#also I know Charlie getting his nose ripped off happened way later
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Did a little whiteboard session 💪💪💪
#last drawing is inspired by the smiling friends fnf mod btw LMAO#also I know Charlie getting his nose ripped off happened way later#but...#i couldn't help giving him a little scar....#charpim#smiling friends#pim pimling#charlie dompler#pim smiling friends#charlie smiling friends#pim x charlie
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Who did this to you, sunshine?
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Fandom: Fallout 4
Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader
Prompt: Who did this to you?
Warnings: Lots of cursing, Harassment, Blood
Summary: The mayor himself, steps in and solves all your problems.
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You had lived in Goodneighbor for the better part of eight years. Since Hancock has been office, you were a scavenger for Daisy. Meaning you also knew the cock sucker, Finn.
Every time he whistled your way, you sneered at him and slapped away his advances. It's been going on for more than a year. Whenever you left for a supply run, he'd slap your ass and blow you a kiss, every night at the Third Rail, he hit you up and tried buying you a drink.
It was getting tiring honestly, you didn't know how much longer you could take it. You wanted to beat the crap out of the son of bitch, but you couldn't. He was a guard and an assault on a guard was a crime.
You debated complaining to Hancock but decided against it. You had a nagging feeling Hancock would simply dismiss it as men being men.
It started out as a normal morning, you woke up and headed to Daisy's from your apartment, when Hancock of all people pulled you aside.
"What's up, mayor?" You questioned, caught off guard. The mayor hardly paid you any mind, unless you were delivering his chems personally. Or so you thought,
"Listen doll, this is kinda tricky for me to stay, so I'm just gonna say it." Hancock started, you blinked for a few seconds, thinking you were high on something.
"Wanna grab a beer with me later tonight?" Hancock asked, you were stunned. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of the mayor impurely.
"Uh, sure. I just gotta do a supply run now, so maybe afterwards?" You countered his question with a suggestion.
"Sounds good." Was all Hancock said as he turned to walk away, a hint of a smile on his mouth. You melted on the spot; the mayor had asked to take you out. The butterflies settled in your stomach as you smiled stupidly.
You headed out of the town, but not before Finn greeted you with a firm swat to your left cheek, you winced with displeasure.
----------------
It was late afternoon when you stumbled through the door of Goodneighbor. That supply run was a bitch. You had run into more trouble than you cared for. Otherwise, you were unharmed. You walked into town and Finn approached you.
"You look like shit." He told you, you could only frown.
"Not so pretty yourself." You growled venomously. You tired moving past him, but he stopped you.
"I can make you better." He offered, you snorted and turned your nose up.
"Like hell." You replied, you tried moving again, but this time he pinned you.
"Listen here, bitch. I've tried being nice, but this game is getting old." Finn snarled in your face, you looked away. He grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. You winced at the grip of his hand.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." He spat angrily, you ripped from his grip and kneed him in the knads. He growled and held his groin.
"Bitch!" He cried as he slapped you across the face, you whimpered in pain. You looked up,
"Keep your hands off me, you piece of shit. Fuck you." You said as you spit in his face before storming off. You held your busted lip.
You grimaced as you held your jaw, Finn held you so tight, your skin bruised around your jaw and lips.
You couldn't care less and walked into the Third Rail, forgetting about your deal with Hancock.
When you arrived, the mayor was waiting for you,
"One beer, Charlie." You said, the mister handy went to the old fridge and fished out a beer. He slid it to you, and you opened,
"Geez, you had a bad day." Hancock voiced concern, you looked over at him and your eyes widened. He saw the bruises and busted lip in the light. His facial expression changed then.
"What happened?" He questioned, his voice dropped an octave and sent a chill down your spine.
"What?" You asked as you blinked at him dumbfounded, Hancock's finger grazed your injuries, his coal eyes fixated on the specific marks Finn left.
Hancock's eyes darkened, his breathing became ragged as he looked up at you.
"Who did this to you, sunshine?" He questioned. You were breathing heavily, and your mouth was terribly dry. You couldn't find the words, mostly because you didn't want to cause a scene.
"No one." You replied meekly.
"Don't be shy now." Hancock said to you, you looked up and replied shakily.
"Finn."
"That son of bitch!" Hancock snarled as he stood and marched out of the Third Rail, you followed quickly afterwards.
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Finn was keeping guard at the front gate, when a fist made contact with the back of his head. He flew forward and landed on his stomach, winded from the fall.
"Get up you piece of shit!" Hancock howled as he picked Finn up by the collar, he swung him around and slammed him against the wall.
"What kind of bastard bruises a woman!" Hancock cried, holding Finn off the ground by his collar.
"Bitch kept rejecting me." Finn replied angrily. Hancock was furious.
"You stupid bastard, you slapped my woman!"
Finn's eyes widened,
"What?" He said stunned.
"That's right, you slapped my woman, you sick fuck!" Hancock cried angrily.
He let the man go and punched him until he fell to the ground.
"Get up! Fight me like a man!" Hancock snarled kicking Finn.
"Unless you're not man enough, a man like you can't fight men. You can only beat on helpless women! Get up!" Hancock wailed picking Finn up off the ground himself.
You were speechless as you stood there, watching Hancock beating the crap out of the man who had harassed you for a year.
"What kind of man beats a woman!" Hancock yelled as he punched Finn again. His knuckles bloody and sore. The man struggled to get up.
"Had enough?" Hancock spat,
"Fuck you." Finn managed to gurgle as he spit blood out onto the ground. Hancock rolled his eyes and pulled out his pistol and shot the man dead.
"Fuck you too."
--------------
Once Hancock got his composure back, he hurried over to you.
"Are you okay?" He asked with worry as he looked you over again,
"You shot him." You said, still speechless.
"Of course I did, nobody beats a woman on my watch. I don't give a fuck who they are." Hancock replied bitterly.
"Are you alright, sunshine?" He asked again, you nodded your head slowly. Hancock pulled you into a tender hug and held you in a close embrace in attempt to comfort you.
#fallout 4#fallout hancock#hancock fo4#mayor hancock#writing prompt#dialogue prompt#hancock x reader#hancock x you#fo4
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Give Me Attention - Charlie Gillespie
summary: Zoomcalls Classes with a bored Charlie
a/n: a/n: Don't quite know what this is but it was stuck in my head so here ya go.
words: 1.5k
warnings: some arguing, cursewords and pure fluff
Requests are open :)
MASTERLIST
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Most of the time if someone asked how living with Charlie went you answered with ‘great, literally so amazing, he brings a smile to my face every day. And you meant it, at least most of the time. You loved the way he was awake long before you even dare to open your eyes and the fact that because of that there was always a freshly made coffee just waiting for you on the counter. You loved the way that he danced in the kitchen with you while he cooked dinner and the way the bedsheets always smelled like him. Yet, you weren’t gonna lie, especially the first couple of corona moths have taken a little toll on your relationship.
“Charlie, do you have to rehearse your lines in the living room?” you asked irritated, crossing your legs under the kitchen table you currently sat at.
“But here I have the most space to move around. I gotta move around. You also said that we can go over our lines together.” he whined from the living room. At this moment you cursed the fact that you had moved into an apartment with a connected kitchen and living room. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was, especially when you had friends over, but right now it was only trouble.
“I know babe, but I have this essay due tomorrow and I haven't had the chance to start because we’ve been on set and in so many meetings.”
“Then you work somewhere else?”
“This is the only room with a table!” you protested, gesturing to the table your school books, notes and laptop were scattered on.
“You chose to pursue acting and finish your degree!” he shot back, getting worked up over this simple thing. The hurt flashed in your eyes making him instantly regret his words.
“I’m sorry that my education is important to me Charlie and that I wanted to finish my last one and a half years at College.” You stood up and grabbed your things “Have fun running your lines.” Charlie only heard the bedroom door slam shut and winced at the sound.
He knew better than to immediately run after you, so he waited about ten minutes before approaching. He knocked on the door and leaned on the doorframe. “Baby come back out. I’m sorry. It's just...I had a bad day, couldn't remember any of my lines, and even though we live together I feel like we rarely see each other... both so busy with the show and I… I don't know, I let my frustration out on you.”
The door opened and you hugged him tightly “I’m sorry as well. I could've just worn headphones. I’m stressed and let it out on you as well. I’m so sorry.” you muttered into his chest.
Charlie kissed your head and asked, “Can I help you with College stuff?”
Arguments like these happened a lot during the starting months of the pandemic. Both of you stressed and tired, basically working your asses off and still trying to be caring for one another. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows but after a storm of an argument, the clouds faded away and the sun came back out.
During the timespan from April to August, your boyfriend was bored, very bored. There sadly weren't many acting opportunities, there was not much to do in general and the press tour for JATP was scheduled after its release in September. You on the other hand had lots to do with school, participating in online classes, catching up on the material you missed last semester, writing essays and studying.
“Babeee…” he whined and propped his head up behind your laptop screen so just his eyes looked over it. “Watcha doiinn?”
“Pack it up Isabella…” you grinned at him “Currently working on a project due next week and I have a class in five minutes”
“What class?” he popped his head up a bit more, his whole face hovering just slightly in front of you. “Economics.”
“Boooriiing” he dragged out and rolled his eyes “Don’t you wanna do something more fun? Like Wii bowling, cooking, me.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“As tempting as that sounds, I can't, this class is really important...sorry bubbs.” you looked up at him apologetically and pushed your computer glasses up your nose.
“Fine” he sulked, “give me a kiss and I'll leave you alone.”
You smiled and went to lean closer to his face, with one hand he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer. One kiss, two kisses, three kisses later, you tried to pull back. “One more,” he muttered against your lips and you caved.
And he really did leave you alone until you were done with all your classes. But another day meant another day full of classes and work. You quickly build your own little routine. Charlie still woke up earlier than you and greeted you in the kitchen with a smile, a coffee and a kiss. Then he would go on a run and you would start your first couple classes. He would come back, shower, prepper your face with ‘motivation kisses and then try to get your attention for the rest of the day.
++
“Braid my hair.” he wailed like a little kid and put his head on your lap. You looked down at him for a split second, your hand immediately tangled in his hair.
“That can’t be comfortable for you.” You chuckled and scanned his figure, the side of his right hip on the chair next to you, both arms and legs hanging loosely to the ground, his head on your lap.
“It totally is,” he muttered, barely audible because his face was nuzzled between your crossed legs.
“If you say so bubbs,” you said and tried not to laugh, your fingers playing with some strands of hair.
“Miss Y/LN what is the answer to question 4?” the professor asked you and totally ripped you out of your thoughts. “Oh shit...class.” you cursed and looked over your notes before unmuting yourself “the national bank sir?” you tried but it sounded more like a question than a confident answer.
“I know you're sitting at home and this is a difficult situation for all of us but don’t get distracted. We don't want your grades slipping…” you nodded and shot charlie a quick look. He half layed on your lap for the rest of the day, drawing little patterns on your legs, occasionally he got up to get a glass of water or some notebooks for you.
You liked to say that he annoyed you and sometimes he really did but you mostly found it endearing. But he did know how to distract you.
“I’m gonna work out here alright?” he questioned and put down his weights he took out of a closet in the hall. To focused on your note writing, your professor's voice ringing through the room you only nodded your head and barely looked up.
As your professor started to ramble on and on about a topic that you already had last semester, your eyes started to wander through the room and got stuck on a particular thing. The thing was working out and still looked absolutely delicious, he was currently lifting weights and his cake was on full display for you.
A tone shift of your professor brought you back to the zoom class but it didn't take long for you to be distracted again. After his workout, Charlie showered and was now just casually chilling shirtless on the couch a couple of feet away from you. His new tattoo shining brightly in your direction.
“What is more important than my class Miss Y/LN?” the same teacher that always catches you slacking piped up. Charlie's head shot up and he winked at you. “J-just a bird,” you said shyly, your cheeks heating up.
Not even ten minutes later, there was a movement in the corner of your camera. You tried to ignore it and listen to one of your classmates' presentations.
“You also want a coffee?” Charlie asked you over the counter.
“Yes please.” you shot him a thumbs up.
Whilst the coffee machine was rattling in the background, your classmate finished the presentation and that meant that it was your turn. Time Management was never you and Charlie's strength and so just as you were in the spotlight option of the call, Charlie walked up behind you.
“Char..I-” you tried to stop him.
“Here is your coffee ma love,” he said lovingly, still shirtless by the way, bending down to give you a kiss on your shoulder before placing the cup on your table. You awkwardly froze and stared at the screen in front of you.
“That’s a funny bird.” was all that your professor said while another classmate piped up with a “He’s kinda hot.”
“So uhm…” you chuckled, your cheeks and ears bright red. “I choose this topic because…”
#charlie gillespie#charlie gillespie x reader#charlie gillespie imagine#charlie gillespie fanfic#charlie gillespie fic#charlie gillespie fanfiction#julie and the phantoms#charlie gillespie x y/n#charlie gillespie x oc#charlie gillespie x
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“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 10
A/N: Alright this one broke and mended my heart all at once while I was writing it - goddamn these characters hahahahaha.
WARNINGS: Swearing, Violence, Guns, Death, Alcohol -
I know I’ve used swear words in previous chapters but this one is quite heavily riddled with it, I also thought I’d warn that there are mentions of death in this one my loves - it’s nothing too full on and I don’t go into heavy descriptions but I just felt like this one needed a warning just incase x
As always, please enjoy xx
As the alarm goes off, Charlie and I both jolt awake in bed. It only takes a few moments to realise that it’s almost half an hour past when we were supposed to be up.
“Fuck!” He shouts as he jumps out of the bed, ripping the sheets back. He’s going on a work trip this weekend with his brother, and if the time on the clock is correct, then the car should be pulling up any moment.
I tear myself out of the bed after him, frantically running around with him to help him get ready.
“Charlie your suit case is in here!” I call as I hear him fumbling around my apartment for his luggage. He runs back into the room, tearing through the cupboards for his suit.
He strips naked right in front of me, and I can’t help but laugh at how much of a mess this is as I try and help him get his suit on.
“He’s gonna kill me if I’m late” he stresses, his hands desperately trying to do up his buttons but he fails. This is a big weekend for their business. If he’s late or messes his up, I know how horrible he will feel about it for a long time.
“Hey, just breathe okay, let me do this” I coo, swatting his hands away as I do his buttons up for him.
He nods, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Once his shirt is buttoned up he takes off again, scurrying around gathering all his paper work, luggage and some how wriggling his shoes on. We both jump in fright as the beeping of a horn below signals that his car is here.
Swearing repeatedly, he runs to the door, but freezes right before he walks out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he breathes, turning back to me with a shaking his head.
“Stop, it’s okay” I promise him, my hands on his chest as I straighten his tie and jacket “You’re gonna be amazing”
With a relieved smile, he presses his lips against mine. I hold his face, trying to soak up as much of him as I can.
“I’ll miss you, don’t get in any trouble while I’m gone eh?”
“Me?” I furrow my brows “I have no idea what you’re talking about”
He laughs, pulling me in for another kiss.
“Okay, okay you have to go” I chuckle as the car horn continues to beep downstairs. He gives me a few last pecks and before I know it he’s gone, running down the hallway, leaving me flustered in his wake.
I run over to the window, watching as he gets in the car and gives me one last wave. I return the gesture, blowing him a kiss that he pretends to catch as the car pulls away and disappears from my sight.
Slinking back through my apartment I collapse lazily back into my bed, arms and legs flailed in every direction as I fall back asleep.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
“Hello?”
“Hi you”
I smile as Charlie’s voice speaks like honey through the phone line.
“Miss me already?” I tease.
“Most definitely” he replies, when suddenly the sound of excitement and hollering fills the phone.
“The deal went well then?” I chuckle at his excitement.
“The deal went… incredibly,” he begins, trying to speak over the mens in the background “Actually, we made an ever bigger deal than we originally planned on… they want to financially support the entire business, Izzy”
“Oh my god, Charlie, that’s amazing!” I exclaim
“I was gonna wait to tell you when I got home but… Izzy I think we’re going to move up here”
My jaw drops as I press the phone closer to my ear to make sure I heard him right. When I don’t reply, he begins to fill in the blanks eagerly.
“They want us to move up here Izzy, they want to support us and the whole business-“
The weight of what he’s actually saying begins to wash over me as a million questions leap and bound through my mind.
“Charlie-“ I stutter “You’ve been there for 5 hours” I blurt out, glancing at the clock. 5 hours. That’s barely enough time to decide you want to move 3 hours away. Permanently.
“I know, I know, but we just made the biggest deal of our lives… I’ve gotta follow this Izzy”
“Oh my god” I breathe, trying to sound excited but doing an absolutely horrid job of hiding my shock.
“That’s not why I wanted to call you though, I think I have a proposition for you” I hold my breath. So far, I couldn’t have predicted this conversation even if I tried. I have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth.
“Well you see, I told him I wasn’t moving up here unless they set us up with a proper home because…” He takes a deep breath before blurting out his next words “I want you to come with me, Izzy”
The second the words leave his mouth I freeze. Go with him. Did he just ask me to move away with him? Move three hours away? Away from my home. The place I grew up. Away from my job. Away from the Shelby’s.
“Izzy? Izzy are you there? What do you think?” I hear his muffled voice asking through the phone as I snap back into reality. Heat rises up my neck and over my face as I fumble for my words.
“What do I think?” I echo his words. I don’t know what I think. Actually, I’m thinking way to much.
“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to pack your bags right now. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home”
Pack my bags?
My breath quickens as do my racing thoughts and heart rate.
“Okay, I have to go!” he rushes quickly as the shouting and hollering behind him gets louder, urging him to go and join the celebrations.
And just like that, the phone line goes silent. I stand in the lurch for minute after minute trying to digest what just happened. I fumble for a chair, trying to steady myself as I sit down. The whole conversation was such a rush and a whirlwind that I feel physically light headed.
We’ve only been together for a month.
But if I don’t move away with him, is that the end of us? We would hardly be able to visit one another during the week. And even weekends aren’t always free. Between both of our work schedules, how would we ever make time. Three hours away. That’s no short trip. If anything happened back here, I wouldn’t be able to get back in a hurry. What if Tommy got into trouble? And Arthur? What if Polly needed me? And then the most regretful, dreaded thought crosses my mind. What about Michael?
I feel physically ill. I can’t move. I can’t do this. The phone that’s rested in my lap begins to ring obnoxiously, frightening me so badly I almost throw it clean across the room. Maybe I should. Maybe I should break the goddamn thing.
“Shit” I hiss, running a hand through my hair as my heart pounds so hard it feels like it might just jump straight out of my chest.
I yank the phone towards my ear, completely exhausted and flustered.
“Izzy? Darling it’s Polly”
I sigh, trying to calm myself down enough to sound somewhat normal and coherent.
“Hi Poll, what’s up?”
“Look don’t panic, we just need you to come down here okay”
The tight nervousness of her voice snaps me straight out of my cloudy, foggy state.
“Polly what’s going on?” I reply urgently, standing up from my chair in a panic.
“It’s alright. Just come down to the office okay? We’ve got a client here and-” she pauses as voices in the background get louder and I strain desperately to hear who is there “We just need you to go over some things”
“I’m coming now” I hang up the phone immediately.
Something isn’t right.
I race out the door without my coat, my hand bag, anything. I don’t even bother trying to be subtle as I run through the streets, tearing my way through people and around corners until I see the office ahead. As I get closer the fear in the pit of my stomach grows bigger and bigger.
Polly never sounds like that. What the hell is going on. What am I about to find inside.
The sound of sudden shouting from inside sends a crashing wave of fear and adrenaline through me as I burst into the office through the back door. What I find when I walk in sends my stomach into back flips. I freeze, almost tripping over my own feet from stopping to abruptly.
All heads shoot towards me. Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael. They look terrified, there eyes wide with panic as they’re stood at the edges of the room, their backs practically up against the walls. And it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. My eye’s immediately fall over a man stood in the middle of the room.
He’s standing amidst the office desks which have been flipped and smashed all over the floor. Paper is thrown everywhere. I would call him a stranger, but he’s not. I know this man. We all know this man. He is a client. Bill Rodgers.
I have seen him a few times. Met with him. Met his wife and children. He pays donations to us once a month, in return, we look after his family if they ever need anything. A simple agreement. We do that for a lot of families around here. He’s never been overly warm. But friendly enough. And I don’t know him incredibly well. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise there is something wrong. Besides the fact that the office is a mess. With chairs, desks and tables scattered across the room. Paper work everywhere. Bill stands in the middle of it all.
His doing I assume.
And he is completely wasted. I can smell it on him. All the way from the door way, my nose catches the distinct smell of whiskey. It almost fills the room. You have to drink bottles of whiskey, or spend days on end inside of a pub to smell like that. Even the way he stands, head to the floor, grumbling, swaying. Muttering to himself. But that’s not even the most concerning thing. No. The most concerning thing about Mr Rodgers is not his drunken stupor.
But the pistol that he is clutching in his hand.
I swallow hard when I see it. I glance to the floor, where I realise they have placed all of their guns.
He must have demanded them to drop their guns.
What I cannot figure out, about Bill, is what the hell he wants. He has never caused any trouble. Never gotten in trouble with the law. Never betrayed us. What the hell is doing here in a drunken rage with a gun?
“Bill,” Tommy begins, his arms outstretched to him “This is Isabelle”
I glance nervously at Tommy as he signals for me to come over to stand beside him. I rush over to his side, and he steps in front of me ever so slightly. Bill looks up at me gravely, through the disheveled hair falling in his face. I try to hold his eyes, staying calm and gentle. In his state, anything could set him off.
“And what is she gonna do about it huh?” He growls “They’re dead Tommy”
“Bill-“
“No, Tommy” he shouts “I pay you donations every month, yeah, and you look after my family in return. BUT THEY’RE GONE! THEY’RE GONE TOMMY!” His voice grows louder as he waves his arms in the air, and we all take a few steps back as we watch the pistol in his clutch nervously.
Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“Bill,” I say gently and he shoots his eyes in my direction “Just tell me what happened, and I can help you. Whatever you need. But I have to know how to help you first”
He stares at me, reluctantly, angrily, before something seems to give.
“They’re dead” He breathes “Sarah, and my boys. I was out, and the house was robbed. They stole everything and killed my fucking family”
My heart drops. He lost his family. All of them. This man is hurting. He is in pain. We are supposed to provide protection. His house being robbed is something none of us could have prevented, or helped, but he has just lost his entire family, and he’s looking for someone to blame.
I can’t believe my own actions when I find myself walking slowly towards him. I feel everyone in the room tense, as I do. This man may normally be harmless, but right now he is intoxicated and armed. And I’m walking straight into it.
“Izzy, don’t” I hear Tommy’s voice hiss so silently I almost miss it. But I ignore him.
“Bill, we can help you okay” I take another slow, weary step towards him treading so lightly I barely make a sound “We can find the men who did this, but I just need you to put your gun down for me”
He sways, seeming to lose his stability. The whiskey coursing through him right now must be making him see double.
Suddenly he bursts into sobs, and I almost jump out of my skin. He sinks to the floor, falling among the debris in a pile of sobs and cries.
Keeping my eyes firmly glued on the gun, I lower myself to his level.
“No one can help me” he whimpers in between cries.
“We can help you, I promise” I breathe, the stench of whiskey slapping me in the face and burning my nostrils as I shuffle closer and closer. I’m only inches away from him. Close enough to reach out and take the gun from his lose grip. With one head in his hands, and the other hanging by his side, he’s so distraught I don’t even think he would notice.
I hear feet shuffling around me, as they all begin to reach for their guns just incase.
I hold my breath, praying over and over again silently to myself as I extend my arm. My hand shaking as I close in on the pistol.
But the second my skin touches his, my hand brushing the pistol ever so slightly as I almost grab a hold of it, it sets him off like a match igniting a bomb. His giant stature lurches upwards as he roars with rage. Happening all to fast for me to comprehend, or even try to escape, he shoves me with a brute force that I’ve never felt before. He pummels me, bashing me up against the wall, the back of my head colliding with it so loudly against it that I think I black out momentarily as everything goes white. My ears, are ringing, piercing and loud and I only just begin to comprehend what’s happening when I feel his hands around my throat.
His forehead is pressed roughly against mine, his thick breath hot and drenched in pungent alcohol as his chest rises and falls heavily. I grab at his hands, clawing desperately to try and pry them off as his grip tightens. He shakes me like a rag doll, shoving me so harshly into the wall that I’m just waiting for it to give way. He stares at me with rage, with ferocity that I have never seen before. Frozen, paralysed in fear, all I can do is stare back into them.
The sound of gun chambers cocking all around us catches his attention, and suddenly I’m being pulled away from the wall. He spins me around, and the blow to my head as well as lack of oxygen disorients me completely. It’s not until I feel the burning of cold metal against my temple that I come back to my senses. Bill is stood behind me, one arm around my chest to keep me still, my back pressed against him. The other hand, is pressing the barrel of his pistol against the side of my skull.
I stiffen immediately, not even breathing as he faces me towards the Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael, who all have their guns aimed at him.
“PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN OR I’LL BLOW HER BRAINS OUT ALL OVER THESE WALLS” He screams at them, his booming voice almost defeating me in one ear as he presses the pistol harder against my head.
Tommy, Polly and Arthur drops their guns to the floor immediately.
But Michael doesn’t budge.
Our eyes lock, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so terrified. He is completely pale, all the blood drained from his face as he aims the gun at Bill’s head.
“Just put the gun down” I whimper, and he shakes his head frantically, refusing to.
“Let go of her” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice cracking and shaking.
