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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 year ago

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Ottawa, Illinois — At 104 years old, Dorothy Hoffner fell.

Then she kept falling, and falling, and falling. And when the lifelong Chicagoan finally touched the ground Sunday, she landed in the history books and became the oldest person to ever sky-dive.

“Age is just a number,” Hoffner told a cheering crowd moments after touching the ground at the Skydive Chicago Airport in Ottawa.

As the centenarian prepped to board the white Skyvan plane, she slowly pushed her red walker out into the skydiving resort’s hangar.

She took off her light blue cardigan and lifted her black loafers a few inches off the ground one at a time to work her way into a harness.

She declined a jumpsuit but accepted an altimeter.

She left the walker just short of the plane, where two expert instructors helped her up the steps into the hold.

“Let’s go, let’s go, Geronimo!” she said, finally seated.

The plane quickly rose, Hoffner all the while looking calm and confident. She was the only passenger not wearing ear plugs as the propellers loudly buzzed.

When the aft door opened to reveal tan crop fields far below, she and the U.S. Parachute Association-certified instructor tethered to stand.

Hoffner insisted on leading the jump. When she first sky-dived at 100 years old, she was pushed out, she said. This time, she wanted to take charge.

She shuffled toward the edge and leaped into the air.

The plane beat her to the ground. Seven minutes after her jump, she drifted in for her historic landing.

The wind pushed back her white hair. She clung to the harness draped over her narrow shoulders, a look of excitement and wonder spread across her face.

She picked up her legs as the ground approached. And finally, she plopped onto the ground.

The crowd gathered along the skydiving resort’s landing strip roared. Friends rushed to share congratulations.

Someone brought over Hoffner’s red walker. She rose fast, and a reporter asked how it felt to be back on the ground.

“Wonderful,” Hoffner said. “But it was wonderful up there.”

“The whole thing was delightful, wonderful, couldn’t have been better,” she said.

Her mind quickly turned to the future. She might ride in a hot-air balloon next, she said.

“I’ve never been in one of those,” Hoffner said.

The Guinness World Record for oldest skydiver was set in May 2022 by 103-year-old Linnéa Ingegärd Larsson from Sweden.

Hoffner’s record has yet to be certified. The Chicago senior is set to turn 105 in December.

She answered quickly when asked what it feels like to hold the age-based record.

“Like I’m old,” she said.

But the record didn’t seem to interest Hoffner ahead of her attempt to break it.

Before her jump — originally scheduled for early September and delayed three times because of bad weather — her mind was focused instead on the peaceful descent through the sky, she told the Tribune last month.

She first tried skydiving at 100, when her dear friend Joe Conant of Andersonville told her he was planning to sky-dive.

She wanted to join, she told him, because “it sounded interesting.” It became one of her favorite experiences.

“Floating down, it’s so smooth,” she said.

She encouraged everyone to try skydiving and has advice for those who want to give it a try.

“When you’re coming down, make sure you’ve got someone with you. That’s the important thing,” she said.

“I often thought, if I were to do this alone, I would pray when I pulled the parachute cord,” she continued.

“If you pulled it too soon and got caught on the plane, then what would you do when you got caught on the plane? How could they land that plane with you hanging on it?”

The 104-year-old has spent her whole life in Chicago. She was raised in Garfield Park, where she lived for 50 years before moving to Jefferson Park.

She has spent the last decade at the Brookdale Lake View senior living community. She raves about the facility’s three daily meals.

She worked for Illinois Bell throughout her working years, beginning in 1938 as an operator, she said.

She never had any husbands or children — an essential ingredient she in part credits for her long life.

Hoffner, who describes herself as an “unclaimed treasure, never had to deal with the responsibility of kids," she said.

“Or the pettiness and the mess of a husband,” she said. “I never had to take care of anyone but me.”

The biggest secret to her old age and health is her God, who has been very good to her, she said.

“He kept me really going. I can’t say that I’ve ever had any real terrible pain,” she said. “My life has been very dull.”

She wasn’t much of an adventure-seeker for most of her life. For fun, she’d go out for a weekly lunch with two girlfriends.

Sometimes, they’d visit the Garfield Park Conservatory. She traveled too — to England, Panama, Italy twice and France.

She’s filled her life with chosen “grandkids,” including Conant.

The two met when Conant worked as a caretaker for one of Hoffner’s friends.

