took the two small grenades out of one pocket and the multiple loaded magazines from the others. Finally, rolling up your sleeves you removed the bands that housed small metal discs the size of coins that were designed to electrocute upon contact.

“You got any more weapons on ya?!” The crossbow guy asked.

“She’s a weapon so that was a fucking dumbass question.”

“Abraham! There are younger ears.” You mock-scolded him.

However with your attention diverted and your back to him, Rick decided to attack. A sudden swish of your hair caused you to spin, duck and block Rick’s blow whilst you caught his arm and pulled it forward causing him to lose his balance allowing you to put him in a headlock with ease. Your hands were situated so only one sharp movement and a funeral would be happening tomorrow.

“Well that was cute and crap.” You threw the man off you. “Nice idea with the sneak attack but if you’re going to do it you need to wrap an arm around the neck to temporarily cut off the air supply sending the opponent into shock, giving you time for your next move.”

Now you and Rick were stood opposite each other for round two; this man was too damn stubborn.

The man with a mullet counted down. “Three, two, one!”

Before Rick could even react, your thighs were wrapped like a vice around his neck and you were pulling him to the ground. “Got to stay alert, Hun, or you’re going to get dead. One move of my thighs and you’re dead meat.”

You unravelled yourself and went to stand up. Although with his determination to win, Rick was also up and ready to fight he threw a punch only for you to block it. He then tried to kick which ended with you kicking in his other leg sending him to the ground. One swift move caused his face to be in the dirt and hands to be restrained behind his back, one of your feet on his neck.

“You’re being rash, Rick. We both know you could overpower me but with how I’ve got your hands you’d dislocate one. Although you’d never get to find out as I’d just have to put my weight onto my foot that’s conveniently on your neck.” You lightly pressed said foot to accentuate your words. “Night night.” Again, you let go of him and walked away. “Look, three rounds in and I’ve won all of them in less than twenty seconds. Now, we can do this all night or we can admit the fact that your threats against me are pointless and we can move on.”

“Rick you can stop. Surrendering is just as strong as delivering a final blow.” The lady with the katana had a firm hand on the leader’s shoulder preventing him from trying again.

You sighed. “She’s right. Something I learned early on was running was just as smart as fighting. My second mission: eliminate a drug cartel. There was a group of six of us sent down south to just beyond the border. There was a mess up in the intel leading to me being in a pretty messy situation along with two of the team. I could have just fought my way out, boost my esteem and image I was building at the risk of my teammates, or I could have walked away and come back another day. I walked away, protecting my team and got a promotion when we got back for ‘thinking about the bigger picture’. That’s what you’ve got to do, Rick, look at the bigger picture. I’m not going to turn on you; not when you’ve got a good thing going here, not when I have no reason to. If I get a problem I’ll raise it with you, if it persists I’ll either bite my tongue or I’ll walk out those gates. There’s two options right?” Whilst you had been talking you had been reequipping all of your things.

“Right.” Rick winced as he stood up.

Sighing once more, you walked over to him. Bending down to your knees in front of him you put one hand on his thigh and your finger and thumb on each side of his knee.

“What are yo-“ With a sharp flick of your wrist he grunted before letting out a slow breath of air. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing; I just trapped the nerves when I kicked your knee in so I was just setting it right.” You stood back up and reassessed him. “Unfortunately I can’t work any voodoo magic on your shoulders however I recommend having your shower as hot as you can take it and stand under it allowing it to directly hot your shoulders.”

“How did you know my shoulders were hurting?”

“Your posture, your breathing, your vocals. You’ve bruised the bones in your shoulder blades.” You muttered as you looked the man over. “Yeah you’re going to have a couple of bruises in the morning but you’ll be good for the most part.”

“Right.” Rick responded under his breath.

You began walking away from the group towards where you came from and they watched you go. “I’m fairly sure the probie gets a babysitter and I doubt I can do the role of both!” You called over your shoulder.

————————————————————————

An hour and a bit later:

“How can we trust her?” Carol asked looking around the group. “All she keeps doing is saying we’re weak and how we know nothing of what the world was like behind the scenes. And all those weapons and her fighting?”

You rolled your eyes as you sat in the corner watching them all squabble. “I thought it was a good thing to tell the truth?”

You went ignored as they continued to talk.

“Agent L/N very clearly has the specific skill set and abilities that are needed in this world to survive and she also must have the ability to pass on aforementioned knowledge to us. Teach us how to execute hand to hand combat, how to analyse threats and people.” Eugene spoke up from where he was staring at you.

Rosita stepped forward. “Eugene’s right. She could make this group much stronger than it is and help us.”

“By how can we know that she’s not helping someone else?” Maggie pointed out. “She could be a security risk.”

You coughed. “Yeah no. Look I walked into this place having taken care of Judith for weeks possibly a couple of months. If there was someone else I wouldn’t be here.”

“She makes a point.” Glenn stated.

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks hun.”

“Y/N’s security clearances were a fuck ton higher than what y’all state officials had, almost on par to the President’s.” Abraham stood up for you. “She’s one to be trusted. There was a all fucking desert of shit that y’all didn’t know about yet she knew every damn grain, inside and out, of said shit. Peanut knows what she’s doing.”

“Thanks babe but I actually had the same clearance as the President.” You smiled at the soldier.

Rick added a query. “How can you have the Presidential clearance?”

“Mr President felt like he owed me a favour after I initiated a mission in deep shadow conditions to rescue the First Lady and their daughter.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Sasha looked confused. “Wait, when did they go missing?”

“Exactly. I had been keeping an eye on the family since rumours the CIA had heard on the grapevine mentioned an attack on the White House. Saw that the phones’ locators had been destroyed and realised shot had gone south. Luckily the President was paranoid about stuff like this and had micro locators put into both their jewellery. Pickpocketed the President for his phone to find the signals and then I went and got them. President decided he liked me and gave me a raise and a promotion.”

“So ya got a raise for doing the riskiest lift in history?” Daryl looked bemused.

You smirked. “Something like that.”

“You just ‘went and got them’?” Carol looked disbelieving.

“Well yeah. There were a couple of guys in the way but meh oh well.” You replied.

Abraham quickly interrupted. “Don’t down play it! The footage showed the warehouse to be crawling with the pricks.”

“Details, Sarge. Minor details.” You waved him off.

Tara looked at everyone. “Look, I don’t know about you but I saw how she destroyed Rick outside and he’s one of our best. If her staying means she can teach us how to fight than I’m all for it.”

“Would you do that? Teach people how to fight?” Rick asked you leaning back in his chair.

“Sure, if they want to learn.” You glanced at the people in the room as you pulled your legs so they were crossed in front of you.

“Then she can stay tonight. Deanna can interview her in the morning and have the final say.” Rick finalised the conversation and Carol fixed you with a glare.

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again  - Chapter 4

Whole Again on AO3

The temperature was immediately different upon stepping into the crypt. The stonework acting as an insulator against the cold Icelandic environment. The room beyond the doorway was wide, but low; the ceiling hardly two feet above their heads. The ceiling and walls were rounded, blending into one another with smooth curves. If Stan had been younger, he could have jumped and smacked the stone, but his knees were 50/50 on good days.  

The chamber looked as though it had been a mine once, large pillars left behind after removing material to help support the ceiling. The pillars were positioned lengthwise, one in front of the other with a gated door at the other end of the room. Cast iron and well-oiled enough to be resistant against rust. “Barred. Hmmm. You said you had a crowbar?” Ford turned to Stan, rubbing his chin. “’Course.” Stan flipped his pack around and dug out the crowbar before inspecting the gate. The metal nearest to the stone was probably the weakest due to moisture exchange. He could try bending the gate there first and yanking it out of the door frame. That was only if the gate was standalone and not integrated into the wall itself. Maybe he should have considered bolt cutters, or a welding torch.

Ford had wandered off, taking more pictures and (now that he was able) pulling his journal out to write some more. Whatever, let the alpha male do the hard work. He slipped the crowbar between the stone and the iron rod and put pressure on the crowbar. Nothing. Ok, not a problem. He grabbed the end of the bar and pushed as hard had he could. Nothing. Stan breathed and held back the flow of curses he wanted to scream. Instead he rubbed at his forearms and pushed against the bar with all his weight. He felt movement! It was the crowbar bending under the pressure. The profanities that echoed off the walls reverberated to the surface, startling an artic fox that had been hunting in the snow.  

Stan was ready to start throwing things and turn the iron to rust and splinters with a snap of his fingers, when he heard a quiet flip of a latch. He felt a rumble through the stone as some counter weight was dropped, lifting the iron gate he’d be ashamed to admit had not even dented.

“Hey. My crowbar!” Stan smacked at the tool as it rose with the gate, knocking it loose and wincing as it tumbled down on his head. “Ow!” Stan rubbed at his head, kneeling on the floor, and watching the dust fall. Part of the wall it is.

Ford exited a hidden corner of the room and Stan stopped grumbling long enough to get off the floor. “There are a series of symbols in ancient Gaelic engraved along every wall. The pictographs seem to be recording a religious or spiritual ritual that was performed here. I believe the inhabitants may have worshiped an interdimensional being, these glyphs look familiar.”    

“Hey, next time you wanna start touching random shit, let me know, will ya?” Stan shouted, collecting both of their bags, and packing away his crowbar. “Hm? Oh, yes, fine.” Ford said, completely not paying attention to anything Stan had said. Stan rolled his eyes but held back a complaint when Ford continued speaking. “I took some rubbings for further study. I may have to consult some of my old notes. Shame we tossed those journals in the Bottomless Pit, I could use some references now.” This wasn’t the first time Ford had made a passing remark lamenting the loss of the journals. If he was so upset, why not take a trip back to Gravity Falls and start re-recording all the weird things that existed there. They were on ‘ok’ terms with most of the creatures there, it wouldn’t be hard. Instead, Stan simply reminded Ford of the danger their contents possessed. “Those things were dangerous. Inert of not, some of that stuff should be forgotten. And hey, it can’t be that hard to learn ancient Gaelic. Heck, I learned your stupid nerd code in about a year. Should take you a few weeks to a month, tops.”

Ford looked apprehensive…and maybe a little resigned. “Dare I ask if you decoded everything?”

“I had that thing for thirty years, Stanford. Yeah, I read the whole thing. Could’a probably recited some pages before the whole memory wipe thing.” Stan was a world class liar, born with a silver tongue that had matured to tempered platinum with age, but he disliked lying to his brother. Sure, lying by omission was one thing, but flat out telling a falsehood gave him acid reflux. At least with Stanford. It felt…wrong. But Stanford didn’t need to know he could recite every word on every page.

Ford looked sheepish, right hand grasping at his left arm nervously. “Look Stan, I…” Stan interrupted him, “Hey, its nothin’. You missed me, but you were mad. I missed you, but I never bothered to reach out to ya. We both needed to grow up.” There was that bile taste again, but Ford really didn’t need to know about…that night either.

“I know, but I…what I wrote…what I was thinking…you know that it was just...” Ford was distraught, or approaching that limit. “I didn’t mean it.”

A moment passed. Then another. Stan sighed. Stanford had meant it. But that was a bucket of rotten fish Stan had no intention of ever opening. Even if he did, this was not the time nor place to be doing that anyway. “Hey, we’ll talk later. Right now, we have a crypt to plunder and ancient squiggles to archive. We got time.” Stan had placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder and Ford returned Stan’s smile with a weak one of his own, but a smile nonetheless. “Now common, we got ourselves some real adventurin’ to do.” Stan slung both bags over his shoulders and charged through the open gate, Ford left with no other alternative, followed him.

The second room opened into a towering chamber with a massive and ornate central pillar. Stan could hear drips of water echoing in the cavern. A rickety wooden ramp led them up to a platform that had been carved into the central pillar. A ledge bordering the room had once been connected to the central pillar, but the bridge had collapsed. Under the debris, was a body.

Everything passed the poor sod’s topmost ribs had been crushed, just a pile of grey bones and threadbare cloth that looked as if it would turn to dust. One hand, stretched out in front, was wrapped brittlely around what looked like a sculpted lizard or bird foot. Ford knelt down and broke the bones, drawing the thing up with him as he stood.  

It was a bronze, three-toed dragon’s foot. Ford held it up close to his face and Stan supplied the light. It glinted slightly, but was tarnished. It was highly detailed for its time; the toes having folds and creases to represent skin and scales before shifting to the claws. The sculpture seemed to end at the ankle joint.

“But where would they get the reference from? A Comodo Dragon? But where would they get one? Did the Nordic people travel that far south? Could one have been traded? Was it alive? No, preserved, most likely; it’s doubtful that it would have survived this climate.” Stan had rolled his eyes and pulled out a tiny notebook from his back pocket, half a pencil from the lip of his beanie and scribbled down a few key words that Ford had prattled off. “’Comodo dragon, preserved foot, how far did travel’, Got it” Ford sighed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing, Stan’s small notes did help him remember his spontaneous questions.

Stan pocketed the sculpture and his notebook, Ford’s jacket already near bursting, and they ascended the ramp to the next level. The distance from the central pillar to the next floor was too far to jump. “There doesn’t seem to be another way across. Too bad, this is all stone; my magnet gun is useless.” The answer was simple.

Stan’s steady aim with the grappling hook and squeezing Ford to his side with his free arm, ensured hasty progress. Albeit, slightly bruised ribs and a sore shoulder. Man, he was getting old. Ford had squeaked in surprise when Stan had grabbed him, sputtering his hesitation at this “horrible and highly dangerous idea”, but Stan had only grinned maniacally and held on tighter. They landed roughly. Or rather, Stanford had landed in his classic hero pose and Stan tumbled head over foot, landing on his ass. He hurt, but it was worth it.

Ford stood, brushing himself off and peering to the top of the cavern. He let out a low whistle. “These ledges go all the up. It appears that this room acts as a central connecting point to all surrounding chambers. I don’t see any direct connections, though. Maybe there are stairs elsewhere. Hey Stan, you mind waiting a bit while I take notes?” Ford glanced back at Stan who was still a bit winded from his reenactment of Tarzan. “Stan?” Stan waved him off, shuffling on the floor to lean against the wall. Getting old sucked. He didn’t recommend it.

While Ford sketched and buzzed with energy, Stan rested, drinking some water, and munching a granola bar. It was bizarre, this place felt creepily familiar, but no matter how much he tried to pull the knowledge to his head, it seemed to flitter away before he could get a good look at it. It was almost as if the ward had protected this place from his mind too. And wards. That didn’t make any sense. The shack was still warded against him, but he had no problems going in and out. What made this place different? It grated at his mind that he couldn’t remember. Sure, he’d gotten used to having gaps in his memory, and he had tried to ignore that he just knew things now, but it was like a lyric to a song you just couldn’t get right so the song plays at the edges of your mind driving you crazy, and you can’t even remember the name of the song or who sang it and you couldn’t even ask anyone because you killed them all and…ok, time to calm down. His gums had started to twinge as he clenched his dentures together.

He’d been meaning to ask Ford if he knew how to regrow teeth (he didn’t) or at least invent something like a serum that could (he could, but it was painful). ARRRGH! Why? Why just know things unless it was about something that was helpful? Stan wanted a cigar to chew on, but he settled for a stick of gum. ‘Course smoking was how he lost his real teeth, that and bare knuckles boxing in Mexico. There was more than one night he spat out a tooth, but his winnings paid for passable, if not functional, bridges. Come to think of it, he was lucky to have his eyes after some of those matches.

Eyes. Eye. Yellow eyes, what was that?! Yeah, anything that was a depiction of him was a window, but the dragon or wyvern wasn’t a depiction of him…was it? Or not him, not him him, but past him. Oy. I need an organizer. Stan rubbed his eye eyes, two eyes, and glanced around his little corner. He caught sight of three waist high stone structures that looked like sliced bread loaves. Or maybe he was just hungry. Regardless, there were three of them, and they seemed to be facing each other, meeting in the middle. He couldn’t tell if the floor between them was dusty, broken or what, but there was something weird about the pattern those mounds made. Stan called out to Ford.

“Hey, Sixer! There’s a-a thing that might be interestin’ for ya.” He didn’t spare the mental energy to actually describe anything, counting on Sixer’s gravitational pull towards him to do the trick.

“Find something?” Ford had returned and Stan pointed out the stone mounds. “Whadd’ya make of those?”

Ford hummed as he wandered around the stone figures, crouching down to trace the designs on the faces. Stan eased himself off the floor, grabbing his bag, and making his way over to Stanford. He approached Ford’s left side and stood directly in the middle of the three mounds. Both brothers jerked at the eruption of red light from the floor and designs on the stone. They both turned towards the bang of a gate opening to their right that Stan had not noticed before. “What the hell…?” Stan mumbled slowly and took a step. Almost instantly, the light vanished and the gate closed again. Ford strode over and peered through the gate, Stan followed, weirded out by the light a moment ago. “It’s a puzzle. Two people must work together to open the way through. See…” Ford held the flashlight aloft and pointed to the other side of the room beyond the gate. “I suspect that to open that one, we’ll have to make the totems match with their counterparts on this side.”  

“Hey, I got this one.” Stan patted his brother on the shoulder, fully intending to not stand in the ring of creepy red light again. Ford nodded and returned to the ring, the light appeared again and Stan ducked through when the gate rose. He stood in the center of the room, and froze.  

Shoot, he hadn’t bothered to look at the symbols. “Um..Sixer?” he called, hesitantly, voice filled with embarrassment. “Stand facing the next door” Ok, he could do that. He turned to his left, facing the barred doorway; he could see Ford from the corner of his left eye. He turned a bit more to look at Ford again.  

“No, Stan like this. See me?” Ford waved and adjusted his body to face directly between two of the figureheads. Stan grumbled, but turned to mimic his brother. “Reach out your left hand to the nearest one. This one should be a whale. Or, at least it kind of looks like a whale.” Stan rolled his eyes, stepped forwards and tried to spin the figurehead. It didn’t budge.

“Stan?”

“Hang on a minute, would ya? This thing ‘s heavy.”

He placed his hands on the top of the stone for leverage and pushed. The figurehead sank into the floor slightly before turning. “Oh”

“What?”

“Nunin’, Sixer. I got it.” He pressed down again and turned it so the whale was facing him. Ford was right, it did look kinda like a whale. Kinda. He returned to his previous position.

“Ok. Turn right, the next should be a snake” Stan did as Ford directed; this one did look a bit more like it was supposed to.

“The last one’s an owl.” No, it wasn’t. It looked like a cat’s head on a bird body. Whoever carved the mural likely had never seen an owl before. Stan’s call of “Got It” was drowned out by the clang of the rising gates.

Ford joined him a moment later, holding out a granola bar to Stan. He waved it off and pulled out the empty wrapper from his earlier one. Ford shrugged, tore it open and began to eat as they walked.

The hall they followed didn’t go up; they went down. “The rooms above aren’t connected?” Ford asked himself quizzically.  

“There might’a been a ramp or sommin that use ta be there. There was a lot o’ debris back there”. There had been a ramp, but it had been vaporized and left only dust. Stan scowled at this tidbit of information entering his brain involuntarily. Ford didn’t seem to notice, instead he just hummed and made a few notations on his phone as they walked. Several of the rooms they passed looked as though they were residential rooms; a couple of bedrooms, what looked like a galley with a stone oven and hearth, a room with what looked like it once housed a pile of tables and chairs, and a tiny closet that smelled rancid that neither of them were interested in examining further. Ford paused in another room to take a rubbing of a pedestal with a bronze plaque covered in Gaelic that he couldn’t remove. The room gave Stan the creeps and looked like a place of worship.

They continued their descent down, passing more wall carvings that Ford photographed with his phone. Stan rolled his eyes; his phone was filled with funny pictures of himself, Ford, places they had been, weird animals and the occasional picture of something for Ford. Ford’s camera had exactly one picture of the kids, a scanned picture of the two of them on the original Stan O’War and a picture of them both on the Stan O’War II. Oh, and about three hundred pictures of anomalies and glyphs and interesting plants and rock formations and…well, there wasn’t much of his family. Stan had wanted to call him out on it, but he didn’t know how to voice his concerns in a way that didn’t sound insulting.  

The hall finally ended at a spiral staircase that disappeared into the darkness below. Ford pulled out a glow stick, cracked and shook it, and let it drop. Ford counted under his breath to three, almost four. “It’s about…um…what’s the acceleration of gravity on Earth, again?” Ford frowned. “I don’t know,” Stan did, “but I’d say it’s about five or six stories down. You want me ta go first?”

“I’ll lead, just stay close behind me. And keep that grappling hook ready. We don’t know how sturdy this wood is.” They started down, taking slow steps at first, shifting their weight. The wood creaked and popped, but held firm. They made it past a full spiral before they were emboldened by the lack of instability. Ford started in with more deliberate steps and Stan resumed his normal near stomping gait. It was a mistake.

The wood below Stan gave way and he would have fallen the entire way down had his reflexes not been in top condition. The grappling hook was deployed before he’d even passed the next level and lodged itself in the wood above them, shooting passed Ford’s head and causing him to backpaddle away from the edge. Stan hung in shock with bits of wood dust and debris raining down on his head.

“Stan? Are you alright?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll meet’cha at the bottom!” This was embarrassing. “Just be careful, Sixer”

“Will do” Ford muttered quietly and began making his way, with less confidence this time, down the steps. Stan toggled the button on the grappling hook to lower himself slowly down until he reached the bottom of the stairwell. It was pitch-black. He could see the bobbling of Ford’s light above him. He was reluctant to let the rope grow loose and disengage until Ford could reach him. The echoes around him told him that the room beyond was massive. And he could hear scurrying.

He held a death grip on the handle of the grappling hook until Ford rounded the last spiral. “You good?” he said, shinning the light at Stan before growing concerned and continuing in a whisper, “What’s wrong?” Stan glanced at Ford, then back at the doorway. Ford spun and looked too when a squelching sound emanated from the room; the flashlight held at an angle pointed away from the sound to not attract attention.

Stan gulped. He had an uncanny feeling that this was gonna be his wort nightmare. Ford steadied himself and directed the beam of light into the room.

Yup ‘Worst nightmare’, in the flesh, or carapace in this particular case.

A giant spider the size of a Great Dane paused mid step, turning towards the two and hissed.

FUCK!

The thing was dead in a matter of microseconds; its body flung across the room from the force of four plasma rounds being fired at it from close range. The pistol smoking in Ford’s hand.

“Did I ever tell you what happened on that road trip I took the kids on?”

“Yup, that’s why I shot it. I have no intentions of dealing with that.”

Stan also suspected that his panic attacks over the ordeal that had kept Ford awake some nights after that had something to do with it.  

With Ford’s help, they pulled the grappling hook free and tentatively entered the room from hell, Ford taking point and pulling Stan along behind him by the hand. Stan only felt some shame at hiding his face in the back of his brother’s coat.

The room was filled with webbing and things wrapped up in that webbing that Stan had no interest in looking at. Ford carefully lead him through the room and towards the next doorway when he heard a quiet insect clicking. He risked a glance up at the same time Ford flicked his flashlight up. There was a large hole in the top of the ceiling and a large black mound slowly descending and reaching its way too many legs out.

NOPE!

Stan bolted for the door, Ford right behind him, not daring to look back as he felt the ground shudder slightly with the creature’s landing. He saw something goopy and gelatinous whiz above their heads, but he was NOT turning around to look. They made it through the door, Ford shooting a gap in the webbing that covered it, and bolted down the hall beyond. When Stan could bring himself to stop, he realized Ford was not behind him.

He heard some plasma shots ring out and a loud grunt.

Stan took a second to steady himself before turning around and heading back into the hall to rescue his brother. Another rumble ran through the stonework and a bright light emanated from the end of the hall. He rounded the corner to smack right into Ford.

“What the hell?” Stan winced at the light.  

“I stole a stick of dynamite and a smoke bomb and trailed the powers behind us and fired a shot. Those smoke bombs are incredibly flammable, you shouldn’t be using them.”

Stan just laughed with the release of adrenaline and hugged his brother tightly. “Come on. The rest of the way is safe…probably.” It was Ford’s turn to laugh.  

The heat from the inferno in the spider room, now turning it into a literal room from hell, escaped through a series of vents in the stonework and erupted out to the surface. The same fox from before jumped directly into the air with all four feet when a gust of warm air puffed across its tail. It brought its body low to the ground and thought about going back to bed.  

Ford and Stan walked along the hall that opened up as it went, ending in a tubular room with a circular door at the end. The walls were again covered in murals. Most prominent was a yellow-eyed dragon and a procession of people worshiping it. The eyes made him uncomfortable. And it had everything to do with the fact that he had to fight to keep his vision his own.

Ford was snapping pictures like a paparazzi catching a celebrity in the nude, and grinning widely. Stan just made his way over to the door and peered at the markings in the center; ignoring the face of the yellow-eyed dragon glowering at him. His vision shifted momentarily, looking at the top of his own head and Stanford taking more notes behind him. He placed a hand on the door and shook his head to return his vision to normal. He blinked a few times and rubbed his fingertips on the bronze disk at the center of the door. There were three holes and a semicircle blob that almost looked like a foot print.

Stan pulled the bronze claw from his pocket and inspected the underside. There were scuff marks on the pad of the foot and on the tips of the claws. A key?

“Hey” He called out to Stanford, using is free hand to wave over his shoulder.

“A dragon’s claw for a key?” He adjusted his glasses. “Unusual choice. Though depictions of dragons were revered as beings of great strength and power in Viking culture. The structure of this chamber seems to indicate this was done deliberately. Enemies would find it alarming and hesitant to go further and allies would see a welcome protector. Brilliant design. And the door is unusually intricate. It must have been designed to protect something exceedingly significant.” Stan perked up at Ford’s suggestion.

“Significant like treasure?” He couldn’t help the toothy and predatory grin from enveloping his face, his eyebrows waggling up and down. Ford rubbed his chin and returned Stan’s grin with a smug one of his own, “Could be. It could also be a pile of scrolls and books with more glyphs to study.” Stan frowned. “Way to be a buzzkill, Poindexter.”      

Ford just chuckled and took the claw from Stan and fitted it to the grooves in the door, “Well, only one way to find out.” The claw fit perfectly. Ford turned the claw counter clockwise until he felt the lock resist him, before turning it back to the starting position. The door jolted, and both brothers stood back as it sank into the floor with a stutter, Ford having kept hold of the claw. They stood, quiet exhilaration and trepidation coursing through their veins. “Ready?” Stan asked. “Always,” was the reply as they passed through the gateway to the unknown.

Previous

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Chapter 1

[demondeanismybaby]

Adrenaline

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas

Word Count: 1737

Summary: You are in the midst of a battle with some demon and you have to make a dangerous choice, you figure Dean might get pissed but you would rather have him mad than dead. 

Warnings: canon typical violence, naughty language, kissing, PDA, none really just fighting some demons and some cute Dean x reader fluff 

A/N: This is for anon who requested, As for a request can you do one with Dean x reader where the reader almost dies doing something like jumping in front of Dean to save him and she expects him to be mad but he just hugs her or something fluffy like that?

Glancing back over your shoulder you tried to make a mental note of where the rest of team free will was stationed. You knew that Cas was crouched down low next to the back wheel of the run down Ford pickup about 100 yards to your left, Sam was waiting somewhere inside of the semi-collapsed barn structure behind you, and Dean, well you knew where he was. Inside hopefully with the head demon lured into the pre-drawn devil's trap.  

You lifted your foot slowly, carefully making sure that when you put it back on the ground you limited the pressure underneath it, doing your absolute best to not make any excess noise as you made your way up the half rotted stairs. You strained to pick up on the sound of a demon shrieking behind the door of one of the rooms upstairs but it was deadly silent which was ominous, most of the time demon’s had a lot to complain about once they were trapped. 

Peaking around the first open door you scanned the room, it was empty. You saw the rug in the middle of the floor was partially kicked up and underneath the rumpled corner, you could see the white spray paint that indicated the design you had carefully painted earlier in the day. 

“Dean,” you strained your voice to make it as soft as possible, so you weren’t sure if the lack of response was because the man you were calling was somewhere else or if he was there and just couldn’t hear you. 

“Hey,” you raised your voice slightly, “Winchester?” 

A slight thump on the wood floor in the hallway behind you was the only warning you received, in a heartbeat, you were being slammed forward, you could feel your spine cracking at the pressure that was delivered in one swift blow. Trying your best to spin around you pivoted the ball of your foot but your right ankle rocked and instead, you only, managed to fall with a whoosh of air onto your ass, staring into angry onyx orbs set in the face of a pretty young blonde.

She came swiftly to stand over you, “look who it is, Y/F/N Y/L/N, here to rescue her precious Winchester.” 

“Actually,” you said as your hands went to your side ready to push yourself up, “I’m here to kick your ass.” 

Shoving yourself up off the floor, you came to stand face to face with the demon bitch you had been hunting, you yanked the serrated blade from its place in the back of the jeans you were wearing and lunged at the thing in front of you. 

Jumping just out of reach the demon used its speed to maneuver out of arm's length of the blade that would have sent her straight back to the pit. 

The struggle was too evenly matched and you were praying that one of the boys would notice that things had derailed from the plan and rush in to help you. Luckily, a harsh panting and heavy footfalls meant that someone was coming to your rescue. 

“Did you forget about me?” Messy blond hair and emerald green eyes quipped as he popped around the edge of the door frame. 

She spun around, momentarily forgetting about the blade you were holding, and focusing her attention on Dean. 

“I thought I had taught you your lesson when your little plan failed,” she cocked her fist back and landed a meaty blow right along the slightly stubbled edge of the older Winchester’s jaw. 

If there was one thing you couldn’t stand it was watching these evil sons of a bitches trying to hurt the one person you loved more than anything. Her reflexes were quick and she was using her demonic speed and strength to rain down blows on Dean, then you saw the glint of some metallic surface as she reached into the leather jacket she was wearing and pulled out a long steel blade and reared her hand back to thrust it into his heart. 

Sprinting you dashed in front of where Dean was crouched on the floor, skidding to a stop as your body was shielding his, and when her body was poised an inch away from plunging the knife into your chest you lunged forward and watched as a flash of red and black light pulsed through her body and blood leached out over the edge of the blade dripping down to coat your wrist and stain your clothes. 

It only took a second before the weight of her body collapsed against you pushing your back onto Dean and you groaned as you used your arms to roll her off the two of you. Yanking the demon blade out of her you wiped it on the leg of your jeans and put it back in the band of your pants and stood up shakily. 

“Took you long enough,” you said as you wrapped a hand around Dean’s to heave him up off the ground. 

You knew he was going to be pissed, he hated it when you actively put yourself in harm’s way, even more so when it was because you were trying to save his ass. You searched his eyes, typically there was a little spark deep within them that would vanish right before he started to scream at you. Instead, as you stared at him something totally unexpected began to change his expression. A wide grin was moving the edges of those plush pink lips and little smile lines were tugging at the corner of his eyes. 

Getting to his feet you watched as he stood slowly, you figured that bitch had done more damage than he wanted to let on, and then he was rushing at you. Grabbing you in those thick strong arms he wrapped your body tight against his and pressed a kiss into the top of your head. 

“Thanks, seriously,” he said softly as he turned and rested his face against your head. 

“Your welcome,” you muttered as you enjoyed the weight of him pressing into you even though you were surprised at the strange reaction he was having. 

He pulled away from you slightly, giving the two of you just enough space, so he could peer directly into your eyes. Carefully he cupped your face between his giant hands and his thumbs rubbed against the edges of your jaw. 

“Uh Dean,” you were shocked, you might have loved this man more than anything but he had always treated you with casual indifference, this was coming from nowhere, “what are you doing?” 

He titled his head slightly to the side and his eyes were fluttering closed, “something I should have done way before now,” and you realized as he came towards you that he was going to kiss you. 

Quickly you closed the distance between both of your lips, crashing your mouth against his and moving quickly to wrap your arms around his neck. You had wanted this for months and now that it had finally happened you were desperate to live it up in the moment. 

As his lips parted slightly you used the moment to sweep your tongue inside of his open mouth. Even though you knew he hadn’t had a drink for at least a half a day or so he still had the faint taste of smoky whiskey. You moved one of your hands up to fist in his short locks so you could pull him closer to you. Wanting nothing more to lose yourself in the way your lips were interlocked. While one of his hands was still lightly brushing along the side of your face the other had moved down to your hip and slowly but surely crept along to palm at your ass. 

A quick squeeze at your butt cheek had you letting out a quick high pitched squeal of happiness. You were so busy focusing on the fact that Dean had finally gotten past this weird hang up of hiding any emotion, feeling happier than you had in ages, and enjoying the way the two of you were fighting for control of the passionate kiss you were having. You didn’t even notice that someone was creeping up behind you until you felt a faint tapping on your shoulder. 

Suddenly, the illusion was shattered, you could hear Sam slapping his knees and cackling a foot away and as you broke the kiss to spin around you were face to face with innocent ice blue eyes staring down at you. 

“Hiya Cas,” you smiled at him, “if you couldn’t tell I was kind of in the middle of something,” you pointed over your shoulder at Dean. 

Cas looked down at his feet and mumbled something. 

“What?” 

“Well, Sam said,” he said again louder but you didn’t need to hear the rest. 

Sam was still standing in the doorway laughing his head off and tears of joy were rolling down his cheek. 

You bent over and took off your dirty sneaker and chucked it at his face, “Dude shut up, it isn’t that funny.” 

“I knew,” he choked out, “I knew that he liked,” he was trying to catch his breath, “I told you so.” 

He had too, just the day before he had told you all about how you should just tell his older brother how you felt because he knew that Dean liked you. Apparently, he was enjoying being right. The only thing you could think to do was something that would make the younger Winchester walk away so he wouldn’t be there to say I told you so anymore. 

On a whim you threw yourself at Dean and just like you knew he would his arms wound their way under your thighs, you clutched at his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist and went to town kissing him as dirty as you could manage. Completely ignoring the wide-eyed look of surprise that was on his face. 

“Uh, anyway,” you could hear Sam stuttering out from the doorway, “I think we should get going,” and soon his footsteps were making their way down the stairs, quickly combining with the noise from Cas following in his wake. 

You pulled away from Dean, “sorry, I just can’t stand Sam feeling like he’s right all the time.” 

“No problem,” Dean smiled at you, “I like how your mind works.” 

You jumped down off of him and looked back up, “alright, let’s get our asses home so we can continue this in private.” 

Dean looked as excited as you felt. 

You didn’t even care as you hopped on one foot over to your shoe that you had thrown earlier if you looked stupid. You felt overjoyed, saving people was in your blood, you had never done it for any other reason that because it was the right thing to do. Today though you finally felt like you had been rewarded beyond measure. Part of you could still feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the recently finished battle, or maybe that was just from kissing Dean. All you could think was thank God for near death experiences since apparently, they were the only way to get a Winchester to admit their feelings. 

SPN Pond Tag List

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

@roxy-davenport

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@babypieandwhiskey

@plaidstiel-wormstache

@winchester-writes

@faith-in-dean

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@nichelle-my-belle

[greaterthannine-blog]

Quarter-Annual Favorites: July, August & September 2017

A Richer Take on "The Favorites"

You probably know the term "favorites" from the plethora YouTubers and beauty bloggers of past and present plastering their half-formulated opinions on a monthly basis. Those dodeca-doses of diluted opinions more often than not have about as much substance as an unfilled cream puff; decadently appealing on the outside, but wholly disappointing in their entirety. 

I believe those sorts of monthly reviews are too time and money consuming to be sustainable. A month just isn't enough time for me to purchase, use and adequately evaluate things I want to use regularly. For me to be thorough, I need more time. Plus, I don't want to scour retailers and internets just for the sake of producing "monthly favorites" content. That's a fuck-ton of cash and I don't want to gain readership based on displaying exorbitant consumerism. That just doesn't feel genuine.

Altogether, those factors considered, I'm going to do Quarter-Annual Favorites! Every quarter or three months of the year, I'll publish a collection my favorite things. A year will be divided into quote-on-quote "seasonal" quarters with the first being January, February & March, followed by April, May & June, then July, August & September, finishing with October, November & December. Since I didn't launch this site until August, I missed the first two quarters, so I'm just jumping right in with the summer one.

Style

Tom Ford Grace Cat-Eye Sunglasses in Brown & Tan: 

If there's an accessory that I love most, that would be sunglasses. I'd been on a hunt for these Tom Ford's when I stumbled upon a pair for sale on my favorite website ever: The Real Real. These sunnies retail for $480 but I copped them for $95. They have been sitting on my face or top of head ever since. 

Printed Scarf: 

While we're also on the topic of the head, I have to mention this lil' cherry & pear print hair scarf that I snatched from my mom's closet (I honestly couldn't find an equivalent for the life of me, so here's a lovely Hermès scarf). This is a perfectly sized small scarf that I either wrap a French-girl-esque manner snugly around my neck with a lil' knot or tie it around my hair to frame a ponytail.

Dr. Martens Valentine Arcadia Shoes:

While I've had these shoes for many months now, I've only been wearing them regularly as of the past couple months. They're leather and have a English school-boy feel, which gives them quality yet quirky character.

Riveted Leather Bracelets: 

I love consignment (and if my love for The Real Real doesn't show that then I don't know what would) and a while back I purchased these genuine black leather studded bracelets (a not-quite-so-similar similar) at a local consignment shop for $12. Adorned with denim rivets, these bracelets are a chic and spunky wrist accessory.

"Tomorrow Will Be Better" Strap iPhone Case: 

I'm a sucker for phone cases, and this one has been horribly useful. The strap on the back has a velcro strip on that allows you to strap the case (and your phone) to almost anything. Because I like to use my phone as an activity tracker, being able to attach my phone to my belts is ingenius.

Miscellaneous

Tod the Succulent: 

In one of my many farmer's market excursions, I purchased a succulent for $1. His name is Tod and he's great. If you want a Tod, please go to your local nursery.

Bonsai Care Set: 

Speaking of plants, I began a grand plant-care experiment by purchasing three bonsai trees. I am determined to keep these high maintenance shrubs thriving and this  has aided in my quest with tools to move soil and trim. 

J. Herbin Roller-ball Fountain Pen & J. Herbin Éclat de Saphir Ink Cartridges: 

The allure of fountain pens is real, but I could never get used to their somewhat scratchy writing. Then I found this J. Herbin roller-ball one that I use with cobalt blue ink. The roller-ball nib makes writing graceful, smooth and scratch free. It's honestly the only pen I've used all summer.

Duck Silver Duct Tape Regular and Mini: 

This is silver duct tape, and not the regular-duct-tape-silver, it's chrome. I've been using it to tape photo prints and paper into my sketchbook and journal to add a dash of reflective dimension to pages.

IMG Fashion Camp: 

I attended this camp at IMG Academy campus in Bradenton, FL and boy was it fan-freaking-tastic. I talked bunches of amazing people in the industry, my favorites of which were Bon Duke, Jimmy Moffat, Ivan Bart, and Brooke Wall as well as IMG WME peeps Rachel Fleitell, Jibran Siddiqui and Peter Knell. I also made some great buddies, Alexandra, Shawn and Ian, at the tennis courts. I'm going to make an entire post or two about this camp and my experience, so keep a look out for it.

Now for the Actual Favorites

I now present to you the first Quarter-Annual Favorites for July, August & September 2017. There are five categories for this first post. If I ever have the time or desire to expand for more than five areas per edition then I will, but for now five non-exclusive categories are the way to go. This quarter's categories are:

Style: which encompasses clothing, shoes, accessories, jewelry, etc.

Photography & Tech: which is exactly what it seems.

Beauty: which is very self-explanatory for today's day and age.

Media: which includes books, magazines, films, TV shows, podcasts, YouTube, other blogs, websites, you get the gist.

Miscellaneous: which is a complete mishmash of things that don't fall under one of the other categories.

For each thing I mention, I've written lil' tidbits that I recommend you read because information is important and all that snazzy-jazz. Plus, I imagine you want to know why I like these things above others, right?

IMPORTANT:

item links are attached to their names, so to go to that thing's page, just click on the name in this black typeface.

Beauty

Fresh Vitamin Nectar Moisture Glow Face Cream: 

Brightening, whitening, radiant, glow are the four adjectives plastered all over my top shelf. So, when I laid eyes on this moisturizer I knew it was love at first glance. It smells of citrus-y creamy candy and evened my complexion in a couple weeks. I swear I will never use another moisturizer. Ever. Go buy it.

Glossier Balm Dot Com in Cherry: 

My lips are about as dry as a prune buried for multiple millennia under 50 feet of Sahara Desert sand. So, in short I need some heavy duty moisture for them, even during summer. This Glossier one hydrates without seeping into the face flesh surrounding the lips (which is a real and legitimate problem people) and gives a lil' pop of cherry red tint. It does smell of cherry medicine or Icee, but I can ignore that.

Burt's Bees Lipstick in 502 Suede Splash: 

For as long as I can remember, I have been an advocate for very light or "no-makeup makeup." Luckily, there lip colors that aren't matte and are formulated to look like your lip color. This one is my lip color but better, and elegantly fades with time. And it's cheap. Perfecto.

Chanel Joues Contraste Powder Blush in 55 In Love: 

I love blush. A nice flush of a peachy beige nude suits my skin best and this Chanel blush has been my go-to this summer. It possesses a barely detectable smidge of in-pan shimmer that brings just a tad of definition to the cheeks. The only issues are it's price and it smells of old fancy lady. But then again... It's Chanel.

Hourglass Ambient Lighting Bronzer in Nude Bronze Light:

My issue with bronzing and contour is it makes people look like they've smeared sparkly dirt on themselves and have been burnt to a crisp. And for those reasons I've disliked bronzer. That is, until I discovered this Hourglass one. It produces a light sun-kissed shade that hardly looks like a contour. It looks ultra natural; a criteria that makeup must meet for my approval.

Photography & Tech

Olympus 35 RC Point & Shoot Camera:

Out of my two metal-body point & shoot cameras this one works best. It has a nifty-ass manual rangefinder focus which allows you to focus (albeit limitedly) on the subject in frame.

Kodak Professional Ektar Color Negative 100:

 Typically I reach for AgfaPhoto Vista Plus 200 but that has recently become difficult to acquire, so I've branched out a bit. This Kodak is slightly more saturated and the temperature is minutely warmer than the cool-prone Agfa.

Nintendo 3DS XL & Pokémon Moon:

I've been a Pokémon fanatic since I was seven and only recently have I had time to get back into the games. The 3DS I bought two years ago and Pokémon Moon have been a wonderful get-to-know-you-again experience this summer.

Aukey USB-C to USB 3.0 Adapters:

For graduating high school I received a new laptop from my Paw-Paw (grandmother). However, it only has USB-C ports so these adapters have been lifesavers to connect anything to my laptop.

Media

Vivi Magazine October 2017 Issue:

I know that October isn't a month in this quarter of the year, but because this is fashion, this issue was available in August and plus it featured one of my three role models Kiko Mizuhara (who funny enough is a professional model). This is a very vibrant and stylish magazine that I pretty much buy every month. I purchased my copy from Magazine Café and requested in the comment box the October 2017 issue, but you can also order it here.

her. magazine v. 04 spring/summer 2017:

Another favorite magazine!  This mag was created by The New Order founder James Oliver, a native New Zealander. It features Asian women in creative and artistic fields. I love reading about how these ladies started out, made it to where they are now and what they currently do in their craft. Terribly inspirational for a lil' hapa like myself.

Ready Player One by Earnest Cline:

I brought this book with me to IMG Fashion Camp in August. Some good ole science fiction was the perfect escape from the social-media obsessed teenage girl demographic surrounding mefor the week I was down in Florida, and I believe this book lives up to the hype. While it had a fairly predictable plot, it was a very interesting and detailed read. And the protagonist, Wade Watts is the ultimate lovable nerd-geek.

Pokémon: Lucario and the Mystery of Mew:

If you didn't know, Pokémon is the best thing ever. And accompanying my game-playing revival has been a resurrection of watching Pokémon the series and especially the movies. Getting to sit back and rewatch one of my favorite films (no joke this is one of my Top Ten Favorite Films) has been exceptional, especially since it features Lucario, one of my favorite Pokemon.

The Grand Tour Season 1 (Not Pictured):

Top Gear was one of my all-time favorite TV shows. That is, until the departure of the best and most nincompoop-ish hosts in the world. And now it has become terrible. Fortunately, the three British Stooges have made a deal with Amazon to produce The Grand Tour. It's not quite as good as Top Gear used to be, particularly regarding the weird-ass Celebrity Brain Crash segments. But regardless of it's oddities, it is still hilarious. Go watch it. Now.

Hope that this Quarter-Annual Favorites: July, August & September lives up to some already sky-high standards.

Tell me your quarterly favorites in the comments! I really would love some recommendations and feedback!

And as always,

Thanks for popping by.

Toodles.

Abe