My ears prick as Bill cocks the gun, the chamber clicking.
“An eye for an eye huh,” Bill breathes, beginning to sob again “I fucking kill her and then we’re even for you not protecting my fucking boys”
“Bill let her go” Tommy warms, holding his arms out to him “We are going to find the men that did this and when we do, they are going to get what they deserve. But this…” she shakes his head “This isn’t the answer”
My eyes dart from Tommy back to Michael, who has not moved an inch, gun still aimed.
“I TOLD YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING GUN DOWN” Bill shouts at Michael, completely ignoring Tommy’s words.
“Michael” I plead desperately, dread washing over me so heavily that I feel ill. I watch as he shakes his head, refusing. His wide open, panic strike eyes have turned glassy, and I can feel tears stinging and biting at my own eyes.
“It’s okay,” I breathe, giving him the smallest nod I can manage with the pistol against my head “Just put it down”
His eyes flicker between me and Bill, and I have to fight to not release a harsh exhale of relief as he lowers his gun to the ground.
“There you go Bill, all the guns are down, now let us talk to you eh?” Tommy negotiates, trying to sound as calm and gentle as he can. But I can see his palpating jaw. His tense body. The veins in his neck bulging from holding his breath. He is the furthest thing from calm.
For a moment I feel Bill’s grip loosen, and in my peripheral I can see the pistol fall away from my head as his arms falls to his side.
He’s letting his guard down.
I shut my eyes, taking a shaky breath in through my nose.
“You’re going to find them” he growls his orders at Tommy “And when you find them, I’m going to kill them”
“Bill…” Tommy shakes his head, trying to be as polite as possible “Bill I can’t let you do that. If you kill them, they’ll only send you to jail… just let us take care of it-“
“TAKE CARE OF IT!” He screams, and I can’t help a whimper from escaping my mouth “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY. BUT YOU DIDN’T-“
Tommy opens his mouth, to try and say anything that will calm him, appease him. But once bill has been set off, there is no taming the fire that is his rage. I should have known. There is no reasoning with a drunk man.
With a grieving man.
“No, no, this is your fault” I feel him nodding his head behind me as he points the gun at all of them “This is your fault, and you’re the ones who are going to fucking pay. YOU’RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING PAY”
His cry is the one of a final war cry, and I know what’s coming next.
The next moments of my life feel like they are in slow motion. Suddenly the barrel of the gun is pressed straight up against my head again as he shoves it against my temple. The last thing I see is Tommy, Polly, and Arthur lunging forward, all shouting and begging for Bill to stop before it’s to late.
This is it. This is the last thing I’m going to hear. The last thing I’m going to feel is the end of a pistol pressed again my skull, before I feel nothing at all. Please let it be painless.
A single gun shot fires into the atmosphere.
I expect nothingness. More black. Maybe heaven. Or hell. Though I’m not ever sure if I believed in God.
But I feel myself breathing, my chest still rising and falling. I hadn’t even realised I had squeezed my eyes shut when they shoot open to find myself still in the office.
I’m alive.
The first thing I see is Michael. His gun aimed not at me, but at where Bill had been standing.
It wasn’t Bill’s gun that fired. It was Michael’s.
Bill is dead.
Everything washes over me all at once. Relief. Horror. Fear. Adrenaline. My head is pounding, and entire body feels like I’m floating. Completely weak and empty. Not strong enough to stand, and having lost all feeling in my body, I feel myself collapsing to the floor.
Right before I hit the ground, I find myself falling right into a pair of arms. All noise is muffled, and I feel completely numb as I almost completely pass out for a moment. The only thing I can hear is the throbbing and pounding of my head. It’s not until I come back around moments later that I realise whose arms I’m in.
They’re familiar arms. Strong. Firm. I’ve felt this exact grip before. They way the seem to hold me together. I thought I had forgotten how they felt. But I still know them anywhere.
Michael.
He scoops me up with desperation, and I don’t know who is clinging on to who as he holds onto me like its his life that depends on it. The only thing stopping me from crashing to the floor is him. His arms has envelope me completely, engulfing me in like a safety net. Wrapping me up in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with Michael.
My body and mind still completely disoriented, I find myself only being able to cry. That’s the only thing that comes out. With my face buried in his chest, he holds the back of my head, pressing me so close to him I can barely even breath. But I don’t care. I’m alive.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you” He chants frantically against my ear, and I can’t tell who he is trying to calm down more. Me or himself.
Beneath his chest, I can hear his heart racing. It pounds loudly against my ear. His grip on me never lets up, he doesn’t budge whatsoever. He just holds me. Let’s me sob, staining through his shirt. Everything else fades out. Everything seems to go away. Not just Bill’s attack. It’s like the last few months haven’t even happened. Nothing else matters right now except for the fact that I’m in his arms.
I feel a pair of trembling hands on my face and when I look up I find my eyes opening into Michael’s. His eyes are wide, panic filled and pooling with tears. As we stare at one another, it’s almost like he can’t quite believe I’m in his arms right now. Even though it’s over now, he still has residue terror all over his face. I know he thought that he was about to lose me for good. Forever.
Up until now I’ve barely been able to take a full breath or even begin to stop hyperventilating. But something about the hold his eyes have on me begins to centre me. I feel myself being grounded. Like I’m coming back to my surroundings. Those serene blue eyes give me something to anchor to as the panic slowly but surely leaves my system.
Without even meaning to we find our foreheads pressed to each others, his grip on my face still firm.
“Look at me” his voice is barely a whisper, as it shakes, threatening to break completely “You’re safe”
Pulling me back into a hug, he grips onto me so tightly as if I’m going to disappear if he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to let go, because I feel like I might just break and crumble if I don’t have him holding all my pieces together.
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The Miys, Ch. 102
Okay, trying to queue this again after it apparently got eaten along with chapter 101.
Y’all pray for me to whatever higher powers you believe in or can make up on the spot. Thanks.
Thanks for this chapter goes to the fabulous anon who sent me an ask about Jedis. I really, really hope you are seeing this chapter and I hope you like it. I also want to thank @baelpenrose as my resident Star Wars expert, who checked, double checked, and triple checked my writing to make sure everything was as entertaining/accurate as possible.
Before you all cringe at some comments Sophia makes, she is deliberately downplaying her knowledge of Star Wars in an attempt to see if she can give some of the other characters a twitchy eye.
After an extraordinarily bizarre situation regarding my former foe and who I assumed was his partner, I was profoundly relieved to find myself in a very boring, very normal situation a couple of weeks later. Even the regular family dinner was pretty normal: grilled cheese on a very good sourdough, with a tomato soup so garlicky that even I had no objections to it. I made a point to puree it, so Derek was very happy with the texture and I was happy with the flavor. Arthur shot me odd looks once in a while, but it was a happy, calm dinner.
And things were going… so well… I thought as Maverick dragged everyone into his quiet argument with Sam.
“Sam,” He stated emphatically as he dunked his sandwich and ripped a tomato-soaked piece from it. “We all want it to be real but… humans don’t exist outside of Earth and the Ark.”
“Yoda is not human,” Sam insisted loudly, grinning the entire time.
I choked on my soup. “Yoda? You two have been arguing Star Wars this whole time?”
“Maverick insists they are not real,” Sam enunciated carefully. When he got excited about a topic he loved, he had a tendency to rush everything and drop syllables, making his words nearly impossible to understand.
“They meaning Jedi?” Arthur asked, eyeballing the pile of sandwiches on the table. Finally he snagged his third half-sandwich and dunked it without ceremony. “As much as I wish they were real, I have my doubts.”
So did I. “Human beings who can use telepathy, telekinesis, and distance-empathy?” I scrunched my nose. “I think that’s a bit far-fetched.”
“But extraterrestrials exist,” Sam pointed out.
Conor nodded. “They do, obviously. Otherwise, Noah would be a bloody big figment of our imagination.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “If we didn’t make Santa real as children, I doubt we could make up someone like Noah, right?”
Sam only got more serious. “I was always taught that aliens don’t exist. My teachers told me that the only life off of Earth were bacteria. But, even if Else is bacteria, Noah isn’t. So, maybe other things we thought were pretend are real.”
The table was silent for a moment, shattered only by Derek dusting bread crumbs from his hands as ceremoniously and loudly as humanly possible. “Sam has a point,” he signed. “Fabricators exist, aliens exist.. Hell, telepathy exists - “
“Not telepathy,” Miys interjected from above.
“Neuro-pheremonal communication exists,” Derek finger-spelled, making a point of how cumbersome the term was in a way none of the rest of us really could. Seven minutes later, he took a slurp of soup and continued. “Unicorns exist, even if they are chubby. Why not Jedi?”
I opened my mouth to refute, then realized I couldn’t: we had the genetic code for both narwhals and rhinoceros in the gene bank. Good effing luck convincing anyone unicorns don’t exist, I guess. Instead, I grasped on my one last leg of logic. “But humans, like Luke Starkiller and Obi-whatsit Kenoshi don’t actually exist.”
Maverick looked absolutely revolted by something, which confused me. He liked tomato soup, and actually chose the cheese for the sandwiches himself. “Sophia. Have you even seen those movies?” He was absolutely aghast as he posed his question, and I suddenly understood what he was revolted by.
“Of course I did,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “In college, in Intro to Adolescent Literature.”
Soup abruptly coated everything on the table as both Arthur and Conor spat violently at my clarification. Arthur scrubbed his chin the fastest, so had the honor of levelling his incredulity at me. “Sophia Reid. Do you mean to tell me that you have only seen Star Wars ONE TIME?”
I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve seen all three.”
“ELEVEN,” Sam corrected me loudly. “There are eleven movies.”
“Please, please tell me you at least saw Rogue One,” Maverick begged. “You may not have known it was a Star Wars movie?”
“Is that the one where the robot hits the guy and says he has another fresh one?” I asked carefully.
Maverick nodded. Arthur, however, looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “I am going to force you to consume every bit of Star Wars media worth consuming if I have to get Charly and Derek to program the audio versions to play in every room you enter.”
“I can do that,” Derek signed, unhelpfully.
Arthur just nodded. “See? I can make this happen. Your quarters will feel like Hoth, all digital communications will sound like C-3PO, and many Bothans will die before your datapad functions.”
Alarmingly, Miys interjected. “Wisdom, Bothans are an endangered species. Please do not encourage Educator Farro to commit atrocities.”
I was still gasping in confusion when Arthur recovered from his choking. “Oh shit. Bothans are real? They were a very back-stabby race of dog-type people who fought against fascists in Terran media. I thought, at least. I wouldn’t actually kill a real one… I am far more high functioning of a sociopath than that, thank you.”
“Noah,” I choked out. “Are you serious? Are Bothans real?”
“Affirmative,” they responded, setting off an entirely new round of choking and sputtering. I would need to have something done about my floors if this kept up. “And while they do resemble Terran canines on a very superficial level, they are genetically more closely related to a Terran fern.”
Arthur looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. “That is the least back-stabbing and least threatening plant I can possibly think of.”
Conor, not to be outdone, was still curious. “Boston or Fiddlehead?”
“Asparagus fern, Human Conor,” was the reply that set off a thousand coughs.
Sam recovered first. “That does not mean Jedi don’t exist,” he insisted.
“Of course Jedi exist,” Miys answered in a tone that was as close to being confused as I had ever heard.
Almost immediately, Arthur, Maverick, and Sam started cheering and high-fiving. Conor looked confused, while I spat my soup out again.
“WHAT?” I choked out between attempts at keeping tomatoes and garlic out of my lungs.
“They are as real as any member of any other Terran religion.”
Silence ruled the room for a split second, broken first by Arthur throwing his fork in the air behind him. Like a signal, it led to Sam and Maverick dropping their head to their forearms with a groan.
I managed to recover enough to slide my food away, lest I risk death over an absurd conversation. “Are there anything like Jedi in the known galaxy?” I asked, receiving a thumbs up from Arthur, who was still trying not to choke on his soup.
“Only in small measures.”
That seemed like the magic phrase to snap Arthur out of whatever coughing fit he was having. “Are there any species in the galaxy that have Jedi abilities?”
“You will need to be more specific.”
Conor, laughter out of his system, joined gamely. “Is there anything that can move physical objects without touching them directly?” he started.
“Several species can,” Miys conceded. “Those who only experience what you consider ‘sight’ as changes in air currents can, in fifty-four percent of cases so far, also change the air currents in a sufficient way as to move physical objects.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “They can stare at something hard enough to move it?”
“Wisdom, if I experienced physical pain, I am certain that your oversimplification just now would have caused such a sensation.”
Without rebutting, I waved for Miys to continue and ignored the laughter caused by the comment.
“Similarly, there are species more limited than Hujylsogox, who can perceive the physical world strictly through sound,” they continued. “In such cases, it is not uncommon for these species to also alter their surroundings by vibrating physical objects at a frequency that causes them to move within physical space.” A brief pause before, “And no, Wisdom, that does not mean they scream at objects until such objects move. I would also like to point out, Educator Farro, that the same species can cause internal organs to vibrate as a sufficient frequency as to cut off air flow.”
“Force choke is real,” Arthur whisper-shouted, mildly horrified. Clearing his throat, he spoke more clearly for his next question. “What about ‘there is a disturbance in the Force, as if many voices cried out’ etc?”
Miys buzzed thoughtfully for a moment before replying more clearly. “There are number of species who are able to perceive and interpret with great accuracy any changes in interstellar radiation, no matter how small. Should, say, a star go nova or collapse into a black hole, they are very reliable in providing information to cartographers. Should such a species state with certainty that a planet ceased to exist, I would need to see the planet from orbit in order to disbelieve them.”
Maverick let loose a low whistle, but it was Sam who spoke next. “But what about living beings, on an individual level. I know you can do that, but can any other species?”
“It is, perhaps, the most common trait in the known galaxy,” Miys admitted. “Even humans can do this, to a degree, although you tend to ignore it against all logic.”
“Okay. What about force lightning, though?”
I actually started to respond to that, having an answer finally, but Miys beat me to the draw. “Species who communicate through electrical currents are more numerous in the galaxy than those who can see. In the same way, they need to be able to manipulate such currents. Their young are frequently sequestered on their home worlds in order to prevent electrocution of species whose neural organs can be disrupted by uncontrolled communication. The same species are capable of using those same currents to increase their own synaptic response and reflexes.”
I almost wanted to laugh at Maverick’s face. He looked frustrated and ashamed in a way that I could not figure out. Maybe because these abilities existed, but not in humans? Regardless, his tone was frustrated when he asked his next question. “What about force ghosts? Please tell me those are real?”
“Very much so,” Miys confirmed. “Though likely not in the way you think. What you consider ‘Force Ghosts’ are, in the galaxy as it is, the result of technological advancement combined with spiritual beliefs.” A few groans surrounded the table, but Maverick perked up slightly. “Many species believe, as a result of their evolution, that their predecessors’ life energy persists after death. In these cultures, it is so common as to be unremarkable for a person to have a synaptic recording chip installed shortly after birth, to record their entire lives. They, then, pass their chip on to their successor in position.” Wait a minute… I thought, but Miys continued before I could put everything together. “In such circumstances, many species’s neural organs will manifest a… personality, separate from the original, in order to preserve mental stability. Such manifestations are very similar to what Terran media considers a ‘Force ghost’.”
“Hang on,” I ventured, holding my hand up emphatically to cut off any other questions from the table. “That. Stop there.” Taking a deep breath, I thought back through everything I had read in the past. “I thought the idea of deliberately having multiple, distinct identities was… a story, honestly.”
“Even in your own past, it was discovered that the human brain can host two distinct personalities with no difficulty, Wisdom,” Miys admonished. “These species, however, are uniquely adapted so that, along with the memory implant, they suffer no actual combination or confusion of experiences. What their ancestor experienced is their ancestor’s memory, and what the person experiences is the person's memory. A person cannot overwrite an ancestral core. Only speak to it.”
“Can humans do that?” Sam asked, dazed in wonder at this new revelation.
“Not yet,” Miys responded. “But I do insist on the word ‘yet’, as you were never meant to do many of the things you do now.”
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#the miys#humans are space orcs#humans are weird#found family#original writing#earth is space australia#hfy#humans are awesome#aliens#apocalypse#science fiction#sci fi#original sci fi#original science fiction#my writing
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Ohana Part 2 - (Ben Hardy!Warren Worthington III Serie)
Words: 1.824
Summary: Warren accidentally made a family of his own and he’s determined to do anything in his will to protect them, but maybe that won’t be enough and a little help may be needed.
A/N: I don’t like this that much but for now it will do, sorry. And sorry for the delay, Uni is killing me.
Part 1
[GIF NOT MINE]
Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and the only thing that had changed was the little family’s life expectations and health deteriorating. Every other mutant had catched up with the news. Not only Angel had been re-captured but also Mockingbird… and their brood. It had caused quite a reaction around the place. First of all, an offspring coming out of both of them was obviously unplanned, and revolutionary somehow. On the other hand, everyone knew humans were capable of committing terrible atrocities against mutants, no news there. But taking a child who had so far showed no abnormality at all into an illegal, unsanitary, fight club was beyond what every mutant could expect. It was clear a few workers felt uncomfortable with the situation as well but they only followed rules and got paid, so the best they could do was sneak Warren’s cage next to hers for a few minutes. Yet it was extremely risky and had only happened twice in over seventy days.
Their bodies had changed. Warren’s torso had now new scars striping his white skin. She was thinner and looked pretty sick. She always gave most of her food to Charlie to make sure he wasn’t hungry. The food quality alone was pretty bad. Dehydration and malnutrition were slowly but surely making their way within their organisms, not to mention the exposure to viruses and infections. The walls were rotten with moisture as well as the remaining wooden doors. The metal ones were rusty and the place had no heating except for the showroom. Clouds of cigarette smoke hung in the rooms as the ventilation wasn’t great either. There was no possible way of not getting sick, especially if you weren’t eating well, or if you had a four-year-old’s immune system.
Charlie’s spirits were of general concern. The other women in her room tried their best to cheer him up and keep him entertained. It wasn’t really difficult as he was so young and creative games easily got him focused. The problem was Mockingbird was losing her life, in every sense. The red-headed lady had warned her, she had to be strong for her son, but even if she tried her body was collapsing gradually. Her mind had tricked her as well. She’d convinced herself she wasn’t the strong lonely winged girl she was years ago. That rough girl had disappeared and the new Mockingbird couldn’t find the strength within herself to keep going. Everyday was a new battle against life, and each one that passed was making her wonder when she would finally lose. She had been put to fight mutants a few times and each had ended with her barely conscious, Charlie being forced to stay with a stranger in another cage and forbidden to look at her injured mother till the next day. The first time they took her a lot of shouting happened.
Two men came in the room unexpectedly, wasting no time in opening her cage. She couldn’t even understand what was going on until a third man ripped Charlie off her arms and handed him over the next cage, the other two grabbing her by one of her arms each. Her brain couldn’t process the fact they had taken her son away from her for the first time since they were there, a guttural scream stuck in her throat as her eyes explored everywhere around her in desperation. The female mutant known as Birdy held Charlie’s hand in concern as the little boy was terrified watching his mom being drawn through the door, tears falling down his pink cheeks and cries escaping his mouth.
As soon as she was being carried down the hall her voice suddenly screeched at the top of her lungs. Warren’s head, which was blankly staring at an invisible point on the floor, shot up at the recognition of the scream. He stood up at a speed he hadn’t thought he could and shouted back, trying to put his head between the bars in a failed attempt to catch a glimpse of something, anything. Apparently she heard him, managing to stop the men from walking further.
—Warren?!
He called back but the men had already moved again, pulling her towards the big cage. Warren was beyond mad. He pushed so hard against the lock of the cage the motion sent it completely over itself. The commotion caused a crew to come check what Warren had done. As they began lifting his cage Warren grasped the collar of one of them pulling him against the bars, the nose of the guy bent against the cold material. He could feel Warren’s breath all over his face.
—Where the fuck are you taking her? —the question filled with menace. — Where is my son?! —this time he shouted it, spitting mini droplets onto his skin.
The other men helped the hostage and took a few feet away from Angel as they feared his unpredictable behaviour, taking his rapid breaths and visible neck veins as a warning. They told him. His expression became instantly one of worry. No… No, she can’t…
After twenty minutes of show, Mockingbird was being dragged back to her cage, a sight which, although Warren didn’t see, Edgar made sure to detail only to enjoy the frustration and helplessness in his eyes.
Charlie hadn’t stopped crying till one of the girls with vocal powers sang him a lullaby. When the door opened and they brought her in several gasps were heard. Though Birdy had the toddler asleep in her arms, she turned in case he would open his sterling grey eyes and see the decrepit state of his mom.
The other times she was recruited were pretty similar. Lots of shouting, crying and useless anger. Now it had been weeks since the last time she fought yet her body was no better. Bruises still lingered in her skin, which was grey not only due to the dirt but also to illness. Her mouth was dry with her lips all cracked and her eyes half open. She couldn’t say if her muscles didn’t hurt or if they hurt so bad that she could no longer tell the difference.
—Mommy…? —the little boy left the made up toys given by the red-headed lady and approached her, making himself comfortable on her lap. A sneeze interrupted his unstarted sentence. He’d been sneezing and coughing a lot the last three days. —I miss daddy. —her head barely moved to look at him. She couldn't contain her own tears. With a movement that took a tremendous energy out of her, she held her hand up to caress the boy’s hair. She grunted in pain as she kissed his forehead.
—I know baby… me too. —her voice was hoarse and low. Every breath was an exertion.
A few hours later things were silently getting worse. It was the coldest day they had spent there. A thick snow cape covered Germany’s streets and buildings. Tonight a big fight featuring Angel and a really fat mutant had the air filled with excitement. It was the red-headed mutant the one who noticed it. Firmly setting her sight on Mockingbird she noticed she was breathing shallowly. She sensed something was wrong.
—Hey! Chs... You! —her voice got the attention of some other mutants. —Mockingbird!
No response. Her eyes drifted to the baby boy shivering in his sleep. He was covered in sweat and snot fell from his little nose. He was probably running a fever. They had to do something. She sent a look at her partners and they secretly set to work in order to do what they had to do first: let Warren know what was going on.
—Holy shit… —a young boy muttered when he got the news. He didn’t want to be the one telling Angel his girlfriend was dying right then and there, a few rooms away with his son suffering from fever on her lap. He swallowed forcibly.
—Uhm… A-Angel?
Warren slowly turned his head in his direction. When the boy faced those empty cold eyes he muted, taking a few seconds to gain his composure and carry on with his task. —Women say your-your g-she. Women say she—Warren furrowed his eyebrows and stood up at a low pace, grabbing the bars for help. Panicking the mutant didn’t know how to say it and only got himself tangled in an unintelligible utterance. —Spit it out at once!
—They say she’s dying! —the boy shouted, closing his eyes as if trying to hide himself. When he opened them tho, he saw the blonde falling in shock. No anger, no eruption like a volcano, no tears, no breaths, only a blink as his body collapsed against the bars once more, the freezing material embracing him.
—There 's more. Your son. He 's very sick. —another mutant added.
He didn’t respond. Instead he turned his head towards the door and started shouting non-stop at the top of his lungs.
A third of an hour later, men came to carry his cage to the show but left him in the corridor that led to the electrified gate, not inside yet.
—YOU MOTHER FUCKERS LET ME OUT! —Warren’s cheeks and ears were pink. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out. His hair couldn't be more tangled and greasy. His breathings were rapid and he was sweating all over. His throat was already burning from so much shouting. He had to save her. He had to save them.
—Well well well… It’s my champ number one, isn’t it? —Warren’s face contorted with rage at Edgar’s appearance on the other side of his cage.
—They are dying. Get them help right now... and you can keep me for the rest of my life. —his tone was firm but somewhat pleading at the same time.
Edgar’s face stretched with a sardonic smile. And Warren lost any hope he had, leaving a deep hollow in his soul. There was nothing left, he’d lose them, maybe not Charlie, but… Everything he had got to know about love, about having a family that cares for you, about life actually not being that bad… It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he be happy? Why couldn’t people live and let live? He and his little family hadn’t done anything to anyone…
Half an hour later the crowd was full. He heard noises, shouts, voices, but not words. The blinding white light fell on him on one side and on the other mutant opposite him.
—Ladies and gentlemen! Weeeeeelcome to this exciting night with our champion number one, Angeeeeeel!!!
The front side of his cage opened allowing him to step in. He had decided to hate life. From now on, not a heart would keep beating if they came in his way. His opponent was about to pay for all the damage Angel had gone through, and boy it wasn’t going to be pretty.
#warren worthington iii x reader#warren worthington iii#ben hardy imagine#ben hardy x reader#ben hardy warren#xmen apocalypse#warren x reader
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The Reluctants | Chapter 2 | The Reluctant Tenant
Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)
Summary: Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?
This Chapter: Charlie discovered the true identity of the man living in the basement through unusual means.
Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death
-
Charlie bounded out of bed that morning a half an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She hurried to the kitchen and slapped the coffee maker before popping a cinnamon raisin bagel in the toaster.
“Call on me, Call on me…” Charlie sang into her knife as she waited for the bagel to pop up ready to slather it with a generous amount of cookie butter. That ridiculous Eric Prydz song had wormed its way into her brain last night during her research. Now she couldn’t stop singing it. Or thrusting her hips.
As the coffee dripped and her bagel breakfast toasted, Charlie headed to the second bedroom. Or the room of requirement, as she called. She meant it to be her home office but instead stored all the bits and pieces of her life that had yet to find a place in her apartment. Charlie sighed and took a deep breath, twisting the brass knob and pushing the door inward. It stopped short about a third of the way. She slithered her way into the room to discover her collection of hockey sticks tumbled over, blocking the path of the door.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” she cursed mostly at herself as she righted the tub that housed the sticks. She surveyed the room, gingerly stepping around stacks of books and old stuffed animals crammed into banker boxes.
“I should sell all this on eBay.” she muttered while moving back issues of Real Simple and Martha Stewart Living Magazine.
Her Christmas present from her mother every year. Even though she never read them and would sooner read Guns and Ammo over that drivel. And Charlie never owned a gun. Just another way for her mother to comment on her inadequacies as a woman and a daughter.
“There you are.” She unearthed a pair of Bose stereo speakers. “Come here, my beauties.” She lifted them from their hiding spot, cradling them under her arm.
It took about an hour and two cups of coffee for Charlie to find the optimal spot to set up and then hook the speaker up to her phone. She laid the speakers face down against the floor at where she expected for Mr. Shelley’s living area. She adjusted the volume and clicked open the playlist she prepared last night.
“Let’s smoke you out, Mr. Shelley.” She pressed play on her phone.
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know
That something wasn’t right here?
The speakers vibrated the floorboards, causing decades of dust and debris to sift up from between the cracks. Charlie’s nose scrunched up in disgust.
“Oh man, I walk barefoot in here.”
Her head snapped to the door as Britney continued to sing, expecting a knock at the door. But as Britney faded out and *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye, there was no knock. Not even when the Macarena clicked on. Charlie resisted the urge to stomp on the floor or yell. Anything for a sign of life. She shrugged her shoulders and headed to the kitchen to grab her dustpan and broom. The least she could do was clean the floors.
By the time the sun set that day, Charlie knew all the words of the entire Christina Aguilera catalog and all her books were organized by color and then alphabetized by title.
KNOCK!
She yelped and jumped in place when a solid knock hit her front door.
“About fucking time.” She picked herself off the floor where her record collection laid strewn about mid-collation and answered the door.
She had never seen such a beautiful face look so pissed off. Mr. Shelley’s striking features marred by what she could only describe as malice and murder.
“You look like Syd Barrett got caught in a lawnmower.” Charlie commented without thinking. Her thoughts often dropped onto her tongue like gumballs when she was nervous, and Mr. Shelley made her very nervous.
“Can you turn that fucking shit down?” He growled, his lips a tight line. “I haven’t fucking slept all day.”
Charlie smirked. “I just have a few questions…” He rolled his eyes and turned to head back to the basement. “I hope you like Disney!” She called out. He snapped around and leaned against the doorjamb.
“I’ll report you for noise violations.” He smiled back.
“Actually… Quincy city ordinances indicate that between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. on weekends and holidays the decibel level shall not exceed 75dBA and then 65dBA after 5 p.m. That is slightly louder than a conversation and since you and I are conversing with ease. I think I am in the clear. Perhaps you should have soundproofed the basement before you moved in.” Charlie smirked.
“What are you, some kind of lawyer Ms…?” Mr. Shelley rubbed his temple, failing to will away the headache this conversation was creating.
“Bock. Charlie Bock.” She extended her hand. “Yes I am. I work at Legal Aid, Downtown. What do you do? Besides, own this home.”
He ignored her question. “Listen Ms. Bach.”
“Bock.” she corrected.
“That’s what I said, Bach.”
“No, Bock.” She clicked her tongue on the last syllable. “Hard ‘k’. Common mistake.”
“Fucking zombies.” he muttered.
Charlie pushed forward, ignoring the zombie remark, but cataloging it in her mind for later. She was wearing him down. “Listen, I just have some questions, agree to talk to me and the music stops. Plain and simple.”
“No.” he drawled, turning on the well-worn heel of his boots.
“Please?” she begged. He responded by shooting her the bird.
“Rude.” Charlie thought out loud as she shut the door. “Fine, you want to play, let’s play.”
-
Adam groaned as the music continued for most of the night after his run-in with Ms. Bock. As promised she switched from the 90s teenybopper trash to Disney and show tunes. He wasn’t sure what was worse, show tunes or the prospect of stepping into the sunlight and burning up. A tan sounded excellent right now.
Adam curled the pillow around his head to muffle the sounds of Julie Andrews gleefully singing for people to rot their teeth by ingesting sugar on its own rather in something sensible like tea. It didn’t work.
Matters were not helped by the fact he was hungry. He needed to drink, but he couldn’t with the infernal racket going on upstairs. Charlie Bock, the name sounded like someone ripped it from the pages of a noir detective pulp novel. Charlie Bock, private eye. More like Charlie Bock, bloody fucking annoying girl.
And why was she wanting to talk to him? He pondered pulling the pillow off his face and sat up on the edge of the bed. He never understood the zombies’ need to socialize with neighbors. Proximity did not equate familiarity. As Julie faded out and some song sung by a girl reporting that the “cold never bothered her, anyway” came on, Adam resigned himself to the uncomfortable task before him.
-
Charlie was ready to settle in for another night of reruns when another knock rang out from the door. She shuffled to find a robe to throw over her pajamas, flinging clothes around the room. Another knock and then the doorbell. Repeatedly.
“Is he fucking leaning on it?” Charlie groused as she padded to the door without a robe.
“I’m here.” she spat out, swinging the door wide. He leaned against the side of the house. If possible, his hair was even more mussed than before. The corners of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. “Ready to admit defeat?”
Adam rolled his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes narrowed towards her, piercing through her green eyes. His gaze dropped for a moment and he caught his tongue darting out of his mouth while staring at his bosom heaving. Her quickened breath gave away her fear. It hung in the air like stale perfume. Fuck, he was hungry.
Charlie shuffled her feet and tugged at the low scoop neckline of her top, doing little in the way of covering her assets. Her discomfort almost brought the slightest smile to Adam’s face. Almost.
“Tomorrow 8 p.m. Your place. Two questions.” He turned to leave.
“Ten questions.” Charlie countered.
“Three.”
“Eight. Ever heard Baby Shark?” She poised her finger over the phone screen.
“Six. Final offer.” He leaned towards her. Charlie acutely aware of his height in this moment.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” he snarled heading back down the porch steps and to the basement entrance.
“Can I at least get your real name?”
He disappeared around the corner. “Adam. That’s one!” he shouted into the night air.
Charlie shut the door. “Adam.” She had trouble falling asleep that night.
-
That night’s activities exhausted Adam, so he slept through the commotion of Charlie straightening up the apartment. Had he woken up, he would have been welcomed to the sounds of her doing two loads of dishes and rearranging both her kitchen and living room furniture.
“Oh fuuuuccck…” Charlie cursed as she yanked the armchair into yet another seating arrangement. She realized she cared what Adam thought of her home. A lot. “No… no… no… SHIT!” Charlie flopped in the armchair in disgust. At herself. For falling for her landlord.
“I don’t even like musicians.” she lied to herself, conveniently forgetting Mark, Tyler, and that guy from college who insisted on calling himself “Mick” after Mick Jagger even though his real name was Simon.
Charlie pushed the thoughts away when she grabbed her coat, keys and purse, heading out to pick up some drinks and snacks for later tonight.
-
Adam overslept the date, no appointment, with Charlie. He hadn’t needed to be anywhere at an appointed time in a century at least. So he didn’t set an alarm. Not that he had an alarm. Although looking back, Adam was certain he could have fashioned a suitable alarm clock from the bits and bobs of machinery in the cramped basement given the proper time and motivation.
But now time was at a premium. He needed to feed before heading upstairs. A mistake yesterday. Staring at Charlie in that ridiculous low cut top sent his body into a tailspin. If the conversation had gone on much more, she would have likely seen one of his fangs, threatening to make an appearance. He hated how his body couldn’t tell the difference between hunger of the flesh and hunger for blood, causing him problems more times than he cared to remember.
In his haste and quick movements, Adam tripped on the upturned corner of an ancient Turkish rug, the canister fell from his hands. With the cap already loosened on the canister, the blood formed a dark puddle on the ornate geometric pattern. He’d never get that stain out.
“Shit. Fuck!” A nearly full canister of the good shit, O-negative wasted. And to top it off, his supplier was indisposed for some time. He would have to figure out a way to make due with his remaining stash.
He grabbed an old towel from the unused bathroom and sopped up the mess as best he could. Adam gathered the now bloody towel along with other debris from the living area, cramming it into a paper bag as he exited the basement to toss all of it into the communal garbage cans leaning against the decaying siding. He didn’t notice the bloody towel fallen at his threshold when he stepped over it to get cleaned up, his mind on other things.
-
At fifteen past eight, Charlie stomped her foot and rose from the sunken futon.
“This is bullshit!” She marched out the front door. Charlie was already formulating her rant in her mind when she pounded on Adam’s door. She glanced down to find a towel stained red. Blood red. She picked it up and sniffed. Metallic.
Adam opened the door as he adjusted the collar on a charcoal gray silk button down. Their eyes locked. His an unnatural blue, Charlie’s a deep emerald green. And then Adam saw what was in her hand.
“Where d’you find that?”
“At your door. I KNEW IT!” she did a little dance in place, pulling the towel close to her. “You’re the fucking Mob or something! Oh, shit. I need to call the cops! You murdered someone!”
Charlie twirled in place like a top. She realized she was pressing the towel against her chest and threw it in the air in disgust. Adam with his supernatural speed grabbed the towel mid-air. Charlie stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.
“How did yo—” Her words cut short as Adam jerked her into the basement by her wrist.
The door slammed behind her and Adam released her wrist, walking away, huffing. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to answer some questions to appease her curiosity and then go on living their separate lives. And now Charlie stood in his home, his sanctum, smelling all kinds of… FUCK! he still hadn’t eaten.
“Listen, if you are planning to kill me, there are people who will—”
“No there aren’t.” An edge to his voice.
“I beg your pardon?” Charlie blinked before trailing after him. “I happen to have lots of…” Her voice trailed off. “Wow…”
Every square inch of the walls was covered in instruments hanging from hooks. Acoustic and electric guitars of all shapes and kinds. Several violins and a viola. Plus other stringed instruments she didn’t recognize. There was an upright bass in the corner behind a drum set. And a makeshift recording station in another corner.
“How in the hell? Who or what are you?” Charlie breathed the stale air of the basement as she continued to turn, taking everything in. How the hell did he even get all this down here without her knowing?, she thought. Her face pinched into a scowl. She stopped spinning and planted her feet facing Adam. “I’m waiting for answers.”
She placed a hand on one hip while the other one jutted out in a snap, causing her breasts to bounce. God, he needed a drink!
“It’s better I show you.” He left the room at a brisk walk. Charlie stepped to get a closer look at all the instruments. “Don’t touch anything!” He called out just as Charlie reached out to smooth her fingertips over the polished wood.
Like a child in a museum, she folded her hands behind her back. She walked the perimeter of the room, getting close but not touching. She could spy a fine layer of dust and dirt on tops of some, some looked freshly cleaned. Charlie winced when she recognized her stunt was the likely cause of the dust.
“I said no touching.” His lips pulled tight across his teeth.
Charlie waved her hands from behind her back. “You can’t touch with your eyes.”
“You can if you try hard enough.”
He placed a small crystal glass next to a tall metallic canister akin to a thermos. “Sit.” He barked like Charlie was a dog in desperate need of obedience training. In Adam’s mind, it wasn’t far from the truth. His mind wandered to all the ways in which he could break her. Make her whimper. His fangs made their presence known. He poured a small amount of the blood into the goblet and downed it. He had company. His fangs tinged pink as he fell back onto the wine red velveteen couch and for a moment he forgot everything except bliss.
After several moments, Charlie cleared her throat. Adam popped open one eye to find her sitting there, hands folding in her lap, making herself as small as she could.
“So…” she started, Adam popped open his other eye. “… you’re a vampire.”
He didn’t respond, instead rolling his eyes. He waited for reality to sink in and Charlie to go screaming into the night. Adam sighed and huffed, contemplating the fact he would need to move again. Packing up the recording equipment would be a bitch.
“Zombies. Shit.” Adam muttered under his breath.
“You’ve used that term before. Like…” She held her arms and moaned. “Brains… zombies?” It surprised him she was still here, her hands once again neatly folded in her lap. Like at church.
Adam huffed again. “That is about how humans act these days.”
Charlie crossed her arms and leaned back. “That’s an awfully pejorative term.”
“That’s the entire point.” His words sharp.
“Shouldn’t you use a nicer term for a being which you need to survive?” Her green eyes blinked, and Charlie remained unmoved.
“Shouldn’t you be running out of here in terror or disgust?” Adam snapped back.
Her nose scrunched up, and she shifted to face him. It was adorable. Adam hated adorable. And cute. And fluffy. The change in angle allowed Adam a view down Charlie’s sweater. A dark violet sweater with a deep v. All the blood he drank moved to a different part of his body. He stood to disguise his condition from Charlie.
“Are you saying that because I should be afraid of you or because you expect me to be afraid of you?” Her brows knitted together, marring her face.
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes, or else I wouldn’t have said it that way.” Her gaze followed him about the room. His torso twisted as though he was recoiling or hiding from her. “Communication is not your strong suit, is it?”
“I prefer to communicate by means other than words.” His long pale finger plucked a violin string. He didn’t elaborate on his comment.
“You haven’t answered my question.” She prodded.
“You’re awfully persistent for a zombie.” She winced at the word and Adam twinged for a moment with guilt.
“I’m a lawyer that is literally part of the job description.” She stood and smoothed down the sweater which Adam was now actively averting gaze from hoping to ward off the already painful erection or making a mess in his jeans. “Let’s try another tactic. I’ll answer your question first. No, I’m not running in fear or disgust. You are what you are and there is no changing that. And you have shown nothing but… well, I wouldn’t say kindness or respect…” She rambled, Adam shot daggers. “… but the fact is you have never tried to physically harm me. So you are okay in my book. For now.” There go those nerves again. Gumballs left and right.
She stuck out her hand, trembling. Despite her bold words, inside she was a puddle. Adam raked his eyes over her, searching for any sign of malice or guile only to find none. He took her hand and shook it. It surprised Charlie to find his skin warm.
“Thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have a precious amount of time left until sunrise.” He gestured towards the door.
“Apologies!!” Charlie startled.
She rushed to the front door, with him close behind. Too close. Adam collided with her as she turned for a final farewell, their chests colliding. She reached and steadying herself against him, her fingers burned as they skimmed across his chest exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. And Adam’s erection which had subsided came raging back. Adam shuffled back to keep it from pressing against Charlie.
“I also want to say sorry for the mess I made on your instruments. I didn’t know. And I want to invite you to use the interior stairs to the kitchen whenever you need to.”
Adam smirked, his confidence and swagger returning, or that could just be his cock talking. “Haven’t you seen the movies? It’s an awfully dangerous thing to invite a vampire into your home.” His eyes heavy, charm in full force.
“I have, but how else can I get to fix my bathtub?” She continued, unfazed. “It’s been leaking for a week.” Adam’s mouth fell open and Charlie disappeared from view.
Once she rounded the corner, Charlie took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing as she shut the heavy wooden front door. She ached in a place she shouldn’t ache when talking to her landlord. Her undead, brooding musician, hot as hell, vampire landlord.
“Fuck.” Charlie cursed, walking away.
Adam stood rooted, staring at his door, his body regaining control of itself. Did that go well? He wasn’t sure.
“Shit.” Adam walked away as that fucking violet sweater haunted his mind for the rest of the evening and in his dreams.
#adam#adam fanfiction#adam fanfic#adam angst#adam fluff#adam smut#only lovers left alive#only lovers left alive fanfiction#adam x ofc#the reluctants
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Loved You Dangerously - Thomas Shelby
-PART TEN-
Song: Dangerously - Charlie Puth (slowed)
Warnings: Violence, swearing, fluff, angst, slight sexual content.
Summary: I loved you dangerously, more than the air that I breathe. Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going, didn’t care if the explosion ruined me. Baby, I loved you dangerously, Mmmm, mmmm. I loved you dangerously.
An arranged marriage to one of London’s most notorious criminals isn’t something that you planned for. But when you so happen to be kidnapped by the one and only Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, your story takes a drastic turn full of lies, deception, and a love that you never thought possible.
Author’s Note: This is a series that is all my own. Events happening within will not directly correlate with the actual show. This chapter will be from Tommy’s perspective, but it will also be switching between the reader’s perspective as well. There will most likely be many spelling errors which I will edit later. But nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy!
One of the maids had called throughout the night, and Thomas wasted no time in returning home.
Arthur sped through the countryside, turning around corners way faster than anyone should have, but Thomas could tell that his brother was just as furious as he was. Arthur had grown quite fond of you during your prolonged stay, all of the Shelby’s had. But after the maids had informed him that there had been an attack on the house, this was the last straw.
It was early morning when they arrived back at the mansion. The cloud cover had turned the sky grey, a heavy mist consuming the valley and leaving ghostly shadows of trees in its path. Driving down the gravel driveway, Arthur suddenly slammed on the brakes, the car skidding violently to a stop. Polly cursed, gripping John’s arm tightly as she brushed strands of hair from her face. “What the fuck is that?” Arthur mused, his squinted gaze focused on a shadowed figure only a few metres away. Thomas followed his brother’s gaze, spotting the figure hunched over on the gravel before...a body.
Thomas’s heart leapt into his chest, a sense of fear consuming him as he exited the car. He set off at a sprint, the mist seeming to clear as he approached. His pace increased when he realised it was you, his breath hitching in his throat as he sprinted to your side. “Y/n!?” He cried, his eyes widening in shock and horror. Upon hearing your name, a wave of relief fell upon him as your head lifted, your glazed eyes meeting his. He sprinted as fast as he could, as you stood shakily to meet him. Numbly, you stepped over the body and jogged towards him, throwing yourself into his arms. Thomas held you close, whispering sweetly into your ear. “It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe now...”. For a brief second, Thomas pulled away from you to examine every inch of you. His stomach churned in a mixture of anger and fear. You were a complete wreck, a bloodied, shaky and sobbing mess, and Thomas was furious. Your hair was matted with blood, your hands stained a crimson red, and your clothes were almost black from the sheer amount of the it. You muttered something under your breath, a broken whisper, something that broke Thomas’ heart.
“I killed him...I killed him Tommy”.
Silently, Thomas’ gaze moved downward to the body behind you, his anger rising as he recognised the face. It was Alfie’s lackey, the one who had broken into his home, and threatened your life not two days ago. “Tommy...” you spoke, your voice hoarse and broken “I...I-”
Thomas pulled you back into his chest, wrapping his arms securely around you as you cried into him. He felt your hands grasp the fabric of his shirt, the force almost enough to tear the material. Despite his own fury, your skin was freezing to the touch, the mere coldness of you seeping through his warm clothes. He pulled away from you, hating the way the blood stuck to your face in ugly drops, and swiftly removed his coat. “You’re fuckin’ freezing...” he muttered, his jaw clenching as you greedily wrapped his coat tighter around your shivering form “how long have you been out here?”. His heart tugged as your eyes simmered, a small trace of the innocent woman you once were pushing through the grief, horror and trauma you had experience. Your words became stuck in you throat, trying to speak slowly but surely. When you couldn’t respond, Thomas immediately knew. You had been outside all night, with nothing but the man you had killed for company. Thomas swore loudly, cupping your face gingerly as three pairs of rushed footsteps approached. The first by his side was Polly, who shrieked loudly upon seeing your appearance.
“Fucking christ! Are you alright?” She questioned, taking Thomas’ place and placing her hands on your shoulders. More tears cascaded down your cheeks as Polly turned to face him with a grim expression. “I’m going to take her inside and get her cleaned up, you boys do whatever you need to do” she instructed, before turning towards you again. She spoke softly, as if speaking to a child, and smiled as comfortingly as she could. She looped one of her arms around your shoulders and escorted you towards the house, where several maids greeted them on the threshold and ushered you inside.
As soon as your form disappeared, Thomas’s gaze returned to the body still on the ground, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. A small part of him wished that the bastard was still alive, so that he could have killed him himself. How dare he. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man try and take what was his. Thomas released a frustrated sigh through his nose, as his brothers moved to stand by his side. Arthur was the first to speak. “What do you want us to do?” he asked lowly, his voice seething with anger. Thomas turned to face John, who’s expression look as angry as he felt. “Whatever you need done, we’ll do it” he responded, standing tall and confident in silent and blind loyalty. Thomas thought for a long moment, his hand clenching into fists at his side. With his gaze fixated on the body before him, he ordered in a deep and authoritative tone, “Get rid of the body. Then I want you to hunt Alfie down. Do whatever you have to do to find him, but you do not act without me telling you what to do. Understood?”.
Arthur and John both nodded in agreement, the both of them stepping forward and lifting the body between them. As Arthur and John returned to the car, Thomas made his way towards the mansion. He had a lot of planning to do, and one plan in particular was quite risky. But he would gladly risk everything for you, and so after entering the mansion, he headed straight for his office. No one dared bother him as he passed, after all, almost everyone was upstairs taking care of you. But when Thomas entered his office, his anger turned to complete rage. Papers from his desk draw lay scattered all over the floor, one of the curtains was ripped off its hanging, and his revolver was on the floor on the other side of the room. Picking it up carefully, he placed the weapon on his desk and braced his hands against the wooden frame. At this point, he was seething. Putting fragmented pieces together, Thomas assumed that you must have come to his office, knowing that there was a hidden revolver beneath the draw’s contents to use in order to defend yourself. With a heavy heart and an enraged cry, Thomas swung his arm and cleared his desk of all its contents with one swift swipe.
The lamp shattered against the wooden floorboards, the loud crash echoing throughout the entire second floor of the mansion. Thomas collapsed back into his chair, running a stressed hand through his hair as he sighed loudly. He would worry about fixing his office later, the functionality of the room was not his main priority right now. However, after finding a few pieces of blank paper and a pen, he set about writing a letter. Or rather an invitation of sorts.
After sitting in the billiard room for a long and gruelling three hours, Polly finally entered the room with a long and tired sigh. Thomas rose to meet her, discarding the glass of whiskey in his hand as he stepped towards her. “How is she?” He asked carefully, his eyes searching Polly’s face for any troubling signs. When Polly sighed wearily, a soft smile gracing her lips, she shook her head. “She’s incredibly shaken, dare I say traumatised, but she is alright” She explained, causing Thomas to sigh with relief. His worry had done nothing but eat away at him for the entire morning, and hearing that you were somewhat back to your normal self caused his heart to soar. He had never felt so relieved, his gaze falling to the floor as he breathed deeply.
“You can go see her if you want, but just be cautious” Polly warned, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. Without waiting another second, Thomas made his way towards your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to see you. But upon reaching your door, he suddenly felt quite nervous, the envelope in his jacket pocket feeling a great deal heavier than it did an hour ago. With a faint sigh, Thomas knocked lightly, his heart leaping as he heard your soft voice mumble a small and timid ‘come in’. He did as he was told, opening the door slowly and entering your room to find you situated on the windowsill, your legs pulled up to your chest. Thomas closed the door behind him, your eyes moving to meet his with a faint smile. He approached you slowly, moving to sit beside you on the windowsill.
As soon as he sat down, he watched you from the corner of his eyes as you swung your legs down onto the floor, and moved over to sit beside him. Taking his hand in yours, you leaned your head onto his shoulder with a slight sniffle. Thomas looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him before resting his chin atop your head. He held you close, managing to intertwine his hand with yours and squeeze it reassuringly. “Last night, the man I...” you began, your voice quivering as horrific memories flashed through your mind, “he said that Alfie has now given his men permission to kill me, and blame my murder on you and the Peaky Blinders”. Thomas’ jaw clenched, a deep huff of frustration leaving him before you suddenly tightened your grip on his arm. Thomas froze, moving his head to peer down at you, only to find your eyes already fixated on his. Those beautiful, (eye/colour) eyes that he loved so much, that had experienced something no woman such as yourself should have, somehow still managed to sparkle. They shone with so much love, so much kindness, despite the trauma you had been through.
“Arthur and John are going to find Alfie...” Thomas suddenly blurted, not liking the way your form tensed “when they do, I’m going to kill him”. Thomas straightened as you pulled away from his hold, standing up and making your way into the centre of the room. He watched as you paced, your arms folded over your chest as your mind was no doubt racing with millions of thoughts. Thomas stood, placing his hands in the pockets of his pants “I wanted to let you know, Y/n, because I want you to make the call-” “What!? What do you want me to do!?” You shrieked, turning to face him with a bewildered expression. Thomas stepped towards you, taking your hands in his and caressing the back of your hands with his thumbs. Your eyes met, and Thomas thought that he should tell you what had been going on inside his head since the moment he found you on the driveway. Letting go of your left hand, he reached inside his jacket pocket to remove the letter he had written earlier, placed inside a white envelope and closed with the red wax seal of the Peaky Blinders. He held it out to you, watching as your eyes flickered between the paper and him.
“Inside, is a letter addressed to your father...” he began, feeling your grip around his hand tighten “it details everything that Alfie has done, from threatening you, to having you almost killed and more”.
“More? What are you not telling me, Tommy?” You questioned, eyeing him suspiciously accompanied by a small glare. Thomas sighed, the nerves in his chest increasing. He dreaded this moment, but if you felt the same way he did, there might be a slim chance that you would agree. “Inside the letter, I have asked for your hand in marriage”. You froze, your eyes widening in shock. Marriage!? You gasped, stepping away from him as your hands flew to your chest “You...you want to marry me?” You whispered, feeling your eyes well with tears. Thomas nodded, placing the letter down on the windowsill. He turned to face you again, nodding slowly. “For a long time, I tired to ignore what was happening between us. But I can’t anymore. I thought that if I pretended not to love you, you would be safer, but it only put you in more danger. I’m not making that mistake again. I love you, Y/n, to hell with Alfie and his fuckin’ men, and to hell with your father. But this is entirely up to you”.
You felt your chest tighten, your heart tugging painfully at the amount of emotion coursing through your body. Thomas stepped towards you, now only inches away from your form “If you don’t want to go through with this, say the word, and this letter doesn’t exist. But if you want to do this, just-”
Everything seemed to happen so slowly as you surged forward, wrapping your arms around Thomas’ neck and kissing him deeply. For a second, Thomas hesitated, but he soon returned the kiss with equal passion. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his form with little effort. You gasped loudly as Thomas moved to your neck, placing feather-light kisses just behind your ear. You shuddered, as Thomas gently laid you down on the bed, hovering on top of you as he removed his jacket. His lips connected with yours once again, as his hands caressed your hips. Soon enough, your train of thought became lost in overwhelming pleasure, love, and pure passion.
By late afternoon, your head rested peacefully against Thomas’ bare chest, your body covered by the tangled bed sheets.
You sighed in content, tracing invisible patterns against his skin whilst Thomas’ hand played with your hair. Your eyes fell onto the envelope still sitting on the windowsill, the letter that contained all of Alfie’s wrongdoings, and Thomas’ marriage proposal. You closed your eyes, thinking everything over. Thomas had made it very clear that this was entirely your choice. If you wanted this, he would make it happen. If not, he would put a stop to everything. You sat up, covering yourself with sheets as you leaned against your elbow, turning to meet Thomas’ gaze with a warm smile. In return, Thomas was already staring at you dreamily, as you moved to take his hand in yours. With a heavy sigh, you spoke confidently “I want you to send the letter”.
Thomas stiffened, his expression suddenly turning serious. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked quietly, waiting for your response. You nodded slowly and reassuringly “If Alfie wants a war, then I will give it to him...” you told him, tightening your grip on his hand “as long as I am the one that gets to pull the trigger when the time comes”. The smirk that formed on Thomas’ face caused your heart to flutter, as he lifted your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it in a promising kiss. When he pulled away, he ran his thumb over your knuckles “Consider it done, my dear”.
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#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#cillian murphy
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Only Happy Accidents (two)
Summary: After being ghosted by YN, a girl he turned out really liking, Steve goes to her door to find out just what he did wrong.
Warnings: pregnancy test stress, gross food cravings, NatBucky fluff, stressed!Steve
Songs: “Archer”- Taylor Swift
Masterlist
____________________________
November 14th / 2nd Week
YN YLN felt like someone came down from heaven and took a shit on her face. She had felt wonderful since Steve had been over up until now, and she groaned, burying her face into her pillow and trying t find any lingering scents of Steve on her pillow. She made a noise in the back of her throat when she found nothing but the scent of her own shampoo. She reached over to her phone under her pillow and looked at it, a thrill shooting through her body when she saw that she had a text from none other than the Retired Captain America.
From: Grandpa
Morning, pretty thing :)
The dork hadn’t sent her one single emoji, and she doubted that if he even knew what they were that he would like them. ‘too kiddish’, she could hear him say and she kicked her feet like a teenager.
To: Grandpa
Morning, handsome! How was ur morning so far??
She locked her phone and checked the date on the lockscreen, squinting at the number suspiciously. There was something supposed to be happening right now. Today was a Thursday, so she had it off, but there was something else personally.
Her eyes widened, and every nerve in her body felt as if it had been dipped in ice water.
She was supposed to have gotten her period eight whole days ago.
She ripped her blankets off of her, and pulled her pants down, groaning when there was no blood to be found and cursing to herself. She had always been regular with her cycle. She tracked it, and took vitamins and magnesium and iron supplements and even went sustainable with it— got a diva cup and everything. Sure, her period sucked but it was usually one thing that she could count on to be on time.
She rushed to the bathroom to splash water on her face and wracked her brain to try to remember if she and Steve had used protection. They had in the morning, she knew— she made sure to roll the condom on herself and everything but the night before was so quick and hurried and oh, God. No. No they had not used protection.
Fuck.
“MICHAELA!” She screamed, walking quickly out to the kitchen where her best friend and roommate was, hunched over some law books and eating her smoothie bowl breakfast. YN didn’t even bother teasing her about it and met Michaela’s surprised eyes with her own very, very scared ones.
“What? Are you bleeding out? What the fuck?” She yelled back, clutching her heart while moving to mop up the glass of water she spilled across the island.
“No I’m— okay, so you know the guy I had over on Halloween that I told you about?” She started and Michaela nodded nervously.
“Magic Dick Steve? I remember.”
“Well I don’t think— I don’t think we used protection? The first time? We were both pretty drunk and—“ YN had started to shake. “And I might be reading into it too much but I’ve been really tired lately and my boobs are really, really sore and I’ve been really nauseous? Maybe It’s the flu but I’ve— my period it late.” She finished, and watched as Michaela’s eyes widened.
“You’re never late.” She whispered, and YN felt tears well up in her eyes.
“I know.” She mumbled and Michaela stood, walking around the counter and pulling her to her. She hugged her tightly and pulled away, dragging YN down the hallway and back to the bathroom.
“I didn’t tell you this, but a few months ago when you were in Peru with that Anthropology dig, me and Charlie had a scare and I got a whole bunch of these guys.” She held up a box of thin, paper pregnancy tests from the bottom cabinet.
“Isn’t that when you went off your pill?” She asked, taking the box. Michaela nodded.
“Yeah, turns out my body freaked out hugely and said ‘fuck you’ to my period that month.” She shrugged. “Take a few, and we’ll take it from here, okay?”
________________________
So, YN peed in a disposable mouthwash cup (and on her hand a little bit, but we won’t talk about that) and dipped three tests into it, laying it out on the edge of the tub and sliding down he closed door after setting a timer on her phone. Time seemed to become impossibly slow for three whole minutes and she jolted violently when her phone went off. She checked it, and tears welled up in her eyes when she saw that she had gotten a text from Steve.
From: Grandpa
I’m pretty good. miss you though.
She put her phone back down and stood, opening the door and calling shakily from Michaela. She showed up seconds later, and wiped YN’s tears from her face.
“I can’t— I can’t look.” She whimpered and Michaela shushed her softly.
“You can.” Her voice acted as an anchor for which YN could ground herself with and she tried to move her feet towards the tests.
“What do I do with Steve? I can’t— it would trap him. I don’t even know the guy. I can’t just drop a bomb like that on him when we haven’t even gone on a date yet.” She cried and Michaela frowned, her heart breaking for her friend.
“From what you’ve told me, he’ll be there for you. He seems like a good guy. Now, let’s look, okay?”
YN nodded and with the help of Michaela, walked across the bathroom and ducked down to see if there was anything other than the first red line. She squinted, and let out a huge breath when there was no line on the first two tests. She checked the last one, and every organ in YN’s body burst into flames when she thought she could see a second, very faint line.
“Michaela.”
“What.”
“Is that a second line? On the last test.” She whispered, as if raising her voice any louder was going to make the line darker. Michaela leaned in close and squinted, freezing when she did, in fact, see the second line.
“I think so. I think it is.” She confirmed, and YN’s knees gave out. Her hand absently fell to her lower stomach and she lower lip trembled.
“This may not be it, though okay? Let’s go to Planned Parenthood and get a real test, okay? Then we can spend thirty dollars on a really good test and we’ll make a plan from there, okay?” Michaela sunk other knees and held YN’s face, wiping more tears away and offering her a small smile.
“Okay.”
_______________________
There was no way that all ten tests in front of her were wrong. There was no way the printed diagnosis from Planned Parenthood and a pamphlet reading ‘Plans For The Single Parent’ were telling her that her uterus was empty. There was no way the Clearblue test reading ‘Pregnant: 2-3 weeks’ was wrong— it better not be, considering it was a whole thirty dollars.
YN sat staring at them, bouncing her leg and glancing at her phone every few seconds, half expecting for Steve to already know despite his three unresponded-to-texts still on her lock screen. She could hear Michaela talking to her boyfriend, Charlie in the other room and YN felt truly and utterly alone.
However, her hand had yet to leave her stomach during the whole day, as if the idea of a baby being in there (despite it being no more than a bunch of cells at this point) was a point fo focus for her. Despite the overwhelming elements fo her situation, there was a flutter of excitement in her chest. She had never wanted kids, and then the snap happened, and she was gone and then she was back, and her dad, who was in a plane during the snap had fallen from 5 miles in sky and landed belly first in the ocean. But now that it was a very real possibility, she couldn’t help but get a little excited.
There was one one person she truly wanted to talk to, right now. The urge to hear their voice overpowered any other feeling and YN reached for her phone, choosing the first contact she recently texted and waited as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mom? I need your help.”
_______________________
November 31st, 4th Week
“This is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why are you making this monstrosity in my house?” Michaela groaned, pulling the neck of her turtleneck sweater over her nose as she walked into the kitchen. YN rolled her eyes and shook her head, bouncing lightly to the music playing from her laptop.
“Just because you’re the pickiest human in the world doesn’t mean other people can’t eat fun foods,” YN replied, lifting the lid on the stove and sniffing deeply.
“Canned crab with sauerkraut on crackers is not a fun food.” Michaela grumbled and sat at the counter. YN rolled her eyes and stirred the pot, shrugging her shoulders.
“What baby wants baby gets.” She replied simply and closed the lid, leaning against the counter beside the stove and cocking her head. “Would you prefer boiled clams in hot sauce or crushed up Doritos dipped in a Starbucks Frappuccino to this or—?” YN trailed off and Michaela gagged openly, covering her mouth.
“Maybe a salad. With nutrients that the baby needs.” She replied and YN rolled her eyes, opening the cabinet beside the fridge and turning around to stare at Michaela. Her eyes raked over the prenatal supplements and vitamins marked for different days of the weeks and then to the daily pill organizer in YN’s hand.
“I’ve also cut my coffee from five cups to half a cup because I’m paranoid and I’m not eating dairy, which is hard because you know how much I loved pineapple and cottage cheese together. And this is the only meal I’ve been able to eat this week without getting nauseous and throwing up.” She commented, turning back and turning off the stove. Michaela walked over and leaned over the pot, wrinkling her nose but grabbing a spoon nonetheless.
“I’m going to try it. Not because I’m curious but because I’m supporting my single-pregnant best friend.” She said, saying a little prayer and shoving the goopy mess into her mouth. She froze, chewed once and gagged, grabbing YN’s hand and spitting the mouthful of food into her hand.
“I hate you.” She grumbled and stuck her head under the sink, rinsing her mouth and making her laugh loudly, clutching her chest. It was only seconds after that there was a knock on their door which YN made to get. She turned to her friend and pointed.
“I made you do nothing. That was fully consensual on your part.” She laughed, spinning and opening the door with a smile.
It was Steve. Holding a bouquet of her second favourite flowers. Smiling nervously with those blue eyes and big muscles and beard and short, carefully styled hair. She remembered in flashes the sound he made when he moaned. The sound he made when she made him laugh. The way he looked sucking whipped cream off her finger. The way his voice sounded that one time when they talked until five in the morning.
So, she did what any sensible person did and slammed the door in his face.
At the sound, Michaela walked around the corner, peeking behind YN to see that the door was still closed. There was a knock and Steve’s voice saying something YN couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in her ears.
“Who is it?” Michaela whispered, seeing the fear in her eyes.
“Steve.” YN replied, her mouth feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton. Michaela pushed past her and looked through the peep hole, ducking immediately and turning to her with wide eyes.
“That’s Steve?! You fucked Captain America on our kitchen counter and then hand fed him waffles?” Michaela whisper-yelled.
“First off, he’s not Captain America anymore. Sam Wilson is, and second yes. Steve isn’t really an uncommon name so..” YN trailed off uselessly and Michaela looked to YN’s stomach.
“Well I mean it makes sense,” Michaela said quickly. “All of your symptoms are stronger and you only had sex once without protection so it makes sense he has super sperm.” He said and YN shushed her as if Steve was on the other side with his ear to the door.
“What do I do.” YN deadpanned and Michaela bit her lip.
“You know what I think you should do. I think it’s time to tell him.” She said and YN nodded, wiping her hands on her pants and walking to the door, hesitating briefly before turning the doorknob and opening it.
“YN. Hi.” He seemed breathless, and he looked at her softly. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I should have texted, but you weren’t responding and I got worried.”
YN shook her head and opened the door wider. “Steve, I think you should come in. We need to talk.” She whispered, and his shoulders fell as if he was expecting her to say something like this.
“I figured.” He mumbled, handing Michaela the flowers and following YN to the living room where she pulled a shoe box from the shelf under the table and placed it on the top.
“What’s going on, YN? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, turning towards her. She sat straight, not taking her eyes off the box in front of her and shaking her head.
“You’ve been perfect Steve, and none of this is your fault, I should have been more responsible.” She whispered, her throat thick. She could hear Michaela eavesdropping from the kitchen.
“Then what—?” He trailed off and went to touch her, but pulled away at the last second, not wanting to upset her further.
“Something happened and I don’t— I don’t know what to do.” She said, finally looking at him with shining eyes. His face crumpled at the sight of her tears and h scooted closer to her, grabbing her hand gently.
“I can help, YN. Whatever it is I can help you.” He said softly, holding her hand in both of his own.
“I couldn’t ask that of you, Steve. Not with this— we hardly know each other.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She noticed briefly how good Steve looked in his brown coat and jeans and scarf and boots but shook her head when her periphery caught sight of the box on the table.
“YN.” He said sternly and she melted slightly, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I’m pregnant, Steve. The baby is yours— it has to be. There hasn’t been anyone since the snap except for you.” She finally said in one quick breath, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. His face was a flat of marble, no expression or emotion in his eye. She half expected him to stand up and walk out until she remembered that this was, in fact, Steve Rogers and walking away from a challenge was unheard of. That’s what the textbooks said, anyways. She lifted the cover on the box and he peered in, eyes widening when he saw all the tests and pamphlets she had been reading and collecting.
“Okay.” He said finally and he seems to be wracking his brain for something to say. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Were you just going to wait until you had him to tell me and collect money or something?” He asked. YN raised her eyebrows and shook her head fervently.
“No, no, no, no, Steve. I would never. I just didn’t— I don’t— know what to do.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, reassuring her by his tightened grip on her hand.
“I wasn’t sure how to tell you and what you would want to do with her.” She said and he raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a girl?” He whispered, looking down to her stomach. She shook her head.
“No, she’s nothing more than a bunch of cells, but ‘she’ just comes naturally to me? You said she was a ‘he’ earlier, so.” She smiled softly and he returned it, not looking away from her stomach.
“Well, what are the options?” He asked, looking up at her and she shook her head.
“One, I keep her and you leave.” She started and he looked genuinely affronted.
“Not a chance. Next.”
“I go to Planned Parenthood—“
“No. Next.”
“I keep her, and you stay.” She whispered, looking up at him nervously. He froze, but nodded surely and cleared his throat. When he spoke he sounded rather choked and it made tears return o her eyes.
“That’s an option for you?” He whispered and she nodded.
“It’s my ideal option, Steve. This is your baby too.” She replied, equally quiet. He looked up and pulled her closer to him and she let it happen. Now, their thighs were pressed against the other and their heads were closer together.
“You move into my place, though. I’ll get rid of my office so we can make it into a nursery and I keep work at work and family at home. I’d like to know you’re both safe.” He said, jumping to what he wanted to happen. She nodded.
“That’s petty reasonable.” She commented. “I don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Your turn. Name a demand.” He returned and she wracked her brain.
“I want to go part-time at work, but I won’t if we can’t afford it.” She said. Thinking about the cost of things came naturally to her since she had grown up in the Bronx.
“Babe.” He whispered, amused and smiling.
“What?” She whispered back, smiling as well.
“I have about 100 years of government compensation in my bank account. Plus I was a Stark Employee and an Avenger for twelve years. Money isn’t an issue, I promise.” He explained, and she nodded. The relief that had washed over her then was overwhelming and she coughed into her fist, a sob building in her throat.
“Sorry,” She choked, rubbing her eyes. “This happens a lot.”
“It does!” They heard a voice from the kitchen and YN glared a the door.
“Fuck you, Michaela!”
“Promise?” She called back and Steve smiled, chuckling lowly.
“Your turn.” She said, nudging him. He sucked in a breath and thought hard.
“I’m at all the appointments. I’m at all the classes. We don’t announce it to the public, but we don’t hide the fact that you’re pregnant. I’ll have to talk to Pepper soon, but only when you’re ready. I want to be in this with you. The whole ride.” He said and YN blinked more tears out of her eyes. He pulled his jacket off and pulled his sweater sleeve over his fist and wiped them from her face gently. She sucked in a breath and leaned into his touch slightly, not fighting it when he pulled away from her.
“Good.” There was a pause of silence before he shifted nervously, a new idea popping into his head. “What?” She asked.
“This is gonna be a little extreme, actually.” He sounded afraid, but she nodded for him to continue despite her own nerves rising. “I’ve been learning that it’s okay to have kids with your boyfriend or girlfriend now, and that’s really great and cool but it doesn’t work for me.” He said and she looked up at him, alarmed.
“What?”
“We don’t have to, but my Ma would roll in her grave if she found out I had a kid with someone that I wasn’t uh— legally bound to.” He winced at the formality of his own words.
“I don’t think I understand,” She said. She did, she just didn’t quite believe what exactly he was asking her.
“I would like to marry you. It’s really important for me that my kid is uh— mine. And was born into a marriage, you know?” Steve’s voice seemed far away as he continued to speak, and YN swayed in her seat.
“YN?” He asked, watching her eyes become unfocussed and falling for Michaela. She heard nothing more before her eyes closed and she slumped back on the couch, unconscious.
________________________
The first thing YN remembered when she woke up was a cool cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed at the sensation, rolling her head away from the glaring light from the window and opened her eyes, smiling as Michaela looked down at her.
“Hey, Mich. I had the weirdest dream.” She started, groaning a the pounding headache in her brain and sitting up slowly. “Remember Steve? Magic Dick Steve? Yeah. That’s Steve Rogers. Anyways, I had a dream that I was pregnant with his kid and he asked me to marry him. He was wearing his suit, though which as weird because I couldn’t see his face behind his helmet-hat-thing.” She mumbled, rubbing her forehead.
“That wasn’t a dream, YN.” Said a low voice from the kitchen. YN looked over and her eyes widened when she saw Steve Rogers walk through the door, a plate of crackers and crab and sauerkraut in his hands. There was also a reusable mouthwash cup filled with her medication and a bottle of water in his other hand.
“Holy Moses, baby Jesus in the garden be with me.” YN prayed briefly and accepted the plate of food from him, piling it into her mouth much to the amusement of Steve and the disgust of Michaela.
“It’s the same thing my ma used to crave, actually.” Steve shrugged. “I tried to make it one time back in the day for mothers day but the only fish I could afford was the crawdaddies from the pond down the street and the crackers I stole from Bucky’s house. I couldn’t even use the stove, yet so everything was raw.” He smiled when she laughed loudly at his story. “Yeah, she wasn’t too big of a fan but she appreciated it all the same.”
“That’s really cute, Rogers.” She smiled.
“I’m sorry for dropping that request on you, I never meant to hurt you.” He muttered eventually and she shook her head.
“I’ve actually fainted twice already so it isn’t too much of a big deal, but yeah. That was a good request.” She scratched her nose and took all the pills at once, gulping down half the bottle with it and leaning on her elbows.
“I’m sorry again.” He whispered and she shook her head.
“It’s your kid, Steve. It only makes sense you would want that for her.”
“Him.” He teased and she rolled her eyes.
“I’ll do it.” She said finally and his head whipped over to her as fast as lightning. She was half worried that she would need to take him to the hospital incase he tore something.
“What?”
“I’ll marry you. I think you’re a pretty great guy, Steve and I’m not getting any younger, anyways.” She shrugged and Michaela gaped at them like a fish.
“You’re 24, YN.” She scolded and she looked at her friend.
“And my baby daddy wants to stick around and support us. It’s only fair I do this for him.” She shrugged, looking between their stunned faces.
“Are you sure?” Steve asked, aghast and shocked but looking sedately overjoyed.
“As sure as I’ll ever be, Rogers.” She stuck out her hand and he looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “You take care of me and your kid and I marry you? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” She commented and he took her hand in his.
“It’s a deal, then.” He smiled softly and tried his damned best to not jump across the couch and kiss her. This was never how he wanted to propose to someone, but hey, he was 106. Never a time like the present, right?
“Damn it.” Michaela swore. The newly-engaged couple looked over at her and she shook her head at both of them. “I’m gonna have to find a craigslist roommate aren’t I?”
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Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose / laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema
#Steve Rogers#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers au#steve rogers angst#steve rogers smut#steve rogers soulmate#steve rogers series#Steve Rogers smut#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers fanfiction#Steve Rogers fic#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#Dad!Steve#dad!steve rogers
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After Dark
a fluffy raleigh carrera and charlotte halliwell christmas fic
couple- raleigh x mc
rating- pg (there are some kisses and the slightest tiniest bit of angst)
an- i found a list of christmas prompts and i immediately wanted to write all of them for my overly sensitive energetic christmas obsessed mc and raleigh (who i can only assume puts up a grinchy facade) i might be posting more for other prompts on the list... but here’s “A”
***
“No, I think this ones my favorite!”
Charlotte practically shoved the vaguely named candle into her boyfriends face, bouncing with excitement. Raleigh scoffed, clearly very annoyed with the situation, and brought her hand away from his face.
“Babe, you’ve said that about the last 15 candles you’ve forced me to smell.”
Charlotte smiled brightly up at him as she stuffed the candle into the basket Raleigh was holding. She had to admit to herself that she felt the tiniest bit bad about making him follow her around while she did all her Christmas shopping, especially since she was the kind of person who could shop for literal days. But she also loved spending any time with Raleigh even if he was complaining the whole time. So in conclusion putting up with his grumpiness was completely and absolutely worth it!
She brushed a stray strand of dark hair away from his eyes, “Aw, Raleigh, there’s no need to be such a grinch. I love that you’re here with me! Isn’t that enough?”
Raleigh tried and failed to stay upset with his annoyingly energetic girlfriend before bending down and cupping her cheek to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Wouldn’t you rather continue this another day? It’s after dark, aren’t you tired Char?”
Charlotte leaned into Raleigh’s touch, turning her head to kiss his palm. She supposed she shouldn’t prolong this torture much longer... but she also had about 50 candles to buy.
***
Charlotte took a deep breath and smiled to herself as she snuggled deeper into her overly stuffed couch. The scent of sweet vanilla peppermint made the moment even more delightfully Christmas. She didn’t know how that was possible as she had her apartment decorated from floor to ceiling, was watching one of those horribly cheesy Hallmark movies, and was sipping on a hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream. But the candle somehow did and that made her happy.
“Hey Char, how much longer you planning on staying up?” Raleigh called from their room.
She knew that it was time to call it a day. It was almost midnight. But she also had an unstoppable and biological addiction to these movies. If she didn’t finish “Saved by the Jingle-bell,” she would basically have nothing to talk with her mom about during their daily face time calls!
“I don’t know,” she yelled back in reply. At this rate she might as well stay up all night on a Hallmark binge! She giggled to herself at the wonderful idea, immediately convinced that being sleep deprived tomorrow was the best path to take. She didn’t have that ElectraLite sponsorship for nothing!
There was no response. She figured Raleigh gave up on trying to get her to stop obsessing over Christmas and just went to bed. That same guilty feeling from earlier found its was back to her stomach and she took a sad sip of her hot cocoa as she pondered it. It was pretty inconsiderate of her to force him to follow her around as she went shopping and put up with her constant singing of Christmas songs. And that was only scratching the surface of her Christmas related sins.
Charlotte suddenly jumped at the sound of the microwave slamming shut. “Raleigh, what are you doing?” she called out.
She heard a deep chuckle at her question, “I’m making us popcorn. What did you think I was doing?”
She stumbled off the couch, pushing the mountain of blankets off of her. She was surprised to see her boyfriend standing by the microwave in nothing but his boxers as she entered the kitchen. Charlotte walked over to him to wrap her arms around his middle, pressing a kiss to his chest.
“Aren’t you freezing?” she asked, rubbing her arms up and down his back to create some sort of friction.
His hands went to rest on her hips in response. “Charlie, not only do I know that you have about a billion blankets on the couch, you also keep the heat on 24/7. So no. I’m not cold in the slightest.”
Charlotte sighed at her boyfriends sarcasm and leaned out of his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Okay fine, you’re not cold. But what are you still doing up? I thought you had an early morning? Do you need me to turn down the tv?”
“So do you,” was all she got in response to her questions.
Cocking her head in confusion, she opened her mouth to reply but was prevented from asking what he meant by the shrill beep of the microwave.
Raleigh disentangled himself from Charlottes arms, crouching down to grab a bowl. She watched him as he poured chocolate chips into the bottom of it before emptying the bag of popcorn in as well. Just the way she liked it.
She couldn’t help it when her eyes filled with tears. She’d done nothing but annoy Raleigh all day and yet here he was making popcorn for her to watch her dumb addictive movies. What did she do to deserve this!?
Raleigh’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned and caught sight of her. He immediately brought his hands up to gently cup her face, calloused thumbs rubbing gentle circles on her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered.
“I-“ she cut herself off with a sob. God. Why did she have to be so emotional! Why couldn’t she just calmly and rationally express her feelings!
Raleigh bent down to kiss her forehead gently, eyebrows creased with worry. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. Promise.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together and shook her head. She should be the one promising to make it better! “I’m sorry Raleigh. I’ve been so horrible to you,” she managed to choke out.
“What are you talking about,” he asked, eyes flashing with a hint of something dark and sad. Charlotte wished for nothing more than to make him happy again. She would rip down all her Christmas decorations and burn them if it made him happy again!
“I’ve been forcing you to put up with my excessive obsession with Christmas! I’m so so so sorry for dragging you around all day and for only wearing red and green and for making you listen exclusively to Christmas music and all the candl-“
She was cut off as Raleigh silenced her with his lips. The sweet kiss was instantly turned passionate as he opened her lips with his. Charlotte gasped and tangled her hands in his thick hair. His love for her was almost tangible as he lifted her up off her feet, squeezing her hips tight in his grasp.
The moment was over too soon though as he broke away to laugh. The sound made her smile instantly and she almost forgot what was even happening in the first place.
“Charlotte, do you really think your love for this god forsaken holiday would upset me?”
“I don’t know...” she looked down, suddenly embarrassed with herself.
Raleigh delivered a quick kiss to her nose as he set back down. “Your happiness doesn’t annoy or upset me Char, it makes me happy. Happier than you’ll ever know.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, the tinge of embarrassment still there in the flush of her cheeks. “Really?”
“Really.”
Charlotte suddenly laughed, despite the awkwardness she had felt moments earlier, and threw her arms around his neck. “So does that mean you want to watch Saved by the Jingle-Bell with me!”
Raleigh groaned in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes dramatically as her gently pushed her away and turned to grab the popcorn bowl. “Ugh, all those movies are the same. Wouldn’t you rather watch literally anything else?”
“No they aren’t! This ones about a teacher who lives in a small town and-“
“Let me guess, the town is called Christmasville? No, Santaland?”
Charlotte gasped and clutched a hand to her chest, giving just as much theatrics to the performance as Raleigh was giving her. “Now listen here mister! Hallmark Christmas movies are a national treasure! I will die on this hill if I have to!”
Raleigh couldn’t do much else but comply with his Christmas enthused girlfriend as she dragged him to the couch, covered him with blankets, and snuggled into his side. He didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than to spend time with her, even if it meant staying up much later than after dark to be right by her side.
#raleigh carrera#raleigh x mc#choices platinum#playchoices#choices#choices stories you play#pixelberry#platinum#raleigh x charlotte#choices fic#christmas#christmas fic
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As promised, here’s Chapter One!!!
So many thanks to: @cspupstravaganza, @sherlockianwhovian, and @lassluna.
AO3 if that’s your jam.
I’d Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)
A Captain Swan Pupstravaganza Story
Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Swan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?
Chapter One:
There is a good chance that Rascal is going to break Emma Nolan’s neck one of these days. She loves her dog dearly, but he isn’t easy to walk on a crowded street. Even down a limb, he still barrels down the sidewalk, always on a mission, pulling Emma this way and that. Most of the time, somehow or another, it turns out that he’s gotten her away from some accident or pulled her towards the exact food she’s been craving.
One time, she’d been distracted, looking down at her phone, and a car had run straight through a red light while she was in the crosswalk. Rascal yanked her across the street so hard, she’d nearly fallen flat on her face. But she couldn’t be mad at him, because he’d quite literally saved her life. A little shoulder soreness from the pulling sure beat being flattened in the middle of an intersection.
“You really should have more control over your dog, you know.” A strange man is wrinkling up his nose at Emma as Rascal drags her down the sidewalk. It’s odd enough that the man has an unfamiliar face in a small town like Storybrooke, where Emma’s lived for her entire life, but the judgement apparent on his face just rubs her the wrong way. She doesn’t respond as Rascal leads her directly to the door of her favorite coffee shop. It’s been a long week, and Rascal knows it, so he knows this is what she needs this morning. Emma returns her attention to the man, unsure why he feels the need to comment on her dog owning skills. Catching her eye, he continues speaking to her. “They’re very important creatures in our lives. It would be a shame if something happened before he could fulfill his duty.” The man turns and walks away, and Emma notices that he doesn’t even have a dog of his own.
She knows he’s right, of course. Her dog is supposed to somehow lead her not only into coffee shops and out of trouble, but also directly into the arms of her soulmate. If she’s even got one.
At 28, most of her friends have already been paired off. Ruby’s tiny little Cairn terrier, Toto, got her leash tangled up with Dorothy’s oversized Siberian Husky, Wolf, when they were only twenty. Ashley’s white Labrador Retriever, Tommy, had brought home her neighbor’s Yorkie as if they were on a play date – Sean wasn’t happy about it until he’d seen who owned the lab who’d stolen his dog, Boots. Even Will Scarlet’s beautiful little cocker spaniel, Lady, had somehow led him straight to Belle and her mess of a mutt, Tramp.
Emma and her brother, David, are the only ones left out of their friends without soulmates. It’s absurd. The whole thing is, really. Dogs are too good and pure to be used just as tools to find your soulmate.
Emma doesn’t know if she even buys into the whole soulmate thing. The idea that a dog chooses you, fine, but that it then leads you to another human just seems so…idealistic. Like maybe people just love their dogs so much that they want to find people just like them, and the soulmate thing is just an excuse.
She’s tried to make this argument before, but David has always shut her down. He’s an optimistic fool who is the very definition of hopeless romantic. His soulmate’s dog probably sleeps beside its human in bed every night, snuggled up for warmth and safety.
Emma does let herself wonder, occasionally, what her soulmate’s dog is like. She wonders if the dog runs away often, or is afraid of small spaces like she is. She wonders if her soulmate lives across the world in Europe or something and that’s why it’s taking so long to find them.
She wanders into the coffee shop, looking around at all of the human-canine pairs lounging about on couches and sipping drinks at the counter. There are hitches for dog leashes throughout the shop, but most people choose to keep them in-hand, their dogs as much a part of them as their hands or arms or legs. The shop, like most, gives out a small plastic container of water to each customer for their canine counterparts, and some people have taken to labeling the makeshift bowls the way their cups are labeled by the baristas. Emma sees a lot of ‘Charlies’ and ‘Stellas’ on these bowls, but so far, hers is the only Rascal.
Sometimes, she watches Rascal when they enter a building full of dogs, just to see if he’ll lead her to someone special. So far, he never has. Today is no different, and she approaches the counter as she shakes the idea from her head, ordering a latte for herself and a black coffee for David.
They hand her a plastic container and she leaves it unlabeled, truthfully wishing she could leave her own cup unmarked as well. It’s a small thing, but she always feels as though everyone stares at her when the baristas call out her name, particularly when it’s spelled, and therefore pronounced, incorrectly.
The amount of times she’s been called ‘Enya’ is far higher than it has any right to be.
She places the container on the ground so Rascal can have a drink while they wait, and then tosses the empty bowl into the recycling bin when he’s done.
“Irma?” the barista calls out, and Emma turns red as she grabs the two cups from her and nearly runs out the door, Rascal the one struggling to keep up for once.
She heads to the station to start her shift. The nice thing about being the sheriff of Storybrooke is that it’s a sleepy little town, which makes her job extremely easy. Plus, her twin brother is her deputy. All in all, there are worse life choices she could have made.
A shudder goes down her spine as her ex, Neal, pops into her mind, but she ignores it and forces his smug face out of her mind. No sense thinking about the life she could have had on the other side of the law, now that she’s quite happy enforcing it. Rascal senses her sudden discomfort and stops walking, staring at her for assurance that she’s okay.
“I’m good, bud. Just thinking about you-know-who.” Emma nods once, balancing the two cups in the palm of her hand - a skill leftover from her waitressing days - and leans down to pet him briefly before continuing on their way. Rascal never liked Neal – and that should have been Emma’s first and biggest red flag, really – and he still growls at the mere mention of the man’s name.
When Emma arrives at the station, David sees her struggling with the door and runs over to open it for her, giving Rascal a head scratch while he’s at it. Once his collar and leash are unclipped, Rascal runs ahead of Emma and joins Princess in what has become their designated corner of the station. They circle each other for a moment, sniffing each other with happy, wagging tails, before settling in together on their extra-large dog bed. David takes his coffee from Emma’s hand with a thank you and a kiss to her cheek, and then fills her in on the day thus far.
“Leroy had a few too many at the Rabbit Hole last night, so he slept it off in a cell but was good to go about an hour ago. Regina called, claiming she needed extra security for the town hall meeting next week.” David glances at Emma quickly and they both burst into laughter.
The last time the mayor had a town hall meeting, it had been when Emma was up for election as sheriff. People had filed in endlessly, filling the room to the brim, to support their favorite deputy. Regina had nominated one of her pawns, a man named Sidney Glass who ran the local gossip paper, and the entire town rallied against it.
But the police hadn’t been prepared for such a turnout, and there’d nearly been several fights and they’d narrowly avoided a small fire. At least three pieces of artwork had been somehow spoiled – a rip here, a small dent in the frame there, and one barely noticeable piece of graffiti in the corner of Mayor Mills’ portrait.
It’s really no surprise that Regina wants additional security for this meeting. Although Emma doubts as many people will be showing up to vote on whether to use the abandoned plot of land in the center of town for a new library or a playground.
“Do you think it’s weird that some people don’t have soulmates?” David asks her suddenly.
Emma looks at him and tilts her head, unsure of where his question has come from or where it’s leading. She sips her latte while she thinks of how to answer.
Her brother is, after all, a hopeless romantic who’s been holding out nearly his entire adult life for someone he’s introduced to by way of Princess. It was difficult for him to go through his entire adolescence without a dog at all, and when they were kids, he had asked Emma almost daily if she thought it meant there was no one out there for either of them.
“No, David, I think it just means... maybe we’re not ready to meet them yet,” she had told him once when they were in high school. He had nodded his head and seemed to accept her answer. At any rate, he’d stopped asking, finally, and they found Rascal and Princess by the end of the following summer, right after their 18th birthdays.
She thinks about this moment, about how he’d stopped asking her questions, and what it means that he’s bringing up the topic of dog-less humans again now, more than ten years later.
“No, I don’t. I think people can find someone to fall in love with, even if fate didn’t choose that person for them. You fell in love with Kathryn,” Emma points out in the present moment, hoping David won’t notice that she’s conveniently forgetting her own former love story. Princess raises her head at David’s ex-girlfriend’s name and lets out a surprisingly human-like sigh.
“Right, but then I found Princess and she found Dodger, and we realized soon after that we weren’t meant to be. What about people who never get dogs at all?”
Emma raises an eyebrow.
“I saw a guy today who didn’t have a dog. He was really bitter and told me I needed to have better control over Rascal.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m sure not everyone without a soulmate is like that. There’s enough of them out there that they’re bound to find their way together some way or another.”
“Or they end up alone, watching the rest of us get our happy endings.” David is staring into space now, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a pen.
“Where is this coming from?” Emma finally asks.
“I saw a woman yesterday,” he begins, and Emma’s eyes nearly roll right out of her head. “She was absolutely beautiful and had the most radiant smile. I had just finished up my talk with the sixth graders on peer pressure and drugs and all that, and she was walking towards me when I was leaving. I think she’s a teacher, but I’ve never seen her before.” A smile is forming on David’s face and Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look like this. When he met Kathryn, she was simply pretty and nice, and seemed to be as lonely and romantic as he was. It was logical and it was easy. The look on David’s face makes Emma think that this might not be quite so cut and dry.
“And she didn’t have a dog?” Emma guesses, and David is brought back down to earth. He pulls the pen from his mouth and meets her eyes.
“Nope,” he admits, with a shake of his head. “So we can’t be soulmates, right? Because I have Princess and she doesn’t have a dog at all.”
“That’s what they say,” Emma shrugs. The whole thing is silly to Emma. Because yes, sometimes dogs lead you to your soulmate, but the randomness of it all, the fact that there’s no age, and no definitive way that your dogs lead you together, just seems plain old unfair. Besides, Emma’s pretty certain that she doesn’t even have a soulmate, that she doesn’t really need one, but she’s still got Rascal. So maybe she and David are just different somehow. Maybe she doesn’t have a soulmate but she has a dog, and maybe David’s got a soulmate who doesn’t have one at all. Truthfully, Emma wishes David would just forget about this woman and move on. The hopeful look in his eyes, especially over a woman he’s just met, breaks her heart because she can’t stand the thought of him being heartbroken all over again. But she knows, deep in her heart, what he wants her to say. And so, because she’s the worst sister in the world, she says it. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to her. Maybe she just hasn’t gotten matched yet.”
David looks a bit hopeful at her last statement, and Emma can see the wheels turning in his head as he wonders if it’s worth the risk – meeting someone and falling for them again, only to have fate tear them apart. She’s not sure if her brother can take a heartbreak like that again.
Emma certainly can’t. Not for either of them.
They settle into a companionable silence, each of them lost in their own separate thoughts, when the phone rings.
“Hello, Storybrooke Police,” David answers casually. His brows furrow as he listens. “Yes. Yes. Okay, please stay calm, we’ll be right there. Thank you.” He stands as he hangs up the phone. “There’s two dogs running around the park off of Main Street. They don’t have tags or collars and they won’t let anyone near them. There are apparently no owners in sight, and no one saw where they came from.”
Throughout Emma’s life, she’s seen a few people without dogs. Some of them are older, some of them young and still hopeful for a match. They all tell themselves different stories about why they’ve never been matched. They aren’t common, but as Emma told David, there are enough of them that it’s not necessarily strange.
But in all of Emma’s 28 years on this earth, aside from the day that she herself found Rascal, she’s never seen a loose dog without a human.
#captain swan#captain swan fanfic#cspupstravaganza#caitlin writes#i forgot to tag the other one with that oops
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No More Panic
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Reader goes with the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione to the Quidditch World. The Death Eaters arrive and the reader has a panic attack.
You were so excited. Your boyfriend Fred Weasley and his family had invited you to go and watch the Quidditch World Cup with them. You were from muggle parents so you had only found out about Quidditch in your first year at Hogwarts. From then on you had been hooked on the sport.
What made life even better was that your boyfriend was one of the two beaters on the Gryffindor team, the other being your best friend, his twin brother. Although you were a Ravenclaw, you three were inseparable, and you always supported them no matter what (although it was a bit difficult when it came to them playing Ravenclaw, so you’d give them the silent treatment if they won for a day and vice versa). Yours and George’s relationship was a little rocky when you and Fred had started dating but now it’s like nothing had changed and he just likes to make fun of you two constantly. However, the two of you do the same back to him.
Mr Weasley had been able to pull some strings within the Ministry and now your fireplace was hooked up to the Floo Network. This meant that you could now travel to your boyfriend’s house through your fireplace. Your lovely boyfriend’s mother, Molly Weasley, had sent you and your family a letter with some Floo powder to notify you of this and to invite you to the Quidditch World Cup. Of course, your parents had said yes and you hurriedly ran to your owl, Coco, to reply back to the family.
So at 4pm on Sunday afternoon you lugged your heavy Hogwarts trunk into your parents living room with the Floo Powder in a small pot just above the fireplace. Your mum and dad were standing in the middle of the room, waiting for you to come in. This was the first time that they wouldn’t be taking you to platform 9 3/4 to see you off to school and you knew that they were a little upset about it. You dropped your trunk and walked the short distance over to your parents and wrapped your arms around the both of them. They should know that you’ll be safe and treated well, but you know that they worry because they don’t know very much about the wizarding world.
“Be safe please love, remember that the Weasley’s have our phone number if something were to go wrong. Please write this year, especially when you arrive at school. And we’ll let you know what’s happening for Christmas. We love you so much,” your Mum hums lovingly before placing a small kiss onto your cheek. Your Dad does the same and you shuffle your way towards the fireplace. Coco would be meeting you at the Weasley’s who were awaiting your arrival any second. You take a small handful of Floo powder, clutch your trunk in your hand and crawl into the fireplace.
“The Burrow!” you yell clearly and then drop the Floo powder. In a green flash, you were whirling through the Floo Network on your way to your boyfriend's place. You had to shut your eyes as you could feel yourself getting dizzy and sick. You hated travelling by Floo. You had done it once but it was the worst way to travel in your opinion.
Before you knew it you were on the floor of a house you knew all too well. Then all your senses came back to you at once. You could hear yelling coming from somewhere in the next room, your body was aching a bit from where you hit it on your landing, and your nose was beginning to itch with a sneeze from the dust and soot that had come with your arrival. You then heard a stampede of footsteps coming your way. You look up just as the door opens and you see 6 faces looking straight at you. You smile sheepishly and slowly rise to your feet.
As soon as you’re steady on your feet you are immediately tackled to the ground by none other than your amazing boyfriend Fred Weasley. You begin to giggle as you feel him plant small kisses over your face. He then helps you up and you are again almost immediately engulfed in a hug by the infamous Molly Weasley.
“So good to see you again dear. Fred has been going on non-stop about how excited he is for you to go with them to the game and how much he misses you,” she chuckles
“Mummmmmm, stop it,” Fred whines as he grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs, your Hogwarts trunk in his other hand.
“You’re staying in Ginny’s room tonight sweetie,” Molly yells up the stairs and you hear Fred groan next to you as he then makes a sudden turn into a girls room.
“George and I have to stay in Ron’s room because Charlie and Bill are also staying so they get our room. Percy, of course, gets to stay in his own room with no one else to bother him. Bloody git, Mum says he needs the peace and quiet to do his work,” Fred complains whilst dumping your stuff n the ground next to Ginny’s bed.
“We have to go and pick up Harry in a few minutes, George and I are going to try and slip one of our new inventions, been working on it all summer. Plus from what we’ve heard, Harry’s cousin is just awful and deserves a little bit of messing around with,” You just smile at him. You love how passionate he gets about the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and how he stands up and protects his family and friends.
“So before you leave, are you going to give your amazing girlfriend a hello kiss? Because so far I don’t think I’ve received one,” you whisper cheekily and with that, his lips are softly placed upon yours. Your small make-out session was however cut short because bursting through the door was George, Ginny and Hermione. You forgot that in such a crowded house there was no way that you find any space where people couldn’t find you.
“Sorry to break up your fun, but Fred, we have to go and mum wants Y/N for some tea and to meet Charlie and Bill,” George retorts, seizing Fred’s arm and ripping him out of your grasps as you sigh and walk with the girls down to the kitchen table where she witnessed Mrs Weasley talking to two other redheads, which you thought could only be Fred’s two older brothers, Charlie and Bill. Upon your arrival, the two boys turned around and smiled comfortingly at you. You were quickly dragged into the living room where Mr Weasley and Ron were waiting for the twins to go and pick up Harry. You gave Fred a swift kiss on the cheek and George a quick hug before they were vanishing through the fireplace.
Turning around you see Mrs Weasley had already placed tea on the kitchen table and was waiting for you three girls to join her and her older sons around the table.
A little while later you heard a commotion coming from the living room and you can only assume that the boys are back with Harry. You happily skipped into the room to see 3 Weasley boys and the one and only Harry Potter. Fred and George were rapidly talking to Harry with big grins on their faces and you could only imagine that they had carried through with giving Harry’s cousin a trick sweet. The whole room erupted in laughter and you smiled at how at home you felt around them all. That was until Mr Weasley arrived back in the room, and you knew that your boyfriend and best friend were in a lot of trouble.
Before there was any yelling from Mrs Weasley, Hermione was pulling you up the stairs and away from the fight that was about to begin. You just went and sat in Ginny’s room, reading a book and waiting for the time to pass until you were being called downstairs to help with dinner preparations. Making your way quietly down the stairs as to not disturb Percy, you find yourself in the kitchen listening to Mrs Weasley murmur to herself about the twins.
“Excuse Mrs Weasley, but is there anything I can help you with?” you ask, startling her out of her trance with a jump and her turning around so quickly with her wand out that you instinctively duck. She just sighs and smiles.
“No that’s okay Y/N, you just go outside. Dinner will be ready any second now.”
You step outside to where dinner will be being served and you are engulfed in a hug and a kiss is planted on your cheek. You turn around in Fred’s arms and plant a kiss to his lips. You know that he’s angry at what had happened after the whole Harry ordeal, but you understood his parents' argument. You were just glad that they weren’t banned from going to the World Cup.
“Oi, if you two could stop snogging for just one second and come and help us finish setting up for dinner, that would be great,” George yells across the yard, receiving laughter from the rest of the gang. You blush and rush over, dragging Fred along with you and helping his family finish setting up for dinner.
The dinner was wonderful, Mrs Weasley had outdone herself once again with her cooking. Dessert was even better, and just before going to sleep you and Fred were sitting in the lounge room enjoying each other’s company. Mrs Weasley walks into the room, just as your eyes were beginning to droop and your head was resting on Fred’s shoulder.
“I think you should go to bed now dear, you all have to be up extremely early in the morning” she whispered to the both of you. Whilst Fred just glared at his mother you smiled tiredly and nodded your head, holding Fred’s hand and both of you trudging up the stairs to your respective rooms, not before giving each other a goodnight kiss.
“Y/N, Y/N come on, wake up. You need to get up for breakfast,” you could hear somebody calling, whilst another, or maybe the same person, began to shake you awake. You just wanted to sleep so you groaned and rolled over, hoping that this person would leave you alone. However, that was not the case as they continue to shake you. You open your eyes and you see Hermione and Ginny above you waiting for you to get up. That’s when you remember, the Quidditch World Cup Final. At this thought, you lept out of bed and begun to get dressed.
The excitement you felt managed to get you down the stairs, but the exhaustion hit you as soon as you reached the kitchen to the rest of the tired faces. You ate breakfast in silence, trying to stop yawning. Just before you were all going to go, Mrs Weasley found all of Fred and George’s products that they had invented. To say they were pissed was an understatement, all of their hard work down in the trash.
The twins walked straight past Mrs Weasley when you all left. You were annoyed at them as you walked past and gave Mrs Weasley a peck on the cheek. You ran to catch up with them and stomped angrily next to them.
“Seriously, you guys didn’t even say good-bye,” you hissed at the boys as you followed Mr Weasley.
“Y/N she’s taken everything, we’ve worked so hard and all she bloody cares about is what OWLs we got,” George snapped.
“That’s still no reason to not say good-bye, she means well and she’s your mother. She loves you both so much, she just wants what’s best,”
“No, she wants us to be more like Percy working for the ministry,” Fred sighed, grabbing your hand and marching silently the rest of the way to the portkey.
The atmosphere was amazing. There was so much excitement in the air as you, the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione climbed the stairs up to the very top box. The match was going to be amazing. You sat next to Fred and grabbed his hand tightly in anticipation, smiling so widely as you looked around.
The Irish and Bulgarians all around them in the stands were cheering so loudly as their mascots came out. You had to hold Fred down when the Veelas began to sing. And then the game started and you were deafened. The Irish were amazing players, and you could see Fred and George taking hints from the teams' beaters.
When the Irish won, you stood up and cheered with the crowd and the boys. Fred turned to you and kissed you during the celebrations. Once the cup was awarded to the Irish, you and the rest of your gang made your way back over to the tents. You kissed Fred good-night and left with Hermione and Ginny into your own tent to go to sleep. That was until Mr Weasley was hurridly waking you three up and rushing you out of the tent. That was when you noticed the horror that was ensuring.
You could barely hear what Mr Weasley was saying, you were too focused on the poor muggle family that was in the air. It wasn’t until you felt Fred grip your hand tightly that you were pulled out of your trance. Then you all ran. Fred and you and George had Ginny. Somewhere along the way to the forest, you lost Harry, Ron and Hermione but you couldn’t go back for them as it was too unsafe.
Once you were somewhat safe in the forest could you feel it. The panic had been slowly rising ever since you caught sight of those in the masks. You knew exactly what they were. Death Eaters. They hated muggle-borns, making your panic rise even more, not only for Hermione but for you as well. You were muggle-born and you were worried about what would happen if they found you.
Your breath began to get shorter, your hands were sweaty and your chest began to hurt. You could only tug on Fred’s arm trying to get his attention but he was focused on finding a hiding spot. The tears began to pour out of your eyes as the hyperventilating began to get worse. Now you were struggling to see as everything began to go fuzzy.
Now you were tugging on Fred’s arm like your life depended on it, and the way you were feeling you were sure that it did. The feeling was horrible, you couldn’t register anything that was happening around you. It was almost like you were going to pass out.
You faintly felt you being dragged into someone's lap and a hand stroking your hair. You could just make out who you thought, or hoped, was Fred rocking you back and forth and whispering words into your ear in an attempt to calm you down. You could barely hear his heartbeat, but he kept your head against his chest hoping the sound would calm you.
“Y/N, babe please listen to me. Breathe with me love, follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. Well done, keep going love. In and ou, that’s better,” Fred whispered slowly, gaining your attention and eventually slowing down your breathing. There were still tears falling down your cheeks, so Fred gently wiped them away, tenderly kissing you, expressing all of his love for you in that kiss.
You broke away when you heard screams, looking panicked at Fred. He just shook his head and held you close, but you could still see the horrid dark mark, his mark. You just sat in silence with Fred, trembling in his arms. George and Ginny had found you both and sat with until you knew it was safe to leave.
The thought of the death eaters being around and his mark still in the air terrified you as the four of you slowly walked back to your campsite. Your trembling hand was held tightly in Fred’s as you arrived in the tent. You all waited nervously for Mr Weasley and the trio to get back, awaiting any news as to what had happened that night. There wasn’t much news the older Weasley men could give you.
When Mr Weasley suggested going back to sleep you were petrified to leave Fred’s side. Mr Weasley took one look at you and whispered something to his son. After that, he carefully took you back to the girl's tent and dragged one of the extra beds to be next to yous. With a silent look, you nodded and climbed into bed, him climbing in next to you.
A soft kiss on your forehead was all you needed to know that you were safe again, especially now that you were back in his arms.
“Good-night Y/N. I love you so much and will never allow for anything to happen to you. Now go to sleep, we only have a few hours left until we have to leave. No more panic or fear” He whispered as you could hear soft snores coming from Ginny’s bed. You just nodded softly and snuggled into his chest.
After everything that had happened tonight, you were just glad to be falling asleep next to the one you love, safe in his arms, with no more panic or fear.
#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley preferences#harry potter fandom#Harry Potter#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley imagines#fred weasley x you
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Commission for Confidence, 7
Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?
A/N: Okay, so, here is the next chapter of CfC! It’s a really long one because I have no self control and couldn’t find a good place to cut off (honestly, I’m not SUPER happy with where it IS cut off), but I hope you all still like it! Make sure you read my warnings, though, because some violence does occur.
PLEASE let me know what you think!! I’m desperate for validation; you can always message me, or send me an anon, or put it in the tags of a reblog, or whatever!! I do read every response to my writing, so I’d love it if you could give me some feedback or just some sort of response!!
As always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!!
Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @scatterbrainedgenius, @jordyns-library, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee
Word Count: 4765
Warnings: robbery attempt, violence, depictions of violence, some blood, hospitals, Peter being cute and silly and worried, some awkwardness, some self-doubt at the end, disassociative episode, some anxiety, some lame nerdstuff at the beginning bc I’m the author and write what I want, swearing
A few days later, on Thursday, you looked up to see your Edith at your door, a package in her hands. With an excited shout, you got up and hurried over to her. Your supervisor chuckled at your actions, pretending to hide the package behind her back.
“Edith,” you pouted as she kept the box with a teasing grin.
“Fine, fine,” she acquiesced, handing you the box. “Now you can start actually texting that boy instead of emailing like you’re old. Don’t email like me, don’t be old.” Edith widened her eyes as if picturing deep, dark horrors, and you laughed at her.
“Email is still perfectly acceptable, Edith,” you chuckled, trying to push the topic of Peter right out the window.
It didn’t work.
“It’s not acceptable when you have a crush on a handsome man!”
“Edith!” you chided, fumbling with your box to try and maintain composure.
That also didn’t work.
“I’ll leave you to your phone,” Edith cackled, winking at you before leaving.
You muttered to yourself and sat down at your desk. It didn’t take long to get your new phone up and running. As it sat on your desk, you sent out an email to your coworkers to inform them that your phone was back in business again, with the same phone number as before. It was nice to be easily connected to Monica again, and it was nice to be able to play your mindless little games when you needed a break from reading.
And, well, it would be nice to be able to talk to Peter without needing an Internet connection. The two of you had been emailing back and forth rather consistently since Saturday, and you had plans to meet up for a movie/game night at Peter’s place on Friday. Ned had finally returned from his business trip, and Peter really wanted you to meet him and his Aunt May, who would be at the movie/game night as well.
You’d been hesitant to accept the invitation. Even though you really liked Peter (probably too much considering how long you’d known him), you were always nervous about meeting new people. But, after encouragement from Monica, and reassurance from Peter, you agreed to go.
You emailed Peter, telling him your phone number, and tried to get back to work. You tried, you really did, but your brain was jumping around like a happy rabbit.
You sighed and sat back, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your lack of focus could also be attributed to the ache in your eyes from reading too much. This job was amazing, one of your dream jobs, but sometimes it was hard to deal with because it did leave you with aches and pains, both in your eyes and your lower back. Then again, you’d always had a bad back.
Your phone dinged and you opened your eyes. You had a text message from an unknown number. Upon opening the message, you saw it was a message from Peter.
Peter: Heyyo, Y/N! It’s a-me, Peter!!!
You chuckled and wrote back: Hello, Peter, it’s a-me, Y/N, the Wario of the world.
Peter sent back several shocked and angry emojis, making you chuckle again. Then, this message arrived: How dare you. You are my Mario AND my Princess Peach. Never slander yourself in my presence again.
You laughed loudly, tilting your head back. You couldn’t help the heat that came to your cheeks and you typed out your response: Or what, I’m going to be turned into Bowser?
No, you’ll get a strongly worded letter and a disappointed look
You rolled your eyes and tried to control the beating of your heart.
I cannot believe you think you’re Wario, Peter then wrote. You are the shining light, the Princess Peach in “Paper Mario and Thousand-Year-Old Door”, taking charge and doing her best to save herself while stuck on the moon.
A snort escape your body and you shook your head. You’re ridiculously silly.
But you’re the one that decided to like me and be friends with me, so who’s the REALLY silly one here????
It took you a minute to think of a reply. In the end, this is what you sent: … fair point.
Peter simply replied with a bunch of emojis, rather nonsensically, but it made you chuckle. After sending back a few emojis of your own, you told him that you needed to get back to work and be productive for once.
Fine, leave me, Peter wrote. I’ll wither away, but go be ‘productive’, I guess. ‘Responsibility’ is important, I GUESS
You almost cackled with laughter at his dramatics and told him to hang tight, because you’d be back soon to revive him.
Mouth to mouth better be in order, I think I’m dying…
You rolled your eyes and put your phone on silent so you could get some work done.
Of course, you ended up being restless again, because you were thinking about his demand of mouth to mouth. Was Peter just teasing, or was he flirting? Was this what being friends with Peter Parker was like for everyone? You had no idea, and those thoughts were crowding your mind after a few simple minutes.
Then, your savior arrived in the form of Arthur, your beloved coworker. He knocked on the frame of your door as he leaned against it, making your head jolt up in surprise.
“Hello, dear,” he greeted you softly in his London lilt. “You doing alright there?”
You smiled at him, probably a little raggedly, and shrugged a shoulder. “Not really,” you admitted. “Can’t focus, my brain is being too loud.”
“Then it is a perfect time to come on a coffee break!” he announced, striding in and trying to pull you from your chair. Since your chair had wheels, it simply went along with you, making you laugh.
“Arthur, let me get up! You know that the chair will barely fit in the break room, the door frame is only barely big enough,” you giggled. “We all remember what happened the last time you tried this stunt.”
The man pretended to look insulted and dropped your hands. “For your information, we’re going to a café for the coffee break. Get up, let’s go.”
You chuckled and stood, gathering your purse and phone; you made sure to pack it in the bottom of your purse, just in case.
As you followed Arthur out of the office and to the elevator, you said, “Are we going to bother poor Charlie at work?”
Arthur turned around with wide, dramatic hazel eyes. “What? No, no, why would we do that? No, we’re just going to get coffee. I don’t even know if Charlie is working today.”
You giggled into your hand as you entered the elevator. “Arthur, it’s his café. He works every day except for weekends.” Of course, you knew he knew this.
“I would never interrupt Charlie at work, how could you possibly assume that of me, I am hurt. I’m truly hurt. How could you. I am always professional.”
You laughed at the deep voiced man acting like a dramatic Shakespeare actor. The two of you made small talk as you walked the two blocks to the café, Bean Me Up. It truly had amazing coffee, and if it had been a bit closer to the subway station, it was where you would have suggested to meet Peter because of its inherent nerdiness. It was quite popular.
Arthur opened the door for you, the scent of coffee washing over your body and relaxing your shoulders. It was a small place, one you had always enjoyed visiting, and it wasn’t too bright or too dark. At the moment, there were a few people lounging around.
“Oh Charlie!” Arthur sang out in his deep voice, nearly skipping to the counter. You were confident that if he actually had been skipping, his suit would have ripped.
Charlie, a stocky man with his dreadlocks in a ponytail today, looked up as he heard Arthur. He rolled his eyes but there was a small smile on his face.
“Wow, Arthur, what a surprise,” Charlie drawled, smirking. “Second time today, do you have a crush on me or something?”
“I would never, you’re simply not my type,” Arthur teased.
“What is your type, then, gorgeous?”
Arthur pretended to think about it, and you smiled. Their interactions were always amusing to watch, to say the least.
“I like Jamaican-Filipino men that own their own business and make the best coffee in the entire damn city, with dreadlocks and glasses and a scar on the left eyebrow,” Arthur finally stated, nodding to himself.
“Oh my gosh, just greet your husband already!” you exclaimed teasingly, gently pushing the man’s shoulder. “I want a coffee.”
“Y/N!” Charlie exclaimed, rushing around the counter and completely bypassing his husband to wrap you in a hug. “I didn’t even see you; this big lug was in the way. How are you, darling, is this one still being annoying in the break room?”
“Oh, you know,” you joked, “just always making my life difficult.”
“Hey!” Arthur protested, though you both ignored him.
“Aw, sorry, he can be like that. The other day, he—”
“We’re not telling that story!!” Arthur interrupted abruptly, turning his husband away from you forcibly. You laughed loudly and Charlie winked at you.
You and Arthur ordered your drinks, and since Charlie wouldn’t let you pay, you shoved a twenty-dollar bill in his tip jar. As you and Arthur sat by the window, enjoying your coffee slowly (Thursdays were always slow days at the office, and Edith knew the power a break could have), you looked out to see four people in masks approaching the shop.
“Charlie!” you barely had time to shout as the men burst into the café. They waved large guns around and started yelling.
“Everyone, get down!” one yelled above the others. The other people had already scrambled to the floor, their hands over their heads. It was deadly quiet in the shop once everyone was on the floor; you and Arthur, however, were behind the men, sitting at your table in shock, and for some reason, you were ignored.
You shot Arthur a look and he nodded subtly, slowly reaching for his phone and texting Edith to call 911. She immediately responded with a thumbs up, but Arthur’s phone was on sound, making the robbers turn around.
“Hey!” one yelled, striding forward and shoving Arthur down to the floor. “You think you’re hot shit, you fucking piece of shit? Pulling shit, calling people?”
“I-I didn’t do anything!” Arthur protested.
“Get on the ground!” a second guy walked up to the table, talking to you.
You didn’t move.
“I said,” he growled, grabbing you by the hair, “get on the ground!”
“Leave her alone!” Charlie shouted from the counter, where he was slowly complying with the leader’s demands.
“Oh, why should I?” the guy still holding you by the hair asked. The gun was pressed to your head and the man growled, “Hurry the fuck up.”
“Look, we don’t wanna shoot anyone,” the leader was saying, “just give us all the money in the entire store, okay? Go to the safe and get that, too. Or we’ll start with her.”
Tears were pooling in your eyes from the force of your hair being gripped so tightly, but you could hear sirens in the distance. As you were trying to relieve the pain from your roots by pulling your knees under your body, you remembered a video you’d once watched. It was a risky idea, but perhaps you’d be able to turn the situation around.
You quickly rammed your elbow into the back of the man’s knee; he crumbled, releasing your hair. You grabbed his gun and threw it at the man that was standing by Arthur, knocking him to the ground. It was that moment that Spider-Man burst through the window, sending glass flying everywhere.
The superhero was webbing up the two guys that were standing as the one you’d hit in the knee turned to you with fire in his eyes. You raised your arms and curled your body into yourself to protect your organs as he kicked you in the side and back.
The café was full of sound again as people were yelling and you felt the vibrations of people running outside, but you were still being kicked at. You remained in that position even when the kicking stopped, but the sounds were still in your ears, and you didn’t want to risk anything. You stayed like that until the vibrations from the floor calmed down.
“Shit, Y/N, are you okay?” a weird voice asked, and strange feeling hands were gently touching your shoulders.
You opened your eyes and saw Spider-Man, looking at you with wide white eyes. He seemed more panicked than you would have thought, especially since no one had been shot and the police had already arrived to take away the webbed criminals.
“I-I’m okay,” you muttered as you sat up.
“Y/N, you’re bleeding. There’s glass in your face and your hand.”
You looked at your hand and were shocked to see that Spider-Man was right. There were little pieces of glass in the back of your hand and down the outside of your forearm. It was from when you’d dropped to the floor in a ball to protect yourself.
“Well, would you look at that,” you blinked.
A paramedic approached you at that moment, making Spider-Man back up. “You’ll take care of her, right?” the hero asked the professional.
“Of course, Spider-Man. Leave it to me, thank you for stepping in. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t showed up,” the paramedic said.
“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you said quietly as she helped you up.
“Y-you’re welcome, Y/N,” he stuttered, backing up towards the broken window. “Stay safe out there.”
You barely heard him as you walked slowly with the paramedic, Siska, outside the café. Arthur and Charlie were holding each other as they were looked over by another paramedic, and thankfully they both looked okay. Arthur had a few small cuts from broken glass, but he didn’t look too worse for wear. Charlie looked stressed and scared.
Siska made small talk with you as she looked over your injuries; she was worried about the glass in your hand and face and the bruising forming around your midsection. So, Siska accompanied you to the hospital, keeping you distracted from the creeping pain by telling you about various Indonesian foods that she missed from visiting family.
Arthur called you as you were waiting for a doctor to come into the room, and you answered right away, still rather numb and in shock.
“Are you okay?” he immediately demanded.
“Y-yeah, I’m okay. A doctor is gonna look over my injuries and stuff, remove the glass and shit, make sure I don’t have any broken anything.”
“That’s a relief,” he breathed out. Then, “What the FUCK were you thinking?”
“W-what?” you stuttered, nearly dropping your phone from your good hand.
“There were four men, Y/N! FOUR of them! And you thought it would be a bloody good idea to try and debilitate one, as if that would’ve made a difference!”
“Arthur,” you began in a deadly steady voice, “if you keep yelling at me, I will hang up this phone right now and not speak to you for two weeks.”
“Stop berating her,” Charlie’s voice said from the background. “Let me talk to her. You’re being unhelpful, and I know that’s not what you want. Go sit, okay, babe?”
Arthur muttered something that you couldn’t quite make out, but the phone was handed over to Charlie.
“Look, Y/N,” the man sighed, “I do admit, the way you went about things was reckless, but it was also pretty smart. Thank you for that. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
You told Charlie everything that you knew at that moment, though you barely registered that you were talking. When the doctor entered, you said goodbye to Charlie and told him to take care of himself.
“Alright, let’s get a look at you,” the doctor said as she entered. “I’m Doctor Miriam Finestein; Siska told me what you did today, and that was pretty brave.”
Your faraway look and mumbled, “Thanks,” did not go past the doctor. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took you in, the way the pieces of glass were sticking out from your skin and slowly bleeding, the way you seemed to have no focus whatsoever.
“Y/N, right?” Doctor Finestein confirmed, walking forward slowly. You nodded, trying to force your focus from the stupid white wall and onto the doctor. “Can I see your arm?” she asked gently.
You held your arm out to her and her warm touch on the palm of your hand seemed to help you wake up. Your vision came back into focus and you blinked as you got a good look at the lovely doctor. She smiled at you as you did, making you feel a little sheepish, but at least now you were alert.
“I thought you might be disassociating,” the doctor told you quietly.
“That happens to me a lot,” you admitted. “But I tried to fight it this time.”
“But I think this was shock induced.”
“You’re probably right.”
Doctor Finestein kept up small talk while she examined your arm and hand; she told you about her cat, Frank, and her dog, Stella. It helped keep you grounded as she turned to your face, making a small clicking sound with her tongue.
“I’m going to take out the glass,” she informed you, rolling back on her chair towards the sink. “It doesn’t look too bad, truth be told. You’ll heal up just fine. Thankfully, there’s only a handful of deep and big pieces. I do want to do a CT scan afterwards on your hand and arm, just to be sure there isn’t any damage that’s not superficial. I’ll also check your ribs for breakage or other such things. Of course, we’ll also patch everything up and send you home with some painkillers.”
“Okay. Uh, how long will it take?” you asked hesitantly.
“Well,” she washed her hands and glanced at you, “it’s not going to be short. Unfortunately, there are a lot of smaller pieces, and there might be a wait for the scan. You could call someone to keep you company, we wouldn’t say no to that. It could take a few hours and it does get a little dull.”
You nibbled your lip in thought; you didn’t want to go through it completely alone, but you also didn’t want to be a bother. As you were thinking and Doctor Finestein was getting everything together, your phone went off. The doctor let you answer it and went out to get a nurse to help her with the glass removal.
You answered without looking, immediately being greeted with, “Y/N, are you okay? I saw something about a café robbery and saw you on the news, is everything okay? Where are you? Thank goodness you picked up!”
You chuckled despite yourself, trying not to move too many muscles in your face. Moving your mouth was fine, but there was a curve of cuts and pieces of glass going from above your eyebrow and down to your cheekbone. Still, as you were now more alert, you were actually registering the glass in your face.
“I’m okay, Peter,” you told him calmly. “I just have some glass in my arm and hand, and some in my face, but I’m okay, really.”
“Oh, thank God,” Peter breathed out. “Where are you? Do you need anything?”
“Actually,” you hesitated, “actually, Peter, if you’re not busy…” You steeled your nerves. It would be fine. “If you’re not busy, could you come and sit in the hospital with me? There’s stuff they gotta do and I,” your throat tightened, and you finally registered how actually terrified you still were, “I don’t wanna be alone.”
“Of course! I’ll be right there; I’m still in Manhattan. Where are you?”
You told Peter the hospital and the room number before hanging up. At that moment, Doctor Finestein knocked and came back in with a smile directed at you.
“We’ll get started in a few minutes. Would you rather check your ribs before or after removing the glass?”
“After, please,” you said with little hesitation. “I really want to get this stuff out of my arm. I’m tired of holding it like this.”
“No problem!” she reassured you. “Is someone coming?”
“Yeah, my friend Peter—”
You were interrupted by a knock on the door and Doctor Finestein opened it, revealing an out-of-breath Peter Parker.
“And that would be Peter,” you chuckled.
“Jesus, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Peter breathed out as he nearly knocked the good doctor over. He was hovering around your injured side, the worry on his face making his eyebrow twitch. Then, as if he realized that he had nearly knocked a doctor over, he spun on his heels.
“Peter, yes?” Doctor Finestein asked rhetorically, a teasing smile on her face.
“Yes,” he puffed out before offering his hand. “I’m Peter Parker.”
“She told me,” the doctor chuckled, “right before you burst into the door.”
“So, when are we getting started?” you asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.
“Once my nurse gets here,” Finestein informed you both. Immediately after, there was a knock on the door, and the doctor said, “Wow, Y/N and I just have wonderful timing today, don’t we! Everyone’s appearing at our beck and call.”
“I’ll always come to Y/N’s beck and call,” Peter stated firmly.
Your eyes widened in embarrassment at his strong statement and avoided looking him in the eyes. As you looked at the doctor, she was giving you a knowing look, so you looked at the nurse instead. He also gave you a knowing look, so you resigned yourself to not winning at that moment. Life wasn’t always fair.
You kept repeating that internal mantra as Dr. Finestein and the nurse, Jeremy, worked on removing the glass from your face. It was certainly not a nice feeling.
As you clutched the edge of the table, you felt heat coming closer to your hand. Peter gently touched your hand, forcing it to relax from the table, and your eyes flickered up to him. He smiled gently at you, the softest of pinks gracing his cheekbones, and laced your hands together. His hand was soft but steady, comforting.
“You can squeeze my hand,” Peter said tenderly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
The sweetness of his gaze made your heart melt and you smiled your agreement.
You winced and squeezed his hand as the tweezers removed the glass shards from your face. Doctor Finestein assured you that they were almost done with the face, but you nearly jumped out of your skin as the tweezers dug around in the flesh of your cheek.
“Sorry,” Doctor Finestein tried to calm you. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Just this piece in your cheek, and we’ll take a break, okay?”
You breathed out an “Okay,” prompting the doctor to go back to finding the glass. Peter rubbed your hand with his thumb, his other hand moving to rub up and down on your back. His touch was incredibly comforting, and it helped you get your breathing back in proper order, instead of the slightly-too-fast breaths you’d been taking.
It was a strange sensation as she pulled the glass out and placed it on the tray, allowing Jeremy to rush in to disinfect the spot. They put a few butterfly closures on your face, and you had to admit that so many hands touching your face was strange.
“Okay, we’ll take a little break,” Dr. Finestein announced as Jeremy finished with the bandages on your face. “I’ll let them know that we need a CT scan so the stuff will be ready by the time we’re ready.”
“Do you two need anything?” Jeremy asked you and Peter. “Water, maybe?”
“I’d love some, please,” you nodded vigorously. Peter nodded as well.
“Alright, I’ll be back in like two minutes,” Jeremy stated, giving you both a thumbs up and leaving the room.
Peter let go of your hand and stopped rubbing your back, clearing his throat and stepping back a bit. The pink that had been on his cheek had become red in a short amount of time, and he seemed nervous.
“I-I’m sorry this all happened,” he said quietly.
You looked at him and tilted your head in confusion. “Why?” you asked. “It wasn’t your fault those guys tried to rob Charlie’s business.”
Peter chuckled anxiously and rubbed the back of his neck. “S-still,” he stuttered, “I’m sorry there’s a bunch of glass in you.”
You shrugged a shoulder and heaved out a sigh. “You know, it could be worse. I’ll take a little glass over the alternative bullet in my skull.”
Peter blanched at that and his facial panic had you chuckling. He began to stammer, and you held your good hand out to him. At the gesture, he blinked in surprise before slowly moving to take your hand. You brushed your thumb over his knuckles, only to be surprised as Peter laced your fingers together again.
“Thank you for your concern, Peter,” you smiled. “But let’s focus on what happened and what’s going on now. No need to worry over ‘what ifs’ right now.”
As Peter beamed at you, Doctor Finestein and Jeremy knocked and entered the room. Peter dropped your hand and stepped back, once again blushing furiously. Jeremy handed you and Peter some cups of water as Dr. Finestein announced that it was time to begin the removal once more.
You chugged your water and put the empty cup behind you before brandishing your arm to the good doctor. You felt a lot better after wetting your throat, and you were really wanting to get home and just go to bed. All the “excitement” of the past handful of hours was taking its toll on you, and you really wanted to go to bed.
As the professionals washed their hands and got everything ready once more, Peter finished his cup and took yours, throwing them away. He laced your fingers together and squeezed as the doctor and nurse began to remove the glass from your arm.
There were bigger pieces there, and each removal stung more than any in your face had. Peter kept squeezing your hand and rubbing your back; at once particularly irksome pull, he started to trace nonsensical patterns on your hand with his thumb. Then, you saw his face light up as inspiration struck.
He unlaced your fingers before turning your hand palm up. “I’m going to do little drawings, and I want you to try and guess what it is!” he beamed at you.
“Okay, sounds like a good idea,” you agreed, wincing slightly.
As Peter traced small designs on your palm, you managed to direct most of your attention to him. You hadn’t even known the doctor and nurse were done removing the glass until a sting of disinfectant snapped your head over to them.
“Almost done with this,” Doctor Finestein smiled at you. “We’ll bandage you up and check your ribs before the CT scan, okay?”
“Sure,” you nodded as Peter gently scratched his fingernail down your palm, obviously vying for your attention. Your laughter at his behavior made everyone in the room smile, and you shook your head at Peter. “So needy,” you teased.
Peter simply winked at you, making blood run to your face and chest, and drew his design once more on your palm.
Sooner than you expected, Jeremy was leaving the room (not without you thanking him, of course) with the tray of bloody glass, and Doctor Finestein was telling you to remove your shirt so she could look at your ribs.
Your wide, panicked eyes flashed to Peter and his red face.
“I, um, I’ll step out,” Peter stuttered, quickly fleeing the room.
You tried to ignore how your heart ached as he left; it was obvious to you that he didn’t want to see any part of you naked. It hurt your heart, but you tried to reassure yourself that Peter was just being polite. It didn’t stop the slight ache in your heart of the rush of anxiety in your mind as you took off your shirt so the doctor could do her examination.
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x plus size reader#peter parker x insecure!reader#spider-man x reader#spider-man x plus size reader#artist peter parker au#slow burn fic#commission for confidence#please tell me what you think i am desperate for validation
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My Name’s Jeff
Happy birthday to my birthday twin @somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds! I love our shenanigans with Legends and Hannibal and Constangreen and everything. Even though we’re angst monsters, I couldn’t help but make something on the side of fluffy. Here’s to hopefully surviving the finale tonight and angsting and self-projecting on Gary more!
Ao3
“Wakey wakey.”
John sat upright in the armchair he’d crashed in the night before. He had vague memories of splitting one of Rip Hunter’s last bottles of whiskey with Charlie and Mick in the parlor. Based on the minor ache in his skull, he’d had his fair share of it. There had been worse hangovers though,
“What’s happening?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes to get a clearer image of Charlie perched in front of him. “Did we break time again?”
“Nope,” the shapeshifter snorted. “Another missions. Up and at ‘em, Johno!”
He groaned and rolled off the chair. Mick was absent from the parlor, but soon appeared on the bridge a few moments later looking as miserable as John felt. At least the arsonist had made it to his room the previous night. The rest of the team, including Ava, was already waiting for the three of them to be ready for duty.
“Sharpie,” John raised his hand in greeting. “Good to see you. Where’s the rest of the Bureau entourage?”
“Mona and Nate are holding down the fort,” the director replied curtly. “Gary took the day off. Something about picking up his dad from the airport, but that’s the point. We’ve got a new alert that came up this morning.”
“Well, what’s cropped up this time?”
Ray pulled up a few newspaper clippings on the central console. “Our latest mythtery-”
The reactions to that ranged from cringes to sighs.
“-is in Minnesota, 1989. People in a small town start getting attacked and killed by some kind of wild animal. Authorities are never able to figure out what it is, but people reported hearing dogs or wolves nearby the crime scenes. No normal animal can do this much damage.”
A photograph enlarged to display a severely mauled corpse. It was hard to tell it had been ever been human.
Zari shuddered. “Gross.”
Sara nodded. “Whatever did this wasn’t originally from our world. What kind of creature does this though?”
John walked forward and took a closer look at the pictures. An involuntary shudder traveled down his spine. He had seen bodies in this condition before and knew what could do that kind of damage. The worst part about it was that theses creatures were only able to do bidding for another.
“You recognize it too, don’t you?” Charlie said.
“Hellhound,” John confirmed.
“Those are a thing?” Ray asked.
“Oh, they are,” Charlie nodded. “Except they weren’t in the slammer with me. They’re from-“
“Let me take a wild guess, hell?”
John nodded to answer Zari’s question. “They can be summoned from there, but it takes an immense amount of energy.”
“What’s the point of summoning a hellhound?” Mick muttered. “Get a hitman.”
“Oh, if you really want revenge, then you call up a hellhound,” John told him. “They will do all your bidding and cause as much destruction as your black heart desires. Controlling them ain’t easy, and they can go on a rampage if you lose it.”
“Okay, so now we know what it is,” Sara said, bringing the conversation back to the mission. “So someone could have lost control over the hellhound, that explains the massacre. Four people died in total during this, so any one of them could have been the original target. My money’s on the first dead guy.”
“Makes sense,” Ava agreed. “We find out who did it, get to them, and then deal with the hound. I’m going to have to call Mona and see how much she needs to prep to care for one.”
“Don’t bother,” John shook his head and turned around. “This one is going straight back to hell. You can’t keep a killing machine like this in the Bureau.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ava muttered. “Okay, who was the first victim?”
Ray scrolled past a few articles. “A plumber. He was killed outside his home in the middle of the night. No witnesses.”
“Why would someone want to kill a plumber?” Zari asked as everyone made their way to their seats to strap in for the time jump.
“No idea,” Sara shrugged. “But clearly someone bit off more than they could chew with revenge.”
~~~
The plan was straightforward. Half of the Legends would tail the plumber. The rest of them would search for any sign of the hellhound and piece together the trail of destruction to see if there was any connections between the attacks. Unfortunately, John hadn’t been able to find any sign of a summoning from hell occurring recently. However, there were traces of other magical presences in the town, but John and Charlie couldn’t figure out what it belonged to.
“You sure this is the one who died?” John asked as he, Ray, and Charlie sat out in a car outside the plumber’s house. “He doesn’t seem to have done anything to piss anyone off.”
“Z thinks he’s clean too,” Charlie agreed. “She ran his record. But then again, there’s always something deep down.”
“Hey, he’s coming out,” Ray pointed ahead of the house where their victim was now exiting with a bag of trash. “Be quiet.”
“He won’t be able to hear-” Charlie began as John started rolling down the window. “Hey, what are you-”
“Shhh,” John frowned. “You smell that?”
Ray’s nose wrinkled. “Smells like sulfur.”
“It’s here,” Charlie opened the car door. “Let’s do this.”
The men followed after the shapeshifter as the smell became even stronger. A different man was coming down the other end of the street in a nice suit while the plumber lugged the trash bag towards a can on the burn. From the shadows, Charlie swore someone was chanting in a different language before the pavement on the street cracked. The Legends, along with the men on the street, turned towards it and watched it grow larger. A massive dark beast burst out of the ground, snarling and slobbering. The plumber screamed, but the hellhound was more focused on the other man. Charlie had a sudden realization that they might have been following the wrong victim.
“Uhhh,” the new man took a step back. “Nice dog?”
The hellhound growled and lunged- only to be clipped across the snout by a laser.
“Stay back!” Ray shouted, his gauntlet aimed at the beast as it turned towards him.
“And now you’ve pissed it off,” John grumbled, turning to the stunned plumber while Ray shot the hound again. “Get inside, now!”
The plumber didn’t need to be told twice as he scampered back to his house. Meanwhile, the other man was backing away as the hellhound got back on its paws and crept towards him. Ray hurried forward and did all that he could to keep the hellhound distracted. Charlie made a move to grab the man off the sidewalk and run him back to the car. Ray was right behind with the Atom gauntlet still on his arm and pointed at the hellhound. John was doing some kind of spell, one Charlie recognized would send the creature back to the pits of hell.
Except it wasn’t working.
“John, come on!”
“Hang on!” he shouted before swearing and chanting something else that sent the hellhound flying back into a streetlight.
“Why didn’t you send it back to hell?” Charlie yelled as John ran back to the car and drove inside.
“I couldn’t!” John shot back as Charlie stepped on the gas. “Someone’s keeping it tethered to Earth.”
“Uh, what’s happening?” the man they’d brought from the street whimpered in the backseat. “I don’t know who you people are, but you can’t take me. I have to go home.”
“Do that and you endanger anyone there that you love,” John snapped while they all kept running red lights. “I managed to slow that thing down with a spell. Its tracking will be messed up long enough to give us a day. Sooner or later, it’ll wear off and then it’ll come after you again. Right now, the safest place for you is with us.”
“Oh god,” the man murmured, eyes wide in terror. “I can’t go home. They’ll be in danger. Wait, you’re in danger too now if you’re with me, right?”
“Danger’s just another Tuesday for us,” Ray offered lightly. “Don’t worry, we’re going to help sort this out. Then you can go back to your home.”
“Will my kids at home be safe from the hellhound if I’m not there?”
Charlie frowned at how calm he was while calling the thing a hellhound, but John nodded. “They only go after your live scent.”
“So they’ll be okay. Oh, thank goodness. Wherever you’re taking me, can I get a phone to call my sister? I had a date and she’s the one watching my kids.”
Ray smiled. “Definitely, but don’t mention this whole…situation just yet.”
“Yeah,” the man nodded. “Do you people work for the government or something?”
“In a way,” John shrugged, turning around to the backseat. “You gotta a name?”
“Jeff. Jeff Green.”
Charlie looked away from the road long enough to meet Jeff’s eyes and could tell he was hiding something. “Well, Jeff, don’t worry. We’ll get this all sorted.”
~~~
Once they got back to the Waverider, they put Jeff in the old brig with a cot and a phone that he could call his sister with. The group listened in on the conversation and were relieved that he didn’t giver her too much information about the circumstances. Meanwhile, they all tried to figure out what to do next, since the plumber hadn’t been the target like they suspected. Gideon did find out that the last person to die in the string of attacks had been Jeff Green, and the activity had ceased immediately after. Since the plumber had been saved, they now had figure out how the other two deaths could have connected to Jeff and how to stop all three from being killed.
“The hellhound’s still out there, but he can’t track Jeff right now,” Ray told the others. “John put a sort of spell on it that gives us a day before it strikes again. So it can’t go after Jeff for a while.”
“That’s good news,” Sara nodded. “Can it go after anyone else?”
“It’s like blindfolding someone’s senses,” John told her. “The beast can still run around, but it won’t be certain of what it’s following. Daytime also makes it weak, it’s sensitive to light and it’ll hide. So We’ve just got whatever’s left of the night to worry about now, then time to figure this out in the day.”
“Okay,” Sara nodded. “Ava and I will go stake out the other two just in case for the rest of the night. The rest of you stay on board and see if you can figure out why the hellhound went after Jeff.”
“Speaking of that,” Charlie turned away from the screen. “Either of you boys notice that he knew what a hellhound was, even though we never told him.”
Ray frowned as he recalled the conversation. “We…we didn’t tell him.”
Everyone looked at the screen where Jeff was now pacing back and forth in front of the phone.
“He seemed pretty concerned that he couldn’t go home to his family,” Charlie said. “If I was more a bleeding heart, I would focus on that too.”
“So what, he knows monsters are real?” Mick asked.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” John sighed. “Town’s got a magical stench about it. There’s more than just a hellhound here. But Jeff is a human.”
“Doesn’t mean he might not know anyone who is secretly a fugitive,” Ava suggested. “Where was he before the hellhound attacked?”
“A date. He was coming back from it, I think.”
“If I might interrupt,” Gideon called. “But Dr. Green appears to be making a call to a second number. Perhaps that will shed some more light on the situation.”
“Turn the audio on,” Sara ordered. “Everyone hush for this.”
On the screen, Jeff stopped pacing and stood where he was in the cell. “Puck, it’s Jeff. A hellhound came after me when I was heading back to my car. I’m safe with some people, don’t worry. I don’t know if you’re in danger because of it, but please be careful. I can’t lose another person I love.”
With that, he hung up and sat back down on the cot.
“Well then,” Sara spun to face the rest of the team. “He does know about hellhounds.”
“And so does this Puck he called,” Ava added. “That’s two people so far.”
Zari cracked her fingers. “I’m going to see if I can find anything on this guy. Or Jeff for that matter.”
“Ava and I will watch over the other two,” Sara told them. “The rest of you watch over Jeff or see if there’s anything to break the spell keeping it here.”
~~~
“How much did you find on Jeff or Puck?” Sara asked as she stumbled into the kitchen at sunrise.
“Nothing on Puck,” Zari reported. “I don’t have a last name, but I can’t find anyone with one that name anywhere in this time. Jeff Green, on the other hand, is about as normal as you can get. He’s a dentist in the town and has no priors, no arrests, not mob ties. His wife died a few years ago and he has three kids, but there’s nothing remarkable about him at all.”
“A hellhound attacked him,” John reminded them. “Which means he did something.”
“Well, he did say he had that date,” Charlie said as she sat on top of the counter with a box of cereal. “And with other magical creatures in the town, it’s possible he could have been on a date with one of them. Maybe it went poorly and this was revenge?”
“Pretty strong revenge,” Sara muttered. “But what if…what if Puck was the date?”
Zari nodded. “Jeff did say he couldn’t lose someone else he loved, right? Makes sense to me.”
Sara yawned. “John, can you talk to Jeff and see if you can get him to tell you anything about Puck? Zari, keep digging, there’s got to be something. Maybe Puck’s a fake name or-”
“Oh, bloody hell!” Charlie slammed her hands on the counter before sliding off and storming out. The others stared in confusion before turning back to each other.
“I’m going to look into Puck,” Zari announced.
“Gonna sleep soon,” Sara yawned. “John?”
“Yeah, I’m going.”
~~~
When John entered the brig, Jeff was awake. He looked up quickly as soon as the doors of the cell opened. The unease on his face was all too obvious. Clean record or not, he’d clearly been involved in something. Time to find out what that was.
“Just me,” John said as he entered the cell. “Captain asked me to check up on you. Quite the scare you had last night.”
“I’m okay. Have you dealt with the thing yet? Not to be impatient, but I really want to get back home.”
“As soon as it’s taken care of, you can,” John promised, pulling out a cigarette. “You wouldn’t happen to know why it would want to attack you, would you?”
Jeff shook his head. “No. Last time I checked, I haven’t pissed off any hellhounds.”
“Okay,” John flicked his lighter and lit the cigarette. “Although we never told you it was a hellhound. You knew it all on your own, didn’t you? Now that makes my job a little easier, but it doesn’t explain why a mortal like yourself knows about them.”
The dentist grinned weakly. “Lucky guess?”
“Did Puck tell you about them?” John pressed, stepping closer. “After all, you did call and tell him about it after you made that call to your sister. How ‘bout you tell me how he fits into all of this?”
“You listened in on my phone call,” Jeff sighed. “Well, he didn’t pick up, so I had to leave a message. He won’t be any help until he gets it. But when he does, he’ll be the one who comes and finds me with the people who took me off the street.”
“Sorry for saving your life,” John muttered as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “But you’re going to need to start telling us stuff. For starters, you know about magical creatures? Was it Puck who told you?”
Jeff nodded.
“He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
“Not my story to tell.”
“Alright, then how about one you can tell? What is your relationship with Puck? Secret lovers? Boyfriends? An affair?”
Jeff stared at him. “Why would I tell you a thing when I don’t even know who you are? Maybe you did save me from getting dragged to hell, but I’m going to need a little more information first.”
“John Constantine. Exorcist, demonologist, master or petty dabbler of the dark arts depending on the day. Also a time traveler, I can add that to the resume. Now with that out of the way, tell me about Puck.”
It seemed to satisfy Jeff, who gave a nod. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We’re not public about it though.”
“Small town problems, right? How long you two been together?”
“Five months next week. We were talking about him meeting my kids soon.”
“Isn’t that charming?” John smirked. “Think they’ll like him?”
Jeff’s lips twitched into a smile. “Levi’s still a toddler, and he’s pretty happy with anyone who doesn’t take a crayon away from him. He draws on just about anything. Paper, the walls, books, his clothes. My oldest could go either way. JJ was so close with Miriam, and he really misses her. But he also told me that he’s glad I’m happier lately. I’d rather my kids remember me being happy in their childhood instead of sad.”
Jeff sighed. “But the middle one…I really hope he likes Puck. He takes more after me than Miriam. I know he’s been having problems fitting in at school and making friends. Hopefully this will be a good thing for him and not make the other stuff worse. He’s got a heart of gold, but he’s so shy and lets himself get beaten down so much.”
John flicked some ash onto the floor. “He might grow out of it.”
“I hope so,” the dentist chuckled. “JJ used to be shy too before he was loud and chaotic, but Miriam was the one who got him out of his shell before she died.”
“Well, losing a mother is hard,” John murmured. “Some fathers become the worst versions of themselves when that happens. But that doesn’t seem to be you. You care about your family. You don’t want them to be in danger. That’s why you came willingly with us, because you couldn’t endanger your sons.”
“Well, they’re the brightest parts of my life,” Jeff told him, opening up his wallet and passing a picture to John. “I want them to be okay and safe.”
John studied the picture of Jeff, a woman who must have been the dead wife, and three boys sitting on a couch.
“Stacey, my sister, took this when Levi was four months old,” Jeff explained, reaching over and pointing out each child. “He’s on Miriam’s lap. JJ’s right next to her. And between him and me, that’s the middle boy. That’s Gary.”
“Gary,” John frowned as pieces started to fit together. “Gary…Green?”
“Yes.”
John looked back down at the picture and little Gary’s face before passing it back to Jeff. “I have to go.”
~~~
“Is there a reason why we’re on the bridge?” Ava asked as she stretched out again. “Did we find a way to corner the hellhound?”
“What about Charlie?” Ray added. “It’s been hours since she left the ship.”
“Yeah, and she still hasn’t come back yet,” John told him. “So I did talk with Jeff. Puck is the one who told him about creatures, so he’s probably one of them. Also, he is Jeff’s boyfriend. Zari, are you sure you didn’t find anything else interesting on Jeff?”
She shook her head. “No, I checked twice.”
“Not even that he’s Gary’s dad?” John challenged.
“We have Time Dweeb’s dad?” Mick frowned. “Ugh,”
“Mr. Constantine is correct,” Gideon confirmed. “Jeff Green is indeed the father of Gary Green. An earlier check of Bureau records confirmed the birth certificate.”
“And you never told me?” Zari exclaimed. “Gideon, come on!”
“Well, you didn’t ask about his children.”
“We know now,” Sara ended the argument. “So Gary’s dad could be killed by a hellhound. Ava, you mentioned that he was picking up his dad from the airport. What else do you know about his family?”
“Ahhh,” Ava frowned. “His mom’s dead. He has a dad. That’s it.”
“Helpful,” Zari mumbled. “Well, I did find out that a street over from the plumber, a man named Puck Shakespeare is renting a house. While I have a difficult time believing that’s a real name, he’s our guy.”
“Could he have summoned the hellhound to go after Jeff?” Ray inquired, eyes moving to the feed of the brig.
“According to Jeff, they were talking about introducing Puck to his kids,” John said. “Things sound good between them. It doesn’t make sense that he’d summon a hellhound because he didn’t want to meet his boyfriend’s kids.”
“Well, we don’t have a trace of the hellhound,” Sara sighed. “Gideon, what’s the effect on the timeline if we don’t stop this?”
“Current projections place Gary Green as an FBI analyst in 2019 instead of joining the Time Bureau,” the AI answered. “Mr. Rory would die at the hands of Captain Lance while she was under the influence of the death totem. Director Sharpe goes missing and the Time Bureau is headed by Director Neil McNeil, who enacts a series of regulations limiting activity of the Legends and prevents you from completing several missions critical to protecting the timeline.”
Sara shook her head. “Things take a turn for the worse.”
“He’s the one who came up with the strategy to track the death totem,” John said. “And he came to you when Ava was missing. Gary’s got brothers too. Gideon, would this impact their timelines?”
“The art community never discovers Levi Green’s works, and a bestselling book is never written. A popular travel vlog, Adventure Man!, is also a victim.”
“That’s Nate’s favorite series!” Ray looked horrified. “No, he can’t lose Adventure Man!.”
“Okay, so we’re saving Jeff,” Sara decided. “Wherever Charlie ran off to, it better pay off in the end!”
“Oh, it will!” the shapeshifter announced as she made her entrance. “Lucky for you lot, I’ve been seeking out help, and I knew exactly who to look for. He’s helped me fill in all the gaps.”
A man entered the room after Charlie, raising a hand in greeting with a smile. Ava frowned, unsure of what his purpose was. John, on the other hand, was regarding the newcomer with open suspicion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Puck,” Charlie said. “He’s a fairy from the High Court of King Oberon.”
Puck bowed with a cocky smirk, a shower of sparkles falling from his hands.
“Well, the name on the rental agreement makes sense now,” Zari sighed. “Took it right from Shakespeare.”
“Bold of you to assume I copied Billy,” Puck replied. “Without my help and influence, your world would never know of that night.”
“Puck’s an old friend of me before and during prison,” Charlie explained. “His cell was two down from mine. When the jail busted, he ended up here, met Jeff after a while, and started dating him.”
“Speaking of him,” Puck glared at the Legends. “Who’s going to tell me where my boyfriend is?”
“Not until we make sure it wasn’t you who sent the hellhound after him,” John responded, stepping forward.
“I swear by the High Court, by the King and Queen, that I would never do anything to harm a hair on Jeff’s head.”
“He’s right,” Charlie nodded. “He really wouldn’t. Puck likes mischief as much as the rest of his kind, but this isn’t his style. I should know, I was on the receiving end of it and it’s not hellhounds.”
Sara’s arms were folded over her chest, but she did relax somewhat. Ava knew it was a sign she didn’t totally trust Puck yet. “So do either of you know who it is?”
“We do,” Charlie confirmed. “I heard someone chanting when we were stalking the plumber. I didn’t recognize it at first, but then I remembered what it was. It’s Lilim, the language of the demons.”
“Once Charlie told me that was it, I figured out who it was,” Puck continued. “One of my exes was a demon who calls himself Michael. He was with me when we first came to Earth after the prison broke and wanted to get back together. But I refused to let myself fall into his darkness again and rejected him. He’s always been jealous, so it’s most likely he’s the one behind this as an attempt to get me back. Like killing the mortal man I love is going to send me running back into his arms!”
“A jealous demon,” Mick looked interested by that. “Can I kill him?”
“By all means, you may,” Puck nodded, “Make sure it sticks.”
“What about the hellhound?” Ava asked. “It’s still going after Jeff, right?”
“Fairy magic can fix that,” Puck promised. “Just get me close enough to Michael, and I can break the spell. But night is falling soon, which means the hound will return. Now that I’m here with Jeff, it’s likely that Michael will show up.”
Ava sighed. “So that means we’re getting ready for a fight?”
“Indeed,” Puck informed them. “But before we do this, may I please see my boyfriend!”
“John and I will take you,” Sara volunteered, grabbing John by the arm. “Babe, can you get everyone else ready?”
“Not a problem,” Ava looked behind her at the front windows of the ship. “Hey, Gideon, how resistant is the Waverider to hellhound attacks?”
“I don’t know, but I am not ready to find out today, Director Sharpe.”
~~~
John wasn’t sure why he and Sara were both supervising the reunion, but it was shorter than he had expected it to be.
“I was so worried when I got the voicemail,” Puck said to Jeff once the mushy stuff was out of the way. “I thought the hellhound got to you until Charlie showed up and told me I wasn’t too late.”
“Yeah, they rescued me,” Jeff told him. “But the hellhound’s still out there. It wants to hunt me down.”
“It is and it does,” Puck sighed and took Jeff’s hands. “It’s my fault, Jeff. The hellhound is after you because of me. I brought my world into yours, but I’m going to fix it all. I love you, okay?”
“I love you too.”
Puck smiled, but it barely masked the sadness on his face. “Stay here until I get back.”
With that, he left the cell and went out of the room. John and Sara followed after him.
“You really do care about him, don’t you?” John asked as they walked down the hall.
“I do,” Puck nodded. “Which makes what I’m about to do even harder.”
“We have a plan all worked out,” Sara said. “The hellhound will be here soon with your ex, and we’ll send them both back to hell.”
“She’s right, it’ll be a piece of cake with your magic.”
“Oh, I know,” Puck looked back at them. “But loving Jeff and letting him into my world, it’s too dangerous. He could have been killed by that hellhound. I can’t put him in danger anymore.”
John stopped. “Hang on, you’re not letting a jealous ex break up the two of you, are you?”
“It’s more than him,” Puck sighed. “This hellhound would never have gone after him if I hadn’t fallen in love. Jeff will get hurt because he loves me, but I can’t let that happen. It’ll be safer if I leave and take his memories of me away.”
“That would just hurt him more,” Sara said.
John nodded. “You’re going to leave him with a blank space in his memories if you do. Not to mention that you damn yourself to feel the pain of breaking your own heart while he never knows.”
“Listen, exorcist,” Puck snarled. “You and I both know there has to be a balance of the light and dark in the world. Jeff lives in the light. People like you, Charlie, and myself, we are the dark. When we love people who don’t walk our path, it darkens their brightness. Breaking the balance…it hurts them.”
John opened his mouth to argue back, but he couldn’t find the words. Sara gave him a pointed look before leaving him alone with the fairy. The way Puck was speaking had been how John turned Gary away from him. He’d even used the bloody light and dark balance line. John knew he had broken Gary’s heart as well as his own, but he hadn’t wanted Gary Green to become another Desmond, another Gary Lester. But that had been before he traveled with the Legends, before he met Sara and Ava. John knew he hadn’t entirely changed, but some things had.
“Maybe it does sometimes,” he told Puck. “But it doesn’t always.”
The fairy rolled his eyes as if he was dealing with a child. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” John shot back. “Because I do. I know exactly what you think of yourself after what Jeff’s been through!”
“Oh, do you really?”
“Yes! I had someone I cared about too. He’s more like Jeff than you could ever imagine. He cared about me the same way Jeff does with you, but he had so much light that I couldn’t let myself tarnish that. So I broke his heart, gave him the same light and dark speech, and moved on right up until I met Sara and Ava, that other blonde on the bridge. Two different worlds, Sara came back from the dead, and she found she could be happy with Ava. Now I regret what I did because there is no way I can fix it! That’s what’s going to happen to you if you break Jeff’s heart!”
Puck glowered at him before walking away quickly.
“Do you really regret not taking the chance with Gary?”
John hadn’t realized that Sara had been waiting by the corner. “How’d you know it was Gary?”
“The light and dark speech. Gary told Nate, and he told the rest of us.”
“Blabbermouth,” John muttered. “I messed things up with Gary to the point where I can’t fix them. If Puck truly loves Jeff, they can work out. He just can’t see every terrible thing as a sign that it’s not meant to be.”
Sara smirked. “Look at you having hope for Gary’s dad.”
“Don’t ever tell him that.”
“Captain Lance,” Gideon said. “The hellhound is approaching our location, and it’s not alone.”
“Time to get ready for a fight,” the captain sighed. “John, get Puck and the others ready. I’ll be there in a moment.”
~~~
As the Legends and Puck exited the ship, the hellhound was sitting obediently beside a tall man in a blue suit. When he saw Puck, an icy smile crawled onto his face. “Hello, darling.”
“Michael,” Puck’s tone was venomous. “You should have never done this. We’re over. Move on. I have.”
“With a human,” the demon sneered. “Come on, Puck. Really?”
“And you think killing the man I love would make me go back to you?” Puck shook his head, magic swirling around his hands. “Think again. Now release the hound from its bond to kill.”
The smile grew wider as Michael giggled. “I’ll release it!”
He said something in another language and the hellhound was on its feet. With a loud growl, it charged at the assembled group. Mick was the first to fire off his heat gun, eliciting a howl of pain when the flames met fur. It only slowed the creature down for a moment before it swiped at them with a large paw. The arsonist went flying into a tree as the hellhound turned to the next people in its path. When she realized it was them, Zari grabbed Charlie and flew into the air with her totem.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun!” Charlie yelled as Zari tried to avoid the lunging beast. “Cut it out! You’re not going to get what you want!”
“Oh, I’ll kill as many people as I have to in order to get him back,” Michael shouted back. “Starting with you lot!”
Ray and Ava made a move to go after him, but the hellhound cut them off. It was then that John realized Sara hadn’t rejoined them yet. He only had a second to process this before Puck suddenly tackled him to avoid being taken out by the Atom flying back from a blow.
“I need to get closer,” Puck said, getting back up on his feet. “Ugh, Michael had to get a big one. He’s really overcompensating.”
John made a face as he thought through the spells that he knew. Settling on one, he began to chant in Latin, trying to trap the beast in a sigil.
“You’re a clever one,” Michael sounded impressed. “But it’s not enough.”
Michael spoke something in Lilim, and the sigil dissolved. Another phrase in Lilim, this one sounding much like a command, made the beast turn to face John head on. Its eyes glowed like embers as it started running at him. John started to summon up another sigil.
A yell came from behind him. “Hey, pooch!”
The next thing John knew, a rod was being jammed into the hellhound’s eye. It screeched and backed away quickly, the rod swinging around haphazardly. John took the opportunity to run out of the way. Looking up, he saw Jeff standing there, hands shaking and eyes slightly widened. Sara was standing next to him, a proud look on her face.
Michael stared at his hellhound, then back up to Jeff. “The mortal.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jeff shouted. “I am. Maybe it’s not a demon, or some other magical creature, but I still love him. And I’m pretty sure that he loves me!”
“I do!” Puck appeared from behind Michael. “And I’m not letting anyone take him away from me!”
Michael spun around and Puck grabbing his chest. His hand started to glow as did the demon’s chest, the dark outlines of his ribs prominent. Puck pulled his hand back after a few moments. Michael sunk to his knees and the hound stopped flailing around. It started to whimper in pain now.
“It’s been freed from its task,” Puck announced as the Legends and Jeff moved forward. “Now it’s time for them to return to hell.”
“I’ve got that bit,” John looked down at the demon and started to summon the opening to hell.
Michael scowled up at Puck. “You’ve made a mistake. We’re immortals, he isn’t. You’re from two different worlds. It won’t be a happy ending.”
“So what if we’re not the same?” Jeff asked. “Everything that makes him different is part of why I love Puck. It doesn’t change how I feel about him.”
Puck reached over with a smile to take his hand. “Me neither.”
The portal to hell was wide open now. The hound was cast inside first, then John set his sights on Michael.
“I hope you get what’s coming from your pals down there,” he snarled.
With that, he kicked the demon through the portal and closed it.
“Is that it?” Sara asked as Zari finally made it back down to the ground with Charlie.
John nodded silently. Puck and Jeff turned to each other and started to kiss.
“Let’s get cleaned up and get him home,” Ava said. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Rory has a concussion over there.”
“Eh, he’s got a thick head,” Sara replied. “He’ll be fine.”
“Are we ever going to tell Gary about this?” Charlie inquired, pointing over to Jeff and Puck. “That his dads dated a fugitive and we saved him?”
Ava shook her head. “No. If he remembers this, then he’ll tell us. Right now we just need to get his dad home.”
“And what about Puck?”
Zari’s question had them all looking towards the couple again.
“He hasn’t done any harm,” John murmured. “Let them be happy for as long as they can.”
“For once, I agree with him,” Ava said. “They’re two people in love. They deserve a chance.”
~~~
“Thank you again for saving me. I owe my life to you.”
“It’s what we do,” Sara smiled at Jeff. “Just have a good life.”
“And look after your kids,” Ava added. “They’ve got a good dad.”
“They really do,” Puck agreed with her, kissing Jeff. “I can’t wait to meet them tomorrow. I’ll see you then, my love.”
With a puff of smoke, he vanished.
“Fairy magic,” John shook his head. He gave Jeff a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s get you home to your kids.”
Together with Ray, they loaded into the car they were “borrowing”. The drive to the Green house was silent, save for Jeff pointing out where they’d need to turn. John did catch Ray looking over at him a few times, but he thankfully kept his mouth shut. He was glad for the silence right now.
Once they arrived at the Green home, John got out to take Jeff to the door. “Here you are. Home sweet home.”
“Yeah,” Jeff looked up at it happily. “I’m glad to be back here alive.”
“I’ll bet,” John agreed. “Listen, mate, I have two things I want to say.”
Jeff turned to him, waiting. John exhaled and glanced at the house quickly, wondering what little Gary Green was up to right now while little John Constantine was sleeping with his latest bruises.
“First, don’t give up with Puck. I saw tonight that you two really love each other. Two different worlds or not, you can find a way. Don’t make my mistakes.”
“I won’t. We won’t.”
“Good,” John nodded. “Second, I know you love your kids, and that you’re worried about Gary. You see that he’s going to be amazing, but he doesn’t know that, so tell him. Tell him everyday that he is incredible. Tell all your boys that, but make sure Gary knows it. Someone needs to.”
“I will,” Jeff smiled as he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door. “Thank you for everything. Goodbye, John.”
As soon as he pushed the door open, John could see a little boy with glasses sitting on the carpet at the end of the hall. He lifted his head from a book to see who it was. Then his face split into a grin and he ran over to attach himself to Jeff’s legs. “DADDY!”
“Gary!” Jeff dropped down so he could hug his son properly. “Hey, kiddo, I missed you so much!”
“Aunt Stacy didn’t say when you were coming back,” little Gary mumbled into Jeff’s neck. “Where were you?”
“I was with some friends. This is one of them. You’re going to meet another one tomorrow.”
“Cool!” Gary grinned up at John, revealing a missing tooth. “Nice to meet you.”
John couldn’t help but smile back. “You too.”
“Hey, where are your brothers and aunt?” Jeff asked, standing up now. “Are they already asleep?”
“Levi is. Aunt Stacy’s with JJ in the backyard. He climbed the tree and he isn’t wearing pants.”
“Well, we better go deal with that then,” Jeff chuckled. “How about you tell me about that book you were reading?”
John watched them go inside and close the door before heading back to the car.
~~~
“The timeline is back to the way it’s supposed to be,” Sara said once they were back in present day. “No massacre was ever reported in that town.”
“I was hoping serial killer when this first came up, but I’m glad it’s been fixed,” Ava murmured. “Gary’s still at the Bureau, so that’s good.”
“Oh yeah,” Sara’s eyes glinted with mischief. “I made a lie about something being broken and might have told John to check on Gary himself.”
“I suggested it,” Gideon reminded her.
Ava raised an eyebrow. “You’re playing matchmaker with them?”
Sara shrugged. “Maybe a little…”
~~~
John knocked for the third time on Gary’s apartment door. “Oh come on, squire. You better be in there.”
Just then, the door swung open, revealing Gary. “John? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“You know me,” John sighed in relief as he came into the apartment. “You still work at the Bureau, right?”
“Yeah, I do, you know that. I took the day off today, I had to pick up my dad at the airport, although he did have a surprise there.”
John froze. “What kind of surprise?”
“Gary? Who are you talking to?”
“Who’s there?”
John remembered those voices. It had been hours for him, but decades for them. Lifting his head, he could see Puck and Jeff coming around the corner from where Gary’s kitchen was. Jeff’s hair had gone gray and there were more wrinkles now, but he had aged gracefully. Puck looked older too, which should have been impossible for fairies, but his aging looked slower compared to Jeff’s. John couldn’t help but smile when he saw their joined hands.
“Hey,” Gary looked back to his father and Puck, then John. “Uh, John, this is my dad. And that’s Puck. He’s my dad’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” John raised an eyebrow.
“We were together for a long time, but then we had a bit of a break,” Jeff explained. “Puck helped me raise Gary and his brothers.”
“But now we’re trying things together again,” Puck finished, smiling lovingly at Jeff. “So, Gary, who is this?”
John glanced quickly at Gary, who cleared his throat. “This is John Constantine. He’s a friend from work.”
Jeff tilted his head. “Do I know you?”
“Just got one of those faces,” John lied.
“I don’t think you’d know him,” Gary told his father. “John’s kinda into the occult.”
Jeff grinned. “Hey, I was in a cult once!”
“Occult, and he doesn’t need to hear that story!” Gary panicked, waving his hands back and forth.
“Hey, Gary, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?” Puck interrupted. “I need to get the rest of the sauce together so it can simmer.”
“Sure, Puck.”
John watched them leave before turning back to Jeff. The older man had a knowing smile on his face.
“It’s been a while, John Constantine. So, are you a petty dabbler or master of the dark arts today?”
“You…” he faltered. “You remember me?”
“Hard to forget an introduction like that after nearly getting mauled by a hellhound,” Jeff laughed. “You and everyone on that ship did so much for me and Puck back then. Not only did you stop a hellhound, but you told us it was possible to be together.”
John glanced towards the kitchen where Gary and Puck were. “Thought you two said you had a break.”
“We did, but it didn’t mean Puck wasn’t part of the family. Besides, we’re giving things a second chance and it’s been amazing.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“Puck told me everything you told him all that time long ago,” Jeff continued. “Including how you let someone go because of your darkness. And then there was the advice you gave me about Gary. Since you told me you were a time traveler, I wondered if you knew him. But Gary was the one you let go, wasn’t he?”
John exhaled heavily. “He was.”
“Do you still really care about my son, John Constantine?” Jeff asked, his eyes steely behind the glasses he now wore.
The question hung in the air before John nodded. “I do.”
“Good,” Jeff smiled. “Because he still likes you too. If you want something with him…well, I think you remember the advice you gave to me.”
John snorted softly. “Time will tell if it works again.”
“So, do it, then wait and see. That’s what Puck and I had to do.”
“Jeff, where did you-” Puck started to shout. “Never mind. Can you give me a hand?”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Jeff called back, then looked to John. “Good luck. And if you ever break his heart again, Puck will come after you. You’ll get to see the kind of revenge he can dish out then.”
“Not meddling with a fairy,” John promised. “Speaking of which, do Gary and his brothers know about Puck? What he really is?”
“They do, but the secret is safe within the family and it will stay with family.”
Gary came back around the corner. “Hey, Dad, JJ’s calling. Levi’s with him.”
“I’ll get it,” Jeff told his son. “You talk with John for now.”
“Sure,” Gary grinned until his father left the room, then looked back to John. “Hey, he didn’t tell you the cult story, did he?”
John laughed. “Nope. No cult story, but now I’m curious.”
Gary reddened and scratched the back of his neck. “I can…tell you tonight? Puck’s suggesting that I invite you over for dinner tonight. It’ll be them and my brothers here. It’s okay to say no though. My family can be a lot and-”
“No,” John shook his head. “I’d like to stay.”
Gary seemed surprised. “Wha- really?”
“Yeah,” he smiled. “There’s something I want to talk to you about, if you’ll hear me out.”
Gary beamed back at him. “Sure.”
#legends of tomorrow#somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds#happy birthday#constangreen#john constantine#gary green#team legends#green family#constangreen server#fanfiction
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Broken Like Me (Part 14) - Christmas
Summary: The reader spends Christmas with the Winchesters...
Masterlist
Pairing: Model!Dean x reader
Word Count: 1,700ish
Warnings: language
Christmas Eve
“We’re here. Again,” called out Dean when you stepped inside his parents house after the third trip back to his place. “All presents and bags accounted for. If I lost anyone, I blame Michael.”
“How many cousins are there?” asked Michael, poking his head around a corner, eating one of the cookies you’d made over the weekend.
“Ten,” said Dean. “Two little ones.”
“Well we got the two little ones. Everyone else can fend for themselves,” said Michael, grabbing one of the bags you had. “Nice job on the cookies by the way. Uncle Bobby’s had like fifteen so far.”
“I have not ya idjit,” said Bobby, slapping Michael on the back of the head. “Go help your mom.”
“With what?” asked Michael.
“I don’t know. Get,” said Bobby, Michael holding up his hands as he left. “You two are supposed to set the table.”
“What are you doing?” asked Dean, cocking his head.
“Supervising,” said Bobby, taking a sip of beer and heading into the family room.
“I like him,” you said with a laugh.
“He grows on you,” said Dean. “Totally covered for me when I snuck out once.”
“Really?” you said.
“Yeah. I mean, I was totally forced to work at his salvage yard for an entire summer with no days off or breaks so he wouldn’t tell my parents but eh, I’m glad he did it,” said Dean.
“Oh sweetie,” said Mary, coming down the hall giving him a hug. “We always knew. We figured that would be a better punishment than grounding you.”
Dean rolled his eyes, Mary giving you a hug as well.
“You loved that summer and you did not work the whole time, mister. You and Charlie were thick as thieves,” she said.
“Charlie was five, stuck living with Uncle Bobby. Of course I took her to the park and swimming and crap,” said Dean, turning to you. “Charlie’s actually adopted.”
“She’s always looked at Sam and Dean as more of big brothers than cousins,” said Mary. “Dean always liked cars. We thought maybe he could learn a thing or two about them.”
“I learned a whole lot that summer,” said Dean. “I’d probably be a mechanic in another life.”
“Well you didn’t sneak out again after that, did you?” asked Mary.
“Not that you know of,” said Dean with a smile. She dropped her smile and crossed her arms. “I’m kidding...maybe.”
“Some things, I do not need to know, Dean,” she said. “After you two wash up, can you help set up the table? The big meal is tomorrow night so tonight’s a bit more laid back, Y/N. We’ll do stockings and everyone can open one gift.”
“Sounds fun,” you said, Dean pulling you along to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to put together the table, Dean having you pull on your coats and boots again once you finished. You followed him outside to the street, a few snowflakes floating on the air. He shoved one hand in his coat, brushing the other against yours, lacing your fingers together. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” he said, giving you a smile. “I wanted to go for a walk was all.”
“You have a big family,” you said.
“Yeah. It gets a bit hectic,” he said. “You hear from your parents at all?”
“Just a card yesterday. I didn’t open it,” you said.
“Maybe they’re trying,” said Dean.
“I’ll look at it later,” you said, walking around a small pile of snow.
“I have to talk to you about something. It’s pretty important,” he said.
“Okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. Dean stopped you on the street, turning to face you.
“I got you something,” he said, phising a small wrapped up bundle from his coat pocket. “I want you to open it.”
You let go of his hand as you peeled the green and red paper off, laughing as you opened it up.
“You like it?” he asked.
“I love it,” you said with a laugh. Dean ripped off the tag and took the trash from you as you pulled off your gray wool hat. You put the redish orange one on, complete with small pointed black ears. “It’s a fox hat.”
“You really do look like a cute little fox,” he said, bopping your nose with a smile.
“Thank you for the new hat,” you said, Dean pecking a kiss on your cheek. “It’s nice and warm. If not a bit ironic.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Uh, not to spoil or anything but you might be getting a similar present in the not too distant future,” you said.
“Is it a wolf?” asked Dean. You shrugged, Dean nodding his head when your lips started to curl up. “I knew it. Great minds think alike. Plus it just makes sense.”
“What does?” you asked.
“Well I’m bigger than you and a whole lot scruffier,” he said. “It just makes sense I’m a wolf.”
“And I’m a fox?” you said.
“Hey, you could have picked out any animal at the zoo,” he said, bumping into your shoulder. “I knew it was my super manliness that gave you the idea.”
“Oh, yeah, that was it,” you said rolling your eyes.
“What did?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Wolves are cool but you know, soft and loyal,” you said.
“Well I just thought you look cute like a fox,” said Dean. “Plush your hair looks all floofy in a ponytail.”
“Dork,” you said, bumping your hip against his.
“You’re the dork, dork,” he said, bumping you back, wrapping an arm around your waist when he nearly tripped. “Whoops. I guess I don’t know my own strength.”
“Shut up,” you said, wrapping your arm around his, Dean chuckling when you leaned your head against his shoulder.
“Y/N,” said Dean after a few minutes. He was walking slower, the snow sticking on the ground now as you continued around the neighborhood.
“Hm?” you hummed.
“I have a confession to make. I...I sort of want to get it off my chest,” he said. His tone was different this time, definitely not another little gift ahead.
“S’okay,” you said, Dean pausing. “I promise.”
“I posted another photo of you on instagram this morning. I didn’t ask your permission,” he said.
“Dean, that’s okay. When that happened before...you know how insecure I was about my appearance. I’m still insecure about it but you know I’m trusting you with it more and more,” you said. “I think you know by now what I am and am not comfortable with you showing of me.”
“I looked a little while ago...there were some comments on it,” he said.
“Were they mean?” you asked.
“I think you should take a look,” he said. You pulled out your phone, prepared for the worst.
You smacked him on the arm, Dean laughing when you saw it only had a few likes.
“You made your instagram private, didn’t you?” you said.
“Well, just for a while,” he said. “My actual friends can see that.”
“You know...” you said, looking at the black and white picture of you in bed, your messy hair covering your forehead perfectly, giving Dean a sly and sleepy smile. “You can post that. You don’t have to make your instagram private either for my sake.”
“You sure?” he asked.
“Positive,” you said. He fiddled around on his phone for a minute, tucking it back in his pocket. “Is that what was bothering you?”
“Mostly,” he said.
“What’s the other part?” you asked.
“Overthinking stuff in my head,” he said.
“Lay it on me, buddy,” you said. Dean pursed his lips. “Boyfriend-girlfriend confidentiality.”
“I’m not overwhelming you with my family, right?” he asked. “Like as soon as the holidays are over, you aren’t going to run for the hills?”
“No. Dean. I know I had an iffy morning on Saturday but I love your family. Yes, they are sort of insane but I really do like them. They could be assholes but I’d still suffer through them for you,” you said.
“I uh, I just worry,” he said.
“I noticed. I promise. Everything between us is great, Dean.”
Christmas
“You survived your first Winchester Christmas,” said Dean, back at his place late that night. “What’d you think?”
“Well I loved my stocking full of new hats and headbands,” you said, Dean chuckling as you crawled into bed with him. “I liked my new flannel and my handy dandy new tool box. Also, thank you for not getting the pink one.”
“Well I figured that wouldn’t be the smartest move. Now you got a good sturdy box to keep your stuff in. Maybe next year I’ll teach you how to change your own oil,” he said.
“Oh yeah. It’s every girls dream gift,” you teased. “You liked your car stuff?”
“I loved it. Plus you got me my awesome new wolf hat and that classic rock book. No one went too overboard,” he said.
“Good. I know we were both a little...nervous about that,” you said. He hummed and tucked himself in closer to you, letting out a soft sigh. “Early night?”
“Yes please,” he mumbled. You turned over in bed, just enough to get the light before Dean was rolling you back to him. “Night.”
“Night, Dean.”
A/N: Read Part 15 here!
TAGS CLOSED
@homeorbust @team-free-gallagher @waywardrose13 @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansgirl215 @booski91 @spnskinnyballs @gh0stgurl @newtospnfandom @hunterswearingplaid @jayankles @mlovesstories @roxyspearing @mirandaaustin93 @laceyn-1201 @rahma29417 @extreme-supernatural-lover @mrswhozeewhatsis @gallifreyansass @closetspngirl @ms-mags @jen-tiamo @atc74
#dean x reader#dean winchester#spn#supernatural#series#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#dean fanfiction#spn reader insert#supernatural reader insert#dean reader insert#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x#winchester#dean x#dean#au#supernatural series#spn series#dean series#dean winchester series#dean spn#dean supernatural#model!dean
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♔ Rules.
Banner Credit: [x]
Note: Before you follow this blog (or before you decide to stay), you must be comfortable with the following mentions (images will be tagged should any of this come up, but it is HIGHLY doubtful): cannibalism, drugs, alcohol, death, religion, and nsfw content.
Note: Read my rules & triggers thoroughly ( I will not tolerate hearing that you skimmed them later).
SHIPPING.
✘ Don’t pester me for shipping if we haven’t interacted long enough to even develop a bond past strangers. Satan will only sleep with your muse, but he will not engage in a romantic relationship since he is married.
INTERACTING.
✘ IC =/= OOC and I hold the right to softblock you should you become someone who proves an issue on this subject. As it serves to protect my mental health and my time, understand that I hold this as a right and you do, too, but don’t start drama over it or catch me hearing you are talking bad about me behind my back. I will confront you and it will be a discussion that you will not find pleasing.
✘ I absolutely will NOT interact with fanchildren of ANY given canon set of muses and I ask that all blogs tag the ship of “Chalastor” (Charlie x Alastor), because it upsets me greatly to see it on my dash. I will, however, interact with other children muses in Hell who are their own entity.
✘ Hazbin’s Hell is based on real hell ; however, there are CHANGES in it that are different than what is depicted. As canon in the show is revealed, this will be slowly altered, but for now hell is split into nine circles as per Dante’s Inferno and every circle has its own establishment ; Satan, being the ruler of hell, has morals and it would be appreciated if you did not assume what he’s done.
✘ I will absolutely NOT interact with genderbends/cis!swaps. These blogs will be immediately blocked if they attempt to follow me.
✘ DO NOT HARM WITHOUT TALKING TO ME FIRST! You followed SATAN, you followed a powerful entity, this would be equal to harming something like Zeus or Hades of Greek Mythology ; this is a villain, not a playtime teddy bear, and if you anger him, he will attack your muse (now: my actions in threads will always, ALWAYS, leave room for you to have your muse a chance to escape, dodge, receive MINOR injuries, or to get hurt completely – the choice is yours); however, this does NOT mean yours can suddenly overpower mine in an instant and suddenly have the ability to do what you please! This has become an issue recently where (outside of small, fun sessions of just silliness) muses have been able to seriously hurt or incapacitate my muse without any sort of conversation with me, but if mine does anything minor (ie a small spit at your muse’s face), they are free to do as they please, which is absolutely unacceptable. If you are planning to harm him, then I need conversations to happen or I will rip the interaction to shreds and retcon it from our relationship between muses.
Note: This does not include silly things like whacking him on the head or poking his nose ; this is meant as if your muse intends ACTUAL serious harm on him – outside of an ask meme about the topic.
Note: If this becomes a repeated offense, then I might cease our interactions and/or softblock.
ON CHILDREN/GRANDCHILDREN PLOTS.
✘ Charlie is Satan’s ONLY child (unless there’s a twin au going on between blogs that I am made aware of) ; this is due to Lilith’s history with children and his own preference to have his only daughter who lived with him. She will not have any siblings here, nor will I interact with OCs who attempt to integrate into the Magne family.
✘ I also am not COMFORTABLE with doing any plots that revolve around grandchildren ; if you want to have your Charlie muse have children or randomly adopt kids, it’s your muse and you’re free to do so, but I just don’t feel comfortable doing those kinds of plots – especially if they’re just thrown on to me without discussion first.
BLOG STATUS.
✘ My blog is for the privacy of myself, and if I so choose to not follow you back, then that is mydecision. With that, it’s honestly self-explanatory that this is a highly selective blog; if you follow my blog, I will look at yours and decide if I will follow back.
✘ This blog is mutuals only and I expect you to check before you attempt to speak with me, like my starter calls, or attempt to join in activities I may have planned on the dash; I will do the same as a sign of mutual respect.
✘ Although I push this for roleplaying, sending random asks on anonymous is always welcome when it comes to my muse ; if we are not mutuals, however, this means that the threads will NOT continue after being answered.
SOFTBLOCKING/UNFOLLOWING.
✘ I reserve the right to softblock your blog should you become someone I do not appreciate on my dash any longer. ✘ This includes: constant posts of negatives that are untagged/more frequent than roleplays, drama, actions that are just rude, untagged triggers, or the refusal to tag triggers, racism (you know what that is), ableism (using the r-slur, not tagging your muse’s mentions of it, etc.), large amounts of NSFW images (even if it’s just one day; it’s just really unpleasant and you can do a sin blog for that content to avoid it on your minors’ dashboards), homo/transphobia, spam liking my posts, I find out you name dropped me in a server just to spread a negative opinion of yours about me, etc.
✘ This hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll immediately block you if you refuse to use my pronouns (they/them); I understand mistakes will happen, but you’re no friend of mine if you don’t respect my pronouns…
✘ This list may become longer should I find more reasons.
TRIGGERS.
✘ Tag NSFW and I won’t smut with minors—or anyone—so don’t ask and don’t attempt to try it, because I will immediately block you.
✘✘✘✘For my triggers: family abuse/child abuse, sexual assault/rape (even the word is hard on my psyche), and “Chalastor” (Charlie x Alastor).
if you have a trigger that is not listed as an automatic tag, please message me as well (you may copy and paste it into my ask box or IM it to me at any time! it’s important to know and I can add to my NECESSARY to tag page! I’m very forgetful and I don’t ever want to have anyone suffering for that. I
if I do forget to tag, you can: softblock, outright block, unfollow (though the others are better so you never have to see my url and be reminded), tell me, tell a friend to tell me, tell all of your friends to tell me, anon message me, post a reminder on your blog about your triggers (which I WILL CHECK ON IMMEDIATELY), do whatever it takes for you to feel secure because YOUR BLOG IS YOURS.
Most importantly: take care of yourself first! I will never be angry with you if anything like this should happen, so don’t feel anxiety if you must softblock/block me for triggering you or to feel secure again ; I should have paid attention to your rules!
RESPECT.
✘ Respect me and I will show you respect.
✘ Respect the fact this blog is canon divergent!
✘ Respect other people’s triggers and tag them as best you can! It only takes a few seconds! I understand blood and murder not being tagged (unless specifically asked, but remember that self-harm, racism, ableism, suicide, and other triggers that are heavier are always something you should tag in warning)!
PASSWORD SEND-OFF.
✘ Reading my rules is mandatory. If you don’t read them, then it will be plainly clear to me and I will immediately be forced to block you. A great way to tell if we’re not mutuals on this blog is if I don’t reply to your password sending. As I do not intend to interact with those who are not mutuals, this means: please do not send anymore ic asks/interaction asks; however, you may send anon messages and asks in general but not for ic interaction purposes.
✘ There is no password for this blog, but thank you for reading my rules! You are more than welcome to tell me you have read them in IM or ask, but this is highly unnecessary! I understand if you have anxiety issues and this causes you discomfort!
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