Though the friend has since died, Conant and Hoffner still talk daily and share dinner every week.

It was Hoffner’s idea to jump again this year, said Conant, who jumped right after Hoffner and landed before her.

She clutched his hand as their plane rose. The wind caught their feet when they leaped from around 13,500 feet and pushed them into a backflip, he said.

“She’s just a great friend,” Conant said on the ground. “I’m incredibly proud of her.”

Hoffner strongly encourages others to sky-dive like her. "It’s surprisingly affordable and so peaceful.��

But she isn’t sure she’ll do it again. She doesn’t know what the future holds, she said.

#Dorothy Hoffner #Skydive Chicago Airport #Ottawa #Illinois #centenarian #104 years old #U.S. Parachute Association #Guinness World Record #oldest skydiver #Linnéa Ingegärd Larsson #Chicago #Derek Baxter #Chicago Tribune

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aryburn-trains · 2 years ago

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LIRR GP38 266 EB Bilevels, Mineola, May 1992

"THE PROTOTYPE TRAIN"

At first glance this photo is rather uninteresting, however on closer look it is what the future of LIRR diesel operations would evolve to a few years later. What we are seeing here is essentially the prototype of the current Bi-Level cars used outside of the electrified lines of the LIRR.

At the head end are two of the four GP38s (266) that were modified with unique electrical connections for this train that ran from Hunterspoint Ave to Port Jefferson. Behind the GP38s is special power car 3100, a former FA (608) control cab, to supply "hotel" power to the passenger cars. Behind the power car are the prototype "C1" Bi-level passenger cars built by Tokyu. In 1994 the LIRR would receive 3 FL9M diesels That could run using third rail electric, or diesel power) allowing the consist to run directly from Penn Station to Port Jefferson. One of the goals of this project was to provide one seat rides from the city to points outside of the electrified zone. This train paved the way for the later DM30AC (dual mode) and DE30AC (diesel) locomotives along with the fleet of Bi-Level coaches and control cabs built by Kawasaki Car co. that are the backbone of the LIRR diesel fleet today.

#commuter train #lirr #long island rail road #mta #metropolitan transportation authority #1992 #trains #passenger train #history #mineola #new york

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streamingfanatic1963 · 1 year ago

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Two Black Men Asked To Move To The Back Of The Bus By White Bus Driver In 2023

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afteriwake · 2 years ago

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29. "You love this, don't you?" Shang-Chi/Katy

So this is a new "Shifting Relationships" fic as well as an answer to the 25th Anniversary Prompt-A-Thon, the 30 Day Writing Challenge and Fictober 2022. I missed writing these two.

Road Trip, Interrupted - Shang-Chi and Katy's trip back after an errand to San Diego gets interrupted by superhero business.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

"You love this, don't you?" Katy said, looking at the chips display at the AM-PM they had gone to in San Diego before they got into the car and drove back to San Francisco after an errand they'd done for their boss. Shang-Chi may be a superhero, but there was still bills to pay. They had gotten a fat bonus to deliver two cars to a man who was a friend of their boss, and their boss was even covering the cost of the rental for them to drive back. Katy had immediately gotten the best car in the price range and they were gearing up for the trip back now.

“Driving cars? Hell yeah,” Shang-Chi said, getting two more bottles of water from the cooler, looking at them, and then getting a gallon bottle instead.

“It is nice, isn’t it? And you know we’re splitting driving on the way back. I want to be behind the wheel of this baby for at least a day.” She picked up a bag of Cheetos Puffs and the a bag of Tapatio flavored chips as well. “Going a lil spicy this time.”

“I’ll grab some milk,” Shang-Chi said, and Katy tossed the bag of Cheetos at him. He caught it with one hand. “Are we almost done here?”

“Chips, crackers, water, and I’m getting some of the horchata from the soda machine. Other than that, yeah.”

“You saw the street taco shop down the street?” he asked, giving her a grin.

“I did! I want to stop there.” She picked up another bag of chips, this time some Takis. She took her load of food to the counter, dropped it there as Shang-Chi joined her, and then went to the soda machine for her horchata. Shang-Chi waited for it all to be rung up and bagged, deciding to pay the ten cents for some plastic bags that could double as trash bags on the ride back, and told the cashier to add an extra large drink once he got a glimpse of Katy coming back towards him.

They got everything together and then went out to the car, a 2016 Jaguar XJ. Katy had done the research and found a place that rented out luxury cars for $50 or so a day, and their boss had gone for it. Nothing had gone wrong dropping off the cars, so she had hope nothing would happen on the way back. They drove cars this nice or nicer every day they were at work, so that wasn’t what had worried her.

It was her and Shang-Chi’s other life that had her hoping nothing went wrong.

They got in the car, and she ran her hand over the brown leather seats. “Okay, taco shop, then the freeway?” he asked.

“We can skip the tacos as long as I can find an In-N-Out,” she said with a grin. “I heard animal fries are the bomb.”

“There’s an In-N-Out on Jefferson back home,” Shang-Chi pointed out.

“I know that, but I didn’t know the secret menu before this week,” she said. “Call it a sheltered upbringing.”

“Fine, we’ll get In-N-Out. And for the record, animal style burgers, no pickles. Just trust me.” He buckled into the driver’s side while Katy buckled into the passenger side and he started the car and got out of the lot. They were maybe five blocks away from the AM-PM when Shang-Chi’s emergency other life alert went off on his phone. “Shit.”

“You go, I find a hotel and hunker down with all this food and do DoorDash if it’s not enough, big man. Go save the world.” He pulled over and he handed her the keys. “Come back safe.”

He leaned over and kissed her quickly. “Will do.” He pulled out his phone, called a number and a minute later Wong had opened up a portal for him. Katy shook her head and got into the car, putting the keys in the ignition and pulling out her own cell to find a hotel. This is what happened when you dated a superhero, she thought to herself. But at least she had a kickass car to drive for a bit.

#marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #shang chi x katy #fanfic #fanfiction #katy chen #xu shang chi #my stuff #afteriwake's 25th Anniversary Prompt-A-Thon #30 day writing challenge

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writer59january13 · 2 years ago

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My ebbing physical prowess and strength

noticeably decreases in one direction.

I take lock, stock and barrel

to revisit good ole days of yore

quite conscious undeclared state of war

prevails within body electric of troubadour

now seated at his Macbook Pro another reasonably rhyming poem

I hope to score

signalled by satisfaction

qua eye of the tiger doth roar

today February 18, 2023.

Since January thirteenth of this year

(two thousand and twenty three),

yours truly suddenly feels

long in the tooth (actually

I wear dentures), nevertheless

yours truly languishes within

self made prison and feels auld,

a shy person, who rarely exhibited bold lack the benefit of powder milk biscuits,

he whose decrepit body and

gnarled hands ice cold

rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled

inoculated against coronavirus

(COVID-19) motherlode

staving off silent grim reaper

swinging scythe catching

(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)

another mortal into his fold

analogous to discovered vein of mined gold

mine lovely bones clutched in deathly hold

ore yonder church bell knolled

anonymous sexagenarian

(any strong resemblance between said poet

whose dead head lolled),

and once living person purely coincidental)

death and decay, I lichen to mold

scant personal possessions outsold

to highest bidder courtesy

subtle nod auctioneer told across webbed wide wold.

Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul

with absolute zero regret

no longer being alive,

especially when endurance and stamina

took kamikaze nose dive

formerly buzzfeeding

desiccated honeycomb hive where I bumbled along

and learned how to boogie woogie and jive

in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche

need no longer worry

his existence perfect example

how hardship did misthrive

death be not proud penultimate quest

since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)

he did (unsuccessfully) strive.

At long last... beastie boy attained nirvana

routing hellish existential crisis

courtesy earth, wind and fire

rendered null and void celibate journey

knight in shining armor

forever staind and tarnished

compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.

Herewith I forthwith take poetic license

linkedin to long line of mamas and the papas

whose music died

when passenger(s) violently perished

courtesy flaming inferno

analogous to Le(a)d Zeppelin 129

christened Hindenburg.

Along similar blurred lines

foo fighter manned stoned temple pilot

Jefferson Airplane qua Starship

gracefully and slickly

deliberately maneuvered crash test dummy

immediately annihilated upon impact

smack dab into puddle of mudd,

yet lo and behold as a foreigner

and survivor yours truly eluded dire straits.

Oz (zee oz born during

baby boom generation)

and suppose during

whirlwind Kansas tour,

while snatching forty winks

in toto working out kinks,

I experienced revelation

regarding divine creator - Egypt me

never securing life, liberty

and pursuit of happiness

elusive weltanschauung as understanding,

the mysterious Sphinx,

yes essentially zilch joie de vivre

minus high jinks

aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks

my life and hard times,

whereby vitriol pelted me

courtesy those rat finks.

Nihilistic zeitgeist

apocalyptic outlook sacrificed

no redemption no matter

kidnapped without ransom

concerning grateful dead heist

how figuratively purposelessness sliced

unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.

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mo0nfairy · 3 years ago

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I'm so excited that requests are open!!! Could I get yandere headcanons for our favorite creepy teacher, Mark Jefferson? I can't wait to see with what you come up for it, your fics are so good <3

🪷 ִ ° ⋆ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 ˚ ｡ . 🪺

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗹��𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 . . .

♫ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 ⸺ 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

˚ ✩ 🌍 ｡ ˚ ✧ * ｡ 🍎

( 📁 ) . . . 𝗧𝗪! 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀. 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱.

( 📁 ) . . . 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀! 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱~ <𝟯

𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗲𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻’𝘀 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 . . .

𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛, & 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚛

alexa play teacher's pet by melanie martinez-

ah yes, mr. jeffersons star pupil

you are by every means an enigma to our favorite perverted teacher

kate, rachel, max, none of these subjects could ever live up to the beauty and perfection of you, y/n l/n

this gnawing need he has for you keeps him awake in the dead of night as he stares upon the numerous photos he has taken of you, cursing himself for not being able to capture your enrapturing essence in the thousands of pictures that scatter the dark room

but then again, could an essence as soulful and profound as yours ever be contained within a single image?

you’re as maddening to him as you are phenomenal, but either way, what bliss

seeing you waltz into his classroom like a ballerina into a ballroom sends a new wave of enthrallment that weakens his knees and quickens his breaths

you’re some form of god, you must be! there’s no possible way a human can be so… perfect

there’s a small fraction of mark that’s actually spiteful towards you for making him turn into some little schoolgirl with a crush using such effortless finesse, but it’s soon replaced by sheer euphoria when you compliment his works with that candy-sweet tone

there’s also a darker, much greater fraction that feels nothing but pure resentment to any soul granted the pleasure of drowning in your attention, for even just a mere second

oh, you like that girl's earrings? you’ll find her wearing them in a dozen missing posters that are spread across town

oh, you like that boys pictures? the police will soon be taking pictures of his wrangled corpse once they dig him up from the ground

mark struggles with containing these possessive sensations, but spare him a single moment of your heavenly glory in class and he’s back on cloud 9 again

his eyes practically turn to hearts while he stalks admires you as you sit at the desk directly in front of his (i wonder who was in charge of the seating arrangements 🤔🤔)

and poor victoria sits and sulks as she watches the man of her dreams crown you the everyday hero

spoiler alert…………. you never made it to seattle

you hopped into the passenger side of his car without a clue of the events that will soon take place

you soon ignite a discussion about your fear of airplanes as your teacher has to drive and refrain from smashing his lips against yours in a concoction of passion and pure obsession

and god, does he hate himself with all of his soul for what he is about to do

with one swift movement, you yelp at the sudden puncture of a needle in your neck, vision hazing to a blur as you black out onto his lap

exhilaration bubbles up in mark’s chest as his distress dies down, infiltrating every inch of his body as your form touches him

if you think he’s gonna keep you in the dark room where so much death and gloom took place, you thought wrong!

you’ll be kept protected, cherished, and adored way up high in marks apartment

with vision still blurry, you awake in marks arms, all snuggled-up in his embrace as he carries you through his estate

and here come y’all in the comments: i’m not skinny or small, there’s no way mark could- MAN FUCK YOU- 🔫😀

if you're being a brat and refuse to believe me, i know for a fact this man def works out

how else would he be able to cope with the overwhelming resentment when you asked warren for help on chemistry homework or when you praised max for her photography skills??

it’s either he pushes his body to its limits, or he buries your friends way out in the junkyard

and he couldn’t stand seeing his angel overwhelmed with grief if he assassinated the people that - to him - are incredibly unworthy of your admiration and time

but marks grip on you is so warm and strong and loving, you almost forget the current circumstances as he whispers soothing praises to you

“you’re ok, you’re ok, precious. you’re just sick... don’t you worry, mr. jefferson is here to take care of you.”

you become more conscious once you feel the embrace of his soft duvet as it's tucked around you, a faint hum of laughter escaping his mouth as you subconsciously nestle yourself deeper into the comforter

through the blurred haze, you make out mark jefferson as he squats down by the bed, one hand rested on his palm as the other cups your cheek

his devoted stare is so full of infatuation and enchantment, you ponder if this was all some fucked up dream you'll wake up from or if you'll be forced to spend the rest of your days with your lovesick teacher

“so, this is what it’s gonna feel like,” mark starts, his voice nothing above a whisper

“… what?” you manage to whimper out as his thumb softly traces along your cheek, gaze still peering deeply into yours

“to start every day with you.”

#life is strange #lis #life is strange imagine #lis imagine #life is strange x reader #lis x reader #yandere life is strange #yandere lis #yandere life is strange x reader #yandere lis x reader #mark jefferson #yandere mark jefferson #mark jefferson imagine #mark jefferson x reader #yandere #soft yandere #moonfairy

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bxcketbarnes · 4 years ago

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Reality Check

Pairing: Jefferson x Reader

Words: 3800+

Author’s Note: So, I really really love Jefferson. Even though he’s a bit psychotic, he’s a softie. Such a cutie. Ugh, love him to pieces. Anyway, I really hope you guys like this idea and how it played out. I had a fun time writing it and will possibly write a part two to it! Let me know what you think! Much love! xox

"So, what exactly am I doing here?" You ask your sister, your fingers tapping against the passenger door of her vehicle.

Emma sighs and runs a hand through her blonde hair, taking a quick glance towards you. "One of my friends was convicted for a crime she didn't commit and now she's gone missing. I need to find her before her arraignment tomorrow," she explains quickly and you let out an ah.

"Okay, still doesn't explain why I'm here?" You laugh while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I was perfectly fine sleeping in my bed at home, but no."

The blonde glares at you and you release a sigh. "Look, I get it. This isn't what you want to do in the middle of the night, but I figured since we haven't seen each other in years that I couldn't hurt to hang out," Emma mentions and you rest your head against the seat.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, I'm just… a little crabby. Jesse broke up with me the other day," you tell her, your thoughts being filled with the man who cheated on you. "Five fucking years down the drain."

Emma frowns as you find yourself looking out the passenger window, swallowing the lump that's now embedded in your throat. "I'm sorry, Y/N," she whispers and you let out a dry laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't happy for a while, so it's for the best," you reassure her, glancing over at her with a fake smile.

She's about to speak when her eyes widen, seeing a figure walking along the side of the dirt road and swerving her vehicle out of the way. You notice the man jumping out of the way before he tumbles down a hill, a gasp leaving your lips.

"Oh my god!" Both of you exclaim at the same time before the two of you exit the vehicle.

"A-Are you okay?" You ask the man, a bit stunned by his beauty when he looks up at you.

The brunette lets out a short laugh as you help him up the hill, your hand wrapped around his bicep. "I'm fine," he mumbles as Emma runs up to the two of you.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't see you," she apologizes and the man raises his hand, letting her know that it was alright.

You cross your arms over your chest as you stealthily check out the man in front of you. He's so cute. You think to yourself as you take in his blue eyes, pink lips, a bit of stubble encasing the lower half of his face.

The man tucks his hands into his pockets and you snap yourself out of your thoughts, missing the entire conversation the two of them had. He begins to walk away when both you and your sister notice him limping.

"I thought you said you were fine?"

"You are hurt!"

A giggle leaves your lips as you both speak, the man in front of you stopping in his tracks before glancing down at his foot. "Ah, I just twisted my ankle, I think," he chuckles and motions his head further down the gloomy path. "I live just a mile down the road. I think I'll make it okay."

"Nonsense!" You pipe up and take a step towards him. "My sister can drive you right, Em?"

"I insist," your sister agrees and the brunette smiles brightly, your insides melting a smudge at it.

His eyes meet yours while walking towards the vehicle and holds his hand out. "I'm Jefferson," he introduces, and you grin, taking his hand in yours. Jefferson. Cute.

"I'm Y/N and this is Emma," you inform him, feeling your cheeks flush as his hand is still holding onto yours.

You clear your throat before dropping it, allowing Jefferson to take the front seat while you squeeze into the back.

It doesn't take long for your sister to reach his place, your eyes widening upon seeing the large house. "Holy shit," you whisper as Emma comes to a stop.

Jefferson opens up his door and you find yourself getting out of the car, seeing him struggle a bit to get out as well. "Let me help," you offer with a small smile, the man looking down at you.

"Thank you, doll," Jefferson grins and your cheeks blush, feeling your heart pound against your chest.

You drag your fingertips along the piano keys as Emma stands by the fireplace. Jefferson limps back into the room along with a tray of tea. "I thought you might want to warm up for your search. It's cold out there," he mentions while setting the tray onto the coffee table.

He pours two cups before handing one to Emma. "That's kind of you, but I think we should get back to it," she states while taking the cup.

"I know. That's why I brought this," Jefferson tells her while offering you some. You shake your head and politely decline, mentioning that you're not very fond of tea.

"Can I use the restroom?" You suddenly ask as the cute man places a large map of the area onto the piano.

Jefferson looks your way and smiles softly. "Yeah, it's the third door on the right," he mumbles and you nod your head before walking out of the room.

You walk around the massive place, a grin on your lips as you find the art Jefferson has on his wall appealing. You manage to find the bathroom step inside before using it. When you come back out after washing your hands you jump in your spot, seeing Jefferson standing in front of the door.

"I-Hey," you stutter and glance towards the room he was in before you left. "Everything okay? Where's Emma?"

Jefferson doesn't say anything as he takes a step closer to you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he brings his hand up to your face, fingers grazing against your cheek.

"J-Jeffer-" you cut yourself off as you take a couple of steps back, noticing the man not limping anymore as he stalks closer to you.

Your back meets the wall of the bathroom, your heart pounding wildly as a sinister smile comes to Jefferson's lips. "I'm sorry, love. I wish I didn't have to do this," he sighs and you go to ask what he means when a blunt object hits the side of your head.

The sound of scraping can be heard as your eyes flutter open. A groan leaves your lips and slowly brings a hand up to your head. "Where-" you cut yourself off as Jefferson glances down at you, a pair of chrome scissors in his hands. "Jefferson?"

"Welcome back, Y/N. I hate to have to hurt you, but I need your sister's help," he sighs while crouching down beside you.

You furrow your brows together while pushing yourself off the floor, becoming light-headed for a moment. "W-With what?" You ask and the brunette reaches his free hand out towards your face, his blue eyes staring at the wound on the side of your head.

"I need to go home," he whispers loud enough for you to hear and you stare at him with a confused expression. "And she can help with that."

"I-I can't?" You mumble, beginning to feel a bit useless and Jefferson gives you a small smile before shaking his head.

You push some hair out of your face and fully get up before leaning against the wall, your head pounding. "But, you can help me convince her… if you're up for it," he mentions while taking a step closer to you. You can see his eyes softening as they stare into yours, Jefferson's fingers gently grazing your cheek. "It feels like we've met before."

Your eyes flutter shut when his thumb moves to your bottom lip, feeling it drag across the slightly chapped skin. You release a ragged breath, your heart beating a million miles per minute. "J-Jefferson…" you trail off as the man reduces the distance between the two of you.

"You can feel it, right?" He whispers, his breath fanning your lips.

You nod your head and look up at him through your lashes, his fingers moving down towards your chin before lifting your head. The sound of the floorboards creaking outside the room you two are in piques both of your interests.

"Someone's awake," he mumbles and pulls away from you. Jefferson glances back towards you before pulling a gun from behind him. "I need your help, Y/N."

You swallow the lump in your throat as fear begins to build, your eyes moving from him towards the gun in his hand. "You won't hurt me, right?" You whisper and the man shakes his head.

"As long as she cooperates. I don't want to hurt you again," he softly tells you and you press your lips together.

"O-Okay, I'll help you."

Jefferson gently grabs a hold of your arm before leading you into the hallway, not seeing your sister anywhere. You can feel yourself become nervous as he moves into the corner of the hall before whipping you around.

You stiffen as you can hear hushed voices coming from the door in front of you, wondering if she even planned to see if you were okay. Jefferson's hand runs down your side and you take a glance over your shoulder, seeing his blue eyes set on you.

The door to the room opens and you whip your head around, watching your sister and another girl sneak out as their gaze is fixed down the hall. