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spookysanta · 4 years ago

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braided. (c.e.)

Summary: she hates when he’s right, but she hates it even more when he knows he’s right and won’t shut up about it. or, he likes to do her hair more than she does.

Pairing: Husband!Chris Evans x Black!reader

WARNINGS: none

i don’t hate it anymore, thankfully.

UNEDITED

***

“Y’know,” he said as he entered the bedroom they shared from his shower, his waist wrapped in a towel, white steam trailing behind him from the hot bathroom. “I could ask what you’re doing, though I’m not entirely sure I’d like to know.”

“I’m not entirely sure I’d want to tell you.” His wife shrugged without missing a beat. She didn’t want to tell him that she learned a new hair-braiding technique on social media and decided to give it a try, only to stop halfway because her hands began to cramp.

“Well, it seems to me that you started on your hair and got tired.”

“Shut up.”

She hated how he just knew stuff.

And of course, she’d expected him to already have known what she was up to.

She didn’t have to tell him what was happening, because he just knew her. He knew that this would be bound to happen, especially now that she’s home full-time. When she isn’t working, she scours the Internet to find something new to do; today’s activity must’ve been hair related. She knew he would tease her for quitting her hair halfway through (like she usually does); but sometimes, she just loses interest, or her hands cramp up, she can’t help it.

“And here I was, about to offer my services to help. But no, you don’t deserve it since you’ve chosen to be mean to me.” His feet padded across the brown carpet floor over to their dresser to pick out clothes for an interview later in the day. “I was ready and willing to be the helpful husband.”

“Were you?” she retorted.

“Yup.” He discarded the towel around his waist, displaying his chiseled frame for his wife to see just because he could. He dressed himself, putting on a plain black button-up shirt and dark jeans despite the interview being conducted via video conference. “I was. I’d consider myself a nice guy, doll. I’m very helpful when I’m needed.”

He finally carried himself over to her, who was sat on their shared bed with her back against the headboard. He leaned over her tauntingly. “You sure you don’t want help?” he mumbled, lips brushing hers in a way that intimidated her.

“No.” she huffed.

“Fine.” He gave a peck to her bottom lip, standing up straight and heading toward the door. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me…until then, have fun.”

He winked at her before exiting the room.

Did she mention how much she hated when he was right?

There aren’t many times when he’s just right about things, but when he is…it makes her blood boil. It’s not just that he was right, it’s the gloating that follows.

It makes her want to make him sleep on the porch.

After his interview—which had to have gone well, from the sounds of his infectious laughter coming from downstairs—she sent him a reluctant text.

To Chris:

Okay. Fine. You win. Can you come help me now? My hands hurt.

First, it was quiet. Then, there was a loud cackle that made her hands cramp more.

She heard his footsteps (along with Dodger’s, for obvious reasons) bound up the stairs. He let out a breath as he entered the room, holding back laughter. “You rang?”

She cut her eyes at him, but softened her eyes when Dodger jumped onto the bed next to her and rested his head on her thigh.

He moved her so that he could sit behind her, the bed sinking to accommodate his frame. She sat in between his legs. “Show me what you were trying to do.” He motioned to her phone that was tossed to the side.

She showed him a set of box braids that, to him, looked a little different that what he was used to. “Here.”

He usually helped her with her hair when she wanted to do protective styles like this—either she gets sleepy and she asks him to finish; or her hands cramp; or she gets bored; or he gets bored…

Regardless of why, the fact of the matter is now he knows how to do her hair and she planned to use it to her advantage—without the gloating, preferably, but she can only ask so much of him.

“Why do they look different than the other ones?”

“They’re knotless.” She replied. “I saw them on Twitter and tried to do it.”

“And…?”

“It’s too hard.” She groaned, plopping her head behind her on her husband’s chest.

He sat her up and looked at her hair. “You didn’t get very far.” He noted. She’d completed about four braids before he went to his interview, and since then, she’d only done two more. “How about we do the rest the way we know how, okay? It’ll go by faster.” He kissed her temple.

“Ugh.” She gave up. “Fine.”

“I know that’s not what you want—”

“At all.”

“—but you’re tired and I know you’re not going to help me until the end, and I don’t know how to do them the knotless way.” She felt him shrug. “Or, you can just have these four and be done.”

She nudged his chest with her elbow, making him chuckle.

He started reluctantly, first taking the rat-tailed comb and creating a part in the back of her head that spanned from ear-to-ear in width. She reminded him gently as she turned on the television, “don’t forget the gel”; and he knew all about the gel, by the way. The gel that smelled like heaven but was sticky and hard and was oddly fluorescent in color, and he had to use it because, “it keeps things neat”.

If it were up to him, they wouldn’t use the gel at all. But it’s her hair and what she asked for, and all he wanted was to make her happy.

Taking a piece of synthetic hair from its wrapping and folding one strip over the other like she taught him, he pressed it to the square part of her hair, braiding it into her scalp.

She’ll admit, he’s gotten quite good at it.

She won’t tell him that, of course—his ego’s already the size of Jupiter. But she will say, it’s a lot cheaper to have the two of them tackle the apparent feat of doing her hair as opposed to having to pay someone to travel all the way to their home to do the same job. In her mind, she was much more willing to spend the $80 on buying the hair and supplies, than the $250 (plus a generous tip) to pay one of her friends to do it.

He got on a lot easier than she seemed to. He completed six braids by the time Belle’s father was taken into the Beast’s castle; he’d done another five by the time Belle and the Beast played in the snow.

They made some conversation as he braided, but it was mostly her reminding him not to braid too tight. “It’ll pull when it’s time for them to come out.”

“I know, I know.” He replied gently, tapping her on the shoulder to hand him the gel when he needed more to lubricate his fingers.

Thankfully, these ones were were relatively large in size. Where they would usually be doing this all day, he was closer to being done in four hours. By the time he got towards the top of her head, Beauty and the Beast was over and she—much to his dismay—put on Age of Ultron.

Let’s be clear: she only puts on Marvel movies to fawn over her husband (and his castmates)—she already watched all the movies before they were married and knew their respective plots.

“Do we have to?” He groaned. “I’d really appreciate it if we watched something else.”

“Why?” she groaned back, mocking him playfully, reaching behind her and pinching his thigh. “You look pretty in your outfit.”

“You’d think so, huh?”

She laughed, watching the man that swept her off her feet quite literally fly through the air, his red, white, and blue shield in tow. Her eyes darted to the same shield that sat framed in a case in the corner of the room.

(He planned to move it to its own display in the living room, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet.)

As if he read her thoughts, he mumbled to himself, “I gotta move that shield downstairs.”

“You said you were going to do it last week,”

“I meant to,” he turned her head to the side so he could start a new braid above her ear. “but I got sidetracked with work—I had meetings all week last week, remember?”

She nodded slowly in understanding, her head beginning to ache on her neck from having to remain still for so long.

She sat up straighter when she felt him get closer to the front of her head. She held up a mirror to see where his most recent part stopped, then she parted her own hair in the same way, taking pieces of synthetic hair and starting on the very front.

“Now you want to help me?” he laughed. “I’m almost done.”

“I needed a break.” She shrugged.

“I think four hours is plenty of break time, don’t you?”

“It depends.”

After another hour-and-a-half of them braiding her hair and debating—some would call it “bickering”—about why he wouldn’t dress Dodger up as Captain America for Halloween this year, they were finished.

She sighed, the tightness in her scalp irritating, but soothing in the same.

Her husband got up from behind her. Going into their bathroom, he went in the cabinet and took out a vile of oil, small and made of glass with a dropper for a lid. It was a combination of oils—some he’d heard of, some he hadn’t—that she liked to put on her hair to maintain its sheen.

He also took the time to grab her hair mousse and satin scarf, two other things that didn’t have much meaning to him until he married her.

He sat back on the bed. Wordlessly filling up the dropper, he dripped the oil onto her scalp, making her jump at first. He made sure to coat all her partings. Then he pressed his fingertips to her scalp, rubbing in gently the product.

“You okay?” he mumbled in her ear as he massaged her.

She nodded with a hum; her eyes closed in relaxation.

If there was one thing they enjoyed doing together, it was her hair.

He didn’t quite know why either. He liked helping her, yes; he liked talking with her as they did this, of course—but what was it about these kinds of moments that made his heart flutter?

There was something about massaging her scalp that made him feel closer to her. It was almost more intimate than sex, in his mind (which was saying a lot).

After a while, he stopped. She wanted to turn her head and whine to him to continue, but then she felt it.

She felt the cold foam on top of her head. Shuddering, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Mousse.” He said simply. “I’ll rub it in and then tie you up.”

She giggled childishly, “You’re gonna tie me up?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “But not like that. Not yet, at least.” He pinched her side, which was something he always managed to do to be playful no matter how full his hands were.

He ran the product all through her scalp and down the shafts of her braids, the irritation immediately relieved. When he finished, he tied her scarf over her hair, making sure it was secure but not too tight.

“There.”

She turned to him, resting her head on his shoulder softly and kissing his scruffy neck. “Thank you, baby.”

“You don’t have to thank me, honey. This is what I’m here for.”

That made her heart flutter.

They sat like that for a while—her resting against him, and his arms around her protectively, careful not to pull her newly-installed extensions that they—ahem, he—worked hard on.

“You still have to do your ends, doll.”

Ugh. She hated that part; she always ended up burning herself somehow.

“Yeah, I know,” she sat up and stood, stretching her tired muscles. Her shirt rose just a bit, her brown tummy on display.

He almost licked his lips in lust.

Almost. He was trying to behave.

“I’m gonna go boil some water.” She yawned, trudging out of the room and to the linen closet to get two towels—one to wrap around her shoulders, and another to dry the ends of her hair once she soaked them.

In the time it took for her to get downstairs and into the kitchen to set a pot of water on the stove to boil, he’d changed into his loungewear and followed behind her. He found her seated at the kitchen table, half asleep. He tried to be quiet, but he startled her awake.

“Sorry.” He said, sitting in the open seat next to her.

She yawned again, “It’s fine.”

He found it adorable that she always got so sleepy after they finished her hair. He didn’t know if it was because of her having to sit still for so long, or if it was the scalp massage he’d given her. He didn’t really care why, because that meant he’d have another excuse to cuddle up to her.

The water soon gurgled from the stove, its heat steaming the screen of the above microwave oven. She stood, wrapping a towel around her shoulders and going to the stove. He emerged behind her, deciding that he would do it for her (since she always ended up injured).

Holding the pot by its handle, he gently dipped the ends of her braids into the hot water, taking the other towel to wring the hair dry. He did this twice, making sure that all her hair had gotten submerged and wrung.

She held her breath, clutching tightly the towel around her shoulders. She trusted him, obviously, but she still was terrified.

It took him all of five minutes to finish. By then, her arms grew tired, so she was grateful. He dumped the hot water down the sink’s drain, setting the pot back on the stove to cool down before he washed it.

Meanwhile, removing the towel from her body, she continued to wring out excess water from her ends so that they didn’t drip when she made her way upstairs to clean up. “I’m gonna put these in the wash, okay?” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Alright, baby.”

She smiled, thankful to have this man in her life.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replied, kissing her hair.

—

tags (from sign-up sheet): @justtwhst @lokisbitch27

other tags: @cyberdoshee @honeychicanawrites @lovlisumi

#chris evans x black women #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #add to masterlist

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madsthewordclown · 4 years ago

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Fire Lily | Pt. 3

warnings: none

summary: Y/N begins training with Jet and continues working at the tea shop, and is surprised when Jet confronts her about his suspicions about the tea shop employees.

Yay for part 3! I’m so excited to be creating this series. I want to let y’all know that my asks are always open (unless they aren’t, in which case tell me, because I’m bad at this site).

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

“Can I come with you, please, Mom?” Y/N tugged on her mother’s sleeve. They didn’t go out very much, and Y/N didn’t like being stuck inside with her brother all the time. He had friends from school now, and he got to go see them all the time. She was stuck at home. Her mother was her teacher.

“Maybe some other day, sweetheart,” her mother smiled down at her. “It’s not very nice out today, and I have boring grown-up stuff to do.

“I’m seven,” Y/N proudly announced, pointing at herself. “I can be grown-up.” Her mother sighed.

“Alright,” she relented, and Y/N’s smile was so wide it hurt. “We’re just going into town to get a few things, alright?”

“Okay, Mom, now let’s go!”

Their servant, Nama, used to go to the market for them. Y/N didn’t know why they had sent Nama away—Nama liked to play games with her when she wasn’t busy. She wondered if they’d see her while they were in town. Y/N wanted to say hi.

Her mother and father didn’t like going into town. Y/N could tell because they didn’t go very often. Sometimes she could see the colorful explosions from her window. Bihun said they were called fireworks. “Please don’t try to make any of your own. Mom and Dad would be upset.” She hadn’t tried, but it had been tempting. She had wanted to go and see them up-close, but her parents always said no.

One day her father had sat her down in his office and tried to explain. “The Fire Nation has made a colony here. It’s where they take some land for their people to live on. The market is in a Fire Nation town.” She still hadn’t understood. Her parents had kept her safe from thoughts of the war; they hadn’t told her before, and they wouldn’t tell her yet.

“The Fire Nation doesn’t like us very much,” her father had explained simply. “We don’t want to bother them.”

“Lee, could you please help me?” Y/N huffed as she practically stumbled into the back room. Mushi and Pao were each tending to three teapots that were steaming on the stove, and Lee was stacking some clean cups onto a serving tray. “There’s a man out there who’s being ridiculous, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Fine,” Lee responded gruffly, abandoning the tray of teacups before following Y/N out into the shop.

It was a surprisingly busy day already. Nearly every chair in the shop was full. Y/N could tell that Lee noticed the customer she was talking about immediately—his forehead wrinkled, and his constant frown became more defined as his eyes landed on the bespectacled man who was complaining very loudly.

“The service here is terrible!” The man practically screeched, waving the hand that was holding his teacup. The motion caused the hot tea to spill over the sides, leaving spots on the table and floor. “I can’t believe this.”

“Is there a problem, sir?” Y/N looked on as Lee spoke to the man.

“Yes, there is a problem!” The man cried. “This tea is horrid, and my server has been nothing but rude and unaccommodating!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lee responded. Y/N could practically hear Lee’s teeth grinding and couldn’t suppress her smile. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Is there anything you can do?!?” The man asked incredulously, gesticulating wildly once again. They were lucky that it was so busy that the man wasn’t able to cause a scene—it was almost too noisy for most of the other customers to notice his tantrum.

“You can start by—ahh!” Before the man could list his demands, he was a bit overzealous with his gestures. He seemed to have forgotten the steaming cup of tea in his hands. Y/N watched as the tea—jasmine, if she remembered correctly—spilled out of the cup entirely and onto the man’s robes. The man cried out, dropping the cup, which somehow managed to survive the fall.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her cackling. It served him right, for being so rude. The man’s face turned red, and he rushed out of the shop before Lee could get another word in. Y/N’s laughter grew.

“I guess that’s taken care of,” Lee deadpanned as he turned to her, but Y/N didn’t miss the light smile on his face as he looked at her. “Let’s get back to work, then.”

“You need to widen your stance,” Jet corrected. Y/N nodded and reset her feet.

“Does that feel more balanced?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded. She shifted the hook swords in her hands. “Are you sure I’m holding these right?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jet repeated yet again. “Remember,” he said, stepping away from you so he was no longer breathing down your neck, “the shape of these means you need more precise motion than other blades. And they aren’t two separate weapons—they have to work together.”

Jet picked up the broom he had dropped on the floor earlier, holding it in front of himself like a staff. “Try again,” he encouraged. Y/N took a breath and tightened her grip before springing into action.

She could tell immediately that the adjusted stance helped. Jet really was a good teacher. Even so, Jet was able to block her advances with the broom. She wasn’t swinging quite hard enough to break it out of fear of hurting Jet, but she doubted she’d be able to overcome him anyway, even with his immense disadvantage with his weapon.

Y/N swung both hook swords down at once, but Jet caught them on the broom handle—momentum brought the two hooks together, one caught around the other. Jet smirked at her as their mock-battle stalled for just a moment.

Thinking quickly, Y/N let go with her right hand, using her left to bring one hook sword up, the second effectively caught on the end of it. She swung and watched Jet’s look of surprise with satisfaction as he just barely managed to dodge the blow. Y/N reached out and caught the handle of the swinging sword and unhooked the two weapons, quickly bringing down the spear-ended pommel of the right sword into the broom handle, breaking it in two.

Y/N smiled, breathing heavily as Jet let the two pieces of the broom drop on the floor.

“That’s better,” Jet panted. “A lot better. Are you sure you haven’t had any training?”

“I’m a fast learner, I guess,” Y/N shrugged. She had only had a handful of lessons with Jet, and he hadn’t let her try his hook swords very often, but she had taken to them quickly. She was already better with them than the dagger Jet had helped her pick out.

“I think that’s enough training for today.” Jet gently took his hook swords out of Y/N’s hands. “Want some water?”

Y/N nodded eagerly. She was parched. She had half a mind to think she was practicing a bit too hard; she could hardly tell whether the ache in her feet at night was from the long shifts at the tea shop or the hours she spent training.

Jet disappeared for a moment into the next room before coming back with two cups. He handed her one. Y/N downed the water quickly and was surprised to look up and see the serious expression on Jet’s face.

“How’s the tea shop?” Jet took a sip from his water, inviting her to sit with him on the floor. It was the only empty room in the place he shared with Smellerby and Longshot, and Y/N felt a little guilty for taking it over every day.

“You should know,” Y/N smiled. “You’re in there nearly every day. I didn’t take you for a tea-lover, I’ll admit.” Jet didn’t acknowledge her attempt at light-heartedness; his expression didn’t change.

“Have you noticed anything…” He glanced around, as if someone was watching. “Off, about Mushi and Lee?’’

“No, why?” Y/N asked, feeling inexplicably nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“I think…” Jet’s eyes glanced around the room as if he thought someone was listening. “I think they’re firebenders.” Y/N felt her stomach drop.

“What?” No, no, no, no.

“On our first day here, I saw Mushi with a cup of cold tea. When I saw him a minute later, the tea was steaming hot! What other explanation is there, Y/N?”

Y/N felt the unease bubbling up in her throat. There was no way that Mushi and Lee were firebenders. Was Jet toying with her? How does he know, how could he possibly know? Y/N felt warm and tried to suppress the feeling. “I don’t see how that’s enough to know. Mushi’s just an old man, and Lee is just a grump.” Well, mostly a grump. Y/N thought of how he had smiled earlier that day when an angry customer had spilled their tea—it was a good look for him.

“They’re firebenders, Y/N, I know it. You need to stay away from them.” The panic in Jet’s voice was evident.

“What do Longshot and Smellerby think?”

Jet looked down at the floor, his brow furrowed, and his mouth turned into a frown. “They just haven’t seen what I have. I’m going to prove it, and then I’ll report them. The Earth Kingdom can see that justice is done.”

“Jet, I—”

“Just trust me, Y/N,” Jet pleaded, taking her hands in his. “Be careful.”

Y/N swallowed the truth that was caught in her throat. Jet’s eyes were frantic as he stared into hers. He could never know how close to the truth he was.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

#eventual zuko x reader #atla fanfic #atla #lee from the tea shop #zuko x reader #jet atla #zuko

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 4 years ago

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Don’t Disturb This Groove

A/N: This is going to be a song fic and a Nathan Young fic, it’s gonna be a little intense, I do admit. This comes from me getting multiple ideas from multiple songs. For now, the song’s are gonna stay apart, but I might create a two part plot from this. I hope you enjoy!

Songs: Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard

Don’t Disturb This Groove by The System

Warnings: smut, oral sex (both genders receiving), bad words, alcohol, overall fluffy smut, biting, hair pulling, food (it may trigger some people), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Nathan and you had been home for quite a bit, just relaxing and trying to calm down from the day put before you. He’d ended up dying...a fucking gain somehow. You walked into the room that he, Curtis, Simon, Kelly, and Alisha were in and there the fucker was, dead as a doorknob. Curtis explained and said that apparently Nathan tried to demonstrate how he performed oral sex on himself, but he accidentally snapped his neck, killing himself. As per usual. You weren’t surprised, but one of these days he might be in the middle of an orgasm and he’ll forget to unwrap his hand from around his neck. Yes, he has a choking kink, and he reminds you each time he’s on the edge. You could be taking a shit and Nathan would walk in, wanking off with one hand, opening the door with the other, and ask you to wrap your hand around his neck. He’s just like that.

“Good god I’m tired. Autoerotic suicide isn’t all easy and happy y’know.” Nathan says, rubbing his neck while nursing an ice cold glass of water.

“Yeah, yeah, next time you try to suck your own dick in front of your friends, put some pillows down for the mess.” you sneer, sarcastically looking at Nathan, whose mouth opens at your comment, almost leaking water on your freshly mopped floors.

“Okay, I get it, I’m too strong for my own good. Maybe I should show you some moves and we could 69 standing up.” Nathan says, imitating eating you out.

“Nathan please, you can barely lift a box, but I appreciate the offer. One of these days I’m gonna dominate you and shut you up for once.” you say rolling your eyes.

He chuckles to himself, polishing off his glass of water. He places the glass on the counter, reaching up to grab a handful of pick n’ mix, which hilariously he got himself into community service for. A little stripe of pale skin peeks out from his shirt when he reaches up, and you rush over to kiss over it, eliciting a giggle from Nathan. You stand back up and peck his lips, covered in crumbs from his snacking. The two of you sit in the kitchen, enjoying each other’s company. Occasional soft kisses and mumbles of sweet nothings are shared between the two of you. Nathan’s hands are on your waist, and your foreheads touch. You can feel the other’s heart beating in time with yours. The warmth of each other is all you need in that moment. Nathan’s curls brush against your shoulder as he places his head between your neck and collarbone. He smushes it in, and you giggle softly, knowing that he was very vulnerable. He’s a huge softie when he wants to be.

“I love you Nathan. I really do,” you mumbled into his neck, balling his shirt up in your fist.

“I love you too. Even if I don’t show it most of the time, I really do care about you.”he whispered back, a very light dusting of pink covering his pale cheeks.

Earlier when the two of you were at the Community Center, the clouds were ready to rain, but it hadn’t happened yet. Nathan always got a little nervous when it rained because of how he gained his immortality and the general fucked up aura about The Storm and what it caused. Not that Nathan’s slate was clean before stealing that pick ‘n mix, but nobody deserves to be almost crushed by very large hail, then have to deal with multiple murders. The sky finally emptied itself and it began to rain, but it was peaceful in a way. The two of you came apart, then drifted to your patio, where you watched the back garden become supple with the cloud’s rain, the birds hiding in their trees, huddling together for warmth. You got one brilliant idea, and opened the door, taking Nathan’s hand with you, dragging him after you.

You took your hair down and immediately got wet, but you stopped caring the moment your feet hit the wet grass. You ran around, free from worries, and splashed about in the rain, ruining your jeans. Nathan followed close behind, watching you in awe, as he’d never seen such a carefree version of anyone he’d known, besides himself. You heard the song Pour Some Sugar On Me blasting somewhere in your head, and you were vibing to say the least. That mixed with Nathan watching you, and his general horniness created him walking up behind you, and he kissed you, grabbing two handfuls of your ripe ass. He put his hips against yours, and the two of you stood in the rain, making out like it was the end of the world. Nathan slipped his tongue through your lips, battling against yours, wanting it to never end. You jumped and he caught you, your legs wrapping around his waist, proving for optimal pressure on your clit. Your lips smacked together, and your hands went up to play with Nathan’s curls, which became slightly wavy under the rain.

The pace slowly sped up, Nathan’s bulge becoming more pronounced under your ministrations. He broke away from the makeout session, moaning against your neck and he bit it lightly, the rain lightly muffling your whimpers. He bit down harder, making sure to let your voice catch in your throat, making you get even more rough with him, keeping your promise from earlier. He drops his head, moaning to the sky and heavens above, his eyes closed from the feeling of wet denim and pressure against his cock. He lifted you against his body, trying to hit orgasm, thrusting against you. However, God had other plans, as lighting strikes near the both of you, efficiently scaring the shit out of the both of you.

“Christ on a cracker!” Nathan yelled, slightly dazed from his mid-coital bliss.

You both went back inside, soaking wet, looking for warmth. You placed your clothes in the dryer, and decided to head to the shower, warming up twice as fast.

“We showerin’ together? Or do you want me to join you while you touch yourself while thinking about me. Want me to shove my cock between your fat ass cheeks and cum on your back.” Nathan says, whispering in your ear, creeping behind you.

“You can come with me, and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you come in me.” you say, bending your ass over to give Nathan a nice view, turning the hot water on.

The two of you actually did shower, but Nathan is too horny for his own good. He reached around and groped your tits, grinding his cock against your ass cheeks, his pubes softly scrubbing against your back. He moved from your breasts to your pussy, touching lightly along your folds and lips, dipping near your hole every now and then. He got closer and pressed his chest against your back, his nipples hard and erect, rubbing against your shoulder blades, causing Nathan to let out little groans and soft sounds from his pink lips. He turns you around, and makes you watch while he slips a finger, no two, into your sex, soaking them in your slick. He knows that you don’t orgasm from certain actions, so with his other hand, he starts jacking himself off, his hand moving up and down, rubbing along the head of his dick, pleasuring the both of you simultaneously. He looked into your eyes, piercing them, wanting you to feel everything that he was doing. Emotionally and physically, he wanted you to feel it and absorb the pleasure. He brings himself closer to the edge, but you have other plans, thus again.

You turn the water off, and step away from Nathan’s fingers, which were rubbing against your walls. Nathan was quite soft as a person, and he followed you to the mirror like a lost puppy, entranced by your sultriness. You stepped towards the mirror, which was steamed up, and hopped onto the counter, spreading your legs to expose your vagina, pointing your toes for presentation. Nathan went up to you, kissing your lips, and grabbing your thighs. He closed the distance between the two of you, his dick entering you, halting when his length hit its mark. He softly moaned against your lips, beginning to thrust, his hips meeting your spread ones. The sound of your lips smacking against each other grew, just as your hips meeting did. You could feel his head meeting every fold in your wall, and that feeling was pure, unbridled, pleasure. He started moaning with each thrust, as you had put your nails against his back, and went up and down against it, causing him to speed up his pace. Nathan had a special place in his kinks for pain, especially inflicted by others. Your legs were around his waist, and you pulled him closer, and the mirror only stayed fogged where the two of you were, warming yourselves up. His cock sped up even more, his balls slapping against your pelvis, created noise in the cramped bathroom. Even as your body took his penis, it still stretched you as your pussy squeezed his cock, forcing Nathan to ease into his first orgasm of the night, painting your insides with his seed, moaning into the open. You held him as he shook, and he made ragged breaths, tumbling through the aftershocks.

Nathan slowly pulled out of you, recovering slowly. Your legs came down from the counter, and his cum slowly dripped from you, getting on the floor, but you’d mop later. You kissed Nathan’s cheek and made sure that he was okay before you dried him off and dressed him, as well as dressing yourself. It was nearing dinner time, and your stomach grumbled just at the thought of eating. You’d only had a light breakfast, consisting of raisins and cheese. You put on some chicken nuggets (A/N: i had to.), and Nathan rounded the corner, making motions with his hand that indicated that he wanted cuddles. The two of you sat on the couch in the living room, which was over by the door, which still made you feel...special. Nathan was on top of you, his head between your breasts, and his arms behind your back. You played with his curls while he relaxed, and you rubbed his back slowly, as his eyes drooped. You let him nap for the time being, and you closed your eyes as well, as the chicken nuggets usually took some time to get fully ready. As long as you didn’t wake up to the house on fire, you were dandy.

“Wakey wakey. Chicky nuggies!!” said a voice, presumably Nathan, as there wasn’t a weight on top of you, and you smelled chicken nuggets.

“Thank you baby.” you said, grabbing the plate and beer from him, sitting up.

The two of you dug into your food which consisted of chicken nuggets and applesauce as you keep forgetting to go out to go do some shopping. You also talked while you ate, and since Nathan was recovered from his orgasm, his funny attitude was back. He was talking about the time he died from getting pushed from a ledge, which was how he found out about his immortality. He wasn’t always happy with his power, and he was speaking of replacing it. Never dying is something from the fucking A-list, he’d even said it himself. You had no developed power yet, even though you experienced the same storm. It still baffled you, but Nathan told you not to worry over it. Easier said than done.

“These nuggies are cooked to perfection.” Nathan says, eating his last one, then obscenely burping, slightly alarming you.

“Well, excuse you sir.” you said, taking a sip of beer. (or root beer if you don’t drink).

After a while, the meal drew to a close, and Nathan, a good man himself, took the plates and bottles into the kitchen and washed them.

You were stretched out on the couch, still somewhat tired from your nap. Nathan joined you on the couch, taking the opposite side, and your feet joined near the middle. You two turned on the television, and slowly joined in the middle to play with the other’s hair, cuddling against each other. Nathan sighed against your touch and closed his eyes, not sleeping, but just enjoying the presence. The tv played quietly in the background, and the rain had calmed to a meer drizzle, adding to the aesthetic. You reached down and kissed Nathan’s forehead, void of wrinkles. He put his lips to yours, and the two of you were making out again, but much softer than before. His hands wandered slowly, but still gave the same effect. He made you feel special. That was all that mattered. His tongue played with yours, lackluster, and he softly ground against your hips. Little whimpers were shared between the two of you. Every now and then, you would turn your heads, trying to mix up the angle to find a new perspective.

This carried on for some time, and the television slowly faded to just fuzz. Nathan began to get a little whiny, and moaned against you, his pretty green eyes sparkling with lust. His hips were starting to get more impatient, it seemed, ready for some action. He was transfixed on you, and only you at that moment in time. Something that was very rare for the irish chatterbox.

Nathan got a little restless, so he decided to pick you up (successfully this time) and carry you to the shared bedroom. He put you down softly on the bed, and stripped himself of his clothes, but of course, he was wearing his zebra bikini briefs. They made you chuckle as you also rid yourself of your clothes. Nathan hovered above you, worshipping your body. He took you in, all of you, and he took his place between your legs, not entering you yet. His mouth gravitated to your breasts, more specifically your nipples. He suckled them, softly, treating them too tender, much too unlike his usual demeanor. You whimpered at his antics, and moaned at his tiny bites against your flesh. He switched sides, and while he was playing with you, one of his hands reached down to touch over your folds, forcing a moan from you. Nathan kissed down your body, leaving a trail of purple and red along your torso. He made his way over your pubic mound, then immediately placed your clit under his tongue, kissing and biting it. This action was met with your loud gasps, then taking a hold of Nathan’s head, and thrusting against it. He looked up at you while he worked, and made his way down to your hole, prodding it with his tongue, forcing the muscle inside of you.

Wet kisses and breathy moans filled the air, Nathan trying his hardest to get you over the edge before his hand working him to orgasm does. His tongue slurps away at your excretements, and whenever he takes small breaks to breathe, your slick covers his face, even wetting some of his curls. Just as you’d almost reached your orgasm, you yanked him back towards you, mumbling an idea.

“I want to 69 with you. We don't have to be standing, I just want to share feelings.” you say, breathless.

Nathan softly nods, and places his leg over your hip, settling his mouth once again over your sex. You take his dick into your mouth as soon as he gets back to licking your pussy, trying to work as quickly as he does. Luckily, Nathan loves receiving blowjobs, so you had your work cut out smoothly. You ran your tongue over the vein prominent on the bottom of his dick, and kitten licked the tip, sending Nathan into a frenzy below, uh, above you. Every time you bobbed your head on his length, he let out a harsh breath on your hole, grunting against it. Soon enough, the two of you reached a reasonable pace, and Nathan bent his knees, lightly mouth fucking you. You groaned along his length, and he replied back, biting another mark on your vagina. At this point in time, you started taking his balls and sucking on them, quickly jerking him off in replacement of your mouth. Nathan started speeding up his licks on your pussy, as he was being worked closer to his edge, and wanted it to be a mutual orgasm. You did an old party trick, and slipped both his cock and balls into your mouth, moving your mouth over both bits, teasing him to no end. He came with a high moan and a grunt, and you swallowed every last drop, wishing that you could make him cum a second time.

Nathan stopped making efforts to please you when he came, as he could be a bit sensitive sometimes, but he slipped into your wet heat before you could even get a joke out. Your breath caught in your throat as Nathan thrust into you, wasting no time in trying to get you to orgasm. Somewhere off in the distance, the song Don’t Disturb This Groove started playing, and you’d forgotten to put a sock on the door before the two of you crashed on the bed. That was the least of your worries as Nathan softly made love to you, as his libido calmed down after his orgasm, but not too terribly much, as he wanted you to reach that beautifully erotic peak as soon as possible. He bent his head and kissed your lips, only doing so to cover his own moans, his hips working in succession with your mouths. He made little sounds, doing quite a shitty job at hiding them as his hips picked up with a new vigor, working to bring you closer. His cock slipped in and out of your vagina, still stretching it with his girth, and hitting just the right spot, just left of your cervix. You let him know by tightening again, sending you straight to that euphoria filled abyss. Your knees bent around his back, Nathan tensing up as you tilted your head back, and came against his cock, thrusting up to meet him, riding through the waves.

Your body had a long time for recovery, and Nathan helped you with the aftershocks, kissing your neck, and meeting your eyes with his own. When you were ready, he pulled out, and went to go get the two of you cleaned up. You were still sensitive, as was Nathan, after your little adventures throughout the day, and he cuddled up against you on your bed, making himself the big spoon, even though he longed to be the little one.

“You okay, Nathan?” you ask him, brushing a spare curl from his forehead.

He nods against your flesh, sighing against it, and grabbing your hand from underneath the covers. He smiled into your neck, and you turned into his chest, nuzzling up close. He fell asleep quite quickly, snoring quietly above you. Your face took its place on Nathan’s shoulder, and you hitched a leg over his hip, content for the time being.

Masterlist

#nathan young #nathan young smut #nathan young imagine #nathan young x reader

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sardonic-courtney · 4 years ago

Text

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. P3/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Mention of loss, Spelling mistakes, you go to church?

Around 2500 words.

Let’s Get Coffee.

“Yay thank you” You yelled heading up the stairs to get changed…

Training went well, although you didn’t really do much. Bobby who was still reluctant helped you to shoot inanimate objects and some basic hand to hand combat with no weapons, because in his words “you won’t always have a weapon on you so that’s the best place to start.” You are pretty sure it’s just because he is buying time before the brothers come into town so they can deal with the more athletic training. Not because Bobby wasn’t good, he was but he was quite impatient and not the best Teacher.

Time Skip to the Next Saturday Night brought to you by Juliet.

The last week consisted of a few training lessons here and there, you were starting to get really good with a gun, and to Bobby’s ‘luck’ he did some blade training and you actually weren’t half bad. Right now, you were eating takeaway, 8pm, on the sofa with Bobby watching some old tv show.

“So kid, Winchesters are coming round tomorrow. Want me to pick you up from church to save you walking so you can see the two idjits sooner, I know you miss them”. He said emphasising miss in a teasing manor.

“Oh yeah soo much” You replied rolling your eyes. “But no, I’m good, I’m actually going out after for some coffee”.

“So, you and Lena finally meeting outside of church?”

“Nope”

“Wait so who are you meeting with then? A new boyfriend of yours? If so, I want to meet him first.”

“What? No, I’m not completely sure, just a group of us meeting up after church.”

“What do you mean you don’t know. Who asked you? That old woman that lives next to the church because if so, I wouldn’t go she will just talk everyone’s ear of about her cats”

“No, the Priest actually just to share ideas about the bible after.”

“Right well err have a good time?” He replied unsure

“Thanks Bobby I’m gonna head up now and sort everything out and go to bed”

“Don’t use up all my water, I’ll see you after your coffee, call me if you want a lift.”

“will do, night”

“Night kid.”

*Beep Beep* Your alarm read 8:30 Sunday. You go up and got showered and dressed. You opted for an outfit which made you look good but it was still simple and casual, whether you were trying a bit harder because you were seeing Crowley or because the boys were coming you wouldn’t say. You grabbed an easy snack and decided to take the scenic route as you had 30 minutes to get there and you didn’t want to wait around. You arrived exactly at 9:32 and waited a few minutes before walking in, no sign of Lena anywhere, strange. Your seats however remained empty, so you sat once again on the seconded row back. Just as you received a message.

Lena- Sorry my mums not feeling well so I’ve had to take my brother to football. Hope service is good.

(Y/N)- No problem, have fun at football.

You replied before muting your phone and sliding it away just as Crowley came out.

“Good Morning…………………………………Thank you all for coming. Bless you all and I shall see you next week.”

Looking up at the clock reading 10:30, everyone stood up and headed out the door, you however being unsure of where you were going for coffee waited at the end of the pew, letting other passed. You didn’t really focus on the topic at hand but hoped you could blag your way through the teachings of rich man and Lazarus. As everyone left Crowley once again was behind you smiling.

“(Y/N) how are you?”

“Hi, I’m good thank you, how are you doing?” you reply, once again you feel strangely flustered.

“Better now that’s over and we can go get coffee.”

“Oh yeah about that where are we meeting?”

“I was thinking the little café down 3 blocks over. Small and easy to find a table.”

“Mrs Wolowitz’s?”

“Yes, That’s it”

“I think I know the way; well you better go, and I’ll meet you guys there” You say about to head off.

“I’m sorry love, you must be mistaken I meant just the two of us. If that’s alright”

“Yeah no sorry that more the fine, I just assumed.” You stuttered out. You hadn’t meant to jump to a conclusion but that seemed more likely then just you two going out for coffee. Alone in a small café. Damn it (Y/N) stop thinking again.

“Do you want to follow me in my car? In case you get lost?”

“Oh um.” You awkwardly laughed. “I actually walk here so I’ll get it up on my phone”

“No, no don’t be stupid you’re going in my car.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”

“No come on let’s go.”

The car ride was short and pretty much silent but not awkward. You were nervous but also happy you weren’t going to be stuck with a bunch of old Christians arguing about meanings. Before you got out the car, he took his clerical collar of leaving him in a normal black shirt. You got out, got a table and ordered your drinks, and reluctantly allowed Crowley to pay.

“So, Y/N how did you find todays service?” Crowley asked looking straight at you for an answer.

“Oh um, it was good” you replied suddenly feeling nervous and unsure of how to answer. You were sat in a café, with an attractive Pastor whose stare seemed to go straight through you.

“Anything to add? Any views on the passage?” Crowley said seeming slightly distracted.

“Not really no. Sorry maybe you start an idea and I’ll add?”

“I don’t really have any either, well to be honest with you I would rather get to know you then your views on the bible.”

“Me?” you smiled, this just got better now it’s apparent you probably aren’t going to be sat discussing the bible over the next half hour or so.

“Yes you” he replied a small smile resting on his lips.

“Well what do you want to know?” you didn’t really know what sort of thing to tell him so thought it best to just ask.

“Well how about we play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yes, a game, you know an activity one engages in for fun?” his smile turning slightly into a smirk.

“Oh, thanks I didn’t know what a game was, what sort of game?”

“I ask a question and you ask one back?” he paused “if you would like, if you wanted to sit around and talk about bibles, we could ask biblical ones”

“No normal questions are fine; you can start since I don’t know what games are” you say sarcastically.

Just then the waiter came and delivered your drinks, nodding his head slightly at your companion before he left. You took a sip of your drink as Crowley moved on; this wasn’t what you though this evening would be but it’s definitely an improvement.

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

“(Y/A) {your answer}”

“Why?”

“It just seems perfect. I could see myself walking around and just admiring everything there you know?”

“Well hopefully one day you’ll go.” Crowley took a sip of his steaming drink and returned to looking at you. Really looking at you, it was weird, like he was genuinely interested in what you were saying. “I’ve been a few times and I must say the {landmark} is beautiful to visit.”

“One day I will see it, anyway you seem like you’ve been to loads of places where have you been?”

“Pretty much everywhere, I do enjoy travelling.”

“wow, I wish” you sigh out.

“Do you travel?”

“Not really, when I was younger me and my parents would move around America but that stopped a while ago.”

“Oh, how come?”

“They died so I moved in with my godfather and haven’t left town since, I know if he could we would go but he needs to stay here for work and everything and now I’m blabbing on again sorry.” You said it more as a fact mentally ready for the normal oh I’m sorry and what happened and are you okay to come.

“No don’t apologise I’m interested and I’m sorry to hear about them but your godfather sounds like a good man, and maybe one day you can travel again, maybe even the world, what do you plan on being in the future?”

“Definitely the plan, and I’m not sure yet. What about you have you always dreamed of being a pastor?”

“No, definitely not. I’m only a substitute pastor anyway if there’s such a thing.”

“what do you do then when you’re not?”

“I guess you could say I’m a businessman, I mainly make deals and such.”

“oh, is that why you always travel?” You say looking down at your drink and sipping.

“Exactly why my job requires a lot of popping to places. Now if you will humour me, I’m curious, you go to church but don’t seem completely religious, is that so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but I notice you zoning out during teaching and you just seem… I don’t know how to put it.”

“Well if I’m honest I’m not sure about it really. The whole believing in God thing. I mean I’m sure he’s there, but I don’t think there’s much he can do.”

“So why go?”

“Well my mum used to always take me and well it makes me feel closer to her, I’m sorry if that offends you.”

“Not at all, not at all” he said a slight smirk on his face again.

This was weird, not in a bad way but weird. As the time passed, he started to become even less like a pastor and more like a friend. You continued sharing random stories finding out how he grew up in Scotland and all about his random like and dislikes. He was a nice guy and you no longer felt nervous. Time went by and you both ordered another drink. Now your cups were sitting empty and you were discussing what the best era would be to live through, when your phone beeps.

12:51

Bobby: Hey, hows the discussions going, what time do you think your going to leave I dont know if I can deal with them alone any longer and theyve only been here 3 hours as it is.

You: oh, sorry I didn’t realise the time, um ill finish my drink and leave soon. Tell them I say hi.

You slid your phone into you pocket and looked back up at Crowley. Wow you had been sat talking for over two hours.

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yeah everything is fine just didn’t realise the time. Sorry I’m going to have to go in a minuet I have guests over and completely forgot.”

“No problem, would you like a lift back?”

“I can walk it’s fine.”

“Please at least let me drop you of at the church, I need to pick up some things there anyway.”

“Okay.”

With that the two of you got back into his car and arrived back at the church both getting out and standing in the completely deserted parking lot.

“Thank you for the lift, and the drinks.” You smiled checking you had everything and looking up at him.

“No problem I had a good time, and maybe if you would like I could get your number and we could do it again sometime, get to know each other a bit more, maybe over some food.”

If you didn’t know any better it would sound like a date offer, in fact part of you wishes it had been but pastors don’t date, do they?

“Yeah sounds good today was fun.” You grab your phone pulling up your number.

“I’m sorry that may not have been clear enough” he said looking at your phone and entering your number into his. “I was referring to going out on a date.”

“But you’re a priest?” you blurt out before thinking. Mentally slapping your head.

“A substitute priest love, and like you I don’t hold religion too close to my heart” he said chuckling and putting his phone away.

“Well in that case that sounds great. I better start heading back but text me.”

“I will, safe walk home, if you’re sure you don’t want a lift.”

“I’m sure, goodbye Crowley”

“Goodbye Y/N”

And with that you left. What just happened?

*Times Skip Home*

You walk through the door into the lounge greeted with the boys and bobby drinking beers and talking, coming to a halt when you walked in.

“Y/N, hey how have you been” Sam asks looking up at you smiling. Before you could answer Dean butted it.

“Y/N Bobby here tells us you’ve been out talking about the bible, please tell me you haven’t it’s like half one.”

“Nice to see you to Dean, and no I haven’t I met with a friend. I’m great thank you Sam, how are you?” you reply going to sit down before realising a pair of legs in the way. “Deans move your legs”

Reluctantly he swung them over the coffee table allowing you to sit down.

“Good thank you” you’re not sure if Sam would have continued but bobby spoke up.

“A friend? You said you were meeting with a group of you, lying, now are we?”

“what? No, I just got a bit confused we were going to talk about the service but we got distracted. But what’s more important is what you two have been up to.” You reply casually leaving out the fact you had spent the last two hours with a male and had half planned a date.

“No, what’s more important is you are 18. And we have something for you.” Sam said poking his head around Dean.

“Sammy’s right Dean said pulling something out his duffle bag. It was neatly wrapped and slightly battered around the edges. Sam definitely wrapped it.

“Guys you shouldn’t have.” You said unwrapping it. At first you saw a leather-bound book. It was bound with a rope wrapped around and decorated with a light house on the front.

“Open it up (Y/N/N)” Sam said.

Unwinding the rope, you opened it up to find postcards and pictures from the boys, all in Sam’s writing.

“We, well I thought you could have a journal to note down anything you want its always good to have one. The postcards and stuff are from each of the places me and Dean have been. We knew you wanted to go, and you always want to here stories so I thought it would be a good way to make it seem like you were there.”

“Sam it perfect thank you so much.” You stood up and hugged him before taking a seat back down noticing Dean had a scruffier package in his hand.

Accepting it and opening it Dean began.

“I’m not as thoughtful as Sam but I saw this, and thought would like it.”

It was a rope necklace with a stone on the end. Under the stone was a small piece of card with a handwritten message explaining the stones properties of protection and healing. You read it and put it on twiddling the stone in your fingers (You can change stone to your liking).

“It’s beautiful Dean thank you very much” you say leaning over to hug him.

“I’m glad” he says pulling back smiling.

The evening goes on, you order food and joke with each other, Bobby leaving to go to bed and the three of you falling asleep sprawled out on the couch and armchair around 11pm

Wow that was long and mainly build up, but don’t worry romance will be in the next one. I hope you enjoyed this though, thanks for reading.

#crowley #Crowley Supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley x y/n #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #xreader

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years ago

Note

“After all, who doesn’t need a friend who has dirt on everyone?”

(OOC: This is a rare time that I’m writing actual Marauders continuity instead of alt-Marauders continuity. Let’s say this takes place shortly after Kate’s resurrection but before Emma and Kate’s ridiculous beat-down of Shaw.)

“We’re not exactly friends, though, are we Shaw?” Pyro shifted uncomfortably in the fine leather arm-chair that Sebastian had insisted he occupy. He was vaguely aware that there was some kind of bad blood between Shaw and Emma Frost, who was technically his “boss,” he supposed. And why on earth would a Quiet Council member invite him for a private meeting? Either Shaw was trying to bang him (that was a “maybe”), or he had some kind of dirty work in mind, the only reason the mutants “on high” would talk to someone like him. Pyro’s guard was up automatically.

“No,” Sebastian admitted. “And I doubt we will ever be. But we can maintain a cordial relationship that might be....mutually beneficial.”

Pyro sighed. This was exactly the kind of weaselly beating-around-the-bush he expected from the high society types. Never willing to get their own hands dirty, never willing to even outright state aloud the atrocities that they set into action. He took a generous gulp of the whiskey, and decided that it wasn’t worth staying for however long it would take Shaw to indirectly suggest that he’d like Pyro to commit just a teeny little spot of arson.

“Let’s not muck about, Shaw. You obviously want something from me. What do you want?”

“I see you prefer to be direct. I can respect that. I don’t like to waste time, myself,” Sebastian nodded, apparently willing to ignore the rudeness. “You are in a unique position to bring me valuable information.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You see, I have reason to fear that the White Queen is using the Hellfire Trading Company for her own selfish purposes. Trust me, I’ve worked with her for many years. The woman is a snake. Constantly playing games.”

“I didn’t know snakes played games. Unless you mean that one with the ladders.”

“Don’t be flip, Allerdyce, this is a serious situation, and a unique opportunity for you.” A bit of the charm had dropped out of Sebastian’s voice as he continued. “I know she has Kate wrapped around her finger, the poor naive child, even though Emma’s own manipulations led to the girl’s unfortunate death. And the others onboard are no match for Emma. Iceman is just as naive as Pryde, and Storm and Bishop are too noble and high-minded to be able to counter the White Queen’s treachery. But you. You don’t have the same ideals. You are a practical man. You understand that the world is a dark, vicious place. I need you to be my man inside the crew. Pass along information about the missions. For the sake of Krakoa, and your own crewmates. Together perhaps we can prevent any more....tragedies.”

Pyro wasn’t entirely sure he believed any of that. But he also couldn’t say he entirely trusted that Frost woman. Of course, she HAD carefully arranged a psychic trick to get Yellowjacket out of his body without harm, even though the resurrections meant that it wouldn’t have really mattered if that horrid bug-man had exploded him from the inside. Plus she’d let him burn those awful children for a sadly short time. That counted for something, in Pyro’s book.

“If I’m so worldly and cynical as you say, surely you can’t imagine I’ll just take your word for all of this,” Pyro grinned, leaning back and finishing the glass of whiskey. “Or that I’ll do anything ‘for the good of Krakoa.’ Even if I did believe you, you’re asking me to take on a dangerous job that’ll piss off not one, but three Council members if I’m caught. And I’m not keen to get kicked off that boat, which would be the very least they would do.”

“Of course I wouldn’t expect you to work for free,” Sebastian said, leaning forward to refill Pyro’s glass of whiskey. “I recognize the risk involved, and I will see you handsomely rewarded. Surely you can see the resources I have available.” Shaw gestured at the impressive drawing room, just a small section of the luxurious Blackstone Keep. “And that’s just wealth. I have connections, political power. The question is, Pyro - what do you want for yourself?”

That was.....a damn good question, actually. Since coming out of the cocoon with the Brotherhood disassembled, Mystique acting distant, Blob playing bartender, Phantazia MIA and Avalanche bloody dead, he’d just been drifting with the wind. Or rather, drifting with the ocean currents.

“I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that the rest of the crew occupies far more privileged positions than yourself. Bishop, a Captain. Emma, Kate and Storm on the Council. Iceman lacks political power in Krakoa, but has become something of a minor celebrity among the humans. They all live in luxury on this island, where all mutants matter but some clearly matter more than others. And meanwhile, I believe you are still spending most of your time in Krakoa at the Brotherhood compound.”

Pyro had a nice little hut in the area that they all shared. It was all he really needed, and very convenient for game nights. Which often turned into drinking-fighting-and-ripping-the-game-board-in-half nights, but it was all in good fun.

“Yeah, you really seem to care about economic disparity on the island with your giant castle and all that,”

“I’ll not apologize for the wealth that I’ve earned,” Sebastian said. “I’m offering you an opportunity to earn some of your own, with relatively easy labor. Be my eyes onboard the Marauder, and I’ll see to it that your life is vastly improved, however you see fit. As a reward for your service to Krakoa, of course.”

Pyro gulped down the entire glass of whiskey again, hoping that the jolt as it hit his chest might bring some clarity.

He wasn’t keen on betraying team-mates. Once he was on a team, he was there for that team. He’d only betrayed his team once, the last-minute “heroic” mistake of a dying man.

But he was also very keen on bumping Avalanche up the resurrection queue. Surely Sebastian could flex his authority to move things along, something even Mystique hadn’t bothered to do. He could imagine himself and Avalanche living in a castle like this, but with more fancy cars, big-screen TV’s and titty posters.

Assuming that Shaw was telling the truth about any of this. Assuming that Shaw was successful going up against three Council members at once. Assuming that Shaw would actually follow through on his promises and not immediately throw Pyro under the bus. It was something the powerful mutants tended to do with lackeys. Pyro had many years experience as a lackey to back that up.

In the end, Pyro supposed it came down to this - who did he trust? The corrupt businessman who might generously reward his service? Or the squeaky-clean X-types who might kick him off the boat or even into the pit if he got a little too enthusiastic with his fire?

Who would have his back, when it came down to it?

Pyro made his decision, and poured himself more whiskey.

“Shaw, I think we can work something out. Let me tell you everything I know.”

____________________________________

20 minutes later, Sebastian Shaw had learned that Iceman was cheating on Christian Frost with Bishop, who was also carrying on a passionate affair with Storm, and that Kate had come back “wrong” in her resurrection, but was hiding her ill health from crew-mates while searching for a cure. Jumbo Carnation had been secretly captured by a human anti-mutant group and brainwashed into being a sleeper agent assassin, but had been subdued by Callisto who had taken him off for deprogramming in the Swiss Alps while also rekindling her love of fashion modelling. “Storm” had actually been replaced by her evil twin sister “Zalastorm” who stole her powers and appearance, while trapping the real Storm in the Negative zone. Christian Frost was somehow pregnant. And Emma was being haunted by five identical psychic ghosts that represented the loss of her childhood innocence.

It was, quite possibly, the most obvious steaming pile of bullshit Shaw had ever heard. Like something out of a dreadful daytime soap opera. Downright insulting.

“You know, you could have just said ‘no,’ Allerdyce. There was no need to waste both of our time.”

“It hasn’t been a waste of my time,” Pyro said cheerfully, drinking again. “I’ve been having great fun.” Sebastian reached out and snatched the glass away. Whiskey was for people who were useful, not obnoxious “guests” now overstaying their welcome.

“You’ve thrown away a tremendous opportunity for the sake of what? A cheap joke? You really are as stupid as everyone says you are.”

“No, I’m not,” Pyro said, suddenly straightening up with a serious expression. “I know who really has my back. Those X-Men might be self-righteous pricks, but they’ve looked out for me since I came aboard. They treated me like a team-mate. I doubt you’d do the same.”

“I would have treated you with the respect that you earned,” Sebastian said honestly. “Which, at the moment, is less than nothing. Get out.”

“Suits me fine,” Pyro said. He snatched up the whiskey and took a long chug directly from the bottle, winking at Sebastian as he did so. Sebastian yanked the bottle back. Not because it was worth anything now, but because he wasn’t going to give Allerdyce the satisfaction of walking away with it. He grabbed the Australian mutant by the collar, dragged him to a window, and tossed him down into the turbulent waters of the bay, taking some small satisfaction in the splash. Pyro could probably swim to the shore. Probably.

He spun and tossed the whiskey into the fireplace, flames flaring up as it shattered. A 25 year-old bottle of Chivas Regal, $425. Thank God he hadn’t wasted any of the good whiskey on trash like Allerdyce.

Sebastian needed another plan. Pyro might run and tattle. Emma had made it clear that she wanted his head. And Kate had seemed smugly hostile at her resurrection party. After some thought, he sent out a summons to his worthless son, and the slightly less worthless Fenris. A storm was obviously coming, and Shaw would be a fool to sit alone in his castle unprepared. And anyone who knew Sebastian - who knew him and truly understood his character - would know that he was no fool.

(OOC again: I’m afraid this might have leaned too far in the direction of Pyro making a fool of Shaw, which really wasn’t my intention, especially after that last Marauders issue. Instead, this was meant to be ‘Sebastian makes an offer, and Pyro acts like his obnoxious asshole self.’ Also, I stole the joke about Sebastian thinking of really expensive alcohol as something that can be ‘thrown away’ on someone like Pyro directly from your own excellent writing.)

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 2

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, possibly gratuitous fashion description

WC: 5.3k

-------------

Niall drops his head and leans into the final note, squinting and scrunching his face as he riddles out this one song that’s been driving him up a wall for almost a week. He feels a flicker of inspiration, reaches for it as he looks out the window toward the balcony of his Hollywood Hills home. His brow furrows, his fingers wind up to strike the strings again, and--

Buzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzbuzz.

He swears under his breath and tosses the acoustic beside him on the couch. He can’t admit to himself that he’s grateful for the distraction, so he decides to be annoyed with whomever is calling.

Shawny Boi.

He sighs. He can’t be annoyed with Shawn. It’s like being annoyed with a labradoodle puppy.

“Hey, mate.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Niall laughs. Shawn’s voice is bright and edging toward chipper. He can hear his doofy, multi-million dollar smile through the phone. And Niall knows who put it there.

“I guess that first date was good, then?”

Shawn, pacing around barefoot in his kitchen, grins eagerly and strokes a hand through his messy curls. “Oh… man. Dude, it was… so good. I should’ve done this years ago.”

Niall, bemused, shimmies further into the cushions of his couch, trying not to feel like the old and wise man Shawn sees him as. “Shawny, you’re 21. How long ago are you talkin’ about?”

Shawn laughs, bubbly and strange somehow, like he’s high. Niall’s seen Shawn high when they’ve smoked weed together. He doesn’t get giggly, he gets philosophical. And hungry.

This is a different high altogether.

“You know what I mean, man. Feels good, feels like I can like… handle shit now. Y’know? Like I was so tired and didn’t even realize it and then I got to sleep for like two full days and I’m all good again.”

Niall’s familiar with the feeling. His first date with Karina was similarly revitalizing. He was bouncing off the walls for a week. He nods in understanding.

“‘S a great feeling, havin’ someone take all the pressure off and force you to just… feel good.”

“Yeah,” Shawn answers dreamily, “I just wanted to like, thank you again. I think this kinda saved my ass.”

Niall smiles to himself and bounces his bad knee, glancing out the window. “Gonna see her again, then?”

“Definitely. I’m gonna call again today.”

Niall’s knee slows. He bites his lip and tilts his head from side to side. “Listen, mate, just don’t get attached. I know it feels good, but it still doesn’t compare to something… real.”

Shawn bobs his head at the reality he’s been trying to remind himself of in the 24 hours since she slipped back into her Roger Vivier heels and left him in bed with a kiss on the cheek and a glint in her warm, tired eyes. He drops his head and rolls it, stretching his neck.

“Yeah, no, I mean, I know. I just feel like I got so much shit pent up over the last few months. And I’m about to go home for a week and then this whole festival thing is lined up to kick my ass all summer, plus I’ll be flying back and forth to LA to be seen with Bex, so… I’m just… I dunno.”

It’s a weak explanation. He huffs, his chest deflating, indignant at the idea of having to explain himself at all. He’s a grown man, he can do what he wants with his time and money and attention. He needs this. It’s therapeutic. It’s good for him. And it feels so fucking good.

Niall rubs a hand against the scruff under his chin. “Hey, it’s all you, mate. Whatever you wanna do. I’m glad it’s helped.”

“Yeah. Thanks again, dude. I’ll see ya soon.”

Shawn hangs up and, with color in his cheeks, skims through his contacts to find La Splendeur saved under the name “Dentist,” just in case. His hand shakes a little as he holds the phone to his ear.

The temperature change leaving the LA heat wave outdoors to stepping into Silver’s 6 bedroom Beverly Hills modern monstrosity of a home has Penny wincing and cursing herself for not remembering a jacket. Twice a month they have this meeting, always in the quiet security of Silver’s house rather than discussing business out in the open, and nearly every time Penny sits and shivers.

“Welcome home, love.”

Silver’s voice rings through the high-ceilinged foyer, crisp and lightly accented by British boarding school and Cambridge. Penny looks up to see her on the landing above in a white Theory pantsuit that’s tailored so sharply she looks untouchable. Penny smiles. Home, indeed.

Silver’s steps down the staircase are quiet, despite the sleek marble beneath her stilettoed feet. Despite the facade of the outfit, she takes Penny in her arms and kisses her cheeks three times, offering her arm to guide them into the living room where a full Japanese tea service waits.

Silver’s friendship is an odd and somehow comforting mix of formality and family. Penny’s never seen her underdressed, or sick, or overly emotional. And despite Silver’s perceived coldness, reflected in her choice of home and interior decorating, Penny has always felt safe and loved in her presence, ever since Silver first hired her as an escort at 20.

Penny, respectfully also in business formal, a pale pink Max Mara pencil dress and creamy nude Louboutins (a gift from Silver for her birthday), perches on the edge of the snowy white chaise and faces her best friend.

Silver sweeps a lock of dark hair behind her ear and grins.

“So how was it?”

Penny’s face lights up. She drums her fingers against her knee and tries to play coy. “Spectacular.”

“Good, tell me everything.”

Penny lifts a cleanly filled brow. “Hard up, are we?”

Silver chuckles and eyes the tea service. “Have you ever known me to be without?”

Silver, long since retired from escorting herself, has had a long line of pretty young things hanging around since Penny has known her, but never for very long. Last Penny heard, Yvette, a fresh faced lingerie model from Nice, was the flavor of the month. Silver doesn’t spend a night alone if she doesn’t want to.

Penny cedes with a nod and a smirk. “So you’re just girlishly curious?”

Silver lifts a toned shoulder and sips her tea. “It’s nice to see how the other half lives sometimes. And it’s good business for me to know what clients like him can be like. Makes me a better manager.”

Silver launched La Splendeur two years after hiring Penny with the idea that Silver would largely oversee the personnel -- drivers, girls, clients -- and Penny with her head for business would run the logistics -- the books, legal, and some of the legitimate earnings attached to La Splendeur that keeps curious eyes from gazing too close. They became partners, each sharing equal cuts of the profits, each assigned to manage the parts of the organization where they had the most acumen.

This bimonthly meeting is designed to keep both ends running smoothly as well as serving as an excuse for two busy friends to meet up under legitimate circumstances. Silver doesn’t often show much interest in Penny’s dates after they’ve been vetted and approved. Penny wonders what it is about Shawn that has her curious.

“He was very nervous. We did a lot of work to get him to let go. Honestly, he’s one of the trickier clients I’ve seen in a while. But once I got him there…”

Penny’s eyes flutter shut as she revisits her night with Shawn. Even after she made him come twice in a row in her hand, he had more for her. They were up most of the night with brief naps in between wild, uncontrollable orgasms. Truthfully, Penny’s not sure she’s ever had such an enthusiastic first date with a client. She’s been on cloud nine for days thinking about how calm and deeply satisfied he looked the next morning.

When she looks back at Silver, her intensely dark eyes are gleaming mischievously. Penny rolls her own.

“I’m glad he enjoyed himself. He called to rebook you. You have a room at The London tomorrow night at 9.”

Penny tries not to lick her lips insatiably but Silver knows her too well. She releases an echo-y, delighted laugh.

“Seems like maybe you have a new favorite?” she guesses.

Penny’s eyes drop to her own half-drunk cup of tea. “We’ll see. Some guys like this, they start hot and heavy and lose steam fast. Maybe he just needs this boost and he’ll be on his merry pop star way.”

Silver, ever unnervingly wise and all-seeing, nods and glances out her windows that look out onto the Los Angeles skyline. “Maybe.”

Penny feels the hair raise on the back of her neck and swallows, reaching for her laptop. “Let’s go over this month.”

Shawn recognizes the guy in the dark suit standing outside the room when he gets off the elevator with Winston Churchill on the doors. He offers him a shaky smile, trying not to imagine what he must be thinking about why Shawn is seeing this woman twice in one week. Shawn’s been trying not to look too closely at that himself since he booked the second date.

Gus, Shawn thinks his name is, gives a nod at the wire transfer confirmation on Shawn’s phone screen and lets him in.

The room is more standard glam-modern hotel vibes than the Chateau. It’s just a little cold, very clean, basic art, matching furniture. Shawn’s eyes skim over it, unfocused. They fix on the hardcased luggage sitting discreetly in the corner. His fingers twitch, imagining what’s inside it.

He sits on the end of the bed this time instead of in the lounge area where he felt a little more innocent and less like he was waiting for a prostitute to come nail him into a hole in the mattress.

Despite his eagerness for tonight and his relative comfort, having spent the night with her once before, Shawn feels some nerves creeping through his forced calm. He wonders for a moment if he won’t get used to it, waiting for her, never really forgetting the circumstances that brought them both here.

Not that he plans to continue seeing her for much longer. Just until the festivals start, maybe once or twice after when he’s back in LA getting papped with Bex at a Starbucks with his hand in her back pocket or something. His jaw tightens slightly, and then the door opens.

Penny is glowing in an emerald green cocktail dress that clings to her every curve and ends dangerously high on her sculpted, bronzed thighs. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted down the center and back over her shoulders. Her toes are painted to match her dress. Shawn shivers and wonders if she did it on purpose, if she’s been planning her outfit for him.

Shut up, his brain tells him, Why would she do that? She doesn’t need to impress you. You’re a sure thing.

The corner of his mouth lifts. He stands and smoothes his sweaty palms down the front of his inky black jeans. Gus shuts the door behind her. She smiles like she’s been waiting for this.

“Hey, you.”

Any remaining nerves vanish. Her voice is like heroin in his bloodstream. His eyes drift shut, his head falls back for a moment as he revels in her comfort.

“Hi, Penny.”

She steps forward in heeled black sandals with a jeweled brooch around each ankle strap. He takes his time looking her up and down, then feels a flash of guilt when his eyes settle on her pretty face.

She seems to know what’s on his mind. She stops before him and rests her hand on his cheek.

“It’s ok. You can look. Can even touch, if you’d like.”

The words have his fingers twitching hard where they rest at his sides. He swallows and proceeds with caution, keeping his eyes focused on hers, lined and smoky tonight, to watch her reaction.

He rests his hands on her bare upper arms, stroking her skin with his rough, calloused thumbs. Carefully, slowly, he drags them up over her narrow shoulders, brushing along the line of her collarbones, teasing the warm skin of her throat. His mouth waters. He curls his hands down over her shoulder blades, finding with a noticeable hitch in his breathing that the dress has a very low back. His fingers skate over naked skin, following the hollow of her back and stopping above the swell of her ass to fold around her hips, admiring the feel of the deep green silk.

He releases a ragged breath and closes his eyes. “I couldn’t wait. I n-needed to see you again this week before I go home for a while.”

When he opens his eyes, he sees her nodding gently, raising a hand to cup the back of his neck. She steps a little closer until they’re chest to chest, or as close as they can be considering the height difference.

“And how do you feel now that I’m here?”

Shawn smiles a little -- at her, at his own willingness to be totally honest with her. He wets his lips and says, “Like I’m amazed I waited a whole four days.”

Satisfied, Penny hums from the back of her throat and leads him down to kiss her. She starts slow, gentle against his mouth, brushing little soft kisses over his top and bottom lips like she’s memorizing the shape of them. Her free hand, by contrast, drags tight and hungry up his swollen bicep, squeezing as she goes, stopping to grip his shoulder.

He’s obedient for her despite his urge to take more than what she’s giving. He keeps his returning kisses as light as hers, but she’s holding him so tight he knows she can feel how hard he’s trying. It makes her smile and coo into his mouth. She pulls away slightly, massaging the back of his neck.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs without taking his eyes off hers. She chuckles.

“Thank you, so do you.”

Shawn laughs and starts to duck his head. Penny’s hand holds him firm and guides his lips back to hers. These are real kisses now. He groans into her mouth, opens wider so she can tease his tongue the way she likes. His hands draw her hips in closer until they’re pressed against his. He starts to lead them toward the bed, but Penny stands firm.

“What do you want?” he pants softly, his forehead tilted against hers. He hears her lips pull into a smile.

“Your mouth.”

Shawn’s nervous system goes erratic. His eyes snap open, his hands sink harder into the fabric around her hips, he pants against her cheek.

“Really?”

If he had any self awareness right now, he’d flinch and squirm at the timid excitement in his voice. Good thing he’s too fucked for her to notice.

Penny gently detangles herself from his grasp and nods toward the bed. He sits on the end, legs spread, his elbows on his knees as he vibrates in place waiting for her. Now it’s Penny’s turn to look him over.

He looks less tired than he did when she met him. His eyes are a little brighter, his skin a little clearer, his shoulders a little further from his ears. She lets the power of it flood her system, feels that old animal that lives inside her stretch its legs and awaken for another night with him.

She did that. She gave him that. She took a man who needed her, who needed release and comfort and affection and she gave it to him tenfold. She took something a little broken and made it brand fucking new. And now she gets to let loose a little more, build upon the foundation she started.

He’s looking at her like he did last time, waiting to see her when she bares herself to him. She wets her lips, painted a light mauve color, and steps closer, heightening the tension.

“Are… uhm, are you gonna take your clothes off?” he asks hopefully.

Penny lifts a shoulder with a smirk. “No need.”

His face falls a little. She grins, or more just bares her teeth, and lifts a toned leg to press the sole of her shoe to his chest. Shawn inhales sharply and lets it nudge him back to lie against the bed, blinking up at the ceiling.

She watches his broad chest rise and fall, picking up speed as the anticipation builds. She gazes at him hungrily, at his large hands running up and down his thick thighs as he self-soothes. She can feel him trying not to lift his head to look at her. Her patience runs thin.

Penny lifts herself over him, one knee on either side of his torso, climbing on top of him carefully until she’s centered above his pretty face.

“Shit. You weren’t wearing panties this whole time?”

His voice is squeaky and breathless. Penny tips her head back and laughs, tugging her skirt up.

“They don’t really work with this dress,” she explains, reaching down to curl a lock of his hair around her finger.

He learned from their first night together not to touch her until she tells him to, so his arms rest limp by his sides, despite how badly he’d like to plant his hands on her hips and yank her warm cunt down to meet his mouth.

But that’s not what he’s here for. He’s not here to take, he’s here to let her give to him. He closes his eyes, recenters himself, and looks up again to see her watching him.

“Want to taste me, Shawn?”

He pauses. He nods. “Yes please.”

Penny slowly lowers her hips until she meets his face and the eager lips that are already pressing needy kisses against her folds. She hums and settles further, reaching for his arms to secure them around her as she starts to rock against him.

“I’m gonna ride your face. Just… just keep your mouth on me,” she instructs, her voice going soft and breathy as she starts to pick up speed.

Shawn is in fucking heaven.

His eyes are wide open, staring up at her as she takes what she needs from him, her clit bumping his nose with every tight stroke. His dick strains in his jeans, but neither of them seems to care. His hands fit into the dips at her waistline and hold her, supporting her as she rolls her hips.

Shawn likes oral, he always has. But this is beyond anything he’s ever experienced. He’s never had a woman use him for her pleasure like this before. He would’ve guessed it would feel odd, disconnected somehow, lacking. But with Penny, he swears he’d give her fucking anything.

Shawn groans, flattening his tongue for her to work against as she soaks his mouth and cheeks. The slick insides of her thighs make an incredible noise against his face as she moves faster and grinds harder. He can feel the tension in her legs and the erratic rise and fall of her chest. She’s getting closer. She’s going to come on his face.

Shawn moans, overwhelmed at the very idea. His toes curl in his boots. He blinks desperately up at her, watching as her tanned face flushes. Suddenly, without warning, her pretty brown eyes snap shut and she fists a hand into his curls, whining loud.

“Shawn! Oh… fuck,” she squeals, meeting her orgasm without slowing down. She continues riding him hard and he doesn’t back down either, massaging her waist and watching greedily as the motion slips her dress up her hips and shows him more of her pretty skin.

Finally, it abates and he’s left cleaning her up with his tongue, eyes fluttering drowsily, his breathing regulating in time with hers.

Penny releases his hair from her fingers and sighs, easing up on her knees. He holds her steady as her legs shake, looking pleased with himself.

Penny laughs, climbing down his stomach so she can lean in to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue. He whimpers, cupping his hand beneath her hair, letting her explore his mouth as she pleases.

“You really liked that,” she breathes. It’s not a question -- she doesn’t even really need his confirmation. She can see it all over his face, could feel it in the way he stared up for her and let her have him.

He blushes and nods, smiling. “You… yeah. Fuck, yeah. You taste amazing.”

Penny’s heart clamors against her ribs like it wants to get a look at him. She runs her hands through her now sex-fucked hair and laughs.

“Good. I want another one.”

Shawn blinks and feels a moment of deja vu bring him back to their first night. “Yeah?”

Penny nods casually, unbuckling the straps of her shoes where her legs are folded beneath her. She kicks them away, dropping them off the side of the bed and reaching back for her zipper, fumbling with the awkward angle.

Shawn perks up. “Can I help with that?”

Penny kisses the tip of his nose. “Sweet. Yes, please.”

Shawn focuses his gaze on a freckle on her collarbone while his fingers tug at her zipper. When he feels it meet resistance, he stops, looks to her for instruction, then continues undressing her when she raises her arms.

Naked on his lap, she plants her hands on his chest and admires the way his heart pulses frantically for her. She sucks his earlobe between her swollen lips and feels him sigh.

“Where do you want me, Pen?”

Penny’s lips twitch at the nickname and how quickly he’s caught on. She lifts a knee and drops onto the bed beside him with a soft thump, spreading her legs and cozying into the pillows like she owns the place. He chokes on a breath that comes up short in his chest.

“Get comfy. You’re going to be down there for a while. I want to come until I can’t anymore.”

Again, she has him floored. They experimented with his overstimulation before, and tonight she wants him to help her test her own limits. He swallows and nods eagerly.

“Yeah. Of-- of course. Yes. Do you want me to…?” He gestures down at himself, still fully clothed.

Penny, with her hair spread out around her head like a halo and a manicured fingernail between her teeth, shrugs. “Take off your jeans. I don’t want your pretty cock to suffocate.”

Shawn’s abdomen clenches and he covers the inhuman noise he makes with a weak chuckle. His “pretty cock” twitches hard, reacting to the compliment.

He ditches his boots, socks and jeans and nestles up on his stomach between her thighs, breathing softly.

“So fuckin’ pretty and wet,” he praises, shaking his head in disbelief. She smiles like she’s heard it before, and he’s sure she has.

He turns his face into her inner thigh and sucks some soft, wet skin into his mouth, releasing a muffled groan as she inhales. Reluctantly, he releases her without leaving a mark, knowing he should ask permission before he tries to go that far. His eyes flicker to hers. They’re dark and unreadable, steady on him as she waits patiently. He figures she’s not in a rush. They have all night for him to make her come. His own needs are barely a blip on his radar. He’s focused on her, on her flushed pink folds, her clenching stomach, her full, touchable breasts.

She might need to beg him to leave her alone once she lets him loose. He’s not going to want to come up for air ever again.

Shawn takes a deep breath and dives in, humming as he sucks her inner labia into his mouth. Penny’s hips shift, her body melting into the bed gracefully as she relaxes. Shawn eyes her from over the soft curve of her stomach, easing up to swipe his tongue against her slowly and watch how she reacts to every little move he makes.

If she can study him, he can study her, too, learn exactly how she likes to be touched, to be tasted, to be fucked. He wants to know everything, wants to internalize it so he can attempt to bring her a fraction of the bliss she’s brought him. By the way her back arches slightly when he flicks at the hood of her clit, he’s making progress.

Shawn has officially lost count of her orgasms.

He’s past painfully hard and it’s becoming more and more apparent that he needs to come or he’s gonna, like, die, but he refuses to break and beg for it.

They’ve taken short breaks, but he hasn’t left her, receding only as far as her inner thighs that he sucks and lavishes with kisses while they talk quietly as she recovers. He tells her about his trip home next week, about having to get on the road for the festival tour soon after. He mumbles hopes and nerves and dreams and concerns as she runs her fingers through his hair and asks thoughtful questions even after four or five orgasms, so her brain is more mush than useful. But he shows no signs of wanting to go anywhere, especially now that he’s learned the tricks that get her loud and twitchy and coming hard on his needy tongue. So they lie there on the bed in the same position, right into the small hours of the morning.

Shawn hums gratefully as he sweeps up her next orgasm, relishing the shivers he feels as he holds the base of her ribcage. He grunts and noses at her neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair, sighing hot and loud against her folds.

“Yes?” she chuckles.

He shifts uncomfortably against the bed and lifts his gaze, looking like a guilty puppy.

“I’m… nothing. It’s ok.”

Penny comes up on shaky forearms and traces her soft toes up his back, snagging at the t-shirt he’s still wearing.

“You sure? You don’t need anything?” she whispers. His ears go red. She’s teasing him. He juts his chin out stubbornly and shakes his head, focuses instead on tonguing circles around her throbbing clit. He watches in satisfaction as her abdomen tenses and she releases an involuntary grunt of approval as her body beckons to him.

“You’ve been hard for a couple hours. Keep grinding your hips against the bed. Wouldn’t you rather me help you come?”

Shawn’s eyes fix on hers tentatively. He’s not sure how she wants him to proceed. He wasn’t going to ask, he really wasn’t. But at the idea that he might get to come soon, his cock pulses in his boxers, still leaking in the same spot.

“Only… if you want me to.”

Penny beams down at him in a way that has him hiding his face in her slick inner thigh. She strokes his curls, encouraging him to look at her.

“I want you to ask me nicely.”

Shawn heaves a sigh. He noses curiously at her clit, presses a little kiss to her folds.

“May I please come now?”

His voice is soft and quiet. He’s not used to begging.

Not yet, anyway.

Penny keeps her fingers moving through his hair, waiting for more.

“Say it again, Shawn.”

“I… please, Penny. I’ve been so good. Please let me come for you?”

She blinks slowly, lazily, drugged by the power he so freely drops into her hands. At her reaction, he swallows and continues.

“Please,” he hisses, pressing more needy kisses to anywhere he can reach, “Penny, I’ll come so good for you. I’m so fucking hard. Just want to come once and then I’ll keep eating your fucking perfect pussy. Please, Penny, I want to come.”

The corners of her mouth lift in a dangerous grin. She bobs her head, pushing at his hair so he’ll ease back from between her legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

Shawn sits up and yanks at the collar, throwing it over his head. His chest is pink, heavily flushed from their hours of fucking. Her eyes scrape over his every curve and angle, and she’d be lying to herself if she thought it wasn’t mostly to keep him waiting for her. She pulls her legs together, rubbing her wet thighs as she considers him.

“Boxers, too.”

Shawn stands for expediency’s sake and drops them without ceremony, kicking them off his ankles. His hands curl into fists to keep himself from grabbing at his swollen pink cock.

Penny licks her lips obscenely. She eyes him, head cocked, and crooks her finger. He climbs back onto the bed.

“Come here,” she whispers, flattening her legs and waving him forward.

Unsure of what she wants, unable to do anything but follow her lead, Shawn kneewalks on either side of her until he straddles her torso, positioned over her chest.

Penny smirks as she looks him over, lets her hands wander over his tensed thighs, his rippling stomach, his slim hips and tight little ass. Shawn’s toes curl. His hands stay at his sides.

“Wanna watch you touch yourself. Wanna feel you come on my tits, would you like that?”

He chokes on air. Would he like that? Jesus Christ.

He nods frantically, curling a fist around his cock. His whole body shakes with a relieved sigh. As her small hands smooth up and down his quads, he pumps in and out of his fist, scrunching his face at the filthy sound of it.

“Oh, fuck,” he swears, shaking his head, “Fuck, I love being good for you.”

When he can manage to open his eyes, Penny is staring up at him in wonder, looking between his face and his thrusting hips. She bites down on her lower lip.

“Good. God, you’re so fucking hot, so hard for me.”

Shawn hangs his head, groaning loud and unabashed as his orgasm starts to coil hot in his lower abdomen.

“Penny… gonna come. Gonna come on your pretty tits.”

Penny wets her lips and tries not to look like she’s aching for it. She closes her eyes briefly, brushes her hands up around his hips to grip the cheeks of his ass.

Her eyes open.

“Shawn, are you my good boy?”

She brings a hand down hard on his right cheek, the resounding smack of skin on skin propelling him forward through the wall of his orgasm.

He screams, breathing into a growl of her name, spurting hard onto her chest. His hips snap desperately, his hand pumps his cock through one of the strongest orgasms he’s ever had. His head falls forward to rest against the cushioned headboard, looking down at her as he remembers how to breathe again.

“Guess you are my good boy, then,” she preens, skimming her hands over his body again as he sits back on his heels.

“Holy… shit.”

“Feel good, Shawn?”

He blinks blearily and manages to nod. With a huff, he lifts himself onto newborn horse legs and stumbles to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Without her even asking, he carefully sweeps the cloth over her chest, cleaning his orgasm off her perfect breasts. He tosses the cloth aside and gazes down at her. She smiles. He sighs.

“You’re… exactly who I need right now.”

They’re Penny’s favorite words to hear from a client. They represent absolute success. They make her proud, despite the prejudices and misconceptions surrounding her job. The look on his face right now is the reason she is here. Her heart gives an extra squeeze. She reaches for him, folds him down beside her and guides his head onto her chest. Without another word, they fall asleep.

--------

Hope this goes well with your Sunday morning coffee <3 speaking of Ko-fi, buy me one if you feel like it! Link in bio.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tnhmblive @greedydevil @tamegray @meltingicequeen @havethetimeeofyourlifee @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

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See You in New York (part one)

A/N: Hi there, and welcome to another episode of “Alyssa Has No Self Control”, brought to you by Logan Delos and @something-tofightfor. In this thrilling edition, subtitled “How Far Can I Take This One Shot Before It Turns Into A Series” we find out that I am actually incapable of one shots. You see, folks, this all came about from a smooch drabble that turned into a 4.7k word monster... resulting in a smooch that left some people wanting... Now, yours truly is not one to let her friends go thirsty hungry. So consider this ... however many parts it ends up being... my apology for leaving you all so thoroughly unkissed.

Word Count: 5,000 on the schnoz.

*this is a continuation of Services No Longer Required, to which SOMEONE had this to say:

here we go!

Every time the bell above the door signaled another customer walking in, your eyes darted to the entrance, your heart thudding and your mind racing. Oh shit, this is it. You sucked in a breath and froze, plastic stirrer pinched between your thumb and index finger as you contemplated the likelihood of being fired. But it was just another patron; a bubbly teenaged girl with copious curls and a youthful spring in her step as she flounced to the counter to order her triple mocha frappe whatever, and you blew the breath back out, shoulders relaxing as you dropped the stirrer back into your cup. C’mon, Cyn, you’re never late. You absently twirled your earring as you thought about topping off your coffee, but decided against it. You were nervous enough to talk to your boss about the development in your relationship with your most recent client, and more caffeine would only make you more jittery.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you let your mind wander to Logan- to those dark umber eyes that could soften to cognac or flash to pitch black; to that devilish smile that hinted at mischief but promised authenticity. You’d never met anyone like him, and you were confident that you never would, which is why you’d allowed yourself to agree to his offer to come to New York to take you on a real date once your contract with his company had ended. You’d always taken your career as seriously as possible, sacrificing time with your friends and family, vacations, late nights, relationships. The fact that you’d even considered saying yes to Logan was out of character for you. The fact that you had said yes was blowing your own mind. What the hell were you thinking? Your thoughts screamed at you, admonishing you like a child in time out.

You were thinking that you deserve happiness, you answered yourself in a much softer tone. Aside from the guff he’d given you in response to almost all of your suggestions and conditions while you were working as his image consultant, the six months spent getting to know all of Logan Delos’ ticks, traits, faults and facets were the most memorable in recent years. You’d enjoyed your time with him; enjoyed getting to know him past what was required to know, and you could tell that he enjoyed that, too. You’d seen him interact with countless individuals in that time, and you’d seen how withholding he was with all of them. Logan wasn’t a liar, that you knew for sure, but he wasn’t one to share freely either. Aside from with you. You’d learned things about him that you had a feeling no one else in the world was privy to, and it seemed to make him happy that he’d found someone that he could trust. It made you happy that you were that someone. And that happiness made you say yes. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.

But now, the morning after returning from L.A., you sat in the coffee shop across from your office, waiting to meet with Cynthia to tell her that you’d agreed to go out with a former client- with a very important client with whom her firm had been working for years. It was completely unorthodox, and though you had a great working relationship with your boss, you had no idea how she was going to take this news. She’s going to fire me. That’s how she’s going to take it. You resumed playing with your coffee stirrer, swirling it around in the dregs of your now cold coffee as your eyes fell to your knuckles and heat rose in your chest. You could feel his lips lingering there, breath warm on your skin as he kissed your hand while the clock struck midnight. You’d half expected to turn into a pumpkin, the whole thing feeling like a fairy tale, but you hadn’t, nor had you when he dropped you off at the airport, insisting that he drive you himself, placing another kiss on the back of your hand and giving you a wink as he whispered, “See you in New York,” against your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath as the tingling warmth spread through your whole body, reassuring you that this was the right decision, regardless of what the outcome of your meeting with Cynthia would be. It had been too long since anyone made you feel the way Logan did with just those two touches of his lips to your hand, with just the way his eyes washed over your face or the ease there was between you both. It’s worth it. This is worth it.

The bell jingled once more and Cynthia stepped into the coffee shop, her sharp eyes on you as she removed her sunglasses and folded them. Tight lips curling into a small smile, she waved and indicated that she would be right over as soon as she got her coffee. You nodded, knowing that she’d texted her order ahead of time and that the line that was wrapping around the small space meant nothing to her. You watched her thank the barista and drop a few dollars into the tip jar before striding over to your table. “Welcome back,” she greeted you as she set her cup down on the table, settling onto the stool across from you. She quickly took her eye glasses from their pocket in her bag and perched them on her nose, magnifying the bright green irises that always felt like they could see through you.

“Thanks, Cyn, it’s good to be back.” You smiled, feeling every ounce of your insides twist as your stomach flopped.

“Is it?” she asked, one brow arching high as she tapped a sugar packet, emptying its contents into her paper cup. You swallowed the ice cold sip you’d just taken, trying not to widen your eyes. Does she already know? How...no. No there’s no way, stop it. You nodded. “Thought you’d really like L.A., that’s all,” she added with a shrug, crumpling the sugar packet and dropping it to the table.

“I did, it was great...but it’s nice to be home.”

“Hmm, home.Yeah, I know what you mean.” She took a sip of her beverage, the steam swirling around her face. “So,” she set her cup down, noticing that yours was empty; noticing that your stirrer was bent and that you’s torn the edge of the cardboard sleeve around your coffee. Shit, she’s good. “You wanted to discuss the Delos case?”

Oh boy, here we go. “I did.” You turned to your bag, opening the flap to take out the notes that you brought with you. “First of all-”

“First of all,” she cut you off, lacing her fingers together and resting the points of her elbows on the table top. “You did a fantastic job. That case was a mess, and you cleaned it up beautifully. I couldn’t be happier with the work you did, nor could Delos. James sent me an email the night of the anniversary gala, raving about the wonders you worked.” She paused and you set the notes down on the table.

“Oh, well that’s really great to hear, Cyn. I didn’t spend much time with James, so to hear that is…”

She took the notes from you, moving her cup aside so that she could scan them as the conversation continued. “Yeah, it’s great. Jim is a tough one to please. I knew you were the right one for the job.” She flipped a few pages as your insides flipped and your heart raced. Say something. Come out with it before she does. “But I have a feeling you wanted to go over more than what blows James’ skirt up?” Her brow was arched again though her eyes were still on the pages in her hands.

“Yeah...I did.” Your voice came out smaller than you’d hoped, so you cleared your throat before continuing. “Cyn, look, I…” you blew out a breath. Fuck, just say it. “Cyn, something... happened. Something that I never meant to happen, and-”

She set the notes down and rested her hands atop them, tilting her head to the side. “That’s always the case, isn’t it?”

You wrinkled your forehead and chewed your bottom lip as she pulled her phone from another pocket of her bag. “I guess...I…” What does she know?

“James wasn’t the only Delos you impressed,” she said, placing her phone between the two of you. She pressed a button to play a voicemail, sitting back and taking a long drink of her latte. Your confusion was short lived as Logan’s voice filled your ears. Eyes glued to the screen, you watched the time bar move slowly across as he spoke.

Cynthia, hi, it’s Logan. Delos. Listen, I can already hear you telling me how crazy this one is, but I assure you it’s not. Something happened with the rep you sent… something I for one never thought would happen- he laughed then, and you cursed under your breath for the color you felt rising to your cheeks- I...I fell for her, Cyn. I mean… fuck, I think I really did...or I am...or… - he sighed and you could picture him combing his hand through his hair or clutching the back of his neck. You felt the air leave your lungs at his admission.- Nothing happened, not until her contract was up, and she didn’t do anything wrong, Cyn, I need you to believe me on that one. But I… she just- another sigh- Look. I know you got rules for your employees and all that. I do too. But I like her, Cynthia. I like her a lot. She’s...she understands me… and spending time with her makes me happy. I asked her if it would be alright if I came to see her in New York...take her out...on a date. And...well, she said yes so I’m planning a trip in a few weeks and I wanted you to hear it from me first. I know she values her job with you and she should. You’re great and so is she. And I know you know my track record better than most- another pause, and when he spoke again there was a serious quality to his tone that you’d heard first hand a few times. It caused a sharp intake of breath- But that’s not what this is about. I… I’m serious, Cynthia. Listen, gimme a call so we can...talk. I know it’s late there but, I had to...just call me, okay? Thanks.

The message ended and you felt the world growing smaller around you until there was nothing but you and Cynthia, the stack of notes, your abused paper cup and her phone. She tapped the same button she had to start the message, closing the voicemail tab, sharp jade eyes watching as you tried to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to speak. He...he called her...he wanted to let her know...because he...because he respects me and… Oh, Logan…

Cynthia cleared her throat and spoke your name more softly than you’d ever heard her speak in a professional setting. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” She indicated her phone with a point.

You nodded, willing yourself to speak. “Yes...yeah, that’s...that’s what I…”

“Is that true? What he said?” She leaned closer, soft tone still in place.

“Cyn, I...I didn’t even know that’s how he felt until the last night and I-” Your voice was cracking and you could do nothing to stop it.

“And what about you, hmm?” She tilted her head. “How do you feel about everything? About him?”

“I...I didn’t think anything like that about him until…”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “I know. I know, you did your job perfectly. The press would have had a fucking field day with it if you hadn’t.” She graced you with a small smile that set you a little more at ease. “But is this...is it something you want? Something that could make you happy?”

You thought about her two part question. Something that you want? Yes. You couldn’t deny that you wanted him, wanted a chance to be with him and get to know him even better...you couldn’t deny that you wanted more. Something that could make you happy? God, yes. You thought about his smile and how when he looked down through his long lashes it made him look younger. You thought about his sense of humor and how it matched yours perfectly, about how much you knew about him already and how much there was to learn. You thought about the kiss he’d left you with and how it promised so much more. “Yes,” you answered, voice barely a whisper. “Yes, Cyn, I…I think he could make me really happy…”

She nodded. “I think so too.” What? You knew you looked like a fish, gaping at her open mouthed and stunned. “I’ve known him a long time. You too. And while it’s highly abnormal to become...involved...with one of your clients…” she shrugged. “I called him back and we had a chat. And I get the feeling that Logan won’t be needing our services any more. So I suppose…” she raised her cup to her lips, “I suppose he’s not technically a client anymore, is he?”

“Cynthia… what are you…” you shook your head trying to get your brain to catch up with the conversation.

“Oh come on. How long have you worked for me now? Seven years? Eight?” Ten, actually, but… “I know you. I know you have your head on straight. I know you wouldn’t do something to hurt your career or my company. And I know you haven’t had...I know you’ve been flying solo for a long time. I get it, kid, this business? You have to go here there and everywhere at the drop of a hat. You can’t put down deep roots with a life like that. And I know you don’t regret it. But Logan? You’d regret not giving this a chance. I know that about you, too.”

There was a tear in your eye that you didn’t feel until it was sliding from the corner. You always looked at Cynthia as an older sister of sorts, but you never guessed that she saw you in the same way. Her ability to read people was nothing new to you, but the depth with which she saw you...saw things that were good for you and wanted them for you… it shocked you. “Thank you, Cyn...I…”

She waved her hand. “Don’t thank me, I had nothing to do with it.”

You laughed, a relieved burst of air exiting your lips. “I thought you were gonna fire me, Cyn.”

“Fire you?” She rolled her eyes again. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re my best rep and you have glowing recommendations from my favorite clients. I’d be an idiot to let you go. I’m a lot of things, kid, but idiot isn’t one of them.” You laughed again. “In fact, we have some more things to talk about if the dating advice portion of the morning is over?” She arched her brow one last time and this time it was your turn to roll your eyes.

Later that day when you had some time to yourself in your office, you called Logan, the phone ringing only twice before he answered.

“Hey, it’s my favorite buzzkill!” His voice was cheerful and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“Hey yourself, Delos. You got a minute?”

“Depends...am I in trouble?” You pictured him unbuttoning his jacket and falling onto the leather chaise in his office.

“Trouble is your middle name, Logan,” you teased, pulling a chuckle through the speaker that went right to your heart. “I had an interesting talk with Cynthia this morning.”

“You did, huh?”

“I did. Logan… you...you didn’t have to do that.” You bit your thumbnail. “You didn’t have to-”

“Yes I did. I had to let her know that you didn’t do anything wrong. Had to let her...and you know that I’m...serious about this...about comin’ to see you and...and what that means.” Closing your eyes you could see him sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, as though it could get him closer to you. You could picture the narrowing of his eyes, a piece of hair falling across his forehead.

“Logan…”

“You know, right? You know this is...this isn’t how I...you know I’m serious, right?”

You looked down at your hand. “Yeah, Logan, I know you’re serious.”

“Good,” the severity was gone from his voice as in your mind he flopped back into the cushions. “‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you...about...seein’ you and what I’m gonna do when I get there.”

There was more promise in his tone than you’d ever heard from anyone. “Oh yeah?” The A.C. was on full blast in your office, but a sudden flush of warmth rendered it useless. “What have you been thinking about?”

“Oh, lots of things,” he assured you, causing that heat to grow. “Been thinkin’ about your lips and how they taste. Been thinkin’ about your hair and how it’ll feel in my hands. ‘Bout your hips and how they move.” You could hear the want in his voice and you felt it, too. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.”

“I’m at work, Delos, you’re gonna make it hard for me to go to my one o’clock if you keep talking like that.” There was more truth to your words than you were letting on and you wondered if he could tell.

“Then I’ll stop. Don’t want to ruin your day.” Oh you’ve ruined lots of days, Logan. He laughed. “I’m really...I can’t wait to see you.” It was honest, you knew.

“That makes two of us, Logan. Can’t wait for you to show me all the things you’ve been thinking about.” You smiled as you spoke, but it quickly died as your eyes landed on the clock. “Listen, I have to get going, Cynthia’s got me on a new project already and there’s a lot to-”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I get it. Go fix someone else’s life like you fixed mine...just don’t let them ask you out, got it?”

“Got it, Delos.”

“Alright, killjoy.” You wouldn’t let anyone else get away with calling you that. “Have a good day. Only twelve left until I come out there and-”

“Counting them down, Logan.” I miss you. “See you soon.”

“See you soon, gorgeous.”

You hung up the phone and took a few minutes to let the blush recede from your skin, to let the giddiness that he made you feel dissipate. It was impossible for the feeling to fade completely, so you carried it with you through the rest of your day, home to your apartment and into your bed, letting thoughts of Logan’s thoughts lull you into the most pleasant dreams you’d ever had. Two weeks has never felt so damn long.

Especially after Cynthia dropped a bomb even bigger than being supportive of you seeing Logan. I’ll have to figure out the right time to tell him…

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

At 11:47am on Friday, Logan returned to his office following the last meeting of the morning and promptly began pacing. Striding passed the packed suitcase that he’d brought to work with him, he combed his fingers through his hair and dropped a thick file on his desk. As it hit with a soft thud, he felt himself mentally check out of business mode. Enough of this for now. Barring any last minute crisis that could land in his lap in the next thirteen minutes, he was home free, allowing his thoughts to stray totally and completely across the country to you. It had been increasingly difficult to keep you far from his thoughts since you’d left L.A. two weeks ago, and as he made his third pass by the stunning view that his office boasted, the City of Angels melted completely and all he saw was the sparkle in your eyes when you agreed to let him take you out. The only thought in his head was seeing you again, seeing that sparkle and getting to know you as well as you knew him; getting to kiss more than your hand, getting to know every bit of you as well as he knew your knuckles. I wanna know every inch of her.

It was more than a fleeting physical attraction with you, that was certain. Though he found you absolutely stunning, it was more than the curve of your waist or the swell of your breasts that kept him up at night. It was more than the pout of your lips or the color of your eyes or the style of your hair that distracted him in the middle of mundane meetings. If it had been purely superficial, there would be no way that you could have occupied as much of his mind as you did, especially once you’d left California. No, it wasn’t just your looks, or the hope of getting to look at you naked in bed on top of him. But that’s gonna be...fuck. It was the way his name sounded when it came from your mouth, and the way he involuntarily smiled when he heard it. It was the angle of your eyes when you narrowed them suspiciously at him, and the way that your sideways grin climbed up your cheek as you shook your head at whatever comment or ridiculous thing he’d just said. It was the way you looked at him as more than a client, more than a dollar sign, more than a Delos. You bothered to know him as Logan, and he wanted to know you as you. Every goddamn inch.

He wanted to know what made you happy, what made you laugh and what annoyed you- aside from his antics while he was your client. There were, of course, plenty of things that he picked up on in the last few weeks of your assignment, when he realized that his interest in you was steadily growing. He knew you took your coffee black before 9pm, and with a splash of cream and a packet of sugar if it were later than that. He knew that you preferred Thai food to Chinese, but that Vietnamese Pho trumped both options. He knew when you were irritated because you clenched and unclenched your fists, knew when you were nervous because you fiddled with your earring, twisting it or tugging on it. Once or twice he imagined reaching for your hand and covering it with his own, pulling your fingers from your earlobe and finding some way to soothe your nerves. That was red flag number one for him, one of the things that told him that you weren’t some passing fantasy, some notch on a belt. She never could be.

Red flag number two had come in the form of irrational outrage when you’d denied his invitation to be his date for the Delos anniversary event. He knew perfectly well why you’d turned him down; knew that would be your answer even before he finished telling you that he wished he could take you instead of any of the “approved” companions that he kept on rotation. He respected you for it, for the way that you valued yourself and your career and him and the job that you were hired to do. Logan knew that if you would have thrown away six months of work just to be a bauble on his arm, then you weren’t who he thought you were at all, that you were just like the rest of them, eager to say yes and give in to his whims, eager to see how it could benefit you in some way. But you hadn’t done that. You’d given him what he needed by denying him what he wanted. You’d sternly explained that it was out of the question, and even though he hated himself for the reaction, he felt an odd mixture of anger and vindication bubbling in his blood as he spat venom about you taking one of the Hosts as your date for the evening. He wasn’t used to being told no, was used to finding ways around those two letters, and when he’d heard them from you- from the one thing that he wanted on more than the most shallow of levels- he didn’t know how to process it. Because I’ve never had to… she challenges me… no one else has the balls to do that.

He’d spoken to you a handful of times throughout the two weeks since you’d been gone, and the two of you had kept up a steady enough stream of texts. But despite the near constant contact, he found himself getting anxious about seeing you again. He’d made some changes to his travel plans without telling you, extending his trip two days and moving his reservation from The Four Seasons to The Conrad, the latter being only a 5 minute walk from your office and only 6 minutes from where you told him that you lived and the sole reason for the switch. The Four Seasons was absolutely more renowned. But The Conrad was close to you which made it infinitely more desirable to him. He only hoped that you’d be okay with how much time he planned to spend with you, contemplating telling you over the phone in case you had made other plans or wanted more distance, but deciding to roll the dice and tell you in person. Here goes.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

You yawned as you stood at the arrivals gate, light and sweet coffee in hand as the clock ticked close to 9:30pm. You knew he’d be landing soon, and you wanted to be alert. Finishing the last drops of your drink, you threw the empty paper cup into a nearby garbage can and pulled a small paper sign out of your pocket, Logan’s name scrawled across it in black marker. Despite the long day you’d put in to be able to take Monday off- it was Logan’s last day in New York and you wanted the full day with him- you felt yourself practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. When you caught a glimpse of him coming out of the tunnel your heart stopped beating and started racing instead, and you swore he could hear it because he looked up as soon as the tempo changed, locking eyes with you. His lips fell open and you saw his tongue dart out to wet them, causing you to bite down on your perfectly painted bottom lip. He needs to get over here. Right now. He seemed to have heard that, too, long legs striding around the people in front of him to get to you sooner. You watched his eyes flick down to the sign in your hands and then back up to yours, a smile dancing in their depths, and as he closed the last few feet you lost the ability to breathe.

“Hey,” he practically threw his carry on down, now empty hands filling themselves- one with the sign you held, tossing it next to his bag, the other with your hand, the one he’d kissed. He brought it to his lips, eyes still locked on yours as he pressed them there once more before tugging you by that same hand until he had you right against him. Until his other hand could come up to gently brush the hair from your face. Until he could drop your hand and wrap one arm around your body.

“Hi, Logan,” you whispered, leaning into his palm as it curved around the side of your face. This is… Too good to be true. More than you thought possible when you met him. Actually happening.

He scanned your face as though checking to make sure that you were real, mouth falling open, bottom jaw working to the side before his teeth snapped together. “I’ve been thinkin about you,” he said, voice lower than you’d ever heard.

Oh shit. “Oh yeah?” you asked, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, delighting in the little hum you heard as he breathed through his nose. Your other hand came to rest against his chest, and you were overcome with the warmth you felt beneath your palm. Feels so good to be this close...

He nodded, the hand on your cheek sliding around to the back of your neck, fingers pressing lightly into your flesh. “Yeah.”

You looked up into his eyes and pulled your lip between your teeth again, watching his pupils expand. “Prove it.”

He groaned, half a laugh half an absolutely lustful sound as his hands pulled you closer and his lips met yours. You filled your lungs at the last minute, a small whimper coming from your throat as he stole every last bit of that breath, greedily. He held you close, tilting your head slightly by flexing the fingers at the base of your skull, letting them gather your hair as they slid up to cradle the back of your head. Logan… You scratched your nails gently against his scalp, pulling another groan from him, both of you smiling against one another’s lips. He didn’t deepen it further, refrained from taking it too far, reluctantly pulled back, brushing your nose with his before straightening fully to look into your eyes. “How was that for proof?”

You bent to pick up his carry on, handing it to him. He shouldered it, eyes never leaving yours. “I think it’s a good start, Delos.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thebbtongue @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @ms-delos @songtoyou @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @drinix

#logan delos #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #bonus smooch #because i guess a kiss on the hand doesn't count #*eye roll*#here i go with another series #see you in new york #SYINY #logan delos smooches #there's more where this came from #count on that

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bananashemmo · 6 years ago

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If Walls Could Talk

Pairing: Y/N/!Ashton

Rating: NC-17

Request: No

Words: 2.500+

Summary: Sharing an intimate relationship with his best friend Y/N isn’t always the easiest to hide when you’re on tour.

Sheets were cold against your bare skin, the wind gushing from outside making goosebumps form on your otherwise sweating skin. Your cheek was pressed at the pillow, hiding half your face and looking at Ashton almost in secret.

His chest was heaving up and down, his thumb scrolling through the Spotify Playlist he had shuffled at least an hour ago.

“You know,” A cheeky smile spread to his significant face, “We literally just did it to a full Drake album.”

You couldn’t help but feel the blush spread to your cheeks. You wanted to roll your eyes and settled with that in reaction to his typical comment.

“What a romantic way to put it.” You hummed, looking down at your naked bodies covered within the white sheets.

The mirror in front of the bed was blurred because of the steam. You could tell there was a small heart drawn in the left edge of the square. You assumed it to be Ashton, doing it as he walked past the bed to open the balcony doors.

The French weather wasn’t cold but neither warm. A nice temperature for whatever time it was, past night for sure. You could see the street lamps glowing from outside your balcony.

Steam was also on the windows. It was indeed necessary because Ashton’s back was to the point of having droplets fall to the mattress.

The hotel room was small, you had seen bigger. It wasn’t like you had imagined places large like in New York. But you settled with the small space, your suitcase lined up right next to his on your side of the bed.

The bed was only a queen size, pulling you closer only for your benefit. It had way more pillows than needed, you figured it was for the decoration which the five-star hotel didn’t have less of.

You’d scattered the pillows to the front part of the bed the second you were engulfed between the sheets. You had barely spared the room one glance.

Like at any other hotel room there was a piece of furniture in front of the bed, the small space between the mattress and the wall. It held a TV, flashing the commercials for the hotel and what they had of service. It had been turned off.

The chair next to it had become a clothes hanger, both yours and Ashton’s leather jacket had been shrugged off messily.

The balcony outside was small just like the bathroom. If you walked outside you were able to see from a few streets away, the Eiffel Tower. The rack of the balcony was black but old modern, having some sort of old fence pattern. You were able to see through the fence and it was height mid past your stomach.

You were living on the second floor so distance wasn’t far from the road below.

You were able to see them, but from your point of the balcony, they weren’t able to see you.

“Have you always imagined Paris like this?” You hummed against the pillow, feeling his eyes gaze at you. He looked sleepy but kept his eyes open.

He hummed back, nodding his head in agreement, “It’s not my first time in Paris, you know.” He caressed some hair that had fallen in front of your forehead, teasing your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You sniggered, “Your 20th time.”

He rolled his eyes by your words and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t have a count of how many times he had visited the city. France in particular. He had been to Cannes, Toulouse, Marseille. All the small cities.

“Does it matter?” He asked in his same soft tone, the smile still evident. His dimple was showing clear even in the darkness.

You shook your head with a bigger smile than his, deciding to shift so you were resting on your stomach instead of your side. Because of that, the sheets glided off your back, showing your shoulders.

He started to hum to the song he had picked from his playlist. A song you didn’t recognize, he had plenty of those that he had been listening to randomly and wanting to add it to his list.

“If we were Calum, we’d be having cigarettes now.” You mentioned, feeling his fingertips dance over your skin.

“How do you know?” He asked in response, his fingers running through your hair and down to your back again. It made your eyes flutter closed and open.

“He told me,” You opened one eye to look at him, “In case you haven’t noticed, Calum really enjoys talking about sex with me.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed.” He tensed in his biceps out of reaction, you couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head.

“What?” You noticed his reaction, “Why are you laughing?”

Ashton flashed you a cheeky smile and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, “Little doesn’t he know that every story you’re able to share is about me.”

This time, you did really roll your eyes. His cocky attitude was ridiculous yet you still found it amusing.

“Who says they’re all about you?” You hummed, shutting your eyes again right before seeing his reaction.

“I know they are.” He whispered back, his lips finding your forehead for a lingering kiss.

“Nobody makes you feel as good as I do.”

You nodded your head in agreement because it was in fact true. Those fingers did wonders and it wasn’t just on the top of your shoulders where he was probably caressing letters like yours.

You leaned into his touch and kept your eyes closed. Not that you weren’t fully awake, even though of previous prevents you still felt fresh. Ashton seemed to be feeling the same.

“You’d imagine a drummer’s hand to be blistered and rough, but yours... It’s soft like this pillow.” You could feel him smile even though you couldn’t see him.

There wasn’t a moment like this where he wasn’t smiling.

With an eye on you, he knew that the mood would never be anything else but happiness, joy, and laughter.

He moved his hand down to your lower back, watching the hair rise on your arms again. He knew just exactly well where the good spots were, where you would squeeze your toes together and shiver slightly.

“I think I could get used to this.” You mumbled and he nodded in agreement.

“I think you already are.” He replied, stopping his fingers for a second wanting you to look at him.

He continued when your eyes fluttered open, looking at him with your big beautiful orbs.

Nobody ever asked, would this ever stop to continue? Would this be the last time?

None of you wanted the limit. It was enough that you shared secrets between. You didn’t want to know that there was going to be an end to your games because what you were doing now was a stage of life you wouldn’t get back again.

You knew that going from best friends to this stage flipped the table upside down.

Crossing that line and going from “We’re just friends” to, “Yes, we’re burning inside being so attracted to each other” was such a daring step. You still felt shivers thinking about it, sometimes you wondered how you ended up like this.

It was continuing every single day. Without having to tell anyone because nobody was suspecting you. You had always shared hotel rooms being best friends and all that.

What they didn’t know was shared between those four walls.

“We’re also out of condoms. I can’t keep stealing from Michael anymore, he notices it and wonders what the heck I’m doing with them. They know that I’m not bringing someone home.”

You giggled by his words, biting down on your lip.

It was the secret that drove you wild about each other. It was like being two different people and you enjoyed playing with both characters. Seeing who was going to buy your fake stories first, trying to come up with the best ones.

“Do you ever wonder how fucked we’d be if someone caught us?” He leaned on his back, looking up at the ceiling in wonder.

It wasn’t often you spoke about it out loud.

“It would definitely cause some drama...” You mumbled, moving past the sheets so you could rest on his heaving chest.

He wrapped an arm closer around your body, his arm long enough to wrap around your waist. His skin was warm and soft, you could feel the breast hair from his chest tickling your skin.

He nuzzled his fingers through your hair, twisting it around his finger and letting go. It was a habit of his that many had noticed, he always had one finger around a piece of your hair to curl it around.

“If these four walls could talk, I wish they wouldn’t say anything.” He hummed the words, leaning into your touch when your hand came to touch his cheek.

“They’ve seen way too many things that’s for sure.” You couldn’t help but blush, thinking back at the seconds from before.

You had made stains on the sheet, you weren’t sure if it was you or Ashton. Sometimes you felt guilty for the cleaning lady showing up afterward and changing your sheets. They were most probably used to it.

“You know, that could be a great song for the new album.” He mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

You faced the ceiling as well, leaning on your back and laced your hands together.

“What?” You couldn’t help but laugh, “A secret confession for the two of us?”

“Not just that...” He mumbled, “Sharing an intimate relationship and not wanting others to know. I can already hear the drums, I can see the guitar playing... I promised Calum I would come up with something. Maybe this is the one?”

You smiled carefully by his words, it was indeed something that would become something great.

You didn’t know for how long you had continued this private relationship. It was indeed best friends with benefits, whether romantic parts of it included you weren’t sure. It wasn’t one of your speaking topics.

It had happened randomly. It was like every time you were out drinking, one step closer to getting more intimate was filled in. First a peck on the cheek. Next was the first kiss. Making out in one of the public bathrooms.

To suddenly rest naked next to each other.

But it felt good and it felt natural. You were so close to each other, and it wasn’t like you had something to hide. You knew who you were dealing with, and you knew you both were able to trust each other.

“I think it will give some sort of satisfaction.” He mentioned and you rested your head to the side to look at him.

“I mean, we struggle to keep this a secret. By writing a song about it, I think I’ll be able to let go of some of that secrets. Just through the lyrics. Sharing the privacy, without speaking who I’m talking about.”

You nodded your head in agreement, smiling because you loved when he was like this.

Getting a new idea was always brilliant for Ash. He would light up in his face, his eyebrows would furrow in thought but it would still be with a huge smile.

You sat in silence just listening to him mumble out lyrics. Trying to come up with something great because when you finally got something, it was about keeping onto it.

Every moment counted. Best example would be when Luke was recording intros of Castaway at the toilet.

Ashton’s phone ringing on the nightstand was what pulled you out from your thoughts.

Ashton seemed confused at first, watching Calum’s ID and when he answered he held you closer to feel his warmth.

“What’s up?” He asked instantly, wanting to know why he was calling.

“I was thinking of something! I was just trying it with Luke and it sounds really cool, I’ll be there to tell you in 2!”

Ashton’s eyes widened in surprise and it was within seconds you stood up from the bed. You had no idea what was what, Ashton struggled to turn off the lights and the only thing you could see beneath the tower of pillows was his underwear.

“Ash, we don’t have time for this!” You panicked loudly, not knowing what to do because no matter what, a huge question mark would be on Calum’s face.

Ashton did the most logical thing to do which was pull you into the bathroom. He didn’t have much time to settle a plan and went with pulling a towel around your body and put on his underwear since you had found that.

He held you tight and closed the door to the bathroom when he heard Calum faintly knock on the door.

You almost wanted to laugh by the situation, not really knowing how you were supposed to react.

“I love your hair in your face.” He mumbled into your ear. You rolled your eyes and pinched his chest lightly, listening as Calum walked into the hotel room.

“Ash?” He questioned confused, watching the mess on the floor with wide eyes.

“Yes.” Ashton replied, looking how much he blushed into the mirror.

Calum looked towards the direction of his sound, quivering his eyebrow.

“I’m just in the bathroom, I will be out in two seconds.” He let go of you with a small peck on the forehead, making sure to open the door without spoiling you.

“Where’s Y/N?” Calum asked confused, noticing it was only him.

“I don’t know actually... She said something about a phone call at the lobby.” He lied with a shrug. It was the best thing and sounded innocent.

“Okay then.” Calum mumbled, not wanting to comment about the mess.

“It’s just that I got this new idea chorus is an A Major, when it should be a A Minor, which opens up different variations of notes which you can put over that chord and I think would be very cool.”

“Great!” Ashton was quick to comment, “We’ll just to that.”

“You really think so?” Calum shined bright by his support, “Because I wasn’t sure if we would take such a risk.

Ashton nodded his head in agreement, “You know, I will be out in just a second, I just need to put on some clothes.” He pointed towards the bathroom and Calum let his hands fly in the air.

“In five.” He nodded his head in agreement and walked out of the door.

Ashton’s breathed out loudly in relief once the door was shut, hurrying back to the bathroom where he could tell you were holding in a laugh.

“Oh my god, what’s the next excuse?” You teased with a smile, watching him drop the towel around your waist and let it fall to the ground.

“When the doors are all closing, it's bound to get loud.”

Pressing you against the cold tiles of the bathroom, he lifted you up by the thighs and held you close, pulling you in for another yet amazing intimate kiss.

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cottontail20 · 5 years ago

Text

She's Got Help

Summary: After the battle against Thanos, Carol vows to find all the women who helped her, meet them properly, and see if there is any way she can help them in return.

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125343

When Carol Danvers chose her career as a pilot, it was a man's world, almost impossible to break into. The Kree, enlightened though they claimed to be, had not actually been much different.

Things had changed a little by the time Fury summoned her back to Earth. This was clear in the way Natasha Romanoff had taken leadership over the remaining Avengers, and nobody batted an eye. However, Carol didn't fully realize just how much had changed until she had taken possession of the Gauntlet during the battle against Thanos, and an entire squad of bad-ass women stepped up to help her. The fact that Carol could have handled the situation by herself was beside the point.

It was.. pretty damn awesome.

Carol had not met most of these women before. She didn't really know them. But she was going to. Carol was going to find everyone of those women, and get to know them. She was going to thank them, and see if there was anything she could do for them in return. --

Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp.

Carol looked at the first name on the list Fury had gathered for her. Well, not exactly the first, but the easiest to track down.. or at least, the easiest one to track down who wasn't grieving the recent loss of her husband (Carol planned to leave Pepper Potts until later). She double-checked the address where Hope was supposedly most often found, and looked up at the house she currently stood in front of. It was a little run down, as many homes left vacant after the Decimation were, but efforts had been made towards restoring it.

Carol knocked on the door. After a few moments, a teenage girl answered it, her jaw dropping.

"You.. You're Captain Marvel."

"Carol works too" Carol grinned. "Hi. Is Hope home?"

"Uh.." The teen seemed slightly in shock.

"Cassie, who is it?" Hope poked her head around another door, her own eyes widening. "Oh.. hi."

"Hi" Carol's grin widened. "Would you like to go grab coffee?"

"Uh.. sure" Hope shrugged and disappeared briefly, returning with her handbag. "Cassie, tell your Dad where I've gone when he wakes up, okay?" --

"So.." Hope began, as she and Carol sat outside a Cafe a short while later, both clutching steaming lattes, "Not that this isn't a nice surprise, because you're Captain Marvel, and you're awesome" Hope shook her head at that.. Scott was rubbing off on her. "But.. We really don't know each other, so what's this about?"

"Just an itch to get to know my fellow super women" Carol shrugged. "So, tell me about yourself, Hope. Is Cassie your daughter?"

"No. Scott's from his first marriage. I adore her though, and I get along great with her Mom."

"And how long have you been the Wasp?"

"Uh.." Hope paused, thinking a moment. For the victims of the decimation, working out time had become a little more complicated. "For about three years before I was snapped. But I've been an expert in self defense much longer than that."

"Career bad-ass then" Carol grinned. "My kind of girl."

"I guess so" Hope chuckled, sipping her Latte.

"One more thing.."

"Mmmhm?"

"Is there anything you need help with?" Carol asked. "I'd just like to, well, return the favor."

"Hmm.." Hope thought for a moment. "You seem like someone who has friends in high places."

"More like.. A friend with friends in high places" replied Carol, thinking of Fury.

"Before the decimation, my Dad and I might have been in a teensy little bit of legal trouble. I'm not sure how that stands now. No-one's come at us yet, but.."

"I'll look into it for you" Carol thrust out a hand towards Hope. "It was nice to meet you, Hope."

"You too" Hope smiled, firmly shaking Carol's hand. --

Brunhilde. Usually goes by The Valkyrie. Newly crowned Queen of New Asgard.

There was a large commotion among the people of New Asgard as a glowing golden figure soared above the deceptively small 'fishing village'. The Valkyrie, her attention caught by the noise, looked up from her ever growing 'To Do' list in time to see Carol Danvers landing in front of her.

"Hi" Carol grinned.

"You're that.. glowing girl who destroyed Thanos's ship" Valkyrie blinked. "Thor likes you."

"Carol Danvers" Carol curtsied. "At your service, Queen Valkyrie."

"Please don't do that.." Valkyrie frowned. "It's weird."

"Noted. Have you got time to talk?"

"Not really.." Valkyrie looked back to her very long list. "But I guess you can walk with me while I do my morning sweep of the place.." --

Carol tailed Valkyrie as she strolled around New Asgard, checking the progress of a few ongoing projects, listening to new problems people brought to her. Many new houses were in the process of being built, to combat a slight overcrowding problem caused by the restoration of the previously decimated Asgardians. However, it was slow going given that many of New Asgard's existing buildings were in disrepair, splitting the attention of the builders.

"You're a little swamped here, huh?" Carol asked.

"Gee, you noticed.."

"How about I look into sending a bit of extra help?"

"You'd do that?" Valkyrie looked at her, slightly surprised.

"Sure" said Carol. "I was looking to find a way to help all the women who stood with me in that battle, and between you and me, I've got a bit of a soft spot for refugees from other worlds."

"A few extra hands would be great" Valkyrie managed a smile. "Thank you." --

Princess Shuri, head of Science and Technology development in Wakanda, and General Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje.

"Not that it is not nice to see you, Ms. Danvers" said Okoye, with a raised eyebrow, "But why, exactly, are you here?" Okoye was aware of Carol from their conference calls with Natasha, but they had never really gotten to know each other, so Captain Marvel's sudden arrival in Wakanda had come as a surprise.

They were currently standing in the middle of Shuri's lab. The Wakandan Princess had greeted Carol rather enthusiastically upon her arrival, but had since had her attention reclaimed by her latest project.

"Simple answer" said Carol, throwing her arms wide, "I'm here to help! What do you ladies need? Anything at all."

"I do not need anything but to serve my Country" Okoye replied instinctively.

"Pfft, that's boring" Shuri looked up from her work, laughing. "She said anything, Okoye! Surely you can think of something a little more creative."

"Well.." Okoye relaxed the tiniest bit, thinking. "I am somewhat disappointed that we still do not have a Starbucks."

"I don't really have much control over that, but I guess I can look into it" Carol shrugged. "What about you, Princess?"

"I would like to re-establish Wakanda's outreach program in the U.S. Obviously I could not run it efficiently as a pile of dust" Shuri replied. "It would be helpful to know of which areas are most in need."

"Easy done" Carol grinned.

She left almost as quickly as she had come.

"She is.. strange" said Okoye.

"I like her" Shuri smiled. --

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, Head of Stark Foundation, Operator of the 'Rescue' suit. Wanda Maximoff, The Scarlet Witch.

When Wanda Maximoff had unexpectedly revived her long-dead love, Vision, after Tony Stark's funeral, Pepper Potts had asked her to move in to the Lake House she'd shared with her late husband. It was an arrangement that had come as a surprise to many. Pepper and Wanda hardly knew each other, and by all accounts, Wanda Maximoff and Tony Stark had never really gotten along.

But then again, Pepper had never really judged people based on whether her Husband got along with them. Tony had disliked plenty of people that Pepper thought perfectly pleasant, and Wanda was definitely one of those. And in this particular case, she knew that Tony did not actually dislike Wanda. Events in the past had complicated the relationship, though Pepper had chosen not to pry.

Really, the decision to let Wanda stay had relatively little to do with Wanda herself, pleasant though she was. Keeping Wanda meant keeping Vision, and Pepper had a couple of good reasons to keep Vision around. Vision had clearly meant a lot to Tony, with how long he had spent trying to fix him. While on the surface Vision seemed back to normal since Wanda had woken him, he still had quite a bit of recovering to do. If Pepper could give him a safe place to recuperate, then she would.

The other reason for keeping Vision close was for her daughter's benefit. Morgan had immediately embraced him as her 'big brother', and Vision had found himself with an adorable little shadow throughout his recovery. Morgan had grown quite attached to Wanda, as well. Anyone or anything that made Morgan happy was a precious commodity to Pepper right now.

So, both Vision and Wanda stayed. --

Carol Danvers, of course, didn't know all of the backstory that made the current situation at the Lake House unusual to some. All Carol saw was a slightly unconventional family unit that seemed to be working out alright, and, having been part of an unconventional family herself, thought all power to them.

Like all the women she had called on recently, Pepper had been surprised to see Carol, but immediately asked her inside. Carol was the reason Pepper had had five more precious years with Tony, so of course was always welcome.

Carol, a little quieter than she had been during her other visits, gently asked Pepper how she was doing(As well as could be expected), then sat patiently while Pepper poured Coffee.

"I heard Wanda Maximoff is staying here at the moment, and I was hoping I could talk to her too. Is she around?"

"She and Vision took Morgan out to play. They should be back soo.."

Before Pepper could finish, the back door burst open, a child's laughter echoing through the house. Wanda entered first, followed by Vision, with little Morgan clinging to his back.

"Oh.. Hello.. um.." Vision's eyes fell on Carol, seeming a little confused, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking very hard.

"It's okay, Vizh" Wanda laid a comforting hand on his arm. "You haven't met her yet. This is.. Carol, right?"

"Carol Danvers. Nice to meet you."

"Ah. Nice to meet you too, Carol" Vision smiled, relaxing now, then turned to Pepper. "Miss Potts, Morgan was wondering if she could have a juice pop."

"Call me Pepper, Vision" Pepper chuckled. "And yes. But just one, okay?"

"Yay!" Morgan cheered, and Vision carried her away into the Kitchen. Wanda made to follow them.

"Wait, Wanda" Carol called after her. "Can I have a quick word?"

"Uh.. okay" Wanda moved to sit beside Pepper, seeming nervous. "What's this about? Vision's fine. His memory's a little patchy still, but it's coming back. He doesn't need any tests or.."

"Of course not. He seems like a Sweetie" said Carol, who had too many unusual friends to worry much about anyone else's choices in that regard. "I was just wondering if you or Pepper.. needed anything. It's a thing I'm doing, helping all the women who helped me. So, what do you need? Any problems need solving? Legal trouble?"

"Now that you mention it" Wanda said after a moment. "My citizenship status is a little unclear. It's probably the last thing on anyone's mind right now, but.. I can't risk anything taking me away from Vizh."

"I know some people who know some people. I'll look into it. Pepper.. I know nothing can make up for what you've lost recently, but if there's anything at all I can do for you.."

Pepper looked towards the Kitchen. Morgan was laughing again.

"The most important thing to me right now is keeping my daughter happy" She replied eventually. "I'm sure she would think it was really cool if Captain Marvel came to visit now and then."

Carol grinned. Be cool Auntie Carol to another adorable kid? Too easy. --

Nebula, daughter of Thanos. Mantis, Member of the Guardians Of The Galaxy.

Peter Quill almost had a heart attack when he woke from a nap to the sight of a glowing woman knocking on the front window of the ship.

"Hey, Carol!" Rocket waved, calling back into the depths of the ship. "Thor, Carol's here! Go 'round the back so I can let you in.." --

After Rocket let her in, following the directions he had given her, Carol headed back further into the ship, finding Nebula teaching Mantis how to play paper football.

"Whoa. People play that all the way out here?"

"Stark taught me" Nebula looked up, managing to hide her surprise. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"I'm here to talk to you two, actually" Carol replied. "And I was hoping to find your sister."

"Your guess is as good as ours" Nebula frowned. "We've been looking, but.."

"If you could help us find Gamora" said Mantis, we "We would all be very, very grateful."

"Don't be stupid, Mantis. If we can't find Gamora, Danvers can't.." Nebula paused to look up at Carol, the tiniest bit of hope entering her eyes. "Could you?"

"I have connections" said Carol. "Might take a longer trip than I planned, though. Just give me a second to organize some stuff.."

"Hey, Fury!"

He could almost see her smile.

"Carol. I was just about to call you.."

"You're okay if I stay off-world a little longer, right?

"Actually, we may have a situation. Guy claiming he's from another universe..."

"Sounds cool. Beep me if things get serious. Bye!"

"Carol! Wait.." Fury sighed. She was already gone. "Okay. Spider-kid it is.."

#carol danvers #Captain Marvel #hope van dyne #valkyrie #general okoye #okoye #shuri black panther #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarletvision #pepper potts #nebula #mantis #MCU #Avengers #avengers endgame #endgame fix it

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 5 years ago

Text

A View To A Winchester (Part 6)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count: 3,787

Section Warnings: fluff, angst, R-rated language, drunk-dialing, Dean flirting/arousing/drinking

~~~~~

“I’m going to be a big tub of lard if this goes incredibly bad, really quickly.” Julie mumbled to herself in the kitchen bright and early the next morning. “I’ll eat my rejection in calories.”

She had not slept well, despite Dean wishing her a good night. And, it had been all his fault. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. And pie.

There had been numerous Pinterest searches late into the night for tips and tricks on how to make the perfect crust. The barely used pastry cutter had been dug out of her wedding gifts box in the basement at about four am. At what was now six am, she was using it to cut the cold fats - a not-yet-tried-by-Julie mix of shortening and butter recommended by one blogger - into the flour.

Next came the slow addition of ice water and another novel ingredient, cold vodka. She had to wait an hour before even starting the dough that morning, placing a bottle of vodka in the freezer to chill. The alcohol apparently inhibited gluten formation which should, in theory, promote a tender and flaky crust. She was not a chemistry gal but she did enjoy learning how to use it to her advantage when it came to food. Forget Bill Nye the Science Guy. She was an Alton Brown, Good Eats fan.

What the hell am I doing this all for? Desperation? Thy name is Julie. What happened to telling Mr. Winchester you had lots of time to get to know him? Hitting the accelerator, baking a pie because you know he loves pie? It’s like exposing Superman to kryptonite. But is Dean Superman, and pie is the kryptonite in this analogy? Or am I Superman and Dean is my kryptonite?

“Fuck. I need sleep.”

She turned the dough out onto the floured counter. The folding was always the part that made her nervous. Her mind wandered to Dean again. Focus, don’t overwork it. Dimpling the soft, crumbling dough with her fingers brought her back to the feeling of his, dancing over her skin.

A weird, tweaked out bliss washed over her. She understood the enjoyment mom got out of cooking for others, even if she wouldn’t admit it. For Julie, it came from baking up treats for co-workers that made their eyes double in size and the occasional dinner parties with friends that ended with a multitude of compliments and full bellies. The parties I use to throw with Steve.

A flour cloud billowed from her continued kneading. Her nose tickled at the dust entering her nostrils.

She’d lost a lot of their shared acquaintances over the past few months. Julie didn’t have it in her to compete for a mutual friend’s attention. Steve always needed the camaraderie more than she did anyway. She didn’t have the strength or inclination to work that hard for friendships that had already begun to dissolve or become distant over the last decade. The choice to not have children had put them both on a decidedly different path than all their married friends. In her honest opinion, the patriarchal society created a more obvious division between her and her female peers. It didn’t help that she was not one to offer to babysit. Let Steve be the fun uncle. Asshole.

Julie backed away when she realized the folding motion had gotten aggressive. There was no need to take her anger out on the innocent pastry. She separated the dough, formed two balls, covered them in cling wrap, and whacked them in the freezer to prepare for rolling out later. The Great British Baking Show is goddamn addicting.

But Dean. Dean’s lascivious, pornographic attitude toward food had set something off. If a cobbler or a cake could get the kind of a reaction she had witnessed from that man, she really wanted to see what a pie could do. She imagined those green eyes melting her with a gaze of adoration after her pie passed his lips.

I don’t think we’re talking about apples anymore. That mouth. Sweet Jesus. She had picked up on his affinity for lip licking and how his gaze lingered on her own mouth. Oral fixation. He has to be an amazing kisser. I bet he knows how to use that tongue. Everywhere.

Julie shivered. She poured her second cup of black coffee and strolled to the tiny foyer. The reflection in the hall mirror under unflattering light only magnified the suitcases replacing the bags under her eyes. Her two sizes too big tattered pajamas reminded her of a potato sack. Dean is certainly going to want to get all up in this. Inhaling the aroma first, she then blew in the mug and took a languid sip. So, pie would be a good deflection from your appearance. But the friggin’ pie won’t be ready for hours. And, anyway, it might turn out horrible.

She still had to peel, core, and chop up a ton of apples for the filling. Christ, the sun isn’t even up yet. A yawn overpowered her, despite the injection of caffeine. I should try and take a nap. Her body slipped into her favorite sofa corner. Just a quick one. The mug steamed on the side table. Her lids closed.

~~~~~

Julie’s eyes shot open. Sunlight filtered through the golden sheer curtains covering the sliding doors. The mug was no longer steaming. It was quiet outside.

“Shit.”

She unfolded out of her seat and rose to stand. Her body creaked in resistance. Discomfort in her muscles delayed their response with a stab of pins and needles. She cringed and cursed under her breath. A swish opened the curtains. Her mouth dropped open.

Lawn’s mowed. Her gaze shot up to Dean’s backyard. Impala’s gone.

“Shit.”

Phone. Julie flew to the kitchen. The phone had been used to look up the crust recipe. She swiped at the flour dusted screen. A groan. It was one o’clock in the afternoon. She groaned again at the notifications. Four messages. All from Dean.

“Shit.”

Knock, knock.

Anybody home?

Hey, Sleeping Beauty. All done with your scheduled lawn service. Was going to drop off your cake. Text me when you wake up so I can make a delivery.

Julie, I had to take care of some business. Be gone until tomorrow. I’m holding your cake hostage. In fact, I’m bringing a few slices with me for the road. Might not be much left. But, seriously, let me know you’re okay. Or I’m knocking your door DOWN when I get back.

“I missed him.” She whispered, in total dejection. She hit reply and began talking out her text. This new tick was happening every time she had a virtual conversation with Dean. “I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you. I teeter between an insomniac and coma patient lately. You can have ALL the cake.”

Her heart skipped a few beats when the phone rang, displaying Dean’s name.

She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“I was thinking you dropped the phone and ran away after your text message.” Exasperation threaded through the bass of his voice. He sighed, faraway, on what sounded like his phone’s speaker. “Are you trying to play hard to get?”

“I’m still waking up.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Hm. Pretty impressive. You slept through me knocking on the front and back door.”

“I slept through an earthquake and two aftershocks once.” She offered.

“Bullshit.” Dean stated without hesitation.

“I did.” Her defenses were up. “I was in California.” She didn’t bother to say she had been on her honeymoon.

“You should get that checked.”

“I did. I’m good. Just a sound sleeper when I actually get some needed rest. I take it you’re a light sleeper?”

“Pretty much. I’m programmed to wake up at the slightest noise.”

“Work took you away again, huh?”

“Yep.”

She waited. “Is this where you tell me what you do?”

He chuckled. “It’s not as exciting as you’re probably imagining.”

“Try me.”

Without missing a beat, he responded, “Bail Enforcement Agent.”

“Wha-?”

“Bounty Hunter. Even though my colleagues don’t particularly care for the term, I’ve found.”

She gave it a few seconds to sink in. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Her mind replayed the conversation she overheard Dean have with his brother on the phone. He mentioned coming back from a hunting trip. “Is that the business you were in with your brother?”

“No.” He paused. “Let’s say it was bounty hunting adjacent.”

“That’s all I get, huh?”

Another chuckle. “Yep.”

“Now who’s playing hard to get?”

“Not I, sweetheart. You’ll never know what you would’ve been in for today... if you’d heard me knocking.”

She swallowed. A swooshing sound filled the absence of his voice on the line. He’s driving.

“Give me a hint?” A breathy whine escaped along with the question. She bit her lip at the accidental slip.

“Hell. I’ve got someone on the other line. Give me a minute and I’ll call you back.” He hung up abruptly.

She cringed at her reaction. Sexy. Ugh. You are so out of your league with this one. Well, no need to finish working on that pie now. She waved a hand and marched upstairs to change out of her pjs. The crust will keep.

Minutes ticked by. He got busy with work. Bounty hunting? She finished changing and pounced onto her bed, landing on her stomach. Her head shook. It’s an actual thing people do. But he could be lying, leading me on with some absurd and inflated story to see what he can get away with. She’d been that naive with men before, believing what they said at face value. Because, if she wouldn’t flat out lie, why would someone else? Life experience was a hell of a teacher. It turned her hard and cynical and untrusting.

Ten minutes turned into thirty. She browsed through social media apps on her phone. Every second increased her agitation. My window of opportunity has passed.

Over the next half hour, she applied some makeup and gave herself a pep talk in the mirror. “You are channeling all of your pent-up energy, attention, and sexual frustration into this one man. Not healthy. I mean, yeah, the sexual frustration part is totally understandable. But…” she trailed off and stared at her reflection.

Don’t want to get your mind off a messed-up relationship with a quick hop in the sheets. Take care of you. Remember? That was my mantra when I signed the divorce papers. Christ, the single hardest thing I’ve probably ever had to do. And, I added my name to that document like John Fucking Hancock.

She nodded.

“Go out. Get some air. Run some errands. Just be. And be okay with that.”

Julie attempted to make herself believe her words as she went about her day.

~~~~~

Her mom had called to check in while she was out. So had her brother. Kelly, her co-worker, had texted about a project due the next day, bright and early Monday morning. Julie had taken off that upcoming week and wouldn’t be in the office to help. Kelly needed a pep type. Julie didn’t have the strength for a talk.

Nothing major was planned for her staycation. The only thing she’d sort of been forced into by her old friend, Karen, was to host a mini belated housewarming that Friday night. Aside from the food prep and cleaning, nothing was on her to-do list for days. Now, she debated if she should just hop in the car and go somewhere. Anywhere, to get away from the temptation that was Dean Winchester. With her mother back home, she didn’t have anything keeping her tied to the house. Except the possibility of a very bad decision clad in plaid.

She returned home with a bottle of wine and a bottle of bourbon, the latter item she never drank. Wandering down the aisle of whiskeys in the liquor store made her think of Dean. He seemed like a bourbon guy, or a man that would appreciate the drink. The clerk had recommended the bottle with an unassuming label filled with a beautiful amber liquid.

Not depressing at all. It was six pm when she strolled up the steps to her bedroom. Her hands balanced an open wine bottle and foil wrapped hazelnut chocolates stuffed into her drinking glass. She tipped the glass and dumped the chocolates onto the bedspread. Let me not be that pathetic and put some clean pjs on at least. The plan was to settle in for an 80s comfort movie marathon. She’d started with “The Goonies”, then “The Dark Crystal”. She had polished off all the chocolates, wrappers littering the bed, and was almost through “Labyrinth” and the wine when the phone lit up.

U up?

Ten o’clock and Dean was messaging. The alcohol buzz and trippy Henson atmosphere contributed to her out of body feeling. She watched her fingers tap the phone icon and dial his number.

“Sorry about not calling you back earlier. Got a lead on my skip and had to jump on it.” His voice was super close, husky and low.

“Were you on a stakeout?” A throaty laugh in response to her question ignited a full body tingle. It started at the top of her head and worked its way down to the tips of her bare toes. She muted the television, sank into the pillows, and focused on the ceiling. And Dean’s voice.

“Not quite. I found out he was backtracking to visit his girlfriend. I beat him there, talked to her, explained his situation, and how bad it could really get if he kept running. She convinced him to turn himself in.”

Julie’s tracking was fuzzy on the details. “Is he handcuffed in your backseat now? Or, your trunk?”

“No. Already dropped him off at the police station.”

“Where?”

“Poconos.”

That was well over two hours from Pike Creek. “Long way for a fugitive.”

“Not really. Just another Sunday drive for me.”

It sounded too quiet on Dean’s end. “On your way back?”

“I was.” He sighed. “But then I decided to stop at a bar. Had a few too many. So, I’m crashing at a classy motel, stone’s throw away from said bar.”

“Hm. I should be crashing soon, too.” Julie slurred.

Another long pause. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yep.” She popped the “p” out of her mouth with pursed lips.

“Huh. Sounds like you’ve been at it for a while.”

“The almost empty wine bottle would agree.”

He tisked. “Drunk. And I’m missing it.”

The back of her hand pressed against the warmth of her cheek. “You’re partaking in this event virt-,” the train of thought left the station without her. “Not missing it. Did you take the drinking party back to your room?”

“I did. Always keep a bottle of Jack in my trunk.”

“We should toast, then, to drinking alone… but, not.” Julie sat up and took a swig, even if Dean wasn’t going to do the same.

She didn’t know how much time passed before he asked in an even, steady tone, “You wanted a hint, earlier, didn’t you?”

Silence.

“Julie?” His voice teased out her name, soft and slow.

She battled to focus. “Yes. A hint would be nice.”

“How about a confession?”

Electric currents pulsed under her skin. “A confession would be even better.”

“Okay. I should’ve told you this that first day. But... I’ve been watching you… spying on me… for a while.”

Her posture straightened, bolting upright from her reclined position, now stiff as a board. “I-I…”

“Don’t try to deny it.” Silence. “I noticed you one morning, a couple months back. I was in the kitchen, fixing some coffee. When I looked out the window, you were staring into my backyard, then over toward my house. I just chalked it up to you being a hot, nosy neighbor. And, honestly, I didn’t mind the view. Business casual looks very good on you.”

A distinct sip filled her ear, followed by a smack of his lips. Those perfect lips. Julie chose to focus on the fact that he used the word “hot” and not “creepy”.

“But then, you did it again the next morning. You were wearing that dark blue sweater. I was jealous of that sweater, the way it hugs those curves of yours.”

In the effort to stifle a swoon, her mouth let out, “I’d trade places with that red plaid flannel of yours any day.”

He cleared his throat after her admission. “Should I keep confessing?”

“Please. Go on.”

“I could tell you were looking for me, in particular, not just inspecting my property for things to complain about. Call it a hunter’s instinct. You’d seen me before, hadn’t you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t exactly chuckle that time. It was a short, almost sweet little laugh. “So... every morning when I was home, I’d wait for you to do your search. I’d batted around the idea of coming out one day to say hi…”

“Why didn’t you?”

“What was I going to say? Hi, I’m Dean. I’m a low-rate bounty hunter with a couple hundred dollars to my name, a shitty little house, and a drinking problem?” He sighed into her ear. “You saw something that interested you. But I do better sticking to the surface level, remember? I know how to work with what I’ve been given. Not much beyond that.”

She wanted to berate him for talking about himself that way. But all she could manage was to ask, “So, you have been playing hide and seek with me?”

He chuckled. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with all of that ridiculous behavior. I can usually keep my voyeuristic tendencies to a minimum.” Words tumbled out, sarcastic and apologetic.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. My backyard view was made much nicer. And you gave me the opportunity to get to know you.”

Julie scoffed. “How could you get to know me that way?”

“This is where you’ll probably get irritated.”

She waited.

“I used my skills and resources to do a little digging on you.”

She laughed out loud. “Did you bounty hunt me?”

“Kinda.”

“Interesting. You’re lucky I’m drunk right now, because I find it highly amusing.” And pretty damn hot. She sipped. “What’d you find out?”

“Basic stuff. You’re an accounting manager at a bank in downtown Wilmington. No speeding tickets, pretty straight and narrow. You went to school at University of Delaware - nice GPA. Got married about ten years ago…” his voice trailed off.

“You found out all that stuff even before we met?”

“Yes. And I apologize. But I wanted to get to know my pretty Italian neighbor that liked me, too.”

Too. He could have just ended that sentence with “liked me.” “Those are just facts. You don’t get to know someone from a distance.”

“I’ve gotten to know some things. I know when you’re deep in concentration you bite the inside of your cheek. And, when you get frustrated, you scrunch up your nose. You do that a lot when you’re on a work call, heading into the house after a long day. I’ve even seen you skip, sometimes, when you come home on a Friday. Just a few feet or so, when you don’t think anyone’s looking. When you leave the house every morning, you test the handle of the sliding door twice to make sure it’s locked. Your hairstyle of choice is a ponytail. But, on the rare occasion when you let your hair down… well, I’m glad you wore it down last night. And, that I got the chance to touch a few strands. Soft as I imagined.”

He’s imagined that. She had no witty retort for his monologue. He’d knocked every ounce of air out of her lungs. Her entire body was hot and charged from his confession. He’d examined her, been allowed access to her quirks and habits in high definition, and this Adonis of a man sounded downright intrigued by all of it. Holy shit. The stalkee has become the stalker. And, I’m finding the table turning extremely hot right now.

“Julie, I know you’re not perfect. But whatever asshat of a man let you slip away… I don’t think he had any idea what he had to begin with.” He cursed under his breath. “I shouldn’t be saying all this. Making more of a mess of things.”

“No, you’re not.” She swallowed. “How ‘bout that hint?”

“About what I was going to do if you opened the door earlier today?”

“Yes.”

“Give you back half of your cake and ask you out on a proper date. Whatever the hell that is.” It almost sounded like a low, throaty growl escaped his lips. “But that was earlier today. If I had come home tonight and knocked on your door… I don’t know if I could’ve behaved myself. I would have slammed back too many shots when I got home to work up the nerve. Plus, the adrenaline from the hunt has me riled up.”

God. That voice. She crossed her legs to restrict the pulsing in her core. “What does misbehaving look like?”

The silence stretched out to an excruciating span. “We goin’ there?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her head was spinning. She didn’t really know where “there” was.

“Loose lips...” He mumbled. A noisy gulp of liquid followed. The faraway slam of a glass came next. “Well... my misbehaving hands would end up all over that rosy skin. Every inch.”

She bit her lip and held her breath.

“God.” He groaned, his voice not as close now. “I’d like to say I’d be able to take my time. But it might have ended up hard and fast on the floor.”

An instinctive, quite loud gasp escaped from Julie. She slapped a hand over her traitorous mouth.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Dean fumbled over his words. “I shouldn’t have… first, I’m telling you I’ve been investigating you… then, I’m talking about ways I’d… it’s just... it’s been a while.”

Julie exhaled a breath. “I pushed you into sharing. When you say ‘a while’...”

“Since I moved to Delaware. Two years.”

The statement woke her from the orgasmic lullaby. “Bullshit.

He laughed. “Not exactly something I’m proud to share.”

“What the hell are you saving yourself for?”

Without a beat missed, he responded, “You, apparently.”

He stunned her again.

“This has been… well, I don’t know what this has been… I’m going to let you go before the conversation crashes into the point of no return.”

“Dean…”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’ll expect the rest of my cake returned… as soon as you get back.”

He laughed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Part 7

Series Page

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hurt-care · 6 years ago

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Dear lord please tell me you'll bring back Francis and his poor asthmatic allergy stricken lungs at some point. He is 💗💗💗

Thanks!

For those of you who haven’t met Francis yet, you can read the first story about him here

As Long As You’re There

The spring weather in Plymouth had been temperate and pleasant all season. Away from the heavy smog and pollen of the inlands, Francis had been free to spend his days blissfully (mostly) free of sneezing and itching and all the general unpleasantness that came with his hay-asthma. His respiratory system would always be sensitive, but the sea air made a huge difference in his health.

And spending the days with one Miss Caroline Willison had been a delight. Their blossoming romance was no secret and they could often be found sitting together looking out at the ocean or playing cards in the solarium. Unbeknownst to the rest of the household, they'd been finding themselves more private corners of the estate for more intimate matters. Francis was dreading the thought of heading back to his business affairs in Surrey at the end of the hay-asthma season because it would mean leaving her.

They'd been apart a few days this week and already Francis was eager to have her return to her family home. She'd gone up to London on the train to do some dress shopping with her mother and was schedule to return on the afternoon train. When Francis woke, he rolled over to see a grey sky out his window and the trees bending in the wind. For a season that had been so mild, it looked to be a disappointing day.

He dressed in his best day suit with the green trim and went down for breakfast with Mr. Willison.

“I'll be going over to call on Lord Ashford today,” Mr. Willison said over their shared meal. “Miss Caroline and Mrs. Willison will be in on the two o'clock train. We can have Evans fetch them but you're welcome to go down to the station to greet them if you feel up to it.”

“Plymouth has been a great relief,” Francis said, sipping his tea. “I will most certainly go to fetch them. It'll be nice to have them back home. It seems so quiet without them here.”

Mr. Willison laughed knowingly.

“I'm certain that you speak only of my Caroline,” he said fondly. “She is taken with you, Mr. Miller.”

“And I with her,” Francis said, trying not to blush too obviously. He was still shy around her father, unsure of his feelings about his daughter's relations with a man who was so often affected by ill health. While Francis was a successful businessman with a substantial inheritance in the bank, he sometimes felt an inadequate match for someone as beautiful and vibrant as Caroline.

“She will be glad to be back, I'm sure,” Mr. Willison remarked. “She despises the city.”

“I understand that,” Francis replied. “I would relocate permanently if my father's business affairs allowed it. Unfortunately, until I'm able to sell the company, I'm obliged to return to Surrey.”

“You're a good lad. I'm sure he'd be proud of all you've done for the business.”

Francis looked down modestly.

“Thank you, sir.”

They finished their breakfast, exchanging casual conversation. At eleven, Mr. Williston took a motorcar off to visit Lord Ashford and Francis settled into the atrium with a book. He could not fully concentrate on the plot, however, as he continuously was drawn to his pocket-watch, counting down the hours until he could leave for the station.

When the time arrived, he rang for Evans and the valet brought around the second motorcar. Francis checked his jacket pocket for his familiar companion, a small folded stack of handkerchiefs. Though he'd been mostly free of his affliction, the smoke and dust of the train station could often trigger his symptoms, as could a ride in the car. It did not matter compared to the anticipation of seeing her again.

They sped off down the roadway towards the station, cruising along the coastal road. Francis looked out at the seaside, observing the rolling clouds gathering and the darkening sky. The heavy feeling in his sinuses and head foretold rain and he mentally cursed himself for neglecting to bring an umbrella. He'd have to ask the train porter to accompany the ladies to the shelter of the car with one.

They were about two kilometres from the station when a sudden BANG! sounded and the car lurched worryingly. Evans pulled over to the side and Francis leaned forward, calling through the window between the rear carriage and the driver's seat.

“What happened?”

“Blown tire, sir,” Evans called.

Francis took out his pocket watch and was dismayed to see it reading ten-to-two.

“They'll be arriving soon,” he said, leaning out the window. “How long will it take to fix?”

“I'm not sure, sir,” Evans replied, surveying the damage. “I can do it but it will take a while. Probably a half hour or more.”

Francis looked at his watch again and sighed. The Willison women would arrive to no car and would have no idea why they'd been abandoned at the station.

“I'll walk down and meet them,” Francis suggested, hopping out of the back of the motor. “It isn't far and I don't want them to arrive and think we've forgotten them.”

Evans nodded.

“Good idea, sir. I'll drive over when the tire is repaired and fetch you.”

“Very good. See you soon,” Francis said, settling off down the road towards the station.

The sky overhead was darkening and he quickened his pace. Though the station was not far, there were a few hills along the way and the exertion of climbing them left Francis' weakened lungs straining for air. He huffed a sharp cough into his sleeve and continued on. The air was growing heavy and humid, and above the clouds were getting denser. A clap of thunder startled him and then the heavens opened.

The rain began to pour in sheets, starting to soak Francis through to the skin. He rushed along the road, boots sloshing through the mud and puddles. He thought briefly of poor Evans back at the motorcar, fighting to get the tire changed in this dreadful storm.

Water dripped down from his head of dark curls, trailing across his cheeks and down his nose. His cravat stuck to his neck uncomfortably and his trousers were dark with rain. Even his sturdy day coat was soaked-through.

By the time he approached the station, he was starting to shiver a little. Water pooled in his boots and mud splattered his trousers. He ducked under the awning of the station, gulping for air as his lungs strained in the humidity. He coughed rattily and leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breath.

In the distance, the sound of a train whistle rent the air. Francis reached reflexively into his pocket and withdrew a damp handkerchief, clutching it over his nose and mouth. The steam engine barrelled into the station, spewing smoke into the rainy air. It slowed to a screeching halt and puffed a last great cloud of steam before settling at the station. The doors opened and people began to spill from the carriages, opening umbrellas or rushing towards the shelter of the station awning.

Francis lowered the handkerchief tentatively, searching the crowd for the two women. In the bustle of people, he thought he saw Caroline's auburn hair but he was forced to turn away as a tickle burst forth in his sinuses and he pressed the handkerchief to his nose, sneezing with an irritated sound.

GhhTSXHT!

“Francis?”

Emerging from the crowd was a radiant-looking Caroline. Her auburn hair was damp and sticking to her forehead, but she was glowing and smiling at him.

“Welcome home,” he said, ashamed at the hoarseness in his voice. “I'm afraid we have had a spot of trouble.”

Mrs. Willison appeared behind her daughter, wiping rain from her face.

“Trouble?” she asked.

“The motorcar had a blown tire. Evans is repairing it but I walked ahead to greet you. And I fear I got caught in the storm.”

“You're soaked through!” Caroline exclaimed, getting a good look at him. He tried valiantly not to shiver but he could barely keep his limbs from quaking. The sopping clothes were clinging to his slight frame and chilling him to the bones.

“I am, I'm afraid,” he admitted. “I'm sorry I'm not more presentable. Evans should be here shortly with the car. In the meantime, I suggest we have the porter deliver your bags here under the awning and we'll try to stay dry.”

They huddled under the glass canopy, watching the rain fall as they waited alongside the Willison family luggage. As Francis hugged his arms around himself in an attempt to get warm, he felt the gentle reassuring touch of Caroline's hand on the small of his back.

“I wish I had something to offer you to warm you,” she whispered softly so her mother would not hear.

“I'm better with you here,” he replied quietly.

There was a car approaching in the distance, headlights shining through the heavy rain. It trailed through the thick muddy road and came to a stop at the front of the station. Evans emerged, equally as muddy and damp as Francis.

He came over and bowed to the ladies.

“My apologies,” he said. “I'm sure Mr. Miller has filled you in on our misadventure. I do hope you haven't been waiting too long.”

“Not at all, Evans,” Mrs. Willison replied. “You've both done us a great service. Now, let's to the car and out of the rain.”

Evans loaded up the luggage while Francis helped the ladies into the back seat. He took the front spot beside the valet and when Evans had finished packing, they began the drive back to the family estate.

Francis rubbed his hands up and down his arms in a futile attempt to stave off the cold. In the back of the car, Caroline spoke cheerfully of their time in London and her visit with her cousin, Olive.

She was telling of their afternoon tea at a family friend's townhouse when Francis interrupted with an urgent, throaty sneeze.

Hurhh-TSGHHT!

He pressed a sodden handkerchief to his nose.

“Bless you,” Caroline said, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

“Thank you,” Francis murmured, wiping his nose gently. “Sorry. Go on.”

She continued her story but again, Francis interrupted unintentionally. He started to cough softly and it quickly turned to a harsh hack that he muffled with his handkerchief.

“Mr. Miller, have you taken ill?” Mrs. Willison asked.

“No, sorry,” Francis said between sputtering coughs. “The humid air isn't agreeable with my health. I apologize.”

He took a wheezy breath and huffed a final cough into his handkerchief.

“Forgive me,” he said again. His skin felt ice-cold and tingled all over, sending chills quaking through his limbs. He hugged himself to stop the shivering, focusing on the passing seascapes and willing his lungs to be quiet.

The motorcar arrived at the estate and rumbled into the front drive where they were met by the butler and a footman bearing umbrellas to escort them inside. Francis let the ladies go first and then followed, pausing in the front foyer to tug off his mud-soaked boots.

Hurshh-TSGHHT!

A sneeze tore out of him with a throat-scraping sound and he barely managed to shield his nose into his shoulder. A soft touch settled on his back and Caroline was looking at him with a concerned expression.

“You need to get out of those damp clothes. I'll send Parker up to help you dress.”

“I'd rather do it myself,” he croaked, trying to wipe his nose under her intense gaze. “I'll be down for dinner.”

Caroline reached down and squeezed his hand.

“Ring if you need anything. I'll let the staff know not to bother you.”

Francis escaped up to his rooms, shutting the door and stripping off his layers of sodden clothing. He was shivering madly, unable to keep his limbs from trembling. Goose-pimples rose across his bare skin and he searched his wardrobe for a pair of his pyjamas. He put them on and topped it with a dressing gown. Still shivering, he pushed down his bed sheets and climbed under, bundling himself in the quilts.

He lay with his damp hair on the pillow, wheezing audibly with his nose dribbling down his lip. He would need something hot to drink and a cigarette if he wanted to be comfortable, but the bone-deep cold and his pride kept him from calling for the footman. Instead, he propped himself up with some pillows until he was elevated enough to breathe more easily. And closing his eyes, he focused on small, slow breaths. Gradually, the quaking chills settled and he felt his body feel as if it were thawing. Heavy with cold and exhaustion, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

When he woke, it was to the sound of a knock on his door.

“Dinner, sir,” a voice boomed from outside his rooms.

“Yes, coming shortly,” he called, embarrassed to hear how raspy his voice sounded. He climbed stiffly out of bed and went for his wardrobe, selecting a dinner jacket and trousers with his favourite paisley ascot. He tied the silk securely around his throat, but not so tight as to restrict his already laboured breathing. Though his asthmatic wheeze was quieter with some rest and warmth, his chest still felt tight.

Fully dressed, he dragged a comb through his thick tangle of hair and scrubbed his face clean, pausing to fret at the pinkish tinge around his nose. The last touch was a trusty handkerchief in his pocket.

The family was in the parlour and they greeted him warmly.

“You look much drier,” Caroline teased, smiling at him.

“I feel it too,” he remarked.

They went through to the table and settled at their places in front of the starting course. They all tucked in to the delicious squash soup, chatting casually about the trip to London and catching up on the week.

Francis could feel his attention drifting in and out of the conversation as he ate. Perhaps getting out of bed had not been the best idea. It still felt like a struggle to get a full breath and he was becoming keenly aware of a dull ache in his limbs.

Though it was terribly impolite to cough at the dinner table, he soon found himself unable to help it and withdrew his trusted handkerchief to shield his mouth, turning away from the table and barking some chesty coughs into its folds.

Under the table, Caroline's hand found his thigh and squeezed it reassuringly.

She said something witty to her father, steering the conversation away from Francis' cough.

Francis sputtered and tried to recover his breath, but he could not. Pushing back his chair, he stood with his handkerchief poised over his mouth and managed to say his apologies before retreating out of the dining room.

He stumbled down the foyer, wheezing and hacking miserably before he found himself out on the front veranda. The rain had ceased and the temperature had dropped, leaving the yard masked by a low fog. The cool evening was a welcome shock to his beleaguered lungs and he took a raspy gasp as the coughs began to settle. He leaned back against the cool stone of the house and closed his eyes, feeling woozy and tired.

“Sweet?” a voice said.

Caroline emerged from the house and was at his side in an instant. She lifted her hand and pushed back the curls from his brow, testing its heat.

“You're fevered,” she said. “You should be in bed.”

“It's my affliction, nothing more,” he said wearily. “I'm still recovering from all the train smoke. You know it takes me some time to get over it.”

“This isn't hay-asthma,” she chided. “This is a chest cold from being stuck in that horrendous rainstorm because you insisted on being noble and coming to fetch us yourself.”

She cupped her hand to his flushed cheek and thumbed across the pink skin.

“Come inside before you get a worse chill,” she said gently. “Sit in the library if you won't go up to bed. Father suggested we go through for a glass of brandy.”

Reluctantly, he followed her into the library. Her parents were not yet there which was a great relief. He sunk into an armchair and sat with his handkerchief clasped in his lap.

“Do you want a brandy or something warmer?” asked Caroline.

“Something warmer would be for the best,” Mrs. Willison said as she entered the room. “I've asked Parker to bring up a tea tray with some honey.”

“Thank you,” Francis said, blushing. “I'm sorry for spoiling dinner.”

“Nothing was spoiled,” Mr. Willison said, selecting a cigar from his humidor and lighting it. “I'm sorry you're not well, Mr. Miller.”

“I think I just got a bit cocky going to see the ladies at the train and thinking I'd get away without a reaction.”

“He has a fever,” Caroline interrupted. “I told him that he should be in bed.”

As if perfectly on cue, Francis clasped his handkerchief to his nose and snapped forward with a harsh sneeze.

Hurrr-TSGHHHH!

“I'm so sorry,” he stammered from behind the cloth square.

“It's just fine, lad,” Mrs. Williston said. “Don't you worry yourself. You can have some hot drink and then to bed.”

The library door opened and the footman Parker entered with tea tray.

“And here we are!” Mrs. Williston exclaimed. She poured a generous cup for Francis and spooned in some honey, stirring it until it dissolved.

Francis took it from her gratefully and he sipped a little, feeling the warm liquid soothe his dry and aching throat.

The family made small-talk while Francis sat quietly drinking his tea and pausing every so often to surreptitiously wipe his runny nose.

Ehh-tsGCHHTT!

He put his tea cup down just in time to avoid spilling it before he wrenched forward with a sneeze.

“Let me walk you up to your rooms,” Caroline offered, putting her hand on his arm.

He smiled wearily at her.

“I think it's for the best,” he rasped.

“Mother, Father, I think I'll retire to bed soon too. I'm worn out from traveling,” Caroline said.

“Alright, dear,” Mr. Williston said. “Sleep well.”

Francis added his good evenings and followed Caroline out of the library, climbing the stairs to the bedrooms and turning down the hall. When they reached Francis' door, she paused. Leaning in, Caroline kissed him on the cheek.

“Father won't leave his brandy and Mother never goes to bed before nine. May I come in and get you settled.”

Francis smiled a little.

“You're very sweet,” he said quietly. “But I don't want you to have to be looking in on an invalid.”

“You're not an invalid,” she said, pulling him into her grip. She wrapped her arms around him and twined her fingers into his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp. “It would make me feel better to see you settled comfortably.”

Francis reached around her and opened his door.

“Come in.”

The went into his room and shut the door behind them.

“We have to be quiet as church mice,” she warned, reaching up to loosen his ascot from around his throat. Her fingers stroked the rise of his Adam's apple as she unwrapped it from his neck.

“I cannot promised that,” Francis croaked. “You heard me earlier.”

“Yes, but I must be,” she said, starting to unbutton his shirt. When she reached the bottom one, she plunged her hands under the shirt and pressed them against his chest. He sighed with a sharp wheeze and let his head loll forward to rest on her shoulder.

“No sleeping yet,” she said, rubbing slow circles on his chest. “Where do you keep your pyjamas. I'll fetch them and you keep undressing.”

“Third drawer in the wardrobe,” he said.

She guided him to sit down on his bed and then went in search of his pyjamas. Francis reluctantly unbuttoned his trousers and slid them down so that he was sitting shivering in his boxers and socks.

Caroline returned with the silk pyjama set, his favourite ones with the green pinstripes. She guided the sleeves around his arms and bent to button up the front. Francis took the liberty of putting on the bottoms, blushing slightly. Though they'd done plenty of exploring with each other, the vulnerability of being naked alone in front of her made him nervous.

Caroline drew down the bed sheets and helped Francis under the quilts, tucking them back up to his chin. She pushed his hair back, testing his forehead again with a frown.

“Thank you,” Francis said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I'll be alright.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Okay. I'll tell the footman to keep an ear out for your bell. Ring if you feel unwell during the night.”

He nodded and settled down into the pillows, coughing a few times as he closed his eyes. He felt Caroline's hand stroke his cheek a final time and then the sound of her quietly closing the door.

The next morning, he came back to consciousness with a start, taking a sharp breath and instantly dissolving into a fit of chesty, painful coughs. Someone had knocked and woken him. The door to his chambers opened a crack and Caroline's face peered around. She took one look at him and rushed over to the bedside.

“Oh, Francis,” she said sympathetically. “You should never have gone out in that rain.”

He took a shuddering breath and covered his mouth with his pyjama sleeve, hacking until he was red in the face and wheezing audibly. She pressed her small hand to his brow and frowned.

“You still have a fever,” she said. “We need to send for the doctor.”

“No,” he rasped, gasping for breath and trying to get the coughs under control.

“Francis, you can barely breathe!” she countered. “Please.”

He managed to get the coughing to quiet for a moment and he took some shallow, careful breaths as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief.

“I'll recover.”

“You don't get a fever from the rain,” she said. “We'll call for Doctor Harris.”

She went and tugged on the sash that would alert the staff to Francis' rooms.

“Now,” she said, leaning over the bed and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Mother won't like finding me in your rooms alone. I'll come back soon.”

She cupped a hand against his feverish cheek and he leaned into her soft touch.

“Thank you,” he said, defeated. The more awake he became, the more he realized the deep, heavy congestion that gripped his lungs and sinuses. He cursed his damn weak lungs and constitution for making him so vulnerable to illness like this. He watched Caroline leave, wondering if she'd ever considered that there were other men who could weather a little rain and escape unscathed.

Parker, the footman, arrived outside his rooms and Caroline instructed him to fetch a hot tea and to see to Francis' comfort.

Soon, a flurry of activity filled the bedroom as staff delivered a tray of hot tea and began setting up the sick room, spreading an extra quilt across the foot of the bed and providing more pillows to keep Francis upright.

“A flannel for your chest, sir,” explained Parker, arriving with a steaming bowl. He wrung out the hot cloth and reached over to unbutton Francis' pyjama top, spreading the fabric across his upper torso. “Miss Caroline said you might require your inhaling device?”

Francis, mortified to be caught amidst so much attention in his weakened state, shook his head.

“I will wait for Doctor Harris' advice,” he said softly. “But if you'd be so kind as to fetch it in case he recommends it, it can be found in the box atop my dressing table.”

While Parker went to fetch the ceramic inhaler, Francis searched the sheets for his discarded handkerchief, feeling the tingle of an oncoming sneeze. He located the cloth in time to press it against his nose, stifling a sneeze.

NghXHT!

He instantly went from the sneeze to a volley of barking coughs that left him wheezing softly again. Parker smiled sympathetically and put the inhaler down on the bedside table.

“Anything else I can fetch for you before the doctor arrives, sir?”

Francis shook his head as he wiped his nose. “No, thank you. I will just rest.”

“Very good sir.”

He bowed a little and left Francis alone for a moment. And then there were voices at the door and the Willison family entered, looking sympathetic. Francis felt his face flush at being seen in bed by all three of them.

“I'm so sorry you've taken so ill, Francis, dear,” Mrs. Willison said. “You should have stayed in the motorcar. We've called for Doctor Harris, but he'll be another few hours yet.”

“Our Caroline has offered to sit with you, if you'd like some company,” Mr. Willison said. “But if you'd like to rest, that is fine too.”

“I would like that very much,” he said quietly, trying to shield them from the dribble of snot that was threatening to escape his nostril. He pressed his handkerchief there briefly and sniffled.

“I'll be happy to keep watch,” Caroline said. “I'll go fetch a book and be right back.”

Mr. Willison moved the armchair from the corner to beside Francis' bed and Mrs. Willison offered her best wishes for a fast recovery before they both left him alone. Caroline returned holding a copy of one of their favourite novels, “Jude the Obscure” by Thomas Hardy. She settled into the chair at his side and leaned over to take his hand.

“Sweet, tell me truthfully how you feel?”

“Like my lungs and head are stuffed with cotton fluff and honey,” he admitted wearily.

She frowned.

“The doctor will not be here for some time. Can I persuade you to take some hot drink and maybe to try your inhaling device?”

“I'll take the tea first, thanks,” he said, accepting the steaming cup as she passed it over.

“Shall I read a little to you?” she asked. “Or do you want quiet?”

“Your voice is as good a medicine as any,” he said softly. “I'd like that very much.”

She smiled affectionately at him and opened the book.

Barely a few pages in, he interrupted her reading with a coughing fit. He shuddered and hacked, bent at the waist with his cheeks puffing as each pained bark filled the room with the uncomfortable-sounding coughs. Caroline put the book down and stood, bending over the bed and rubbing his back.

He took a strained breath and coughed hard, grabbing the handkerchief and clutching it over his mouth.

“Love?” she said, worried.

He hacked one last, hard cough into the cloth and slumped back into the pillows, fighting for his breath.

“I think we should use this,” she said, reaching for the inhaler.

He nodded reluctantly.

“The tincture is in my box there,” he said, gesturing to the dressing table. He huffed another wheezy cough and added “we'll need some boiling water.”

“I'll have some put in it,” she said, leaning over and kissing his flushed cheek. “I'll be back shortly. Rest.”

He watched with a fevered gaze as she left and returned a while later with the ceramic inhaler filled with a steaming mix of water and medicine.

She held it out to his lips and he took the curved portion into his mouth, sucking in the steamy medication. The harsh, fragrant medicine always seemed to burn for a moment but he felt the congestion easing. She pulled it away as he started to cough with a looser, wetter hack.

“There,” she said, gently rubbing his back as he coughed weakly into his handkerchief. “That'll help.”

He went limp into the pillows, still sputtering with coughs but utterly exhausted by the illness. She pushed his hair back and removed the cooling flannel from his chest, buttoning his pyjamas back up and tucking the quilts up to his chin.

“Thank you,” he rasped. “I'm sorry. I feel silly being so ill like this from something as simple as a rainstorm.”

“You can't help it,” she said. “Now, quiet. Don't strain yourself.”

She settled back into the chair and took up the book again. Francis closed his eyes, floating between sleep and waking as the fever pulsed in his body and robbed him of his strength. Soon, he was sleeping fully, wheezing quietly as he breathed. Caroline set down the book and tested her hand on his brow. It was still burning with a steady heat.

Francis' pocket-watch was on the nightstand and she checked the time, wondering how long it would be before the doctor arrived. She hated seeing him feeling so poorly and struggling to breathe.

He dozed fitfully for the next hour, snorting and snuffling for air. Caroline had a maid fetch a cool bowl of water and a flannel. She dipped the cloth and wrung it out, gently sponging off Francis' face and neck. He stirred and his eyes flickered open for a moment.

“The doctor will be here soon,” she said softly, pushing back his sweaty hair and wiping his brow with the cloth.

Francis opened his mouth to speak but only a croaking noise came.

Caroline tipped a glass of water to his lips and helped him to drink.

“Thank you,” he rasped wearily. “I'm sorry.”

“I told you to stop apologizing,” she chided, taking up the flannel again and pressing it to each flushed cheek.

There was a knock on the door and a kindly man with a white moustache entered.

“Mr. Miller?”

“Yes, this is him Doctor,” Caroline said, standing and approaching the doctor to greet him. “Thank you for coming.”

Mr. Williston followed the doctor into the room and smiled at his daughter.

“Your nursing duties are relieved, dear,” he said. “Why don't you go down to the parlour for some tea with your mother and let the doctor look in on Francis?”

Caroline turned and gave Francis a small smile.

“Yes father,” she said and reluctantly left the room.

The doctor sat Francis up and listened to his chest with a stethoscope.

“Definitely congestion of the lungs,” the doctor murmured. “I've seen you before, for hay-asthma a few years back?”

“Yes,” Francis croaked. “I'm affected rather severely by the climate inland. I come to Plymouth for my health during the warmer months. You saw me when I was affected by an unfamiliar plant at a neighbouring estate.”

“Those prone to the modern affliction of allergies and asthma are often more vulnerable to diseases of the respiratory system,” Doctor Harris said, leaning Francis forward to listen to his lungs from the back.

“I'm afraid I caught a nasty chill in a rainstorm,” Francis said. He sniffled softly. The leaning forward was making his nose run.

“I'm sorry doctor-- I --” he began, voice wavering. He turned away and sneezed damply into his pyjama sleeve.

Hurhh-TSCHGHHHT!

The doctor passed him a fresh handkerchief from the nightstand and Francis blew his nose softly.

“Excuse me,” he said, mortified that Caroline's father was witnessing this whole display.

“Is there much sneezing and congestion of the nose?” the doctor asked.

“Oh yes,” Francis replied. “It's hard to get my breath either way. My nose is not quite as troublesome as it is when around pollen or dust, but I'm still quite prone to sneezing today. It feels as if my head is stuffed with cotton.”

“And how long have you felt feverish?” the doctor asked, taking a small mercury thermometer from his case.

“Since the afternoon yesterday,” Francis replied. The doctor wiped off the thermometer and put it under Francis' tongue.

“Hold that there a moment,” he instructed.

The doctor busied himself with rummaging through his bag while the thermometer measured Francis' temperature. Holding it under his tongue, Francis focused on breathing slowly through what little passage was left in his nose. But his lungs were not in agreement and he found himself gripping the thermometer tightly between his lips as he started to cough.

“Just a moment more, lad,” the doctor said as Francis' cheeks puffed with the suppressed coughs. After a moment, he removed the thermometer and Francis took a gasping breath, dissolving into harsh coughs.

“Yes, still fevered,” Dr. Harris said, consulting the thermometer's gauge. “I'm going to give you some medicines to calm the coughing and allow you to rest. And I'll leave some pastilles to help soothe your cough as well. Mr. Williston has told me you already own an inhaler?”

“Yes sir,” Francis sputtered between small coughs. “On the nightstand there.”

“Ah yes, very good,” the doctor said, examining the device. “I would recommend a treatment before resting and another upon waking, up to four times daily to keep your breathing loose. You'll take a spoonful of the cough medication twice daily and make sure to have plenty of rest, hot drink, and it is important that you stay warm and dry so you do not catch a worse chill.”

Francis nodded, feeling his energy fading away. The coughing fit had left him feeling drained and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and submit to sleep.

“A spoonful of medicine and then you may rest,” the doctor said, sensing his exhaustion. He dosed a small teaspoon of thick, dark syrup that Francis swallowed followed by a bit of lemon water to remove the harsh taste.

“Mr. Williston?” the doctor said, turning to the master of the house. “I recommend that he remain in bed at least a day more and that he limits his physical activity for a week. No strenuous walks or tennis and I think it best he stay indoors given his propensity for reaction to natural irritants. Calm afternoons spent reading or playing a quiet game of cards will be the best medicine for his recovery once he's well enough to be out of bed.”

“Very good,” Mr. Williston said. “We'll ensure he does just that. Thank you, doctor.”

“Do ring if his condition worsens or does not improve within a few days.”

“We will. Francis, do you have everything that you need before I show Dr. Harris out?”

Francis raised his head from the pillow and nodded.

“Yes, thank you sir. I think I'll just have a rest. I'm feeling quite tired.”

“I'll leave you to it then. Ring if you need anything.”

Mr. Williston accompanied the doctor to the door and sent him on his way before heading to the parlour. His wife and daughter were playing a game of bridge over afternoon tea.

“How is he?” Caroline asked eagerly.

“Quite unwell but the doctor believes he'll recover within a few days. He dosed some medicines and recommended that he rest as much as possible.”

“May I go sit with him?” she asked.

“He's going to sleep now, dear,” Mr. Williston said. “I think it best you let him. I worry about you wasting your affections on a man with such a poor constitution.”

“I'm not wasting my affections!” Caroline retorted. “Francis is a dear and kind man who has never been anything but sweet and respectful towards me. I love him, papa, and he loves me.”

“I didn't mean to say the affections were wasted,” Mr. Williston replied. “I just worry you'd be left playing nursemaid more than you should. Think of the state of him when he arrived here at the beginning of the season. There'd be no freedom to travel during the warm months, no garden parties, no impromptu train trips.”

“It won't matter,” Caroline said defiantly. “We'll make a home here on the seaside. I detest London and when Francis can sell his family business, we'll have enough to live here comfortably without worrying for his health. I'd be happy enough with that.”

Her father smiled at her.

“Yes, darling,” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. “I believe you would be. He's a good lad, I agree with you there.”

Later that night, Caroline crept along the dark corridors of the home after everyone had gone to bed. In her nightclothes and dressing gown, she slipped into Francis' room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was asleep, hair wild and unwashed with a pink nose and flushed cheeks. She felt a swell of affection as she watched him at rest.

He stirred and opened his eyes as she leaned over to kiss his brow.

“Love?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “Just checking in on you. Mother and father insisted I leave you alone to rest but I wanted to see you for myself.”

“The medicine is helping,” he murmured. “But I'm ever so sleepy.”

“That's okay,” she soothed, stroking his cheek. “Get some rest. I'll sit for a while and then I'll come visit you tomorrow for tea.”

Francis closed his eyes and dozed off again as she sat, carding her fingers through his hair. With a last kiss she went off to bed, relieved to see him recovering a little. Two days later, he was well enough to join her in the library for tea and cards. And one week later, they strolled arm-in-arm along the coast as Francis drank in the cool summer air with a cheerful eagerness. He leaned in to kiss her as they reached a secluded spot free from prying eyes.

“I will marry you,” he said into her ear and she laughed playfully. “And we will build a home with this view.”

“I don't care about the view,” she said, returning the kiss. “As long as you're there, I'll be happy.”

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cecilspeaks · 7 years ago

Text

126 - A Door Ajar part 3

Always keep your eyes closed during a storm. Otherwise your soul will get all wet and mildewy.

Welcome to Night Vale.

I hate sounding like a news media alarmist, but a phantom ocean has completely destroyed Old Town. I mean, destroyed. Wave after wave of cold brine has entirely swept away the Old Town drawbridge. Which is a shame, because the city made considerable strides towards its completion in recent years. Also missing: a number of cars, pets, human beings, and the teetering stack of bath tubs that granted wishes. A more complete list of the missing items has been posted at the newly reopened Pancake House. Come on down to the Pancake House, check if any of your loved ones have been affected by this horrible disaster, and enjoy free hotcakes. One free hotcake per missing loved one.

The surviving residents of Old Town have been placed with compulsory volunteer host families throughout the rest of town. Many of the survivors of the recent shipwreck have finally been placed in their own permanent housing, and are now hosting flood victims. Having experienced recent displacement themselves, The Really Tall One, Dr. Shouty, Old Wood Teeth, Rebecca, and the Captain are proving to be elegant hosts, and have been reported to supply slipper socks, steamed hand towels and all natural calamari flavored toothpaste to their guests. This generosity has put many Night Vale residents, who initially complained about hosting the shipwreck survivors, to shame. You know who you are, and so do we. There’s a list of those who should be ashamed of themselves posted at the newly reopened Pancake House.

Sometimes I get really tired of negative reporting. As the most prominent voice in local current events, I feel like what I say and how I say it does make a difference in framing the attitudes of the people who listen. That, that’s a big responsibility. So I’ve been thinking, it’s important to focus on the positive things too. I’m gonna try to do that more. Starting now.

What I said before was an exaggeration. Old Town isn’t completely destroyed. Oh yes, it’s uninhabitable, and some people who live there are now non-living. But there’s a lot of beauty left there, too! I mean, one might look over Old Town from the roof of the Earth Sciences building and appreciate the miles of pristine, shining water. Water we desert-dwellers never get to see! All of the tragedy and destruction is almost totally invisible beneath the waves, so it’s actually pretty easy to ignore. Oh, and one architectural landmark does remain. The controversial new traffic roundabout is glowing with blue light, and can be seen just below the water line, and will be ready to use again… soon.

Speaking of the roof of the Earth Sciences building, I should tell you guys what happened with Carlos the other night. It went really well, mostly. I mean, he was very open about the fact that he’s been hiding something from me, but he said it wasn’t a big deal and he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know I said all I wanted was for him to admit something was bothering him, and that him pretending nothing was wrong was really what was driving me crazy. But it turns out that wasn’t true. Now I’m being driven crazy by not knowing what it is. I mean, what if it’s about me? Even if it’s not about me directly, the fact that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling me it has to be a problem with us, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to share everything with each other, aren’t we?

I couldn’t let it go, so I finally asked him to see a couples counselor with me. The Really Tall One, who until last week had been staying with my sister and her husband, got her counseling license last week, so we’re going to see her. I even get a discount since she’s become so close to my niece Janice. We have our first phone session together scheduled for later today. I’m, I’m really hoping we can get to the bottom of this so I can stop obsessing! I mean, a-and also so Carlos can let go of whatever is distracting him so much, and then we can both get back to distracting each other. The emotional complexities of sharing a life with another are all that’s on my mind. Also, the sudden ocean which destroyed Old Town.

Oh, breaking news on that: all members of the Marine Biology Association have been reported missing. Randy lance, Girl Scouts Splinter faction leader, reports that the GPS tracking devices she secretly adhered to the biologists’ shoe heels have stopped transmitting, and no one has seen any of the biologists in over 24 hours. Members of the Tourism Board have declined verbal comment, instead offering a giddy smile while waving a giant foam number 1 finger. And with no biologists to throw a tantrum about menacing biohazards hidden in an unsecured locker, members of the Tourism Board have gone out to the storage unit in Radon Canyon to relocate their secret aquarium of semi-animate clear jelly collected from our new ocean to a more public venue.

Making our flooding situation even worse is the hard rain. On the bright side, we don’t normally get much rain around these parts. The gentle percussion of water is so soothing! It reminds me of my new sleep meditation track, Bloodstorm. More on the weather in a moment, but first an update from Radon Canyon. I’ve received word that the blobs of semi-animate translucent jelly in the Tourism Board’s aquarium have fused together to form one giant jelly cube that now completely fills the 12 foot by 12 foot storage unit from wall to wall. Horrifically unnerved by this discovery, agents from the Tourism Board who went to recover the aquarium have all left Radon Canyon and hired the Really Tall One for private therapy sessions. Head of the Tourism Board, Madeline LeFleur, released a statement which only said: “Well crap”. LeFleur was last seen in full sprint toward the airport.

And now, a PSA.

Deb: Hello friends. This is Deb, a sentient and occasionally benevolent, patch of haze. Speaking for the Department of Motor Vehicles. We’ve had some complaints about our eyeball donation program. We want to emphasize we created this program with only the best intentions. We’re sure you understand that. According to a survey, people in the donation program have been very satisfied they can retain some sort of consciousness after death. However, they have been reportedly very unsatisfied with what their eyes continue to see. This has ranged from nonconsensual television viewing in the middle of a season they’re not caught up with, to the witnessing of crimes and subsequent ethical dilemma of testifying in court against their own host bodies.

We hear your concerns. And you know what? Fine. The eyeball donation checkbox will be discontinued on all new DMV forms. The DMV itself has also been discontinued. If you need any services from the DMV, please go to another town. Please don’t call or come to the office. If you see any DMV workers around town, [tearily] please don’t speak to them or acknowledge their presents. It’s obvious you don’t like them. It will only make this harder for all of us. We think a little space would be good for us right now. But we do want you to know we were only trying to something nice. We care deeply about our DMV customers and have only wanted the best for you. We know that doesn’t make it right, but no matter what, just remember: the DMV loves you. The DMV has always loved you. That’s the important thing. If we could afford the rights to that Green Day song, we’d play. Good knowing you. Love, the DMV.

Cecil: I want to get back to the Carlos stuff, listeners. I really need to talk this all out, but I keep getting breaking news updates. We finally have word on the missing biologists. That’s good news. We found them out in the Scrublands. The bad news is we were only able to find partially eaten pieces of them. With the leadership of the Marine Biologist Association vacated, Randy Lance declared herself and the Girl Scouts Splinter Faction as the city’s foremost experts in marine biology. Lance surmises there is an aquatic creature of large tooth size and insatiable hunger living in this new ocean. Lance speculated the biologists were engaged in a heroic attempt to study the marine biology abruptly available to them, when events took a tragic turn. The biologists’ loved ones clarified that the biologists were actually fleeing town under the cover of night and got caught in the worst possible intersection of time and space, dying an agonized and terror-filled death in the exact matter that comprised their worst collective nightmare.

“He died doing what he loved,” a spouse of one of the deceased said. “Running away from his problems.”

[a song starts playing] Oh, oh look at the time! That’s Carlos and the Really Tall One calling in for our first counseling session. Um, oo, probably a good time for a weather report.

[“Clockwork Family” by Dan Warren. soundcloud.com/danwarren]

Well, that was an interesting first counseling session. Carlos apologized for being so quiet recently, and I said it was OK, I was just worried about him, and the Really Tall One said we both sounded like we loved each other a lot. And I said, well yes but that’s not the point right now, the point is I want to know all of Carlos’ secrets! And Carlos said, “Cecil, if it really means that much to you, I’ll tell you. The truth is, this isn’t my first phantom ocean. Before I ever came to Night Vale, there was an incident. It happened years ago, it was a different situation, but similar enough that I got preoccupied thinking about it these last few weeks. And sometimes I just need a little space to process things on my own first. It doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything from you. I mean, I kind of am, but if it were truly serious or was directly about us, I would talk with you about it. This is just a scientific and catastrophic phenomenon, not something to do with us.” That is verbatim what Carlos said. I wrote down every exact word, like an inexperienced journalist carefully investigating a huge story.

And then I said, “Yes OK fine, but what happened? What incident?” And – he said he still didn’t really want to talk about it and I asked the Really Tall One, “Aren’t there some sort of therapy exercised we could do to encourage Carlos to reveal every detail of his past to us immediately?” And she said “No”. And I said, “Maybe hypnosis or telekinesis?” I mean, she’s new to the counseling profession and maybe isn’t aware of all the tools available to be her yet. She said we have to accept that Carlos doesn’t want to talk about it right now, and maybe doesn’t want to talk about it ever. She said a person’s secrets are their own to keep or disclose and it isn’t necessarily an indication of the degree of intimacy in a relationship.

And I said, [chuckling] “Oh, really? Tell that to my 8th grade self!” Immediately embarrassed, I doubled down and said, “I played truth or dare and revealed to my friends that I’m afraid of mirrors and that I have a crush on someone in the room.” “That’s cute!” Carlos said. “Who was there?” And I said, “I can’t tell you!” And then I said, “I can’t remember, actually.” I don’t even remember what year I was in the 8th grade, let alone how old I am or even what I look like, because of the whole mirror thing. But I didn’t want to tell Carlos all that. It was too painful and complicated and not important. And the Really Tall One who could, I’m sure, hear all of my thoughts, smiled over the phone, which I thought was smug. I’m still not sure how I feel about any of this.

I have a lot more to say here, but there’s been some breaking news updates piling up on my desk. Let’s skim through the most interesting looking ones. Yeah. In order to protect us from the growing jelly cube and its apparent power to create random phantom oceans, the City Council decided the key to the jelly-filled storage unit in Radon Canyon will be destroyed, fed to whatever aquatic beast ate the marine biologists. A new budget line item was then approved to pay monthly rent on the unit indefinitely rather than, quote, “ever open that door again”. This cost to the city will be covered by the new tax increases on rental cars, gasoline, and dreams where you realize you’re naked in public.

A memorial service was held for the remaining body parts of the members of the Marine Biology Association. It was a beautiful service, in which each body part was given recognition for its unique contribution to the whole of who each person was. Inspired by this touching memorial, as well as the silent horror finally locked away in Radon public storage, the Tourism Board has decided to abandon plans for the Harbor Waterfront expansion project. Instead, it will shift its focus to renovating the recently destroyed Old Town. Plans for new Old Town are already underway, with some blueprints taken from the children’s redesigned Old Town drawing contest, hosted by the Girl Scouts Splinter Faction. The Captain is even slated to open a fusion restaurant there later this year. Mmmm, I love non-specific fusion cuisine.

[clears throat] Members of the Tourism Board have acknowledged that a huge amount of money and effort will go into the renovations and that all of the work, time, and expanse may or may not be destroyed by a similar incident at any moment. “C’est la vie”, they were hard to utter. It’s possible they actually said, “sepa vediare”, a protection spell that makes all sand eels harbingers of good fortune. Mm, hm.

OK, I only have a few moments of airtime left, and I just wanted to say, well… You know how if you keep staring at that one spot in the ceiling, it starts to look like a face? And the harder you look, the more it takes shape, and when you can finally see it really clearly, the face never disappears and it’s always there watching you? Or, or like how Oxyclean has those commercials where they can get blood out of everything from jeans to gloves to loaves of bread, but when you actually use the product, [angrily] those stains just never go away, reminding you day after day of what you’ve done? Or, no, OK, anyway.

[calm voice] What I’m trying to say is Carlos, if you’re listening, I’m sorry I freaked out and kept pressuring you to talk. Taking space for yourself is not the same as pushing someone away. And I guess I needed a little space too to figure that out. Whatever you need, I totally respect that. I can even go hang out at the Pancake House tonight if you- if you want some alone time. OK, I just wanted to say that before… Oh. Oh, Carlos just texted. “Come home now and I will do the opposite of push you away.” Well. Maybe what I’m trying to say is, [cheerfully] I think I’ve been on the air too long, I really should be getting home like right now.

Stay tuned next for bubble wrap being popped by rolling pins meant to simulate the explosion of fireworks.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night!

Today’s proverb: Pick a company and invest all your money in it. The absolute worst that could happen is that you’ll lose every cent and it would be terrifying and life-changing, so give it a shot.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 126 #a door ajar #a door ajart part 3

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imaginemysimsstories · 3 years ago

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Unexpected Can Be Beautiful

Presley had only had a couple hours of sleep when suddenly she was awoken bright and early by the natural light that peeled through her tall windows. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. When she couldn't rest she went down to her kitchen and unpacked almost the entire kitchen. She assumed it was sleeping in a new house that was keeping her up last night. She considered it a win though because she got most of the kitchen done. It's the little things, she thought. Presley started to feel a bit of anxiety about getting the house put together before the house warming party next weekend.

Presley stretched and pulled herself out of the warm cocoon that she had formed within her blankets. She was determined to be productive today. Presley did her best to choke her anxiety down about finishing this house. She decided she would make an affirmation that today was going to be productive and good. Today will be GREAT and I will be productive with my tasks!, she exclaimed. Presley's therapist, Lukas, whom she saw three times a week, was pushing her to make affirmations each day when she arises. Lukas swore by this technique. He states, "One affirmation a day keeps the therapist away." Whatever that means, thought Presley as she rolled her eyes. Lukas annoyed her sometimes with his silly little quotes, but she felt heard by Lukas. Being heard made Presley feel cared for.

Presley used the restroom and made her way to the kitchen. Eggs and toast sounded delightful. She pulled the eggs from the fridge and the bread from the bread box, and began to cook. She was excited to cook on these custom stove ranges. Her friend, Clementine, recommended them. Clementine was married to a wealthy broker. Clementine was always remodeling her home with the newest appliances. That bitch has too much money for her own good, thought Presley, but she does have the best recommendations.

As Presley made her way to her bar to eat her breakfast. It dawned on her that she hated the design on the kitchen walls. What was I thinking when I picked this design?, she thought. She immediately grabbed her phone and called Katie. Katie answered excitedly. She wanted to hear all the details about Presley's first night at the new house. Presley explained to Katie that it was a rough evening adjusting to her new surroundings. "Katie, can you please have the painters come and paint the solid color I picked for the kitchen instead of this dreadful print?" "I'll get them right over!", Kate advised. Presley finished her breakfast and headed back upstairs and changed her clothes and her wig. She had a new short blue wig that she was dying to try.

Moments later, Presley's security system alerted her that she had a visitor. To her surprise, Katie was standing on the lawn, as well as the maid who was arriving for her first day of service. Presley became annoyed the maid service sent someone to clean today when she specifically told Katie to schedule it days ahead. Presley opened the door and greeted the maid. "Hey! I'm Presley, the owner of this home." "My assistant was supposed to advise your company not to come for a few more days." She asked the cleaner for her name. Annie Lynn Caper, she replied confused. "Annie, what is your SimoApp?, Presley asked politely. "I'm going to send your some funds for your trouble." AnnieLynn42, Annie replied. Presley pressed a few buttons and sent Annie a tip for her trouble. I'll see you bright and early on Monday Annie, Presley declared.

Presley feeling overwhelmed felt relief wash over her when she saw her favorite person, Katie. Kate made her feel safe, taken care of. That was one of the qualities that Presley loved most about Katie. Katie made her way up the stairs and hugged Presley. "Girl tell me everything!", Katie screeched. Presley's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't realize how hard and overwhelming this move would be, Kate." Kate embraced Presley once again. "Remember what Lukas explained to you, this is all temporary.", Kate reassured. Katie felt relieved that she was there to help her friend get through this overwhelming time.

"I was going to wait until after the house warming party to ask you this, but I just can't wait any longer.", Presley excitedly stated. "This house is entirely too large for just one person, would you want to take the entire second level?!" She explained to Kate that she had full creative control over her space, all covered on her dollar. "I feel in debt to you for your hard work and PR, Kate." "You've shaped so much of my career for good, and I want to do this for you." Katie was surprised by this revelation. Katie quickly said yes to Presley's offer. "I'M MOVING TO OASIS SPRINGS Y'ALL!", Katie yelled in excitement.

Presley and Katie shared their excitement together for a few more moments then they retired to their rooms to do some unpacking. Presley was already hours behind schedule. She was determined to get her room done today. Sleeping in a cluttered room isn't good for the mind, she thought. When she made it upstairs to her room, she was delighted by the greenish-teal paint on the walls. I should pinch myself, she surprisingly thought.

After a few hours, Presley emerged into Katie's room. Let's order some pizza, I'm famished. Katie agreed, it was time for some dinner after all their hard work unpacking the house. Katie ordered their pizza on the Don's Pizza Palace app. The app gave a delivery time of an hour. Katie decided to go downstairs and set up the table for dinner. Presley decided to call it a night and take a quick bath before dinner was delivered.

Presley fell into the grey stone tub, hot water moving up her body. Her muscles needed this after all the lifting and hanging. She closed her eyes and quieted her thoughts. The steam filling her nose, she felt a heaviness in her breathing as the warmness soothed her. A warm breeze blew into the bathroom from the arched open doorway, the sheer white curtains following the direction of the breeze. Presley was reaping the benefits of her hard work and the pay off felt intoxicating. A few moments later she heard a knock at the bathroom door. Kate was letting her know the pizza had arrived. "Thank you for letting me know!", said Presley. "I'll be down in a few moments." Presley bathed herself and dried off quickly.

She was starving and ready to devour pizza with Kate. Presley ran down the steps and met Kate on the back porch. The smell of the pizza filled Presley's nose, her stomach growling, she hopped onto the chair. "This smells so delicious, get in my belly," said Presley! Kate giggled at Presley. She was always the comic relief in the room.

They enjoyed their dinner as they chatted about the future. Kate reminded Presley there was a formal dinner for MatchStick's new game release this weekend. Presley replied excitedly, "I am so excited for that event girl, I've been waiting so long to play Lost Avenue PlotTwist2!" Katie quickly grabbed her phone and RSVP'd to the event. Katie was scrolling through her calendar checking events and commitments. All of a sudden her phone notification went off. Presley looked at Katie as she began to have an annoyed look upon her face. "What's wrong Katie?" "It's just this guy that I've been seeing for a while," Katie said. "He's so kind and has been extremely consistent in showing me effort," she explained. "I'm just not feeling it," Katie confessed.

Presley listened to Katie as she expressed her predicament. "Kate the only thing you can do in this situation is communicate," she said lovingly. "You are strong and confident, use those tools," "Lukas says we should always confront issues head on," Presley said proudly. Presley felt proud that she felt emotionally knowledgeable for a moment. "If he's any kind of man, he will understand that you aren't ready for a relationship with him right now," Presley said convincingly. Presley's advice soothed Katie and they finished their dinner after a bit more conversation.

After dinner Katie and Presley made their way to the studio. Presley needed to make an appearance on her channel tonight. Kate knew if she didn't follows would drop exponentially. Presley logged onto VideoStitch, immediately viewers started pouring in. They were very interested to see how Presley's move went. Viewers expressed their excitement that she was back on Videostitch. She explained that the move went well, but had stressed her out. To much of their disappointment tonight's cast wasn't going to be centered around any games. Presley lovingly told her fans that her next stream would be two nights away, as she was planning an eight hour stream. "Keep a look out this weekend for my stream, I'm going to be debuting MatchStick's new release," she exclaimed! During the stream, Kate tiptoed out. She was exhausted from the day. She went to her room, changed her clothes and hopped into bed. Presley logged off from Videostitch an hour later and changed into her pajamas.

Today was productive in the most unexpected ways, Presley thought. As she laid in bed and thought about all the things she was thankful for, it dawned on her that she loved doing life with Katie. Whatever that meant at the moment. She considered doing something nice for Katie to thank her for her support. I'll have to think more about that, Presley pondered. She drifted off to sleep after some thought about gifts.

#simsstories #sims 4 edit #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 cc #simstagram #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay

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besseme-blog · 7 years ago

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Introduction

Let me introduce myself i was born and raised in the good ole US of A. When you think of an American I am what you would picture blond hair blue eyed white boy from small town USA population 7,000 three traffic lights a pigglie wiggie and two gas stations. I grew up the typical American life conservative Christian background Roman Catholic to be exact my grandma was strict and staunch go to church or burn in hell. My parents not so much they believed in god but never forced a certain religion on me honestly later I learned from them they believed in god but not in religion I wish I knew that then it would have saved me a lot of pain over the years. I grew up playing outside with my friends running the neighborhood and swimming in the local swimming hole things that small town boys do. As I started to grow up it was then I was exposed to organized religion and at the time standing in a corn field in Georgia with a redneck with a shotgun cradled in his arms preaching god and Jesus to me that only his religion is the chosen one and all others that don’t believe in his way will burn in hell and die! Needless to say for a twelve year old boy it scared the shit out of me and till now I believe it started to shape me to the mind set I have now.

More to follow.....

Growing up I was the typical all American boy playing baseball football and volleyball chasing girls and drinking beer (When I can get it) smoking a little wacky tobacco it was an amazing childhood even today I think back on my years growing up and I realize I caught the tail end of the days when being a kid meant being a kid. Mom and dad never forced religion on me actually they tried to keep away from it realizing that I should make my own choices in life and that someone else shouldn’t tell me how to live my life by what a book written thousands of years ago tells me I should and I shouldn’t do I appreciate that their mind set is find out yourself if that’s how you want to live. If I only could have realized that they were doing it for my own good and well being I wouldn’t have been thru the hell I have been thru or current predicament I’m in now.

I had a childhood roll model my uncle I’ll leave his name out of this due to fears of my identity being discovered. He was a true blue all American born in raised in the Deep South total Christian till end enlisted in Army voluntary when the Vietnam war was raging on served honorably highly decorated on the battlefields of SE Asia and continued to served till he retired from active duty at 35 yrs in uniform. He inspired me he motivated me and I made my mind up my senior year to join the military and serve my great nation like my uncle.

More to follow.

Senior year in high school and let me tell you what a year it was! I had really bloomed into a man I was working out every day and sometimes even the night I was 6 foot and 220 lbs of solid muscle had a few of the local girls I went to school with on each arm was popular in school and one hell of a football player but I was barely making it thru school. My parents decided to get me a tutor to help me pass I’m not stupid or dumb I just hated school I hated learning about things that I knew I would never use in the outside world Algebra 🤣 please when have we ever used that? Maybe if you were an engineer or scientist but me I had only one goal in life get into boot camp and get my hands on a M16 rifle.

As the year progressed my first report card came out well it wasn’t pretty a couple of B’s in subjects I liked namely social studies, English, History and our extra curricular classes like PE and auto mechanics. Math and Spanish I barely passed D in both. My parents sat me down and told me if I didn’t start passing these two subjects I either had to quit my part time job ( That meant bye bye truck ) or agree to being tutored in both subjects once a week. Ok that’s easy I loved my job and my truck so let’s do this and I’ll get a tutor.

My math tutor was this sweet lady former math teacher at our local high school well liked throughout town and well respected she whipped my butt in shape with math and there was no cheating or half ass processes it was show her how you did it and you better get it right the first time or your butt was doing it over and over again till it’s burned in your brain and she would keep me there till pass ten at night sometimes till I got it right!

Hey sounds tough but I passed!!

Spanish same thing one of the local ladies from town Rose was her name her mother came from Havana Cuba fled the country as Castro and his his rebels were beating Batista’s army back to the sea. Her father was a Major in Batista army and fought against Castro’s rebels. When Santiago fell to Castro’s forces he traveled to Havana mainly hitchhiking rides and if that didn’t work he would jam his service weapon in their face and make them take him. He was a total badass soldier and after two months finally made it to Havana as much of the country was in Chaos. He went to the airport trying to find a flight out of Havana but to no avail. As Castro’s forces encircled the city and people started to grow desperate namely Government, Military and the richest of Havana he caught a lucky break he heard of a freighter anchored off Havana buying up as much rum cigars sugar as they could get their hands on. He as a Major in the Army still had some power so he contacted the freighter and made a deal take me and my pregnant wife with you and I’ll help you raid one of the government warehouses on the wharves. They agreed the crew and him raided the warehouse at midnight and even convicted the army guards posted there to help in the raid in exchange for safe passage to the states. Christmas Day 1958 the ship pulled anchor and steamed towards Miami Jan 1st 1959 Cuba fell to Castro. Her father ( My Tutor ) was a legend in my eyes so I studied my ass off with them to pass my Spanish and got a B! And he presented me his his Cuban issue Army cover as a gift and shared a shot of rum. I will always respect that man. Rest In Peace Armando you were a true badass soldier and family man. More to come........

Work and I guess you can call it lust love.

Once my midterms were finally over and I got sort of good grades my parents were finally off my back. I didn’t have to go to the tutors during midterm break and was able to work full time at my high school job. Most kids my age in school were working at Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Blockbuster and some of the other popular places. Me on the other hand I wasn’t like the normal kids I found that flipping burgers and asking for your order too boring and meaningless so I went to work at one of the local boat yards. Being surrounded by water there was a boat yard almost on every street most of them catered to tourists renting boats or the snow birds that migrated down to warmer climates every years. I got hired at one of the smaller but nice boat yards that had slips for rent or own that people lived full time on. Boats everywhere and of every type nice multi million dollar types with more luxury than the Hilton to small sailboat types that a single person could live on. We did the maintenance around the yard the occasional maintenance on the slips and boat maintenance when paid enough.

I was hired for one purpose only that’s to dive in the harbor and to not only clean the pillions on the piers but the harbor it’s self. And let me tell ya’ll that’s some nasty ass work and quite honestly dangerous. Visibility sucks mud silt seaweed and harbor trash everywhere and the local sea life which includes things that sting things that bite and things that can and will eat you if they have a chance. Next to the harbor was a canal and there are residential homes and condos on that canal and almost all of them had boats and they loved to fish not in the canal but out in the ocean and they would bring their fish back clean them fillet them and throw their carcasses into the canal which created a god awful nastiness in the canal and attracted predators.

Barracudas- imagine a silver arrow underwater full of teeth and a bad attitude that is a Cuda. They could be small as 6 inches or as long as 6 feet. I ran into all the sizes diving the harbor and most just left me alone but sometimes there would be one that would follow me and in that inky darkness it’s not a good feeling.

Sharks- Yup they were there too every time you say shark someone would think of Jaws lucky that where I grew up there were no white sharks but there were others.

Bulls- Meanest damn things you can imagine honestly I think they are more dangerous than any other sharks and they have a bad temper too. Ran into them a few times while scouring the bottom and one chased my ass right up the boat ramp.

Tigers- bigger than bulls but equally as dangerous but not with the attitude of a bull they are the types that check you out first before they attack ran head on to a big one while removing a palm frond from the bottom he was probably around 9 foot long and I almost shit myself he swam right past me and I’ll never forget that tail it was so strong I moved when he swam by me. I was lucky three yrs after I enlisted a guy that lived on the canal where the recreational boats were lost a leg to a bull shark when he jumped on top of it by accident.

I loved my job I had a great time with a great group of guys. Mr. Smith he was my boss he was the nephew of the owner of the boat yard from Buffalo NY he was a hard ass worker day and night he had a wife and two kids a boy and girl and he was a family man even though he worked 7 days a week he always made time for them.

Mr. Mark- Army veteran served in Nam ground pounded in the rice paddies he saw some pretty hardcore action there but he never acted weird and crazy like some do after a few beers he would be back in the rice paddies chasing the Cong quite a few nights we had to carry his ass back to his truck take the keys make sure there was no guns nearby and let him sleep it off.

Mr. Jaime- Young guy 22 served in the Air Force got out had no goal in life but to work and live in a warm climate I asked him onetime what did you do in the Air Force and he said as little as possible.

The Boat yard people

They were a mixed bunch there were two types the year round residential ones they had the Beverly Hills of the boat yard the far end docks with the shore power and potable water hook ups. They were the ones who had more money than they knew what to do with and the multi million dollars live aboards most of them were really likable and easy going they were all pretty much retired with nothing really to do all day but ride around the boatyard on their bikes or electric carts most would start drinking at noon and by 6 pm were pretty shit faced. There was this nice couple from New York Ike and Fran they were Jewish but not very religious Ike used to say that why should we follow a book written 3000 yrs ago by a group of sand people living in the most inhospitable place on earth that thought when water fell from the sky (Rain) it was a gift from god. Ike make a ton of money in the real estate industry up north and they would always meet me at the docks before I would start diving to clean the basin and would always tell me what ever shellfish (Crabs and lobsters) or snappers or groupers I catch they would pay me for. Ike was scared of the ocean he served in the Navy and had a bad experience while swimming in Guam he told something dragged him to the bottom he swore up and down it was a giant shark ( Personally I think Ike was drunk and imagined the whole thing) I used to bring them conches stone crab and lobster every dive I did and he would always give me 25 dollars for my catch no matter how small or large. Ike didn’t believe in the whole kosher thing he thought it was a scam and a way for religious Jews to make money off people who believe that they will burn in hell if they don’t follow the ways of sand people 3000 yrs ago. They were good people and later on I found out they had both passed on and I hope the Rest In Peace. There were the Domingo brothers Hector and Juan two Cubans ran away from Cuba when Fidel took over these two practically swam in money both made their fortune by running dope from the Bahamas to the keys and Miami they had fast cars tons of gold and after Federal agents raided their yacht in the marina they had an arsenal of high powered military type weapons I remember a DEA agent bringing out AK’s M16’s UZI’s and all sorts of handguns. I didn’t have much dealings with the brothers they kept to themselves most of the time from what I read later on they both got twenty years in jail and the feds confiscated their boat and cars.

Terry and Trish

Well picture this two old party hard lesbians that was Trish and Terry they were in their 60’s made their money in hair dressing salons in New Jersey and they were always the life of the party they would start drinking at 1200 pm then they would start smoking weed around 3 pm and by 8 pm both were so wasted I had to make sure they got on their boat and in bed before one of them fell over and drowned or eaten by a damn shark. They were good people never found out what happened to them they were always against me joining the military they couldn’t understand why I wanted to go to war and die for someone else.

Karen and Tony

These two people were the youngest ones in the Beverly Hills in the marina Tony was 55 and Karen was 48 Tony served in the army during Vietnam as a MP I suspected there was much more to that story I’ll explain why later on. Karen who would alter my life and have a huge impact on me was a former teacher in Pennsylvania and a former hippie girl Tony and her met when he was on leave from the Army in the late 60’s. Tony made his fortune in boat batteries and had offices in Florida, Belize and Thailand Tony used to split his time between them two months in Belize and two months in Thailand and the rest in Florida they lived aboard a very nice yacht custom made job with all the luxury and comfort you could ask for. They both liked to work out in the local gym same place I worked out in and when tony was around they would bike ride around the island. Karen was an attractive woman between the bike riding and the gym she kept her self in shape and she always wore a two piece bikini either black or white and she liked her wine a lot she would usually start drinking after her morning or early afternoon bike rides. Tony hardly drank only once and awhile he would have a beer or two but other than that he kept himself sober most of the time.

The ghetto docks

The Beverly Hills section is the high rent district of the marina the upper shelf of the place the lower dock slips were the low rent section they were the part timers usually the drifters who floated in or snow birds from up north escaping the winter. Their boats well let’s just say from small sailboats to regular fishing boats with a small cabin with barely enough room to move around. The low rent docks didn’t get the service like Beverly Hills did they were responsible for their water their power and garbage removal and sewage removal no pumping into the basin they had to call the local honey pot to come pump them out. Beverly Hills they had power and water and sewage removal provided by the marina and garbage removal three times a day they just had to place it in the trash bins placed at the foot of the dock plus they had twenty four hour service if their power went out or water they could call Ralph and he would have one of us reset the breaker or restart the water pump. There were some interesting creatures in the low rent district for sure just a quick list.

The felon-

He was on the run from the law in Maine from what we found out later he shot his brother in the chest and fled he was halfway to freedom when he ran aground off the lower part of Florida and had to dock till repairs were done. He almost made it to South America the Panamanian coast guard caught him illegally fishing in their waters and arrested him. He was deported back to America minus his sailboat and is serving a 30 yr sentence for attempted murder.

The gay pedofile named skip-

The name same says it all he drugged and raped a 16 yr boy in NC and fled from the police he kept a low profile till one night he invited me over to his place to watch porn and have a beer of course. I declined and he left the marina a week later he didn’t make it far his boat caught fire off an reef at 2 am and he had to abandon ship and was never seen again. Police found the wreckage and identification number on the boat and declared him lost at sea.

The mentaposal married drug addict-

She was a trip OMG that woman was something I will never forget she was hooked on something and she didn’t care one way or the other about anything her old man was locked up in jail awaiting trial for drug dealing and looking at a lot of time. She was high almost 24/7 she had no money she couldn’t hold a job she would get fired after a a few weeks she always had the shadiest characters coming in and out from her boat she was trading sex for drugs and had no cares in the world. Jaime used to give her 20 dollars for BJ’s in the work shed after hours and bragged how he used to make her throw up by rough throat sex she was finally evicted from the dock she didn’t pay her rent for 6 months we had to call the sheriffs department when she started throwing things into the basin. She died after I joined the Navy overdose of cocaine.

More to come.......

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