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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

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stakeout

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: going on a stakeout with frank doesn't go anything like you thought it would.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, a lil steam ;)

word count: 9k

a/n: fun fact: I originally started writing this specific idea as a standalone fic months ago & then when i started doing this series, i knew it would be perfect for it, & i've been excited to finish it & share it with y'all ever since. grab a snack & a drink, get comfy, bc this is almost 30 pages of yearning & pining for our favorite soft bad boy frankie. thank you so much to my darling angel @spoodermain for being my wonderful beta reader & offering your genius feedback that really made this part shine. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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How you had managed to talk Frank into letting you join a stakeout with him, you still weren’t sure, but it was nothing like you thought it would be. The entire three hour drive upstate was nearly composed of pure silence, only interrupted by trivial questions on your behalf, and answers in the form of monosyllables and grunts on his. The two of you had been sitting in his truck for almost six hours now, parked off on the side of a dirt road a good distance away from what looked like an abandoned warehouse that you hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave from.

You were going absolutely fucking stir crazy.

“Why can't we just go in?”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his nose, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye in pure annoyance before returning his attentive gaze back to the warehouse.

In his defense, you had asked this question at least five times already.

Letting out an impatient sigh of your own, you turned your body slightly in the passenger seat to face him while gesturing loosely to the warehouse with your hand.

“Frank, we haven't seen anyone in hours. We could go in, take a look around, and probably be back before anyone even-”

“Hey hey, no. Ain’t no we. Alright, you’re stayin’ your ass right here. And I already told you why. It’s too out in the open. I got no way of knowin’ if there’s anyone in there watchin’, and I can’t tell if they got some kind of security system ‘round the place-”

“So call Billy. See if he knows-”

“Bill ain’t the head of security for the entire goddamn world.”

Frank’s snappy quips and his irritated tone had you throwing your hands up in exasperation, and you dramatically sank back into the passenger seat of his truck, glaring out your window as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine. Then I guess we’ll just keep sitting here in fucking silence and you can keep brooding.”

Frank let out another heavy exhale from deep within his chest, and you could practically feel his intense stare against the side of your face.

“Look, I know this ain’t the most excitin’ thing, and you can’t sit still to save your goddamn life, but this is how we do this smart, and it’s how I keep you safe, alright? I ain’t takin’ any risks with you. I know patience ain’t your strong suit, but I need ya to try for just a little longer, alright? We don’t see any movement in the next hour, we’ll call it, and try again tomorrow. See if we can come up with another plan. Yeah?”

“Fine.”

Frank let out a tiny chuckle at your bratty response, and all of a sudden you felt something land in your lap. You glanced downwards as a crease formed between your brows, seeing an extra large version of your favorite candy bar. When your eyes flickered over towards Frank in curiosity, you noticed that he was already eyeing you with an amused smile. He shook his head slowly, returning his line of sight to the warehouse with another soft chuckle.

“Eat that and quit poutin’.”

A light scoff left your lips when you picked up the candybar and tore open the wrapper, suddenly noticing the way that you had been ignoring your body’s alerts of hunger.

“I’m not pouting.”

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked to come along.”

“And you let me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Frank shook his head again in response to the pure sass dripping from your voice, and you caught the way the edge of his mouth tugged higher upwards into a wider grin.

“Thought this would be the one time you were quiet for some reason.”

Letting out a dramatic scoff of bewilderment, you reached out to smack your palm against his broad shoulder, which only caused laughter to bellow from deep within Frank’s chest. You doubt he even felt your feeble smack through the black denim layer of his jacket. Rolling your eyes playfully, you looked away with a tiny victorious grin after noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that.

He looked so carefree; like that usual heaviness he carried around wasn’t weighing him down, just for that small moment. Frank had such a beautiful smile, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world every time you got to witness it.

Taking a small bite of your candybar, you muttered under your breath, making him snicker.

“Asshole.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, a police car silently pulled up behind Frank’s truck, and your heart started to hammer wildly in your chest. The flashing of bright red and blue was almost blinding in the opaque darkness surrounding the empty dirt road he had pulled onto. The truck was parked far enough away from the property that the flashing lights shouldn’t have alerted anyone that could be inside, but the explanation as to why the two of you were here in the first place was a whole other problem.

Especially considering that you were technically “missing”.

“Shit.”

Frank hissed quietly as he stared at the patrol car in the side view mirror, his full lips settling into a hard line as he reached underneath his seat to retrieve a pistol that was hidden. Your eyes immediately widened as the silver metal became illuminated by the faint moonlight, and you glanced frantically between Frank’s stoic face and the cop car in the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?”

Frank hastily brought his index finger to his lips when you whisper-yelled at him.

“Preparin’ for a problem.”

Frank’s eyes remained narrowed on the reflection in the side view mirror as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the sound of it cocking in place only fueling the speed of your tumultuous heart rate.

“Put it away!”

Scrunching up his dark brows, Frank turned his head slightly to stare at you incredulously as if you had just said the most ridiculous statement in the history of the English language.

“What?”

“Frank-”

“You got a better goddamn idea?”

Great. You’re not even supposed to be here, and now you’re about to either go to prison or die in a shootout.

Your eyes frantically searched around Frank’s truck for something that could help the two of you out. As Frank rested the gun against his chest with a firm grip on the handle and his index finger pressed along the barrel, an idea suddenly popped into your head that made your stomach flip.

“Put it away.”

Frank turned his head and stared at you curiously when he heard the firm tone of your voice, but his confusion quickly morphed into pure annoyance. He scoffed, opening his mouth to protest before you turned in your seat to face him.

“You asked if I had a better idea and I do.”

Frank stared you down for what felt like an eternity. His features were set in a harsher version of their normal broody appearance, and the hardness in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he ground his teeth, stealing one last glance at the side view mirror before stashing the pistol back underneath the seat, grumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Now what? What’s this grand fuckin’ plan of yours, huh?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the door to the patrol car swing open. Quickly dashing across the truck bench, you ungracefully climbed onto Frank’s lap. His entire body immediately went rigid, and he looked absolutely stunned as he stared into your eyes.

“What-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed onto the back of his neck and leaned in to firmly press your lips against his. Frank stilled completely beneath you for a good thirty seconds, and you could feel the tension practically radiating from his body. You started to worry that maybe you should have at least given him a snippet of your plan before-oh.

Oh.

A warmth suddenly spread across your thighs and it took a second for your brain to register that it was from Frank’s hands. They experimentally roamed up the expanse of your thighs until they slowly climbed up your hips, settling on your waist in a firm but delicate grip. All the previous anxiety that was buzzing in your veins seemed to be drowned out by the sensation of the tender pace of his lips finally responding to your chaste kiss.

God, his lips were as soft as they looked, and so warm. There was a bitterness to the way he tasted from the copious amounts of freshly brewed black coffee he had consumed, but it was cut through by lingering sweet mint from the gum he had spat out earlier.

The gentleness of his touch and his uncertain kiss was surprising for someone who was so rough in so many other aspects of their life. You couldn’t help but grab a small fistful of the collar of his gray henley while you melted into his strong chest, your fingernails lightly scratching at the back of his neck with your other hand, holding him as close as physically possible. A low groan sounded quietly in the back of Frank’s throat when you dragged your nails against his skin, and it traveled straight to your-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jumping at the sudden intrusion of noise, you turned your head to see a young officer staring between you and Frank awkwardly, the end of his flashlight hovering over the glass of the driver’s side window. When the window was slowly rolled down, the seriousness of the previous situation broke through the haze of lust you had found yourself in, and you suddenly remembered why you were in Frank’s lap in the first place. Before you could scramble out an explanation, Frank’s rough voice cut through the timid silence and startled you.

“What?”

The young officer jumped backwards immediately from the way Frank practically barked at him, and you turned your head to stare at him in surprise. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his thick brows were knit together in pure frustration, and you could see that familiar flame of rage burning in his eyes.

He looked pissed.

Looking back at the officer, you let out a nervous laugh as you pressed your palm flat against Frank’s chest in an attempt to calm him, flashing the young man a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, is…is there a problem?”

He gulped as his eyes flickered from Frank’s unwavering hardened glare to you, nodding slowly as he uncomfortably gestured behind himself with his thumb.

“I…sorry to uh…interrupt. It’s just…well…this is private property. You’re…technically trespassing.”

Hearing the aggravated grunt that sounded from Frank as he opened his mouth to speak, you quickly covered his mouth with your small palm and let out another nervous laugh, trying to keep the officer’s attention on you.

“I’m very sorry, that’s um…that’s my fault. It’s…it’s our first night with a babysitter so, we got a little…carried away. I’m sure you can understand?”

There was a hopeful tone to your voice as your lips parted into the most convincing charming smile you could muster at the moment, hoping he would take the bait so that you and Frank could leave without a scene being caused. When the young man’s lips parted into a light smile, you felt a sense of ease wash over you.

“Of course, I can definitely…understand.”

But that ease was short lived when you caught where his line of sight went, and felt Frank’s grip on your waist tighten possessively.

As the young officer spoke those words, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander over your chest in a shameless way, and you panicked when you felt Frank lean forward, reaching with one hand underneath his seat while also shielding your chest from the man’s prying eyes with his large body.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

The officer instantly took another large step back, holding his hands up in surrender and mumbling a string of apologies as Frank started going off on him, reaching for the handle to the door. You quickly grabbed his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you, staring into his furious glare with wide eyes as you whispered frantically through gritted teeth.

“Frank, stop it.”

Glancing back over at the young man, you let out a soft laugh as you waved your shaky hand dismissively.

“I’m really sorry, we’ll just…leave. We’ll leave. Have a good night.”

Quickly rolling up the window, you scurried back into the passenger seat and swiftly put your seatbelt on. When Frank didn’t move an inch, you turned your head to look at him, seeing a twisted up concoction of anger and confusion on his features. You hysterically gestured towards the steering wheel as you gawked at him.

“What are you doing? Drive!”

Frank’s jaw hardened as he let out a heavy grunt, turning the keys in the ignition and flashing the officer one final death glare before peeling off onto the dirt road in the opposite direction. Once the patrol car was out of sight, you let out a deep breath of relief and held your face in your trembling hands as you tried to calm your nerves.

Your mind was racing with all the worst possible case scenarios. What if that officer was with the Defenders of Freedom too? Is that why he was on that road? Did he get Frank’s license plate? Is he telling the others that the two of you found their base of operations? What would-

“That was good quick thinkin’.”

Frank’s gravely voice cutting through the silence made you realize that neither of you had spoken in the past ten minutes. Turning your head to look over at him, your brows knit together in puzzlement.

“What?”

Frank’s eyes darted over to you timidly, only for a moment, before settling back on the road in front of him.

“Your…plan.”

His voice sounded somewhat strained, and you noticed his features were blanketed in an expression you couldn’t fully make out from the faint glow of the street lights. He almost looked…shy?

Shy was not a word you would ever normally use to describe Frank Castle.

There was suddenly a feeling of heat nipping at the tops of your cheeks, and you were swiftly aware of the lingering sensation of your lips tingling from the kiss.

Is that why he couldn’t hardly look at you?

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

Frank arched one of his thick brows as his eyes flickered back over towards you once again, his full lips pursing slightly as he nodded.

“Yeah…I s’pose they do.”

There was a layer of questioning in his tone, and you leaned back in your seat as you looked anywhere but at him while clearing your throat.

“It usually makes people look away, or want to get as far away from it as soon as possible.”

A quiet grunt of agreeance sounded in the back of Frank’s throat.

“That’s…smart.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you and Frank, and the small unoccupied space in the middle of the truck bed suddenly felt like an ocean separating the two of you. Tension hung thick and heavy in the miniscule space of the cab like an awkward fog that you couldn’t have even sliced through with the sharpened hunter’s knife on Frank’s hip.

For the next half hour, the quiet thrum of the truck engine was the only sound disrupting the tense silence.

»»———　　———««

Stepping past Frank’s large frame into the motel room he had rented for the night, your eyes immediately landed on the bed in the middle of the room.

The bed.

The one.

Single.

Bed.

Glancing over your shoulder at Frank, he caught where your gaze had gone, and there was a sheepish expression on his face.

“Last room they had.”

Doing your best to appear nonchalant about the situation, you gave a slight nod of your head in understanding as you surveyed the room. The dingy wallpaper was beyond faded and peeling where the torn edges pulled away from the top of the wall. What had once probably been a tasteful shade of tan looked more like a muted shade of gold. The queen size bed in the middle of the room was covered in a multi-shade paisley quilt that the word ‘ugly’ couldn’t even begin to describe, and contrasted sharply with the hunter green carpet beneath your feet.

“You didn’t make a reservation?”

The joke you attempted to make to lighten the mood fell flat as Frank eyed you with an unreadable expression, dropping his black duffle bag onto the floor with a slight thud.

“Wasn’t expectin’ company. It ain’t the Ritz, but-”

“Frank, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Right.”

The uncomfortable silence and awkward tension were absolutely killing you.

Things had never been this weird with Frank, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. So you did the one thing you always did when you didn’t want to deal with an unpleasant situation.

You ran away from it.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

About halfway through rushing towards the bathroom, you abruptly halted in your steps when you realized that you couldn’t shower because you didn’t have anything. You had slept at Frank’s last night, and you couldn’t go by your place this morning since it was an active crime scene.

You had no clothes. No toothbrush. No nothing.

“Shit.”

“You alright?”

There was a cautious tone to Frank’s deep voice, but it was clearly laced with concern when it nestled in your ears. You turned around to face him, your lips pulled into a tight expression that was supposed to resemble a smile, but probably looked more like a grimace.

“I just realized I don’t have anything.”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly while he looked over at you, curiosity and confusion swirling around in his deep brown eyes.

“We couldn’t stop by my place this morning…and we left kinda in a hurry…so…”

All of a sudden you could see realization dawning on Frank’s face. His features softened considerably, and he quickly glanced at the small analog clock on the nightstand by the bed. It was late, and you were nearly in the middle of nowhere in some small town upstate about twenty miles from the location Frank had been given. There was nothing around the motel except a rundown gas station and a little twenty-four hour diner.

Frank turned his attention back to you, and his dark eyes wandered over you for a second before he met your gaze again. There was an apologetic expression on his features as he reached down to grab his duffle bag, walking over to set it down on the edge of the bed while he unzipped it and started to rustle through it.

“Here, I got some stuff you can borrow-”

“It’s okay. I can just-”

“Ain’t a big deal. I got extras of some things. Can’t promise anythin’ will fit or smell pretty.”

Frank glanced up to flash you a tiny smile as he held out a small pile of things towards you. As you reached out to take the items from him, your fingers lightly brushed against his, and you felt a spark shock through your system. Looking up at him, your lips tugged into a tight timid smile while you nodded.

“Thanks, Frank.”

Without waiting for a response, you dashed into the small bathroom for some privacy, hoping you’d be able to get yourself the fuck together.

Any attempt you were going to make to try to push that kiss from earlier out of your head was completely ruined when you began to lather his body wash in your hands to rub it into your wet skin, being careful to avoid getting any suds in your hurt hand, and comb it through your hair, since Frank was apparently a two in one kind of guy. Even though the temperature of the water was a degree short of scalding, the areas of your body that had been caressed by Frank’s large hands burned hotter.

He had touched you, really touched you, beyond the point of just trying to sell your distraction. He didn’t have to kiss you back the way he had. He could’ve just let his lips stay modestly pressed to yours until the officer walked up.

But Frank seemed to have lost himself in the kiss just as much as you had.

So why was he acting so strange now? If he wanted that kiss as much as you did, why was he acting more reserved with you now than he ever had before? Was his perceived passion blown out of proportion by your greedy and selfish imagination?

Or did he simply regret it?

The whirlwind of questions and convoluted doubt only got worse when you slipped his clothes on.

His clothes.

Frank had given you a long sleeve black t-shirt that was ridiculously soft and comfortable. You had recalled seeing him wear it on several occasions. While it fit him snugly, the sleeves hung comically off your hands, and the bottom of it reached the middle of your thighs. Your eyes had momentarily widened seeing that he had given you a pair of his black briefs, but they fit you somewhat better than the sweatpants he had offered.

It felt strangely intimate to be in Frank’s clothes. Granted, wearing someone else’s underwear is kind of intimate, but it also made you feel…comforted in an odd way. You were completely doused head to toe in the familiar scent of Frank, and that made you feel safe in a way that you had only ever felt with him.

When you stepped out of the steamy bathroom, Frank was sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand, staring down at it intently. He perked up when he heard the bathroom door creak open, and his eyes instantly snapped over to look over at you. His dark brown eyes roamed slowly over the sight of you in his clothes, and when he finally met your gaze, there was a look there you hadn’t seen before.

But it made your knees weak.

Trying to dispel the thick layer of tension in the air, you cleared your throat as you slowly walked over towards him and handed the pair of sweatpants back with a soft smile on your lips.

“I gave them my best shot.”

Frank’s eyes softened slightly and he let out a light chuckle, taking the sweats from you to place into his own lap.

“Everythin’ else work alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, um…thank you.”

“Sure. We’ll find a store first thing in the mornin’, get ya some stuff. How’s the hand?”

Frank held one of his large hands out towards you expectantly, and without even thinking, you placed your injured one on top of his.

“It’s fine. I wrapped it.”

He pushed back the sleeve past your wrist to inspect your handiwork, delicately turning your wrist from left to right to examine the placement and tightness of the layers of gauze covering your wounded palm and fingers. He made a subtle expression of pride, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours with a nod of approval.

“Not bad.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Frank looked up at you with slightly raised brows, and then a quirk of a smile curled at the edge of his lips when it clicked that you had learned by watching him tend to your hand last night.

“S’pose you did.”

When Frank let go of your hand and rose from the bed, he moved to step around you, and you watched him toe off his boots by the door before starting to rummage through his duffle bag again. He had ditched his black denim jacket, and it looked like his shirt was straining against the expanse of his large back. When your eyes wandered upwards, your breath caught in your throat seeing a faint pink vertical line on the back of his neck.

The one you had left with your nails.

A surge of heat instantly spread across the tops of your cheeks, and between your thighs, as the phantom touch of Frank’s firm grasp on your waist burned once again on your skin. You had fantasized so many times about sitting on Frank’s lap and kissing him like that, but your imagination could never compare to the real thing. Your lips started to tingle again at the memory of his warm and soft lips responding eagerly to your kiss, and your ears rang loudly with the echo of his low groan that had sounded in his throat.

You were all of a sudden painfully aware of the fact that you were getting wet in Frank’s underwear.

You had never been so affected just from kissing someone before. Not even when you made out with a boy for the first time. Or…any boy you made out with for that matter.

Hell, Steven couldn’t even get you that worked up with his hand in your panties and detailed fucking instructions.

But Frank…Frank just drove you absolutely fucking wild.

“What happens now?”

Frank turned his head to look at you over his broad shoulder when your soft voice cut through the stillness. You could hear the faint desperation in your own voice, and you knew it heard it too. Frank never missed anything. There was a hesitancy to his features, and irresolution swimming around in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure what exactly you were referring to.

What happens with the investigation?

What happens tomorrow?

What happens next with us, Frank?

Frank carefully turned around to face you fully, and while his face appeared neutral, there was something glowing in his eyes.

“With what?”

His words were laced with pure curiosity, but there was a coveted challenge concealed within them. You didn’t have the courage to ask the question you really wanted the answer to, and you had a feeling Frank wouldn’t answer it unless he was prompted. Even then, there was a good chance he would avoid it. A sobering thought washed over you that you might not be prepared for that answer anyway, so you decided to play it safe.

“Well…we can’t go back there, right?”

Frank’s lips pursed into a somewhat thin line. He almost looked like he was disappointed by your choice of question. His pensive eyes studied you silently for a moment before clutching that same pair of sweatpants he had offered you in his large hand and stalking off towards the bathroom.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

When the door to the bathroom firmly shut, you flopped back onto the stiff mattress with a heavy sigh and closed your eyes.

It was going to be a very long night.

These sleepovers with Frank were not going the way you had fantasized about previously at all.

»»———　　———««

Ten minutes later, Frank quietly emerged from the bathroom, and your eyes doubled in size as your jaw nearly became fully unhinged. The dark gray pair of sweatpants that he had offered you were slung dangerously low on his hips, and a delicious white sliver of the waistband of his briefs were peeking out above them. His cropped dark hair was tousled in damp curls, and droplets of warm water cascaded down the expanse of his lean and toned figure. Frank’s skin looked so smooth, like an exemplary chiseled piece of artwork carved into tan marble; a Greek god perfectly immortalized in impenetrable stone.

Your rapacious eyes were particularly interested in a droplet that was leisurely making its way down one of his deep cut v-lines, only to become absorbed by the fabric of his sweats. While you were marveling at the view of the unveiled Adonis before you, a sight abruptly caught your attention.

There was a faint pink scar above his right hip.

In an instant, you were no longer staring at him through cherry tinted lenses of desire, but with a slight pang of sadness cutting through your chest. There were numerous scars marked on Frank’s body. Some were faded, nearly blending in with his normal flesh tone, while some were opaque, a clear striking contrast of pain endured in comparison to the untainted color of skin that had never known affliction. Some were deep indentations nestled in his skin, almost to the bone, while others casually crested above the sea level of undisrupted ripples of flesh.

“I was a Marine.”

Frank’s deep voice cutting through the silence of the motel room swiftly redirected your line of sight to his face. He had a gray tank top in his large hands, and he subtly seemed to be wringing it with a twinge of nervousness. There was an unrestrained expression of aversion in his eyes, as if he didn’t know whether to hide the evidence of an unforgiving past, or allow you to consume this rare moment of vulnerability completely.

For a moment your eyes dropped to the chain around his neck.

The gold wedding band.

You hadn’t seen a glimpse of it since that night at the bar, when you’d caught sight of him in your guest bathroom with a few of his shirt buttons undone. You still didn’t know if it was his or if it had belonged to his wife, or what happened to her, but it was hard to look at now.

You didn’t like seeing him look so uncomfortable, so you did your best to put him at ease with a tender smile on your lips as you looked up at him in genuine understanding and grace.

“That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

Frank glanced down at the shirt in his hands for a moment, an apparition of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as a dry and short chuckle escaped his mouth.

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

The elusive, light-hearted tone of his voice made you wonder if you could try to dismantle at least one of the many walls that he seemed to have up within him. You didn’t want to pry too much, but you’d had so many questions about Frank for months, and it seemed like he was finally giving you a rare window to get a few answers.

“Is…is that where those came from?”

“Most of ‘em.”

Frank kept his gaze averted downwards on the shirt in his hand as he spoke in a hushed tone, like his admissions couldn’t be uttered above a certain decibel level. It almost appeared as though it was easier for him to be vulnerable with you if he didn’t have to look at you.

Was he nervous to see your reaction to his rare divulgence? Or was there something lurking in the shadows of history that he couldn’t face?

Was he thinking about your lips as much as you were thinking about his?

You had to focus. You weren’t sure how grand or miniscule this window of opportunity was with Frank. This moment could be just as magnificently fleeting as a shooting star escaping across the cosmos, and if you blinked at the wrong second, you would miss it.

This could be your one chance to finally break through those meticulously crafted barriers of his. To unravel the chains of mystery that seemed to weigh him down, and finally erase that invisible line separating him from everyone else that he never seemed to let you cross.

But, you couldn’t push too hard. If your curiosity was too intrusive, he’d immediately shut down. If you misstepped over the delicate minefield of his own temper, you risked an explosion. It had to be the most graceful balancing act you’d ever done.

You had to treat this like the most important story of your entire career. Carefully pose the questions as innocent conversation, instead of an interrogation, and give him the space to answer as generally or as detailed as he wanted to.

Billy’s advice seemed to echo in your ears at that moment.

You gotta let him come to you.

“How long were you in the Marines?”

“Did four tours.”

When you didn’t speak for a moment, Frank finally lifted his head to meet your gaze. There was a twinkle of amusement shining in his warm brown eyes at your evident confusion, and he let out a light chuckle as a crooked smile tugged across his lips.

“All in all, little over ten years.”

A faint blush layered over the tops of your cheeks at your own ignorance. Normally when you interviewed someone, you had the benefit of being able to research them beforehand. With Frank, you were having to make up everything as you go with the extremely limited knowledge you had of him, and of his experience. You knew virtually nothing about the Marines, or the military in general, but seemed to be feeling generous in offering explanations.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I was good at it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Frank glanced around the motel room for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts while pondering the question that lingered between you. After a beat of silence, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy exhale, just a few inches away from where you had been sitting cross-legged on the middle of the mattress, and turned his head to the left to look at you.

“Did you always wanna be a journalist?”

Frank’s question took you by surprise. He didn’t often ask you personal questions about yourself, but you decided if you answered his questions honestly, maybe he would do the same.

“I’ve always been nosey.”

The corner of Frank’s full lips quirked up into a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a huff of air through your nose in a quiet snort.

“That don’t surprise me.”

Giving Frank a playful roll of your eyes in response to his comment, you lightly shrugged your shoulders, looking up at him with a faint smile on your lips.

“I’ve always liked story-telling. I’ve never really had the imagination to come up with my own, but I like other people’s stories, and I’ve always enjoyed writing. I thought a club would look good on my college applications, and I wasn’t very athletic or talented in anything else, so I decided to join my high school’s paper. That’s where I really fell in love with investigative journalism, which I realize sounds ridiculous given I was reporting high school ‘news’ but-”

“It ain’t ridiculous if it was important to ya.”

The sincerity in Frank’s tone coupled with the depth of his alluring gaze almost made you forget what you were talking about. It also made you suddenly aware of the fact that every time you downplayed yourself, Frank was quick to cut off your self-deprecation with a genuine sentiment. For a second, all you could do was stare into his eyes, until you decided to bare your soul in front of him.

“It was the first time I really felt like I was good at something. Like I…I had a purpose. I had something that was…mine. I could do something meaningful…something that mattered. It could be something I was proud of.”

Frank stayed silent while he soaked up the candor of your confession, like he was taking the time to commit every piece of it to memory. Sometimes you felt like he could see right through you when he stared into your eyes, and you felt incredibly small under his undivided attention. His head dipped slightly between his broad shoulders when he turned his head to stare down at his clasped hands for a moment.

“I never knew what the hell I wanted to do. I was a…bit of a troublemaker when I was a kid. My parents…they were older, ya’know? Couldn’t really do nothin’ to control me. I knew that, and took advantage of it. I was a real…”

“Asshole?”

Frank’s lips parted into a crooked smile, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I was gonna say prick. But…yeah. I was a little asshole.”

“Well thank God you grew out of that.”

Frank dropped his head slightly to stare back down at his hands again with a light chuckle. Your eyes followed his gaze, and you noticed a few scars covering his knuckles, resembling jagged designs carved into a tree trunk.

“I enlisted when I was eighteen. Thought…what the hell, ya’know? Was never any good at school or anythin’ like that…and I didn’t wanna get stuck at some…shit job. Thought it was my ticket out, ya’know? Get to travel, play with guns and tanks, that kinda shit.”

The light smile that had been on the edge of Frank’s mouth dissipated slowly, and his thick brows slowly drew closer in together while he rubbed his right thumb over the back of his left hand.

“Bein’ a Marine…it was the first time in my life I felt like I was worth a damn. Like I was really doin’ somethin’, ya’know? Somethin’ good…somethin’ important. I was good at it, damn good at it. Felt like I…like I finally found-”

“A purpose.”

Frank’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and there seemed to be a shared expression of understanding between the two of you. You knew exactly what he meant, and he could see that reflected in your eyes.

“A purpose.”

He repeated those two words in a more quiet and contemplative voice, like he was repeating them more to himself than to you.

“So, how do you go from being a Marine to a bodyguard for a high maintenance journalist?”

“Just that goddamn lucky, I s’pose.”

The edges of Frank’s mouth twisted up into a sardonic smirk when he turned his head to look at you, and you were about to retort with a smartass comment of your own when you noticed something you hadn’t seen before.

Without even thinking, your hand reached out to trace a circular shaped scar on Frank’s left temple with your index finger. He didn’t go rigid when you touched him this time, not like he had in the truck. The smirk swiftly vanished along with the playful crinkles beside his eyes, and his full lips parted slightly while he stared at you intently as you lightly traced your finger over the mark.

It was indented slightly, and you could feel the faint dip beneath your fingertip. The edges of it were tinted more of a blush shade, making it obvious this wound had been made more recently than some of the others adorning his skin. It almost looked like a bullet hole…and that idea had your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“What’s this one from?”

All of a sudden, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your wrist to push your hand away at the exact same time he turned he pulled his hand away from your delicate caress. His lips were now pressed in a line and that familiar hardness was back in his gaze.

And just like that, whatever moment you two were having was clearly over.

Frank suddenly stood from the edge of the bed and silently pulled his tank top over his head, slipping his large arms through the sleeve holes and covering his body with the dark gray fabric.

“We should call it a night.”

Frank’s voice was flat, and you felt a surge of frustration burn in your bloodstream. Every time you felt like you were getting somewhere with him, he pulled back. It was like you were constantly trying to carefully navigate your way up an unclimbable mountain, and as soon as the peak came into view, you lost your footing and fell to the bottom.

He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, and a crease of confusion settled in the middle of your forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

You looked down at the queen size bed you were sitting on top of, a bed of which you barely took up any space, and then looked back over at Frank, who was in the middle of making a pallet on the floor.

“Frank, you don’t have to sleep on the floor. This bed is big enough for both of us.”

“Slept in worse conditions.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose in pure irritation at both the insensitive implications behind his remark and his unrelenting stubbornness.

“So you’ve told me, several times. Thank you, by the way, for telling me that you think sharing a bed with me is worse than whatever the hell your setup was in the military. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle. I had no idea you were such a poet.”

Frank’s face twisted up in puzzlement and aggravation at the tone of sarcasm dripping from your clipped words.

“That ain’t what I-”

“I don’t want to hear a single complaint in the morning when you’re stiff and sore from choosing to sleep on the fucking floor.”

As you vexingly tugged back the thin and somewhat stiff quilt on top of the bed, you slid beneath it, the scratchiness of the cheap sheets against your bare legs only souring your mood even further. While you turned onto your side away from Frank and harshly smacked your hand against the button to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, he stared down at you with furrowed dark brows and a heavy frown in complete exasperation and perplexity.

“Oh for fucks-why is it always a goddamn argument with you?”

“Why are you always such an ass?”

“I’m an ass for tryin’ to be a gentleman and make sure you’re comfortable?”

Dragging your palms down your face with an irritated groan, you furiously sat up in the bed to look over at Frank with an exacerbated expression while the two of you raised your voices at each other in yet another argument.

“How are you making me uncomfortable if I’m offering, Frank? This bed is big, so big that you wouldn’t even have to breathe the same air as me. We could even put pillows down the middle just to make sure that we don’t accidentally touch in the middle of the night, because God fucking forbid-”

“Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine.”

Frank ripped the pillow off the ground and angrily tossed it onto the bed, tugging the covers back from the other side of the mattress to slip underneath angrily. He turned his head to glare at you as he harshly gestured towards himself in the bed.

“There? Happy? You gonna stop fuckin’ givin’ me shit, now?”

Returning Frank’s fuming glare with one of your own, the two of you seemed to be locked in an angry staring contest until you conceded and turned over again, dragging the unpleasant quilt up to your chin. You grit your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out an aggravated exhale through your nose.

As hot as your blood felt in your veins, there was also a nauseating feeling of disappointment settling in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t thinking about your lips. He wasn’t thinking about your kiss at all. If he was, it was him wishing it didn’t happen.

Maybe that was part of the reason he wanted to sleep on the floor and seemed so pissed off at you. He didn’t want to be near you. He was mad that you kissed him without his permission.

You’d made him uncomfortable.

On the other side of the bed, Frank stared at the back of your head in the dim amber light of the room coming from the other bedside lamp. Turning his head to stare straight ahead blankly at the wall in front of him, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a slow and heavy exhale as he grumbled a string of curses under his breath.

After a few terse minutes of deafening silence, you could feel Frank shifting underneath the sheets, and his gravelly voice filtered in through the dense quiet.

“Look, I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt your feelin’s-”

“You didn’t-”

“Yes, I did. I wasn’t implyin’ that sharin’ a bed with you was such a bad thing, alright? I only meant I slept in worse places than on a floor, s’all.”

Frank genuinely sounded apologetic, and you felt a rush of guilt wash over you from the way you had twisted his words, jumped to conclusions, and reacted poorly. He let out another heavy sigh before speaking again.

“I just…wanted you to feel comfortable.”

The hushed tone of his voice made it sound like he was entrusting you with his deepest secret. Swallowing down your pride, you turned on your side to face Frank, looking over at him silently for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

“Frank, you’ve never made me uncomfortable.”

He was laying on his back, his head slightly propped up against the headboard, but his face was turned towards you. He seemed to be searching your eyes for any thread of faultiness in your words that he could unravel.

“I…I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

“You’re sorry for tellin’ me the truth?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows, and you could detect a faint smirk on the edge of his lips, even in the dim light of the room. You rolled your eyes as you laughed quietly.

“Can you just let me just apologize to you for making an ass of myself?”

Frank eyed you for a moment with a sly tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t good reporters s’posed to reserve their conclusions ‘bout somethin’ ‘til they got all the evidence?”

The low, hushed tone Frank spoke in to not disrupt the quiet peace that settled between the two of you made his voice sound sultry. That twinkle of amusement was shining in his eyes again, and you fought the grin that threatened to take over your lips.

Playful Frank was your favorite Frank.

“Are you implying that I’m not a good reporter, Mr. Castle?”

A low chuckle rumbled in Frank’s throat as he moved his right arm behind his head, closing his eyes while he turned his head to face upwards with a faint smirk on his lips.

“Considerin’ you’re trigger happy, and there’s ‘bout three guns within your reach, no. Absolutely not.”

“I am not-”

“Did you not just jump all over my ass a second ago over a misunderstandin’?”

Frank opened his eyes to look over at you, his thick dark brows raised slightly while that faint smirk remained subtly on his full lips.

Narrowing your eyes playfully, you poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and lightly shrugged your shoulders beneath the quilt.

“Well, you gave me the conclusion that you were an ass the first day I met you, and you’ve only reinforced it since then. You also did just admit on record that you’ve been an ass since you were a kid, so.”

Another chuckle sounded from Frank as a grunt of agreeance sounded in his throat.

“I reckon you’re right ‘bout that.”

A few moments of tranquil quiet passed by between the two of you, but you were buzzing with questions on the inside. However, something he said abruptly clicked in your brain, and your eyes widened as you looked over at him.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Are there really three guns in this room?”

“Three on your side.”

Blinking a few times in dumbfoundment, your brows knit together as you stared over at him incredulously.

“What…what do you mean ‘three on my side’? How many are on your side?”

“Two, and a knife.”

“Jesus Christ, Rambo. Anything else?”

Frank let out a deep and amused chuckle at that, placing his left hand on his chest as he shifted slightly on his back to get comfortable.

“In the truck, yeah.”

“What? There’s more?”

“Go to bed.”

There was no firmness in Frank’s voice, just complete entertainment. You glanced around the dimly lit motel room cautiously, wondering where he might have placed them.

“Where are they?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Letting out a scoff, you turned your head to look at him in minor annoyance.

“What if someone tries to break in?”

“I’ll handle it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the mirthy smirk curling on the edge of his mouth.

“What if…five people break in?”

“Highly unlikely, but both guns on my side got a clip that hold 12 rounds. You done?”

An exasperated huff left your lips as you turned to lay on your back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t it proper safety protocol to let someone know where loaded firearms are stashed?”

“They ain’t loaded.”

“You just said-”

“The ones on my side are loaded. The ones on your side ain’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You said it yourself. You’re nosey, and you never even held a gun before.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but to your irritation, Frank had a point. Not that you would admit that out loud to him.

A few minutes of silence passed by before you spoke up again.

“You could always teach me.”

Frank opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at you, staring at you in a mixture of interest and confusion.

“Teach you what?”

You turned back onto your side to face him and lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“How to shoot.”

It was Frank’s time to stare at you in dumbfoundment. He arched one of his thick brows while he eyed you.

“You wanna learn how to shoot?”

“I mean…people are only trying to kill me.”

Frank didn’t return the playful smile that you flashed him, and it quickly fell from your lips. This was not going to be something he was going to agree to easily. You were really going to have to fight for this one. You had to show him that you were serious.

“If you hadn’t shown up last night, those men were going to kill me, Frank. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless ever again.”

The devout honesty in your voice was unmistakable, and Frank let out a deep exhale as he turned his head to look up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes again.

“Let’s deal with this shit first, then we’ll talk.”

There was a tiny surge of victory that coursed through you at that. It wasn’t technically a yes, but it also wasn’t a flat out no. You just needed to keep proving to him that this was something you were serious about.

You wanted to bring up the kiss, but you weren’t sure how to approach it. You didn’t want to ruin the peace your playful banter had brought about with Frank, but you couldn’t leave it alone.

Why was he so goddamn hard to read?

Why was he still being so hot and cold with you?

Even if he was still your bodyguard, the two of you were way past the point of professionalism.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“I…I’m sorry…if I made you uncomfortable.”

The thin material of the pillowcase rustled loudly in the quiet as Frank turned his head to look at you inquisitively, like he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Earlier…when I…kissed you.”

There wasn’t a desert on any continent as dry as your mouth right now, and your heart was pounding so relentlessly against the sturdy ivory of your ribcage, you swore he could hear it a few inches away.

The cloudy ignorance seemed to dissipate from between his brows, and his features migrated to an expression of recognition. For a moment he didn’t say anything, and it made you realize you found his silence far more unnerving than his unwanted answers.

“You didn’t.”

There was such a confidence behind those two words that it nearly knocked the breath out of your lungs. Those two little words held so many portals of possibilities.

You didn’t; it just caught me off guard.

You didn’t; everything is fine between us.

You didn’t; I wanted to taste you.

Staring over at Frank, words seemed to completely vanish from your brain. You didn’t know what to say. You had no idea how to respond to that. The intensity of his piercing gaze sent a slight shiver tumbling down your spine despite the blazing warmth you could feel radiating from his body a few inches away from you.

The amber glow from the bedside lamp lit up his eyes like the golden hour of sunlight shining through a glass of whiskey. You wanted to get lost in him again. You wanted to take your rightful place on the throne of his lap, tangle your fingers in his hair like a crown, and let him rule over the kingdom inside your body.

“Frank.”

Was the delicate whisper of his name a desperate plea, or an enticing invitation?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he answered it.

For a moment, his mesmerizing stare dropped to your lips, and you swore you saw him start to lean in-

But then at the last second, he cleared his throat and turned over onto his side away from you, moving as close to the edge of the bed on his side as he could get. Frank’s voice was rough when it reached your ears, no trace of the warm and playful tone he had used just minutes ago.

“Get some sleep.”

That hopeful ember of desire that he had ignited in you had been completely snuffed out by his own hand before the flame could even catch, and the ambient light in the motel went out along with it leaving you in dumbfoundment and darkness.

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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racergirl-112 · 3 months ago

Text

Push Me Over - Chapter 4: So It Goes...

18++++++***** MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WARNINGS: SMUT. Mentions of death. P n V, unprotected (wrap it up folks). Oral receiving, fingering. but really this is the chapter you've been waiting for. 😘🥵🥵 *** I wrote this chapter to the song So it Goes by Taylor Swift**

(not my picture. Photo cred: Pinterest)

Dani got home a little later. She spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh and the super hot kiss they shared. The words he said to her, making her mind race. He had asked her to maybe get coffee and maybe if they did that and she got to know him, it would help get him out of her mind. She decided she was going to ask him that day.

After the grueling day of filming they had, Dani saw Hugh walking back to his trailer and decided it was now or never.

“Hugh,” she called out. He turned around, a smile crossing his face.

“What’s up darlin’?” he asked.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?”

“When?” he asked.

“Now? Or whenever you’re done?” she replied.

“Let me get changed.”

“Cool, I’ll be in my trailer.”

As she waited for Hugh in her trailer, scrolling her phone, her heart began to race. It was going to be just the two of them. It’s fine. You’re just co-stars, maybe potential friends. Get him out of your system, he’s old enough to be your father. She was lost in her overthinking when there was a knock on her trailer door.

“Come in,” she said, as the door began to swing open. Hugh walked in, wearing his signature tight black t-shirt and jeans. Goddammit he’s fine.

“Hi darlin’. Are you ready?” he asked. Dani nodded. They began to walk over to where their cars were parked. “Want me to drive?”

“That’s fine,” she answered. A smile crossed his face as he opened the passenger door for her. She had a surprised look on her face when he got in the car.

“What’s the look for?” he asked with a laugh.

“I’ve never had a guy do that for me before and I’m from the South,” she replied. Hugh started up the car as they took off.

“Well, sounds like you haven’t been around real gentlemen.” The comment took Dani aback, but it made her smile as they looked for a coffee shop.

A little while later, they found a perfect little coffee shop out of the way as they sat there together.

“Other than you being extremely feisty and can fucking sing, tell me more about yourself,” Hugh started. Dani looked taken aback, but she was ready. She took a sip of her latte and began talking.

“Well, I’m originally from Georgia. My real name is Danielle Olivia James-Levy, but because of the Levy acting family, I chose to go by Danielle James, my mother’s maiden name. I went to school for Business, thinking I wasn’t going to go into the family business, but fell in love with theater when I was there and got a dual major.”

“Wow, beautiful and smart. I knew you acted, but I didn’t know you did theater. Is that where the singing comes from?,” Hugh asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, it’s something I don’t get to do a whole lot of. I would do small shows in between acting gigs, while working a real job, until something happened. The singing thing on the other hand, that’s something I’ve done since I was kid. I’d walk around singing, enough for everyone to tell me to shut up once in a while.” She looked over at Hugh who couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “So, enough about me. How about you?”

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. “Well, there isn’t too much about me that you can’t find online. Well, other than what I mentioned to you the other day.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through that. Do you want to talk about it?” Dani asked. Hugh’s eyes got soft, almost like sadness came through them.

“We don’t have to sweetheart,” he started.

“You listened to me and I promised you I’d listen,” a warm smile crossed her face.

“Well, my ex-wife and I had been married for almost 27 years. We met back on a TV show in Australia. She was older and I thought she was out of my league, but it worked out. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to have biological children of our own, but we adopted two wonderful kids. Now that the kids are older and have their own lives, I guess during Covid, we were spending so much time together, it felt more like a friendship than a marriage and got worse during the writer’s strike. We did everything we could to save it, but we both felt like the relationship had run its course. It just feels weird.”

“Like you’ve been in the relationship so long, you don’t know where to go next. I mean I’ve had my share of relationships, but nothing of that caliber. I commend you for making a relationship work in Hollywood, especially when you’re as big a star as you are.You just don’t see that anymore.” “That’s very sweet,” he answered. “I’m curious about something you didn’t mention. Shawn is your Uncle, how’s the relation work?”

Dani took a long sip of her latte before beginning. “Well, My dad was Shawn’s older brother, but passed away in a car accident when I was 25. It was something we asked to keep out of the public and the reason I shelved my dreams for a while. My mom still lives in Georgia with her new husband, finally happy again.” She looked over at him and he had a surprised look on his face.

His hand reached across the table, grabbing hers. “I’m sorry about you dad, sweetheart. I lost mine in 2020, his eyes meeting hers. The more she was around this man, she was finding it harder to not want to be with him. Fuck the age difference.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about your dad too,” she replied as he squeezed her hand. She kept looking over at him, not being able to take her eyes off of the gorgeous man in front of her and it looked like he was on the same page. “I guess it's getting late.”

He nodded as they left the cafe and got into his car. He opened her door for her as he took off. He turned on some music and So it Goes… by Taylor Swift began to drift through the radio. She glanced over at Hugh driving and felt her heart racing, not knowing what was going to happen next. He caught her stare as his hand reached over and found her leg. They stopped at a red light as Dani went for it.

“Hugh,” she breathed, coming over the center console and kissing him. He reciprocated, but then the light changed. “I’m sorry…,” she started. Before she could get the words out, he pulled the car over in a dark alley as he came over the center console and kissed her. Their lips and tongues in a hot tangled mess. Dani reached for anything she could, to be closer to this man. He pulled back and cupped her face.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself and I won’t unless you want me to,” he started.

“Your place or mine?” Dani breathed. Hugh drove to his flat immediately.

They all but kicked down the door to his flat as they stayed intertwined. The second the door shut behind them, Hugh picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her legs wrapped around his waist, as his hands cupped her ass, their kissing, feverish.

As they fell on the bed, he braced himself above her, getting lost in her green eyes. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. She nodded her head as she sat up and yanked her shirt over her head followed by her bra and threw them on the floor. He followed suit and his shirt ended up in the pile on the floor. He went for the waistband of her leggings, slowly pulling them down with her panties. “Fuck,” he groaned, taking in the naked woman in his bed.

“Pants off, Jackman,” she ordered, a smirk on her face.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, undoing his belt, and kicking off his pants and boxers, crawling over her.

Dani propped herself up on her elbows and looked at the man in front of her. He may be 55 years old, but he was built like a fucking god. From the way his muscles bulged to the way his v-line was sculpted. Then she caught sight of the happy trail of hair that led to his perfect dick. God he was huge.

He began kissing her lips before moving to her neck, making her arch into him. He liked her reaction as he continued down her body, to her breasts as he circled each peak with his tongue, while never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck,” she moaned. He added to her pleasure as she felt the pad of his finger on her clit.

“Sweetheart, so wet for me,” he groaned, moving down her body and to her pussy. His tongue began soft strokes, before he plugged right in. She cried out at that feeling as she grabbed for his hair as he pulled her down to the end of the bed to devour her even more. The feeling of his facial hair added to the pleasure.

This man has experience.

“I can’t…,” she cried out, letting her orgasm go.

“God, you taste so good sweetheart,” he replied, wiping her juices from his beard and moving back over her. He stilled above her for a moment, realizing something. “Princess, I wasn’t planning on sex tonight, so I’m not prepared.”

“I’m on birth control, Hugh. I need you too much to stop now,” Dani answered, pulling him down to her as their lips locked and she tasted herself on him. His long fingers found her soaking core as he began pumping just enough to get her honey on him as he stroked it down his cock. He grabbed ahold of himself as he teased her with his tip at her entrance.

“You ready sweetheart?” he asked. Dani nodded as he began to push himself inside. He stilled for a moment at how tight she was and that if he began to move, he might just bust.

“Move, please,” she begged. His hips began to move slowly, savoring every moment with Dani. The hold this woman had on him in a short amount of time was baffling, but god, did he feel something with her. Her lips on his, her nails digging into his back, the way she molded to him.

Dani’s hip movements began to meet his own and he felt like he might be a goner. He grabbed her hands with his, interlacing their fingers, pressing them into the mattress sending them both spirling and fast. “God sweetheart, you are fucking perfect,” he said, kissing her.

Her heart began to race again as electricity shot through her body at his words and his movements as she clenched down on him and hard. He wanted to be as close to her as possible as his forehead touched hers as he knew he was done for.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as he chased his own release, white-hot ropes, coating her insides. He finished as he stayed locked on her, both panting and sweaty. The connection between the two of them, intensifying. He pulled out as their releases flooded out of Dani, turning Hugh on even more. He got out of bed to his bathroom to clean up and brought her back a towel.

“Sorry, the old man hasn’t done this in a while, so I wasn’t prepared,” he said with a laugh, getting back in bed.

“You’re fine,” she replied.

“Come here,” he said, offering his arm. Dani moved over and cuddled into him as he kissed her forehead. “Did the old man do ok?” he asked.

“More than ok. You were fucking phenominal,” she replied, drawing circles on his chest and feeling across his toned abs. “Can I tell you something?” He raised an eyebrow at her question.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling yourself old man. Second, I may have known what you looked like from your movies, but until I saw you at dinner, I never knew how attracted I was to you. I went home that night and the night after you came to my trailer and got myself off to the thoughts of you.”

Hugh began stroking her hair. “Well, sweetheart, that’s definitely not what I thought you were going to say, but since the night of the dinner, I can’t be in a room and not think about the bad things I want to do to you.”

“So, it sounds like we’re on the same page,” she answered, putting her head on his chest.

“Yes sweetheart, it does,” he answered. Hugh interlaced their hands, wrapping his arms tighter around her, knowing that with Dani he felt a new chapter of happiness.

#hugh jackman #daddy k!nk #fanfic #hugh jackman smut #deadpool x wolverine #hugh jackman fanfic #logan wolverine smut #older guys #deadpool #logan howlett #james logan howlett #deadpool 3 #logan #deadpool vs wolverine #deadpool wolverine

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leclsrc · 2 years ago

Note

hi auds bear how about a “singing off-key in their parked car and suddenly a person outside starts laughing” blurb with charles (-: feel like that is so him

take a chance on me – cl16

Damn ABBA and their catchy songs.

auds here... moping over my 3h meeting that effectively bars me frm watching the gp i hate uni! :( love u guys i love this req kskkskd

Charles hasn't gotten that godforsaken ABBA song out of his head.

It’s gotten to the point where earworm infects even his physical movements and he starts holding up an invisible mic like some demented Meryl Streep wannabe. It’s embedded itself into his pre- and post-race routines now, but he’s smart enough to do it alone in his room, because if any member of the team saw this embarrassing schtick, he’d be good as dead.

His car ends up being a constant concert venue. He usually drives in the dark, when meetings are over, or in early mornings, when nobody’s around to sneak a peek (not that they should, but fans are pesky) and he’s free to pretend he’s embodying a sickened heartbroken woman’s voice.

It’s chillier today than last week, which to him warrants a car concert warm-up. He cues the song on his speaker system and starts preparing. He’s on drums today, because his last two performances he was on piano, but he’s always on vocals, whistling and yelling the high parts. If you change your mind... he sings, nodding his head to the beat.

This is all Lorenzo’s fault, seriously—the prick couldn’t stop playing it at lunch two weeks prior and now Charles is paying the price. But he isn’t exactly complaining (If you put me to the test, if you let me try!) In the midst of his performance he tries to remember what the meeting is about. New hires, if he recalls, for the marketing team or something. They want to run some things by him and Carlos, or someth—

In the middle of his high note the song stops; he thinks maybe someone might be calling. His voice cracks in the silence. Oh, and somebody is watching in confusion a few feet away.

He realizes it’s a pretty girl, clad in a jeans and a knit jumper, squinting and cocking her head to the side a bit.

You’d hurried around to try and find the source of the ABBA music you’d heard when getting out of your own car. The culprit, it seems, is not a tinny forgotten speaker but an adult man in his car. You blink. The adult man is also, apparently, the race driver you’re supposed to be in a meeting with in five minutes.

You smile. And then you just burst out in a quiet laugh, unable to hide your pure amusement. He swallows. And then he blanches, unable to hide his pure embarrassment. In less than a second he’s turned off his car and disembarked, scrambling to explain himself.

“This is so embarrassing,” he says profusely. “You see, I am—”

—

“—just practicing singing, you see, for a play,” you recount to your friends, laughing so hard your cheeks and stomach hurt. You could never tire of this story, told and retold during parties and dinners alike. Who wouldn’t love this story? It’s a silly one of how you met the love of your life.

Lando had said once the unorthodox meeting was probably the mark of your true love. Some others said it was the fact that you’d been together so long. Others, your compatible careers. Others even said it was the music taste.

You smile as you finish, and Charles braves the teasing just to see you content and happy.

Maybe that’s the best marker of true love there is—not that all the prior ideas are invalid, it’s just. Maybe this is the realest one. It’s also, Charles realizes as he seeks your eyes, the hardest marker to describe. It’s an emotion and a verb all at once, in the very quiet and very intimate unexplainable way.

He thinks—no, he knows—that true love feels like an inside joke. It feels like the click, inaudible and fuzzy, that reverberates through his body when finally your eyes seem to take the hint and meet his. It feels like the laugh, the gigle only two of you share. It feels like a quaint smile. It feels like the story you two have told before and will tell again, with peals of laughter and hands held tight together.

The whole true love thing is a confusing prompt with so many answers, and he could consult anyone to help him out—his mum, his brothers, his best friends, maybe even squeeze his eyes shut and try to send a message of question to Jules or his dad—but none of them would come close to describing this feeling.

He knows love happens to people who’ve known each other their whole lives. He knows it happens to friends, to enemies. Naturally, it happens to strangers—tied together by some invisible string that shortens and overlaps and knots in itself and finally is struck by the fates to bring two people together. Call him biased, but he thinks he’s lucky he falls into the last category. Okay, call him cheesy, but he’ll admit he’d do anything to have you any way in any other life.

If in another universe you were a childhood friend with some corny nickname, or a rival whose eyes would soften when an argument tapered into a confession. Even then he’d love you. He might love you differently, but he could never love you more.

Now is the best, he thinks. Now you’re the funny girl in the pretty dress with a bottle of beer and laughter escaping your sunkissed face. Now it’s 1,095 days later and he still loves you, just as much as he did three chilly Octobers ago, when you smiled amusedly at him in the parking lot of Maranello. Maybe this time it’ll be a different ABBA song you both sing.

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 9 months ago

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Gatecrashers

Help. I bet you smart sleuthers have already covered this topic somewhere around our Tumblr neighborhood, but per usual I'm late to the party. Will someone please help me better understand Sparry's so-called "visit" with the King because the photographs and timing just don't add up. Connecting the dots seems to reveal 2 rebellious overseas unroyals who were determined to show up at Clarence House with or without permission.

On Tuesday, I felt annoyed to see the Royal Family YouTube channel (unaffiliated w/the BRF) patched into a live stream outside of Buckingham Palace. I thought it was a ridiculous invasion of privacy. Now I understand that the King was previously scheduled to arrive at BP (late morning) and the media was waiting to capture the first photo of king Charles post -treatment.

It seems Charles & Camilla were on a tight schedule which could explain the early morning (or overnight) visit with Beatrice & Edo.

The British media obviously knew that Charles was expected at BP and yet they disregarded this important bit of information to focus on Sparry's PR talking points---- all the while these manipulative talking heads knew the King had a prior engagement in his diary.

Pressure Pressure Pressure is what The Meghans wickedly tried to apply to Charles & William. There was even a mention of an EMPTY Frogmore Cottage. How low can these 2 go?🤬

Perhaps Mr and Mrs Sparry informed the men in grey of their plans to gatecrash the king & queen's departure. "Coming with or without permission." This would also explain why they flooded the media with Sparry's intention to see his father "within the next 2 days" followed by that crystal clear photograph at LAX. Someone around our Tumblr community or perhaps on reddit shared a catchy manifesting term...I'm sorry I didn't write it down bc it perfectly describes how The Meghans use her sharp elbows to bully their way through life.

All of this MANIFESTING crap to manipulate a face to face meeting with Charles: a man reeling from a life threatening diagnosis, recovering from an invasive procedure, and preparing for some sort of systemic poison.

Have I mentioned that The Meghans SUCK at compassion!!!

Beatrice & Edo

Doesn't it seem likely that family members have been welcomed to Clarence House (post-diagnosis) to wish Charles well before his Sandringham retreat-----perhaps the beginning of holistic treatments or simply to recover from the 1st of several adjuvant treatments.

The couple seems dressed for an early morning visit with a family member, NOT an audience with the King of England.

vs.

Sparry

Perhaps Sparry told the Palace "Me too! I'm coming to see my father too" and he was told "not this week," and MEgain responded "we'll see about that!"

I seem to remember Sparry had to be forced (by the Queen Elizabeth) to speak to his father and that meeting ended with shouting.

I also seem to remember Sparry had no time to give his family before or after His father's coronation.

As a courtesy, the men in grey delayed KC's departure & granted Sparry an audience with His Majesty the King, not a visit/block of time for a father-son brunch or lunch.

Sparry wearing all black upon his entrance to Clarence House but upon departure he's photographed wearing black and white, with a tie. Why didn't Sparry change clothes on the airplane?

This publicity stunt was meant to bury the African Parks story and the story about the (mon)ARCHewell revolving door. The Meghans have proven to the family (yet again) that there is no bottom to their depravity.

It was also a test for His Majesty's government as they push for IPP status, a campaign for royal housing, and of course information gathering for blackmail.

Let's do the math:

An audience with a sovereign (or even a President) is only about 5-10 minutes plus or minus time for photographs.

Sparry arrived at Clarence House by 2:45pm. Charles & Camilla were in a vehicle by 3:30pm. Sparry (if the photo is current) changed into business attire while at Clarence House. How long was Sparry in the same room as Charles?

Have I mentioned that MEgain and Sparry are SCUM and so are the British talking heads who served as their mouthpieces!?!?!

#megxit #spare us #God save the king #Get well king Charles #worldwide privacy tour #Clarence House #Manifesting Chaos #crazy train #crazy makers #revenge

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cat-autism-wizard · 4 months ago

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five times danny's english class learned that he was phantom (and one time he had to reveal it)

5 - kwan

kwan wasnt stupid. everyone seemed to think so but he wasnt stupid, not really. sure he needed more time to learn basic things from his peers but he wasnt stupid. he was a genius in sports. he was naturally strong and he loved physical activities and was great at it.

after the ghost attacks started, he became protective because of it. he would shield his friends and would help people escape. he was good at it and loved keeping people safe.

he was really lucky about it too. his best friends were really strong. dash was almost as buff as kwan and he was also great at sports. dale was even stronger than kwan and he was such a sweet guy. star and paulina were cheerleaders and kwan was positive that if five of them were to race paulina would beat them so easily and star would be the second only to paulina.

four of them would go to nasty burger after school and dale would meet them there since he had to pick his brother up from middle school.

they got close pretty easily with the high school starting. kwan knew dash since elementary school. they were best friends. then paulina, dale and valerie joined them in the middle school and in high school theyve met star. valerie stopped hanging out with them after a while. kwan knew it was because of the unfair system of 'popularity' and he didnt like it. he still liked valerie as a friend. sure she was mean when he was angry but she was still one of the people kwan grew to care so much. and when paulina dated fenton (she still claims that she does not remember that happening) kwan actually get to see how tucker and sam really were and he enjoyed their company even if he couldnt admit it.

for the worse or the better in the ghost attacks none of those things mattered. no one cared if the victim of the attack was someone popular or not. they just protected each other. they lived in amity park, everyone had each other's back in the most haunted city in the world.

one day as they were waiting for dale, a ghost attacked the popular fast food restaurant. four of them shared a look and they took action. dash opened the doors and helped people get out. star texted dale to update him while paulina's eyes searched if anyone needed help. kwan was helping people to calm down and get out safely.

as people were getting out of the building he saw three people still talking. he realized that it was the 'loser trio'. they looked distressed. manson and foley looked like they were telling something to fenton, kwan wasnt in the hearing range, then they got out from the door dash was holding while fenton went out from the back door. which was not safe in any possible way. the ghost was close to the back door.

kwan rushed to the back door. he heard star and paulina scream but he knew they werent alone, dash was with them. and kwan knew star and paulina could take care of themselves. kwan knew them. they were stronger than most people he knew and their endurance was higher than anyone he knew. he was pretty sure if they gained some courage they would surpass him in helping people with how strong and smart they are.

but fenton on the other hand, was weak. he saw him in the PE class and it was almost sad to watch the boy try. he could swear fenton almost pass out when doing the basic exercises. kwan didnt care that fenton's parents were ghost hunters, fenton was not them and he wasnt sure if the boy could survive a ghost just by himself. sure he had some knowledge about ghosts but knowledge alone couldnt help him with a ghost trying to kill him.

kwan got out from the back door. but he found something he didnt expect. he did find fenton like he expected. what he didnt expect was that fenton had glowing rings on his waist which then transformed him into phantom.

he quickly hid to a place so that phantom couldnt see him. phantom went inside without wasting a second presumably to fight the ghost. kwan sat on the floor trying to process what just happened.

fenton could turn into a ghost and not just any ghost. he could turn into PHANTOM. he WAS phantom. kwan didnt know how or why and he didnt even THINK about the possibility that fenton actually died or something similar. what he knew was that it was a secret to be kept.

kwan walked inside and went back to his friends. they all looked worried especially paulina and star.

"i couldnt find fenton, guess he ran somewhere safe." kwan lied. star and paulina gave each other a look and turned back to kwan.

"did you see something.. different?" paulina asked. it sounded like she was trying her best to choose the right words.

"like what? a racoon? nah i havent seen one but i heard there were racoon somewhere close." kwan said making himself sound clueless. paulina smiled and star sighed with relief. what was that about?

"if this weird questioning is done, can we go? you know before getting hit by a ghost ray or something." dash said annoyed. he was tried of holding the door for no one. they all agreed and left the place. they waited somewhere close but not enough to be dangerous. paulina still asked him some questions but kwan dodged them all by acting stupid.

kwan wasnt stupid but he knew it had its perks when people thought that way. so if its to protect the secret of their hero, then he will be stupid.

1 2 3 4 5 +1

#danny phantom #danny fenton #5 + 1 things #danny phantom kwan #i posted this on ao3 too #aphelynx writes #dp

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dumbass-duo-showdown · 1 year ago

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Propaganda masterpost for desertduo

They are two idiots thinking eachother's udeas are good and then somehow winning

They don’t have a single brain cell between them. They poked the goat to “see what would happen” and ended up getting their bases covered in duped ender dragon eggs.

Particularly in Hermitcraft, they are the most chaotic together. Chaotic in the most stupid of ways. Example: they blew up an intricate machine from one of the most "threatening" people on the server, stopped posting for a while, tried fixing it and failed, and tried apologizing with diamonds (Grian), theme park gifts (Scar), and by calling the victim "handsome" and "smart" and everything they could think of. And THEN, when Doc (the victim) retaliated with very intricate pranks that take a lot of skill and knowledge, they teamed up, went to the perimeter they were banned from as their alter egos as a loophole, and FILLED the ENTIRE PLACE (and it's a ginormous hole down to bedrock, many chunks wide) with CHICKENS. Just. A lot of chickens. Chickens everywhere. Oh my god. And another thing. Grian loves pressing buttons, like ADORES it (that's how the machine broke in the first place) and Scar... well. He gets confused easily and also breaks a lot of machines. So when people in the server build stuff, they have to both Grian-proof it (make sure an overexcited person who loves pressing buttons won't break the system) and Scar-safe it (make sure it's easily understandable and won't be broken like that). But now they also have to GRIAN-AND-SCAR-PROOF their stuff, because i swear, they multiply each other's dumbassery like by 100. And all that is just from the current arc of Hermitcraft season NINE. If we go back to season eight for a second, Grian decided to fake being AFK in all his friends' bases, and when he got to Scar's, Scar built him a ROLLERCOASTER RIDE to the BOAT TOTEM (boatem) HOLE THAT GOES BEYOND BEDROCK. People constantly fell there in the season and it was hell gearing themselves back up. But Scar was sure they were gonna land on the boatem and thought Grian was asleep because of time differences. But he failed and both died either way. And good fucking thing Grian was watching it all happen. Scar was SINGING him a SONG. You could even HEAR HIM COMING UP WITH IT BEFORE THE ACTUAL RIDE. Scar by FAR had the BEST reaction to the AFK experiment. And GODDD they're such idiots together. Unless they're in it for survival (aka the Life series) in which case Grian basically becomes his nanny let's be real. Scar is way too prone to die. He dies literally all the time and someone's gotta have him on a leash.

grian thinks that hes the responsible one in the dynamic but really hes just as much a chaos gremlin as scar is

they enable each other constantly. fellow builders to friends to enemies to friends to enemies to f

they share two braincells with each other and they do not work half the time. The number of things they fucked up is not even countable. One of them will be like "I'll save you!" and then both of them need someone to come and save them. They also are connected at the hip and love to annoy each other and other people so so much. they need help

They are so. so. Pesky british bird who loves explosions and has an attention span of 2 + catboy scammer who likes to lick magic and die badly. They are perfect for each other and their friendship is so precious to me. They are canonically soulmates. Currently theyre camping out on the edge of their enemy's giant hole because they accidentally exploded his machine together while Grian was procrastinating. The situation escalated because Grian likes war and Scar likes chaos so now theyre sitting directly in the path of their enemy's giant TNT-pooping goat mecha. Their plan? Build a buttercup-themed mecha to fight it because buttercups are poisonous to goats

They have caused a lot of chaos and destruction due to their lack of braincells /pos

Scar dragged Grian to the desert on a llama to monopolize on its sand, they blew up their friend’s tunnel bore, and rode a roller coaster together. They just bounce a braincell back and forth basically.

They ping pong a brian cell between each other and the few times it produces a thought the idea is always a bad one

they have two brain cells between them and they are not sure where they left them, they actively search for trouble and act sincerely shocked when it bites them on the ass, very orange cat coded if you ask me

Things only work out for them by pure luck. They both think they have the braincell and will be the one to pull each other through but they are both wrong. Tripping over their own feet and stumbling so hard and yet still coming out on top just because the others fall over harder

They get in a room together and its like all braincells disappear. They blew up their neighbors redstone, they filled his base with thousands of chickens, they die nonstop, they bully the other (in a friendly way) constantly and then do the exact same thing, theyre dunbasses ur honor

Theyre literally, just an echochamber of dumb. They actively lose braincells when around eachother. Grian seems smart and calculated but he can never get anything to work properly and scar is just an absolute hazard to himself and grian tries to keep him safe. They both die in minecraft so much. Grian also just has a habit of pressing every button lever or chest he ever sees. Even if its an obvious trap. He breaks stuff so easily. Grian WILL press the big button on top of the tnt block thats in plain sight. Especially right after scar says "i wonder what that does". Theyre duo can be summed up to trickster dumbass and dumbass with a heart of gold. They literally started a prank war by accidentally blowing up someones redstone. They are the unattended children on every server theyre in.

long live the science bros.

One owed the other a life debt for killing them with a creeper (it was just a prank, bro) and so they spent the season trying to monopolize all of the sand in a desert, and that's jusr scraping the surface of how stupid they are.

#be glad i got a new gaming pc #propaganda masterpost #desertduo #mcyt #dumbass duo showdown

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fiddleturnips · 6 months ago

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Bonding

This is an excerpt from a larger, incomplete chapter.

Stanley slammed the door on his way out. He didn't really have anywhere else to go, though, so he didn't go anywhere. He sat on the porch and smoked, staring at these unfamiliar Northwest mountains and thinking about how stupid it was that this dumb argument had apparently lasted decades.

Stan was on his second cigarette when Fiddleford came out. Stan didn't turn around, but he could tell it was him. His steps were trying to be heavy, but he probably weighed half what any Pines did including their Ma, and was barefoot besides. He stomped unmenacingly over and sat on the stair beside Stan.

"Can I bum one of those," he said. He was glaring out at the woods like he wanted to punch the whole mountain range in it's big stupid face.

Stan tapped one out and passed it. He shared his flame. Fiddleford took a huge drag that doubled the volume of his chest and hissed it out.

"Trouble in Paradise?" Stan joked.

"Thought I'd finally talked some sense into that man," Fiddleford snapped. "Always gotta be the smartest in the room, with his twelve cotton-pickin doctorates and his one man research grant, don't he get you can't solve everything with just smarts."

Stan suddenly decided he liked this guy. "Yeah. Yeah, it's always, oOooh, if I'm the biggest genius they ever saw then they have to crown me the king of fucking France or whatever. Everything that goes right, it's 'cause he was just better. Anything goes wrong was a fluke. Like, geeze, man, maybe if your entire future rested in a seventeen year old's ability to break the laws of physics it's the system that's the problem, y'know?"

"EXACTLY!" Fiddleford flung his arms out. It almost hit Stan in the face. "He did good in school, and I'm real happy for him, I really am! But it's like, we were in the same classes, and goshdurn it, I was better than him! So what's this magical force what makes him think everyone who didn't get where he did just didn't try hard enough?"

Fiddleford was starting to lose him now, but Stan got the impression the guy needed to vent from how loud it was coming out, so he didn't say anything.

"I tried, Doctor Stanford Pines, I tried till it almost killed me, and then I help you try til that almost kills me too! Maybe your dreams ain't worth all that!"

"Oh, yeah. And, like, maybe your dreams ain't everyone else's dream, too," Stanley said. It probably wasn't a fair thought, but it was one that came on him all the time in motels and WalMart parking lots: what the hell were dreams worth, if you went one way and he went the other and neither of you ever got to see each other again?

Fiddleford glanced over and huffed a smokey laugh. "Truth. Not sure how many daddies and doctor types need to hear that." Fiddleford wrinkled his nose. "Ack, forgot how foul these are."

"Then why'd you bum one?"

"Hoping to trick myself into thinking it was something stronger, I guess," he said, scraping out the lit end on the porch and leaving it in case Stan wanted the other half.

Stan side-eyed him. "You payin'?"

Fiddleford looked over at him in surprise. Then down.

Stan was peeking a baggie out of his inner coat pocket. It wasn't much, maybe half an ounce, and it was cheap shit. But hey. A sale's a sale.

Fiddleford didn't even ask. He just pulled a fifty, threw it at Stan, and snatched the bag. Stan passed him a box of rolling paper, and Fiddleford rolled first one, than a second, out with astonishing dexterity.

"Shit, you know your stuff."

"I had a social life in school."

He offered one to Stan, who lit them both up. Fiddleford lay back on the porch and sighed deeply.

"So. What's the story here?" Stan asked.

"Oh, Stanford's my best friend," Fiddleford said. "And as much as I hate to say it, your brother really is all that. Not only the biggest genius I ever met, but one of the best academics to boot. Brains alone don't get degrees."

"And now, uh, what's going on?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, we've been awful." Fiddleford sat up and occipied his hands by making more joints, resting his own on the stair between tokes. "Doctor Pines is here on grant money he got after groundbreaking solo research and a very impressive proof of concept at a conference a few years back. Now, I don't suppose you'd know much about academic politics, Mister Pines, but that is what we call a very big deal, especially when you look at what they gave him. And if I'm being completely frank, it's not primarily the work that's good. The man could convince the board to dig a canal in Arizona."

"What? Sixer?" Stanley laughed. He noticed, but didn't quite register Fiddleford's flinch at the name. "Guy never took a date to a school dance in his life."

"Maybe he ought've asked more funding admins."

Stanley chuckled. The weed was definitely helping.

"Anyhow, part of what he was doing here was building this big -" Fiddleford sucked from his joint, gestured lamely, lost his words - "I don't know how to describe it in plain speak. It's a doohickey."

"A doohicky."

"Portal, let's say. Real spaceman bullhockey. Let's just say, me'n him are close on the only ones as could do it, this stuff is mathematically on the edge of impossible."

"You an him, huh?"

"Oh, alright," Fiddleford said, grinning, rolling out the last of his little arts and crafts project. "Me. I'm the only one could build it. I weren't lying when I said I'm better'n him."

Stan coughed laughing. "Got a big head on your shoulders?"

"Hardly. I'm an engineer. Not an academic."

"Yeah, yeah. Smart guys. Look, I'm just a schlub."

Fiddleford's face fell. "Sorry, I don't mean that- oh, shucks, my wife always warned me I gotta watch what I say about that sort of thing. I didn't mean nothing by it. Having brains don't measure a man's worth, I know that more'n most."

"Aw, it's nothing," Stan said, made big-hearted and quick to forgive by the drugs. "You're good in my book."

Fiddleford was out of weed. He tucked what he'd made back into the bag and sealed it. When he gazed out at the woods this time, his anger had softened to irritation. "Anyway, I come out here to help him with his work. And believe me, it's good. He's got a one-of-a-kind opportunity here. But Stanford Pines is one of those Victorian types says discovery is all about taking risks, and let's just say when he takes risks I always seem to be the one who ends up with something broke."

"Aw man. I'm sorry. Seriously."

"First there was the Grenloblin, which is a horrid creature, by the way, then that cat-tannin' shapeshifter he kept as a pet even when it began to talk to us-"

"Wait, what?"

"And the gnome debacle keeps coming back to bite us, can't keep the windows sealed tight enough,"

"Gnomes?"

"And then that FUCKING demon."

Fiddleford abruptly stopped talking. He took another toke. His free hand was clenched into a shaking fist. Stan stared.

"What do you guys research, exactly?"

"Anomalies," said Fiddleford.

"Like, what, two-headed calves and shit?"

"That'd work. But Gravity Falls has gnomes."

"Little men in red hats."

"You're shitting me."

"I swear to you I am not."

"Don't suppose the bud went bad..."

"You'll see in the morning. I'll show you."

"You just described a bunch of dangerous shit. And also gnomes, I guess. Do I want to see it all?"

"Believe me, the most 'dangerous shit' is in this house."

Stanley, being an idiot but not that much of an idiot, was about to press him further. They were interrupted by the door, though, and his dumb brother's disapproval.

"Are you two smoking cannabis?" Ford demanded. Stanley chuckled at how much he sounded like a pearl-clutching old woman.

"Yes we are, and you're partaking," Fiddleford said, pulling out a joint. "We're making up for lost time, come on."

Stanford glared daggers. "I am not."

Fiddleford fell back on the porch, stretched his legs out in front of him, and stared upside-down up at Stanford.

"You owe meeeeeeee."

Stanford kept glaring. Then he glared at Stanley, who shrugged.

"Did you bring this?" Ford snapped.

"Technically, but I didn't offer. He asked."

Fiddleford wiggled the outstretched joint.

Stanley had no idea the look on Stanford's face was, aside from uncomfortable, but the guy relented. He stepped forward, sat as far as he could from the other two, and gingerly picked up the joint. Stan tossed him the lighter, knowing very well that he wouldn't have his own. The other boys laughed at him when he struggled to get it lit right.

"Don't worry, Doctor Pines, I'm here for you," said Fiddleford in a fond, dreamy voice.

"Very reassuring, thank you," Stanford growled.

It was endearing. It was, hell, it was cute. Despite the blow-up inside, Stan was kind of... glad? that Stanford had apparently made an actual, honest-to-god friend.

#Stanley Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Stanford Pines #Smoking Weed #I have never smoked weed #I did some research on weed forums to figure how to properly show a guy overpaying for shitty weed in the 80s #Please correct things #Fiddleford McGucket was a hippie #FiddleTurnips #Scene excerpt #gravity falls fanfiction

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freakshowtwopointoh · 9 months ago

Text

Doubt Comes In - All I've Ever Known Part 2

Is this a trap that's bein' laid for me? (The wind is changing) (Doubt comes in)

Is this a trick that's bein' played on me? (How cold it's blowing) (Doubt comes in)

< prev | next >

I’m not usually the kind of person who doesn’t leave well enough alone, and usually, I’m content to let others have their own secrets. I have other shit to worry about. But every time I try to ignore Maggie, she does something that throws me for a loop. She’s a whiz with computers and physics, which I found out when she came up behind me in class to correct my mathematics. Something that should have set her up for success at her old school. Why is she here? Why is she here now?

It’s clear the administration was gearing up to slot her into a high rank position with her brother. I’d been thinking it before their interview, but after that it was crystal clear. I was going to lose my chance at number one because of some legacy bullshit. It’s infuriating. She has no qualifications, no experience... she was a mediocre student at a nerd school for two years and all of a sudden she’s a T.A. and a junior in crime fighting? She’s clearly smart.

But of course, I did reach out to professor Park for her application after Maggie so kindly instructed me to do so. And Park said she was “not permitted to share student records without a good reason.” Then, I reached out to Brink, who also gave me the run around. What were they hiding? I went to a third professor, making up an excuse about T.A. duties or whatever, and afterwards, Brink essentially told me if I kept poking around, he’d get in trouble. I burst into my childhood best friend’s dorm, fuming.

“I’m telling you Emma, there’s something off about her. Even Brink won’t let me see her applications.” Emma hummed in response, clearly not listening to me. “Emma, are you even listening?”

“Not really.” She admitted. “So, she’s got a sponsor or whatever. Why do you care?”

“Even the sponsored students have applications. Brink told me straight up that he would get in trouble if I kept pushing.”

“So why are you still pushing?” I sighed in exasperation.

“Because there’s something fishy going on, and I’d like to know about it before it becomes a problem for me. I thought you, of all people, would jump at a new mystery, Veronica Mars.” She giggled at that, but her face turned serious again in a moment.

“It seems like it’s already a problem for you.” She said honestly, and I didn’t have a response for that. “Look, Jor, I understand why you’re concerned. But do you really want to stick your nose into something that could risk everything for you?” She held my gaze for a long moment, forcing me to get out of my own head.

“You’re smarter than most give you credit for, Cricket.” I said, ruffling her short blonde hair and smiling.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” She said, the mischievous glint shining in her eyes.

“No.” I said finally.

“Then just remember - this could be anything. It could be nothing, it could be... dangerous. For you, for her...” She seemed uncharacteristically serious.

“Do you know something I don’t, Em?” I said, eyes narrowing, searching her face for information I knew she didn’t have.

“No, but if Brink really won’t pull strings for you, there is probably something fishy. I’ll give you that much.” She said. “Now, can we do something fun before you wind yourself up into a tornado?” I rolled my eyes but smiled, settling in for a night of shitty TV, shitty beer, and not-so-shitty weed.

Emma’s words stuck with me as I tried and failed to put Maggie out of my mind. The way the school was pushing her through the ranks was really starting to get on my nerves, and when she broke the top twenty I talked Emma’s ear off so much she threatened to kick me out of her dorm.

I feel like she’d piss me off less if she didn’t act like she belonged at the top. At least Andre and Luke can acknowledge the bullshit system that lifts them up while leaving me in the dirt. But Maggie walks around like she’s been given the short end of the stick when she’s basically being escorted into stardom and celebrity. I have to get my head on straight. This is junior year - not the time to lose my head over some silly girl with secrets. I have a ranking to maintain, and I will not let her take my place at the top. No matter what the administration is trying to pull.

-- One Month Later --

But somehow, here I am, riding Tyler’s dick in his tiny ass dorm room, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Her secrets, her smile... Fuck. Who is this girl and what the fuck is she doing to me? I could feel Tyler getting close and I was just glad it was over. Not like I was getting off anyways. He stood up and threw me a box of tissues, which I caught gratefully. Cleaning up quickly, I pulled on my basketball shorts and saw myself out.

I had been planning on just heading straight to my room to study, but as I approached the kitchen door, I heard someone singing. It was beautiful, low and gravelly, but still distinctly feminine. It had to be Maggie - Cate’s voice is bright and higher. It was honestly entrancing - I was glued to where I was standing like a sailor hearing a siren song. Even when a leaf lodged itself in my ponytail, I was transfixed. But when Luke approached, I shook my head to clear it, making a move towards the door.

“Don’t go in yet, it’s Mags.” Luke whispered, stopping to stand next to me. “She is petrified of anyone hearing her sing. Cate caught her once and Maggie didn’t make eye contact with her for the rest of the trip.” Luke chuckled, but his eyes drifted away, the clear sign that Sam was involved in the story. Luke had always been hesitant to discuss his family, even before Sam died. And now that Maggie was living here, he basically acted as if he’d never had a brother, or any issues in his family at all. It’s a little sickening sometimes, watching him play at a happy family. He kept listening for a little while, and I almost thought I saw a tear in his eye. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with this information or his emotion.

Finally, the song ended, and Luke crashed through the back door, purposefully making more noise than necessary. “Oh, hey Mags!” He said, and I pushed my way to my room, keeping my eyes straight ahead as if neither of them were there, making my way to my room.

I caught myself wondering why Maggie didn’t like people hearing her sing instead of studying. She clearly has talent, but as with most things about her, she kept it hidden away.

But she was always on my mind, worming her way into my thoughts like an irritating pop song that starts showing up everywhere. The first thing I noticed, besides the fact that she’s faker than a Barbie doll, was that she keeps a strict routine. There hasn’t been a day of us living together that she isn’t awake before me, and I wake up at 6am. She’s always back at the house by 6pm, and in her room by 8:30pm. She is always on time to the weekly T.A. meetings, and every class. I keep looking for cracks in her facade, but I haven’t found any.

I tried looking into her past, her old college - and there’s nothing. It’s clear she did attend the school for two years, but there’s no record of any classes even attended. And without her applications, there are no transcripts, no essays, no papers, nothing. It’s as if two entire years of her life were gone. The only other mention of her is in Sam’s obituary. Another thing that no one wants to talk about or look into.

Fucking Sam. What pissed me off the most about Sam’s death was how much it scared me. Any of us could have disappeared and presumed dead... and nothing would be done. How was anyone supposed to show any weakness at all if it could be used to cover up our own suffering? No body was ever found. No note was ever found. Nothing was ever found. And yet, everyone is so sure he killed himself that there was a death certificate a week later? Practically unheard of, but no one questioned it. They all just posed in fucking black designer clothes and moved on with their lives. No one says his name, no one wonders where he is... it’s almost been a year. What would happen if I vanished? Would any of them care to find me? Lord knows my parents would accept whatever bullshit Vought spewed... was Sam involved in something sketchy? Doubtful, he was so young. Whatever it was, he was a pawn in some stupid fucking game like the rest of us. Best to play along and get your share of the pie. Fuck that whole fucked up family.

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edits by @barbieprincesshilton

#jordan li x reader #angst #gen v fic #gen v prime #gen v #jordan li #gen v smut #luke riordan #lukes little sister x jordan li #sam riordan

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kenresearch1 · 1 year ago

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FlashParking & TIBA Solutions Dominates the $9 Billion US Parking Management Market.

Both companies offer innovative services when it comes to providing real-time insights about the occupancy of a parking sites & facilitating the parking process through relevant mobile applications.

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Story Outline

FlashParking & TIBA redefine parking management with tailored software and IoT driven systems. FlashParking's cloud-operating system integrates tailored software, while TIBA uses IoT to increase user-friendly Parking Access & Revenue Control Systems.

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Flash & TIBA streamline access, while security is paramount with Azure & data policies. FlashParking prioritizes security with Microsoft Azure integration, while TIBA ensures privacy through data policies.

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Both the platforms provide easy access for their customers through their modern, tech savvy mobile platforms like FLASH app & Flash Valet app, for payment, validation & monthly parker access with a faster & user-friendly experience, while using technologies like Bluetooth.

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Offering the highest level of security has been a top priority for FlashParking & they’ve built their platform on Microsoft Azure. The FlashOS platform provides a secure approach for payment processing which has made Flash an accredited provider of security services, as per the Payment Card Industry (PCI) Data Security Standards (DSS) requirements.

TIBA Parking Solutions is committed towards maintaining the privacy of its users- parking operators & their clients. These policies dictate how the information is collected & why is the information collected, how is the information used & their clients rights on how the information is collected. Every user of TIBA Parking Solutions is required to abide by the Privacy policy set by the company.

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FlashParking's cloud-operating system and TIBA's IoT-driven advancements, they optimize parking space utilization and enhance customer experiences, by innovating hardware & software solutions. The emphasis on real-time insights, mobile access, and stringent security measures underscores their commitment to driving efficiency, convenience, and privacy in the evolving landscape of parking management. FlashParking and TIBA Solutions represent a synergy of cutting-edge parking management technologies.

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nflstreetsanimereviews · 2 years ago

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Welcome to the NHK novel review

Welcome to the NHK, despite being published over twenty years ago at this point, is still as relevant as ever. In fact, it’s only become more relevant as time has gone on. Not just the phenomenon of being a hikikomori, more commonly known today as being a ‘NEET’ (Not in Education, Employment, or Training), has grown in the last twenty years, but conspiratorial thinking has as well. Especially ever since

the COVID lockdowns began, conspiracy theories have been thrown into the mainstream. The difficult part about conspiracy theories is that while most of them are bunk, there’s a tiny percentage of them that make sense, or even rarer, aren’t conspiracies and things that actually happened. The most common conspiracy theory right now that is nonsense is QAnon. Well, at least four-fifths of the population believes that. Compare that JFK was killed in a conspiracy, which more than half the population has believed ever since the CIA popped him. Conspiracy theories fill in the gap in the middle, which replaces the unknown with what you want to believe. With many things with unknown origins permanently affecting our lives, conspiracy theories have grown significantly. This makes Welcome to the NHK feel like a contemporary read, even though the book is old enough to drink alcohol now.

The conspiracy that Tatsuhiro Satou, the main character of Welcome to the NHK, believes in isn’t anything related to anything that’s a real-life conspiracy. He’s smart enough to acknowledge that most conspiracy theories come from people projecting their own insecurities onto others. Despite all of this, he still ‘stumbles’ upon a conspiracy. A conspiracy that only he knows about, and one that came to him while he was tripping on a hallucinogen (named ‘White Drug’). He comes to the ‘realization’ that the NHK, the Japanese equivalent of the BBC or NBC, doesn’t for “Nippon Housou Kyoukai (Japanese Broadcast Association)”, but actually stands for “Nihon Hikikomori Kyoukai (Japanese Hikikomori Association)”.

Basically, the gist of the conspiracy is that the NHK wants to increase the number of hikikomori in Japan. In the novel, there are stated to be already two million hikikomori in Japan alone, which means that the NHK has done a good job. They ‘maintain’ this amount, and increase it, by broadcasting content that caters to the hikikomori (stuff like anime). This is a conspiracy that Satou doesn’t bother spreading across the internet, but is honestly one that could take off if it was about, say, CNN.

One day, Satou is approached by an odd girl, named Misaki Nakahara, who claims that she can save him from his hikikomori lifestyle. She coerces him into signing a contract, which ‘binds’ him to meet her at the park behind his apartment every night after dinner. These meetings, which are meant to help Satou return to ‘normal life’, mostly are her reading beginner-level psychology and philosophy books that she rented from the library. It’s questionable if these meetings are helping Satou, but he can’t afford to not come–if he breaks the contract, he’ll have to pay a one million yen fine.

Satou’s neighbor, and a former junior in the Literature Club back in high school, Kaoru Yamazaki, is his partner in crime (quite literally). Being an otaku, he and Satou share a lot of the same feelings of insecurity and loneliness. Yamazaki, however, isn’t a hikikomori–he’s currently at university to become a game creator, against his family’s wishes of taking over his father’s business. Yamazaki and Satou, while being terrible influences on each other, are the closest things each one of them has to a support system.

For Satou to escape being a hikikomori, and for Yamazaki to make it big in the game industry (and avoid being forced to take over the family business), they decide to create an eroge game. As you would expect from someone who has been a hikikomori for four years and a hopeless otaku, their eroge game is half-baked, and might as well be dead on arrival. This is one of the things that make Welcome to the NHK so relatable–the feeling of having a great idea, and finally getting the courage to put the pen to paper, only to find out that it’s very hard to create games. Being an eroge game, the scenario Satou has to write doesn’t have to be the best, but even writing sex scenes is hard, or at the very least embarrassing to type. Part of this roleplay that Satou and Yamazaki are doing is escapism from what seems like their destiny. Satou and getting a job, and Yamazaki and taking over the family business. If Satou can prove that he’s busy, then his family won’t feel obliged to force him to move back. If Yamazaki can make something that sells, then he can afford not to go back home.

If you’ve already seen the Welcome to the NHK anime, then you already know the general plot. The Welcome to the NHK anime adaption was different from most other novel adaptations, in the sense that this volume is the only entry into the series. The anime has original arcs that aren’t in the novel, and the drug use in the novel is way more noticeable. I appreciate this version since it’s the original version. While it’s rougher on the edges than the anime, it feels more real. Part of this is because we get to read into Satou’s thoughts more in the novel–another part is because the author of this novel, Tatsuhiko Takimoto, was a hikikomori at the time of writing Welcome to the NHK. Having first-hand experience of being a hikikomori, writing what is partially a story about himself had to be very tough to do. It does make me hope that the lolita part was conjecture–either way, it does show how depraved one can get after an extended period of no human contact. Satou, for better or worse, isn’t part of society. One part that binds pretty much all hikikomori and NEETs together is a lack of social skills–it’s hard to get ahead if you can’t associate with others. Satou nearly obtains a part-time job near the beginning of the novel, but freaks out and runs out of the establishment before even getting an interview.

I have to admit that part of my admiration for Welcome to the NHK is due to nostalgia. It was one of the first anime that I watched back when I first got into watching anime. I downloaded the novel back then but never read it. It’s a shame since the Welcome to the NHK novel has bits original to it. It’s also a change from most light novel series, which can potentially drag on forever due to sales. While the novel and anime were successful, there hasn’t been any new content since the manga ended in 2007. There easily could have been more novels written with the added content the anime had, but there weren’t. And that’s a good thing. Too often a series gets ruined by outstaying its welcome and not knowing how to end. Welcome to the NHK knows when to end, because really, there isn’t a way to ‘solve’ being a hikikomori. There’s not much inherently wrong with being one too, as long as you have your wits about you (which Satou fails at miserably). For all we know, Satou could still be a hikikomori today, twenty years later.

I call Welcome to the NHK a ‘novel’, and not a ‘light novel’, since it isn’t one. While it reads like one (it is a light read), there aren’t any illustrations in the book besides the cover (which was drawn by the same illustrator who did the character designs for Serial Experiments Lain), which is the biggest tell. Welcome to the NHK lacks the vapidness that light novels often have, willing to be disgusting. Welcome to the NHK has more in common with novels such as No Longer Human than its contemporaries that also got an anime adaptation. Satou is about as vile, if not more, than Oba (the main character of No Longer Human), and both novels are semi-autobiographical. Welcome to the NHK is more of an ‘I-novel’ than a ‘light novel’, or rather, an I-novel written in the style of a light novel.

The rather painful nature of this novel, which comes with the territory of writing about something that affects you, also means that it’s unlikely to ever be any new Welcome to the NHK novels. I’ve been proven wrong before, but the apparent psychological toll writing this took leaves me to believe that Tatsuhiko Takimoto won’t be bothered to do it again, even if it was a winning formula. In the second afterword of the novel, Takimoto states that he hasn’t written a single new story since he wrote Welcome to the NHK and that he ‘returned’ to being a NEET, “living as a parasite on the royalties from this book”. I argue that he in fact isn’t living as one, since he’s living off of his work, which sold quite rather well. Well enough to warrant an official English translation. There’s also the fact that being a writer isn’t a regular 9 to 5 job–meaning that authors who ONLY write for a living are as much as ‘parasites’ as Takimoto is. Writers aren’t in a constant state of writing. Well, some may think they are, but the point is that Takimoto sees this book as something agonizing to think about, not his crown jewel. Ever since writing that second afterword in 2005, Takimoto thankfully has been able to write some original stories. None of them have made it big like Welcome to the NHK has, however.

If you were a fan of the Welcome to the NHK anime, then I one thousand percent recommend you to read the novel. It’ll connect to you the same way the anime does, and maybe even more if you also participate in recreational drug use. Really, knowing that Satou is high during most of the novel makes his nonsensical actions make a lot more sense. The Welcome to the NHK novel is also different enough from the anime that you won’t feel like you’re reading a screenplay.

Normally, I would end the review here, but seeing as there’s no reputable place to buy the English edition of Welcome to the NHK at the current moment, the only way you’d be able to read this is by reading it here. Don’t worry, it’s legal. Here’s hoping that it gets reprinted one day.

80/100

#welcome to the nhk #novel #light novel review #nhk ni youkoso #review

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talia-rumlow · 7 months ago

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Home Sweet Home (AU Brock Rumlow/Original Female Character) 18+ Chapter One

WORDCOUNT: 6267

TRIGGERS: Age Gap, 911 Call, Police

CHAPTER ONE - SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS!

youtube

The blistering Texas sun beamed down on the pavement, smothering downtown Mansfield in an oppressive heat wave. The cloudless sky stretched on in an expanse of clear blue, offering no respite from the sweltering 93°F temperature. The only escapes from the relentless rays were the shady trees in the parks or the cool relief of air conditioning indoors.

As Calleigh locks the office door, she feels the heat radiating in from outside. Having worked in her dad's delivery business for a little over three months now, she easily navigates the building, double-checking that everything is secured for the weekend. Approaching the exit, the intense heat worsens. Calleigh lifts her shirt, revealing a cute pink butterfly piercing on her belly button - a small act of rebellion she got after her first visit with her dad following her mom's move to New York with a new boyfriend. Pushing aside thoughts of New York and the boyfriend she detests, Calleigh fans her exposed stomach with her shirt in a futile attempt to withstand the heat on her way out, silently thanking the universe for Fridays and weekends.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Brock backs his day-old black Chevrolet Silverado 1500 as close to the garage door as possible. Searching for the key to turn off the engine, he suddenly remembers this truck has a keyless start/stop system—all he has to do is push a button. Brock chuckles a bit of his lack of knowledge about his new car, before he makes a mental note to get used to the new feature.

Though the car met all his needs, Brock struggled to adjust to its high-tech features. While he wanted to embrace the smart house, smart phone, smart car lifestyle, at heart he was old-fashioned. To Brock, a car should just be a car, and a phone just a phone. These days, cars were becoming more like living spaces, packed with extra gadgets and gizmos; and those new phones were multipurpose devices that served not only as phones, but also as calendars, alarm clocks, cameras, journals, and computers. He almost felt that he was too old to keep up, with his 46 years, Brock started to feel that his youth had passed him by long ago.

Placing his toned muscular forearm on the center console; Brock looks over the dashboard. The car's built-in entertainment system was bigger than his nephew's tablet. The right side of the screen informed him that the temperature was a scorching 94°F and climbing; moving over to the left side, where he could decide on what radio station to listen to, operate the car's cameras, use the built-in GPS system, connect his phone via Bluetooth and a bunch of other stuff he'd probably never use.

A quick glance at the clock told him that he had to get to work. He had promised Jack ages ago that he would fix the Oil leak, change the filter, the camshaft belt and do an overall service on the car. But the parts he needed weren't always easy to come by. So here he was, grabbing his mechanic's creeper off his truck, to finally do the job; four months behind schedule.

Brock swings open the garage door, revealing the stunning 1967 Chevy Impala. The sleek black exterior gleams in the sunlight, resembling a rare diamond. Despite its age and need for repairs, the Impala exudes charm, blending masculinity and nostalgic charm. Like Brock, Jack shares a fondness for vintage cars, true American muscle cars such as this. The old cassette player still hums within, and Jack hasn't altered a single detail on the car. There's a palpable sense of trust between them as Brock cherishes the responsibility and level of trust Jack has placed in his hands.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh frowned at her license photo. At only 20 years old, she had not yet grown comfortable with her appearance. She felt her nasal bone was too thick, making her eyes seem too far apart. Makeup helped camouflage this to some extent, but no amount of makeup could alter her height. At 5'10", she was taller than average, which made finding flattering clothes a challenge. She often wished she had her mother's petite 5'3" frame, having clearly inherited her stature from the Rollins side of the family. While she could live with her blonde hair, she wished it had more volume. Her lips were too pale and thin for her liking, though makeup could fix that as well. Unlike her mother's ocean blue eyes, Calleigh had green eyes, another Rollins family trait. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Calleigh took stock of herself - blonde hair, blonder in summer; green eyes; lightly pinked lips with distinctive dips cupping her nose; a high forehead. She was a harmonious blend of both parents.

Calleigh connects her phone to the car's entertainment system, the little screen in the middle of the dashboard makes it easy to navigate through spotify to find her song, Coldplay and The Chainsmokers with Something Just Like This. It’s a song that seems fitting for her life right now.

Ever since she moved back to Texas, and Mansfield, she felt like her whole life was already planned for her.

She would get a seat at the board of directors alongside her dad and her grandfather in the delivery business on her 21st birthday in December. It would give her a comfortable and financially steady life, but very few choices.

With an exasperated sigh, Calleigh places her purse in the passenger seat. The black leather seat had small stitched details, a lighter shade of burnt orange in color, along the sides, giving it a more luxurious look.

When her dad had offered to buy her a new car, Calleigh had opted for the Mini Cooper, a car she felt was more suitable for her needs. But Jack had his mind made up on a 2020 Chevrolet Impala, black of course, to have it blend in with the other cars in the garage. After a bit of discussing back and forth, Calleigh had just given up. A car was a car, and she needed one. Although she would have given almost anything to have a convertible right now.

She was thankful for the car, it was nice and spacious with its four doors and five seats, it had room enough for both Calleigh and her friends.

The trunk suited all of her needs with enough room for both grocery shopping and a shopping spree at the local mall. The black leather seats with the burnt orange stitching offered comfort with their user friendly adjustment mechanism. The center console, designed with faux wood, held a spacious storage compartment and a double cup holder, one of which now held the almost empty Venti iced caramel latte that Calleigh got from Starbucks this morning.

The comfortable, highly equipped steering wheel made it easy to answer the phone, change songs, adjust the volume, as well as the heat in the winter. The 2020 Chevy Impala did indeed deliver a luxurious and comfortable driving experience.

She grew up in a well off family, both of her parents came from money. Both the Rollins Delivery Service and the Lewis Jewelry line had been around for generations, earning themselves a good reputation and money to live a more than comfortable life. Despite all of this, Calleigh had never seen herself as spoiled. She knew nothing came for free, that she had to work hard in school, and she had to earn her allowance. Her parents, even if they were never together, had made sure of that.

The drive from downtown Mansfield to South Pointe was roughly 10 to 15 minutes long, depending on traffic. But in this heat, Calleigh feels that it took two hours. Her shirt is sticking to her back, and her throat screams for water to the point where she's about to chug the last of the latte that had been sitting in her car all day. All she wanted was to change into a bikini and spend the rest of the weekend relaxing by the pool in the backyard.

Despite having to spend the weekend alone; without her two best friends. Jessica was preparing for her undergraduate degree, and Molly had been assigned to take a HR Masterclass in Seattle. Her dad was away as well, having a tiny legal crisis in Chicago, he had decided to fly over there himself, to oversee the negotiations. Calleigh looked forward to a weekend by the pool.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

As Calleigh approaches the house, she notices the black Pickup truck that's backed all the way into the now open garage door. Not a truck she recognizes, and they rarely had any other unannounced visitors other than her grandparents or Brock from time to time. But Brock was on a work spree these days. Calleigh hadn’t even seen him since she moved back home; which was strange, because in summertime he practically lived in the garage. Fixing her dad’s various vehicles, as well as his own; whilst sharing some beers with her dad. It was almost so that she thought that they had fallen out. But the legal crisis in Chicago had occupied her dad for quite some time, so that might be it. The two men simply didn't have time for social get-togethers these days. Even Friday Night BBQ was put on hold for the time being.

The Friday Night BBQ was one of Calleigh's most cherished traditions. Her dad and Brock manned the grill while she and her friends frolicked in the pool or yard. As they aged, they took on more duties. Molly routinely brought her signature focaccia and salad— a recipe Calleigh unsuccessfully tried recreating time and time again. Jess handled dessert; her Texas-style peach cobbler was unrivaled, the moist and buttery delight created a sweet symphony on her pallads, and topped with a scoop of peach ice cream, it became unresistable no matter how much anyone had for dinner. Occasionally Molly's mom and Jess's parents joined, packing the expansious backyard with joy, nostalgia, and hearty laughter.

With the memories of time well spent, playing like a movie in her head, Calleigh drives past the house at 2 mph as she examines the truck that's parked in front of the garage. A black Silverado, newer model. Having grown up with a father like Jack, with his fondness for cars, she's picked up a thing or ten. Of course it also helped that she spent numerous afternoons at the Rumlow garage in her early teens, when her dad worked late, or her mom spent time with that new boyfriend.

Calleigh's body goes cold when she remembers the 67 Impala in the garage. Jack's favorite car. He spent years finding the perfect one. If someone is trying to steal it, or parts from it; Jack would go ballistic. And given his military background, it'll not be pretty. For a second Calleigh feels like a six-year old, not knowing what to tell her parents when she broke a glass or spilled water on her bed.

Though South Pointe was a gated community, there were no guards on site. To enter, you needed either a code from a resident or a chip that automatically opened the gate. With the recent expansions and the constant flow of workers going in and out, it was easy for anyone to get in, whether they belonged there or not. And with a truck like the new Silverado, you could easily drive in, fill the spacious bed with whatever you were stealing; and then drive back out, without anyone raising a brow.

Calleigh takes a deep breath, weighing her options. Should she call the police or confront the person in the garage herself? Having spent four years in New York, she knows how to handle situations and always keeps pepper spray in her purse, even in Mansfield, where crime rates are lower. Despite the safer environment, she's aware that appearances can be deceiving, and anyone could pose a threat.

Turning her car at the end of the street, Calleigh retrieves her phone from her purse, its cute pink cover with butterflies and faux diamonds contrasting with the ominous atmosphere she envisions in the garage. Without overthinking, she dials 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a calm female voice responds after a few rings.

“I'm.…I think someone is breaking into my house,” Calleigh says, suddenly unsure if 9-1-1 was the right choice.

“Are you in the house, ma’am?” The voice persists. Calleigh hesitates, considering whether to hang up and face the intruder alone. “Ma’am, are you inside the house?” the voice repeats.

“N..no. I.. I'm outside.. In my car. I don't know what to do. I… I..” Calleigh is desperate, on the verge of crying. She can't remember the last time she didn't want to be home alone. But this is one of those times.

“What's your name ma'am?” The voice continues, still in that calm tone.

Calleigh takes a breath “Calleigh Lewis Rollins.” She replies, with a shaky breath. Trying to calm down her beating heart.

“Do you know if they're armed?” The woman on the phone continues. Calleigh feels that ice cold feeling in her stomach. Armed? She didn't think about that at all. What if they're armed, what does she do then?

“I don't know. I don't know!” She shakily replies. Her voice on the verge of breaking. Without realizing that she does, she reaches for her pepper spray. The little 3 inch pink container designed as a keychain was easy to carry around, easy to use and it had a neutral design, which made it perfect to carry around for self defense.

“Calleigh, calm down. You're going to be fine. I'll dispatch a unit to your location. What's your address?” The voice continues in a calm soothing manner, which helps to calm Calleigh down.

“2837 Chandler Court” Calleigh replies, happy that she remembered the address. She hasn't lived here too long, and in this particular situation it's things like that that usually slips.

“Do you have any firearms in the house?” Another question about guns. It's not that Calleigh wasn't used to them, it was just that in this situation, guns didn't feel like a safe topic. And this is Texas, everyone has firearms.

“Y..Yeah, we have some. Seven or ten maybe.” Calleigh replies as she does a mental runthrough of the house, trying to remember where Jack keeps all his guns. The gun cabinet in the living room, the hide away cabinet in his bedroom, and the safe in the….. garage. Calleigh takes another shaky breath as she imagines some bad ass crocks breaking into that safe.

“I've dispatched a unit to your location. They'll be there in about ten minutes. And Calleigh, please lock the doors, and stay in the car until the unit arrives.” The voice on the phone informs her, still calm and collected. Calleigh can't believe how they manage to be this calm with people in shock, pain, rage, people who're scared out of their minds. But now, today, she's extremely thankful for it.

Clenching the container with pepper spray in her hand, Calleigh almost whispers into the phone “Yes. Thank you.”

“Calleigh, please stay in the car.” The lady on the phone says again. But Calleigh can hardly hear it. She flips the top of the container in her hand, as she hangs up the phone, and slowly exits the car.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

With half an eye on the wrench around the unwilling screw, and half an eye on the bucket for the oil, Brock tries to get the screw to give. His left foot firmly planted on the concrete garage floor to steady himself, as he struggles to get the screw loose. His biceps flexing, the veins on his arm popping. His teeth clenched in concentration, and the sweat dripped from his forehead.

Brock applies just a bit more muscle power, determined to get the screw to give. The sweat on his hands makes him lose his grip around the wrench. His hand flies up, hitting the car, as the wrench falls to the floor, creating an echo around the oversized garage. “Aaaa, fuck,” he almost screams, as he shakes his hand to try to ease the pain.

The sound of metal hitting concrete, the echo that follows and the screaming make Calleigh jump. Her heart is beating out of her chest, and that ice cold feeling in her stomach comes back. Yes, the 9-1-1 dispatcher told her to lock the doors and stay in the car. But ten minutes? They should know how much damage that can be done within ten minutes. She had to leave the car. But with the screaming and the noise. Maybe she should've stayed put. Anyway, it's too late for that now.

Calleigh places her thumb on the top of the pepper spray container. “Stop what you're doing I have a weapon!” She yells, surprised by how firm her voice is, she lifts the container, ready to attack.

Brock jumps under the car from the voice yelling, something about a weapon. Startled, he tries to sit up, but since he's under the car, sitting up only serves for him to bang his head against the car. “Fuck! Shit! Don't shoot, I'm unarmed!” He yells back in a haste. Quickly moving the creeper, so he can stand up.

Getting up faster than he's ever done before, raising his arms to show whoever it is that he is indeed unarmed. “Don't shoot! I'm un-,” when he sees Calleigh he stops for a second “armed….” He breathes out in surprise at the woman standing before him. Beautiful. That's the only thing he can say about her; Silently in his mind of course.

Calleigh carefully drinks in the man in front of her. His well-worn jeans sit comfortably on his hips, a cloth tucked into the right side. His V-shaped lower abdomen is unlike anything she's seen before, leading up to a six-pack and impressive pecs that could be straight out of a commercial. The oil stains and sweat on his upper body add a sexy touch. Moving upward, she notices strong pecs lightly dusted with chest hair. As she lifts her face, broad-toned shoulders barely register in her mind compared to the veiny upper arms that make her knees feel weak. Before fully revealing the rest, she takes a breath and discovers a strong jawline, dark facial hair, followed by soft, playful, and kissable lips, a broad nose perfectly placed on his flawless face. As her gaze reaches further, she encounters two soft hazel brown eyes adorned with dark lashes and brows. Calleigh's heart skips a beat, and in surprise, she breathes out, "Brock?”

Brock had never seen such beauty and grace. Calleigh had blossomed into a stunning woman, with shoulder-length blonde locks with a few curls framing her face. Her soft pink lips were slightly parted in surprise, complementing her petite nose and accentuating the delicate curves of her upper lip. Her emerald eyes shone like gemstones, undoubtedly a Rollins family trait.

Brock swallows, his heart does a jump in his chest. “Calleigh?” His voice carried a bit of surprise. He remembered Calleigh as a rebellious 16-year old, getting belly-button piercings without permission. He did not expect this God sent beauty. And he's not sure how he should react. This is Jack's daughter. He shouldn't feel his heart jump like this because of her.

Jesus Christ, Calleigh thinks for herself. Did she just think about Brock's lips as kissable? Brock Rumlow? Her dad's best friend. Naha, no way. Take it back, take it back, take it back; she repeats the three words again and again in her head, like a mantra. It's all in vain, when Brock's lips slowly curl up into a half smile. His upper lip on the left side curls up, revealing his teeth. Calleigh feels drawn to it. It's like magnetism, an invisible force that's dragging her towards him. She swallows in a desperate attempt to keep her heart out of her throat. It's Brock, Calleigh! He's over 40 years old, and your dad's best friend; the voice in her head screams to her at this point.

"What errr..." Brock takes the cloth from his jeans and wipes his hands on it before continuing. "What are you doing here?" he questions, his eyes traveling over her. Her short-sleeved white shirt reveals the small dips by her collarbone, and Brock's fingers twitch as his mind imagines gliding his fingertips over them. He knows he shouldn't feel this way. Why does he feel this way? Further down the shirt lays tight over her breasts, Brock swallows from the sight of them. Jesus, get it together, Brock; he silently curses at himself.

“I live here.” Calleigh replies, before he can take in the rest of her. She rubs her hand on her neck. The garage offers shade and a living temperature, but she can still feel the heat from outside. And looking at Brock all sweaty and sexy isn't helping at all. “What are you doing here?” She continues, she knows that's a stupid question. He was on his creeper, under the car when she came in, and the oil stains are also a big giveaway.

“I'm fixing your Dad’s car,” Brock answers her question with a little smile, and a tap on the hood of the Impala. “How's that neighborhood watch thing going for ya?” He adds with a little chuckle.

“Huh?” Calleigh feels like she just fell out of the sky. And she imagines that it must look that way too.

Brock gestures with his head to the container in her right hand, and Calleigh looks down to see her thumb still firmly placed on the top of it. Quickly putting the cap back on, she puts her hand behind her back. “It's nothing. It's just…” she tries, but the damage is already done. The only thing she can hope for now, is that Brock won't tell Jack about it.

“For protection?” Brock asks, as he wipes his abs with the cloth. When Calleigh doesn't answer, he continues. “New York taught you a few things huh?” He delivers the question with an understanding head tilt.

Calleigh takes a breath “Yeah I guess you could say—“ she’s interrupted by sirens approaching.

Brock lets out a little laugh “You called the cops on me.” It's more of a statement than a question. Calleigh feels a rush of embarrassment, as Brock lets out another friendly laugh.

“Not so much on you.. I..” Calleigh starts, moving her legs nervously. “I.. I thought you were someone else,” she tries, but without any kind of words to complete that sentence.

“Well, guess I can only hope that they won't arrest me,” Brock continues to chuckle, as he swings the cloth over his left shoulder, and walks outside to face the police.

Calleigh stays behind for a second or two before she shakes her head and lets out an exasperating breath. This is too embarrassing. Did she really call the cops on Brock? Jesus, she's never going to hear the end of this. This'll be one of those stories that'll be mentioned in a speech at her wedding. She can just hear it in her head ‘And you can feel totally safe, Calleigh will protect her terf whatever the cost. I remember…’ Shaking her head again, she walks outside as well.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Not one, not two, but three units showed up. Thank you so much brain, for mentioning all the firearms in the house. Calleigh thinks to herself. Thankfully the misunderstanding was easy to clear up. Two of the officers knew Brock, which was understandable since Brock owned the only garage around that was certified to work on the police vehicles. And of course it helped that both the Lewis and the Rollins name was well known around these parts.

Just as the officers are leaving, Calleigh spots Mrs. Callahan across the street, coming out of her house with her walker. Mrs. Callahan was this tiny 4’9" little old lady, with long gray frizzy hair, she always wore white compression socks, a skirt with flower patterns on, a white shirt, a home knitted cardigan and brown slippers, she had lived across the street since forever. She was a really nice old lady, but she put her nose into absolutely everything.

“Miss Calleigh.” She yells across the street, with what little voice she has left. “Miss Calleigh, is everything alright?” She continues, as she walks across the street towards them.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan, everything is fine. Don’t worry.” Calleigh smiles at the old lady.

“I saw the police. Are you sure everything is alright? How's your father? Jack is such a sweetheart, don't you think?” Mrs. Callahan continues to talk. The thing with Mrs. Callahan was that after her husband passed away a few years ago, she had become very chatty. And if she started, there was almost no way of stopping her.

“Everything is perfectly fine Mrs. Callahan. It was just a misunderstanding” Brock shoots in, sending Calleigh an amused look when he says misunderstanding. “I can assure you that you can sleep safely.” He continues, giving the old lady a protective smile.

“O..Okay” Mrs. Callahan nods to Brock. Then she stops. “Would you be so kind as to walk an old lady back home, Brock?” She continues with her distinct old lady voice.

Brock sends Calleigh a small smile, before he offers his arm to Mrs. Callahan. When they start the short walk over the street, Calleigh can hear her say ‘Such a sweetheart, such a sweetheart’ over and over again. Calleigh can't help but smile. Both from the old lady calling Brock a sweetheart, and from the fact that Brock seriously makes her heart jump, and her stomach swoop. Both of which are feelings she's never had before.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh has just finished maneuvering her car into the garage when Brock returns. Still wearing nothing but his well worn work jeans, with oil stains and rips on them. And then that body. Calleigh swallows hard to not let out any type of sound that can give away how she reacts to this man.

“You want Apple pie?” Brock asks, holding up two Apple pies, one in each hand. “Because I have two of them,” he continues, looking from Calleigh to the pies, and then back to Calleigh again.

Mrs. Callahan might be nosy to the point where Calleigh almost felt uneasy about it. But the old lady did make the most delicious Apple pies. Sweet, zesty and sugary. With the most amazing Granny Smith apples, cooked until perfection, with that sweet taste of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg and sugar. Calleigh remembers them from the block parties when she was a little girl. Finishing up her dinner as fast as possible, to make sure she could grab a slice before they were all gone. Her mouth still goes watery when she thinks about it.

“She gave you two?” Calleigh laughs. Smiling wide. Partly for the thought of eating Mrs. Callahan's Apple pies again and partly from the thought that she might sit down with Brock and eat them. Why is that thought so prominent? It's not like Brock hasn't had dinner or food in general in this house before. She practically grew up with him around.

“Two isn't enough?” Brock questions, placing the two pies on the roof of Calleigh's car, before he starts to turn around. “Because I'm pretty sure I can get like five more,” he continues as he starts to leave the garage. Brock chides himself. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he suddenly acting like a fuckin' teenager? Playing stupid flirting games, so that Calleigh will try to stop him, touch him. Jesus, Brock. He thinks for himself. Calleigh must think he's insane.

“No, no, no,” Calleigh hastily replies, grabbing Brock's wrist. “Two is –,” she involuntarily stops mid sentence from the sensation of Brock's skin against her palm. “Two is fine.. it's –” she continues, meeting his eyes as she lets go of his wrist. One of Brock's fingertips brushes over her palm, sending waves of shivers up her arm “perfect” she breathes out.

“Alrighty then,” Brock smiles, as he once again takes the pies. “Just heat them on 350, for 15 to 20 minutes, and we'll have ourselves a treat,” he continues as he opens the door that leads from the garage into the house.

Calleigh examines his broad and perfectly toned backside. His jeans fit perfectly over his behind. Calleigh swallows again. Stop it, she once again tells herself. “Maybe have a shower first?” She suggests, before she follows Brock. A shower? Really, Calleigh? She thinks to herself, the thought of naked Brock in the shower makes her want to slap herself. Cold shower it is. A really cold shower.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh locks the door to the downstairs bathroom, before leaning her forehead against the door. Oh,God. Is she stupid? It's frickin Brock for God's sake. What is she thinking? Turning around, she leans her back against the door, as she glances over the bathroom.

The bathroom had undergone a luxurious renovation. The once white walls were now covered in sleek black and gold marble tiles that gave the space a rich feel. The wood-look flooring stretched out, making the room seem spacious. Acoustic panels in complementary black and wood tones lined the ceiling. Gone was the indoor jacuzzi that Calleigh loved as a child, replaced by a double waterfall shower. Concrete shelves anchored the masculine vanity area. Perched atop were two oval basins crafted from natural river stone, marrying masculinity with luxury. A sauna for four to six sat in one corner, unused but admittedly stylish. Though unfamiliar, Calleigh had to concede the new bathroom was rather nice looking.

Stepping away from the door, Calleigh removes her work clothes, tossing them in the laundry basket by the door. Before she steps into the shower, she once again takes a look at herself in the mirror. She looks… What's the word? Young and inexperienced. Small breasts, though still firm and pointing the ‘right’ way, they're still small. Narrow hips. Damnit! Why does she care so much about this all of a sudden? Brock.. Like he would ever want someone like her. “Why do you care, Calleigh?” She says to the mirror, before she enters the shower.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The guest bathroom upstairs offers every accommodation a guest might need, whether it was a short or a longer stay. The modern design, such as the subway tiles in the shower, the floating shelves for towels and toiletries, the bathtub, with it's spa-like bath pillow, and the shower curtain, resting on a black shower rod, that stretched from one wall to another, mixed with the intricate black and white pattern on the floor tiles it gave the room a contemporary yet nostalgic charm.

Brock leans forward in the shower, leaning his arms against the wall as he lets the water wash over his neck, dripping down over his eyes and nose. He takes a deep breath. He'd almost forgotten that feeling. Aside from the fact that he'd promised himself to never go down that path again, he had to admit that it did feel good. That warm feeling, that was pumped out in his entire body with every heartbeat. That childish need for physical contact. But no. He couldn't do this. Not with her. Not with Calleigh. He's 26 years older than her, old compared to her. Though he was in good physical shape, he was still older than her. A lot older. After he took his therapist's advice to work out more to clear his head, his workout routine had become his safe place. A place where he didn’t have to think about Iraq or Afghanistan or Taylor. Just thinking about her name makes him feel cold. Calleigh, he thinks for himself. Calleigh with the gemstone eyes and perfect lips. Calleigh with the soft skin he felt when his fingers brushed over her palm. Calleigh… Yeah, Calleigh’s better. Calleigh’s definitely better. Fuck, what is he doing?

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh looks between the knee-length tights and the white cotton shorts, weighing her options. The tights that cover more of her body or the comfortable shorts that's more suitable for this weather. God, this is just stupid. And why would Brock care anyway? Why does she care? Since when did what she wore around Brock become an issue? Opting for the shorts, she rolls her eyes at herself and her teenage-like thinking. The shorts fit better with the top anyway, and for some reason it feels important to look good right now.

After meticulously applying her make-up, Calleigh takes a good long look in the mirror. Her white shirt, with the blue and white butterfly pattern on the front sits perfectly on her body, hugging what's supposed to be hugged. Well, more like what's there to actually be hugged. Pouting a bit to her reflection and shaking her head at herself, she turns around checking if everything is in its right place. The straps on her bra are visible due to the shirts open back. After a few unsuccessful attempts trying to fix that issue, Calleigh gives up. Visible straps are better than a bikini anyway. No poolside relaxing today, there's no way she'll be strolling around in a tiny bikini with Brock around.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The red light that indicates that the oven has reached its wanted temperature turns off, and Calleigh places the two pies into the oven. Thankful that Brock wasn't done upstairs yet. Those feelings she gets when he's around. They're… Calleigh doesn't even have the words to describe them. Sure she's been in love before, or at least smittened. She even had boyfriends, not too many or to long lasting, but still. But the feeling never lasted. And it was never like this. That feeling of her stomach doing gymnastics inside of her. What is that? Looking at the pies warming in the oven. Calleigh tries to make some sense out of all these emotions.

“Wouldn't it be funnier to… I don't know, watch a movie or something?” The voice suddenly talking over Calleigh's head startles her to the point where she hastily stands up. Banging her head into Brock's chin. “Ouch” Brock breathes out as he lets his hand glide over his chin.

“Oh, God,” Calleigh replies. Her expression is a mix of embarrassment and guilt. “I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” She continues, and without realizing that she does she lifts her arm to touch him where they collided. His rugged facial hair tickles her fingers as she carefully let them glide over his chin.

“I gotta say that your self-defense technique is a little unorthodox,” Brock smiles. “But it works, it definitely works,” he continues. The feeling he gets from Calleigh's touch is unlike anything he's ever felt before. A mix of excitement, guilt and that warm feeling spreading throughout his body.

Calleigh can't help but laugh. Brock always used to be funny, kinda like the cool uncle she never had since both her parents were an only child. She can remember millions of times when she was younger. Brock taking her to amusement parks, Brock dressing up as various animals or superheroes for her birthday parties, Brock letting her ride shotgun with him, even though Jack had told him not to. But for some reason the funny he shows her now, that funny feels different.

Suddenly realizing she's still touching him, Calleigh reatracts her hand, covering it with the other hand as she gives Brock an apologetic smile. What's gotten into her? Why does she feel like this around him all of a sudden?

“Is your head alright?” Brock asks, almost instantly regretting his poor choice of words. “From the… err.. bump,” he adds, when he sees the confusion on Calleigh's face. He lifts his hand, and carefully lets it glide over her head.

“Yeah”, Calleigh breathes out as she once again meets Brock's eyes. “I'm…” she continues, as Brock's hand glides down to her neck before stopping on her shoulder. “Good..” Whispering the last word so low that she's not sure Brock even hears it. It's definitely a connection between them. Or is it? Is she fooling herself? And if that's the case, then why?

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The evening goes on. With Apple pies, ice cream, a movie on TV and a phone call from a worried Jack.

Mrs. Callahan had called him, and told him about the police being at the house. No surprise there. After about 14 failed attempts to call Calleigh, Jack had resolved to call Brock. Overprotective as he was, he was worried out of his mind. Before Brock explained how everything really went down, Jack was like two seconds away from jumping on the first flight back home. But after some discussion back and forth Brock had told him that he'd stay with Calleigh for the duration of Jack's stay in Chicago. For Calleigh, Jack's overprotectiveness in this situation was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing since this meant that she could spend some more time with Brock, and a curse for that exact same reason.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

After getting ready for bed, and before she turns off the lights, Calleigh sends a message in the group chat she shares with Molly and Jess.

‘Call me ASAP. I need to talk.’

No matter if there's a connection there or not, Calleigh needs to talk to someone about this. It's way too heavy to carry by herself. And what better people to talk to, than her two best friends.

Next Chapter ------->

@nekoannie-chan @rip1009 @late-to-the-party-81 @ladysif8

#brock rumlow #rumlow #rumlowfiction #jack rollins #fanfics #fanfiction #Youtube

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lazlolullaby · 4 days ago

Text

Angel Island Guardians Wachowski pt 2: Movie changes

tldr: Sonic Unleashed based universe where Mobians, Chao, Humans + sacred creatures just exist. Like real life except there's Mobians just chilling on the streets + in the history books.

This is my sandbox, please sit and enjoy. Incorporating video game/TV show lore in broad strokes, just take what you want.

Part 1 - backstory (there)

Part 2 - movie edits (here)

Movie 1 is still about Tom and Sonic.

Something something parallels of Tom keeping the Chao Garden a secret + Sonic keeping his speed powers secret and then both deciding to share them with others so they can breathe.

Opening scene with Sonic and Tom is changed, instead of the speed trap and Sonic sneaking around, it's Sonic and Tails running around to find the "Chao Garden". And then the big shot of Angel Island floating through the trees. Tails can fly up there, Sonic looks both ways before trying to run up the sheer cliff. He almost makes it, but then is stuck clinging to the side of the rock face. Sonic can't reach any other foot holds, can't cling on, starts to yell for help. Then a rope drops down with a carabiner on it. Tom pulls Sonic up to the top of the cliff. Tails finds them. They all sit down and enjoy the sunrise.

Tom says he's going to be leaving soon for San Francisco, going to try city living with his sister-in-law for a few months for a life change. (also background implications of Rachel's ex-husband took the car in the divorce and she needs some help getting her life back in order, even if the help comes from someone she dislikes.)

Sonic says he's fine, but later he has a panic attack and causes a local blackout. Tom tells Wade exactly what to do to do emergency generator, but Wade is like, "I'm going to do one better" and calls the Government on the town to do a full power system check.

They send Robotnik and he is very intense and scary. Robotnik is very desperate for energy - no matter how many lives he ruins he wants to have power for his plans to take over the world. Just because he's smart he should be ultimate dictator. Agent Stone is also there and is still simping.

Sonic overthinks and thinks they're here to find him and take him away. So he tries to use a Ring, but he accidentally leaves them on the San Francisco building.

Sonic runs, finds Tom's car on the road and hides in it, making like, "I stowed away so we can have a last hurrah before you leave~" but Robotnik was able to find the energy surge/the shoe prints from running and follow Sonic.

Sonic saves Tom from the Egg Drones with speed powers and gets hurt.

Tom takes him to Maddie, Sonic gets healed, but is very worried about Tom and Maddie knowing about his speed powers. He wants to come clean, so;

Sonic starts, "I have something to tell you - about myself."

Tom is like, "wait is this about the speed powers?"

"YOU KNEW?"

"I saw you running like the wind when we first met in the Chao Garden. I thought you just slowed down for your friends."

but also a quieter moment:

"Cream can fly, that's a superpower. Tails has two tails and took apart the TV once. That's dangerous. Amy can hit targets blindfolded, she's powerful. You love them. Why can't you be yourself."

"It's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

Meanwhile Tails goes to Robotniks lab and looks at the machines and formulas. Tails corrects Eggman's math and Agent Stone gently picks him up and kicks him out.

Things line up the same as the movie at this point.

Sonic, Tom and Maddie get Sonic's rings, Eggman attacks, Sonic runs and fights Eggman. Amy picks up a hammer and gets a hit in, the Mobians + people of Green Hills protect Sonic.

Everything else is the same except the Mushroom Planet is actually the Mushroom Zone. A vast uninhabited Island where the only people that visit are researchers for a few months at a time. (Like Antarctica.).

End credit scene of Tom dropping off his cop badge at the precinct and bothering the park rangers for a spot. Maddie had 2 cakes made in case the park rangers rejected him.

Movie 2 is more about Maddie + Rachel + Knuckles~

Something something Maddie, Rachel and Knuckles were all raised to be Guardians of the Master Emerald, given a task that was bigger than them that defines them, that could crush them if they weren't careful. (we have to earn the Mom Wachowski + Son Knuckles relationship here. Also Tika Sumpter wanted a larger role for Maddie + might as well involve her sister.)

It's been 1 year.

Tom had coordinated with Sonic + Tails to help bring researchers up to Angel Island. Tom changed jobs from cop to park ranger, with special knowledge on Chao. Now that more people know it takes the burden off of his family to protect the Chao.

Rachel and Jojo have moved to Green Hills, Rachel found a "better job", and Jojo loves chilling with her aunt and uncle too. The twist is that Rachel's "better job" is actually working for GUN, trying to find Sonic's weaknesses in case he goes rogue.

Agent Stone has taken over the Mean Bean. Only Tails ever interacted with Stone + knew he worked with Robotnik, so no one listens when Tails says Stone is evil. They just think their youngest has a rivalry with the new coffee shop owner.

Tom, Maddie, Rachel and Jojo are going on vacation to Hawaii. They're going to "finally have that honeymoon/renew their vows" because they've been protecting Angel Island this whole time.

Sonic is house-sitting + feeding Ozzy while they are gone. Sonic immediately invites his friends over for a sleepover party. Tails + Amy and any other fav Mobians show up! (Cream is too young.)

And the party gets crashed by Knuckles. Knuckles had been trying to find Angel Island and the "traitor Tikal and her apprentice." He saw the Wachowski's research paper on Angel Island and recognized the Master Emerald Temple.

Knuckles gets into a fight with Sonic, Amy + Tails, he gets beaten and thrown into the Mean Bean Coffee shop. Tails tries to warn them, but Sonic is like, "no, that weird Sad Bean guy isn't evil."

Agent Stone convinces Knuckles that "they took your job from you. The precious thing you swore to protect..." So Knuckles gets Eggman from the Mushroom Zone and they go from there.

Sonic and Tails go on a journey to get the Compass for the Master Emerald. Amy stays home to fix the house/Tails asked her to keep an eye on Stone + Wade. She's the "Bad cop" in the interrogation scene between Wade + Stone.

The bar scene happens, Sonic feels like he's responsible for Tails + is a little smothering, but Tails is proving to be very capable. The snowboarding mountain scene happens, Sonic rescues Tails over getting the compass.

Meanwhile, Tom + Maddie renew their vows. Sonic interrupts. "Ok so we thought we could do it alone but Robotnik has the Compass for the Master Emerald and we don't know where they're going to be but it's going to get bad real fast if we don't stop them-"

Maddie goes, "Sonic. Why do you think I chose this specific island in Hawaii?"

"...your Dad said he wanted you to go there...OH YOUR DAD!"

Rachel pops up. "He told you? Of course, you were his favorite."

Tom, "Woah, nobody told me." Turns to Maddie, "so the waterproof cameras, the boat rental and scuba gear for tomorrow...?"

"Same plan as Angel Island. Discover it, make it public, and let the nerds have it."

"Awesome."

Rachel is having a breakdown. "Of course! Why would I assume what my father wanted! He was so close with you! Not me! He never thought about anything or anyone outside that stupid Emerald!"

Maddie tries to calm Rachel down, "It's what we swore to protect. It's bigger than us."

"That's what he said! He always put that Emerald above us! And so are you! You lied to everyone about going to Hawaii! Instead it's the family responsibility all over again! The one he died for!"

So basically, Rachel has complicated feelings of resentment to her father and sister for "protecting the Master Emerald" over living their lives. Maddie + Dad Sumpter were close and dedicated to Angel Island.

Rachel felt isolated, so she left to San Francisco, got married, had her kid, got divorced and while she wouldn't change it because she loves her daughter Jojo, it's hard to cope. Then Angel Island was revealed to the public, now Maddie gets to leave her responsibility. Then the last straw that Maddie isn't living her life, she's still dedicated to the thing that caused a mad Mobian to kill her estranged father.

So Rachel calls GUN to stop the Wachowski family from fighting Robotnik. Knuckles and Robotnik do show up, GUN overdoes it and everyone is detained. Robotnik escapes + betrays Knuckles.

they are all held in the same area. Maddie realizes that Knuckles is the kid of the Echidna that killed her father. But she's trying to tell Knuckles "you're not your father's choices." Because. She's an adult and she's worked through her grief mostly. And Knuckles is a teenager and she recognizes that same grief that was in her not too long ago.

Maddie apologizes to Tom and the kids for hiding secrets. Rachel and Tails break everyone out. "Little Sibling squad" is their team name. Maddie and Rachel hug, the team decides to keep making a distraction so Sonic + Knuckles can get to the Master Emerald before Eggman does.

Knuckles is still feeling bad due to the betrayal, so he's not exactly friendly. But they make it through the Temple. And Knuckles gets nervous so he fights Sonic + Eggman gets away with the Master Emerald. The Temple collapses, Sonic and Knuckles save each other and actually become friends.

The big Green Hills fight with the giant mech happens as usual. Amy again, gets a few hits in against the Mech + the drones. Sonic goes Super Sonic.

Instead of the Chaos Emeralds being melded back into the Master Emerald, they are scattered for mcguffins later. (Chaos was also released but he glooped his way to the forest before anyone noticed.)

Knuckles wants to give the Emerald back to Maddie, but she refuses and asks him to join the family.

Also Knuckles chilling on Angel Island with Chaos, Tikal, and the Chao. Then Sonic and Tails show up to invite him to play baseball. Maddie, Rachel and Jojo take over the watch.

The stinger is that Agent Stone has a journal from Gerald Robotnik and a white Chaos Emerald in his palm.

That's all I got, I am not going to change Sonic 3 until I see it when it's released. Hope you liked it~ You've got blanket permission to use these ideas in your fanworks, but no AI please, it's not enrichment if you're not doing it.

#sonic movie au #sonic the hedgehog #tom wachowski #maddie wachowski #knuckles the echinda #tails the fox #Amy rose #Locke the Echidna #Lazlo's lulls #Man I like Rachel's fiance as a character but...he's a honeypot. Gender swap him and you can see it better. It's a little creepy.#Make him a work bestie + develop from there.#Tom: I am here to eat Malasada and support my wife. Fortunately for everyone I'm not about to stop doing either.

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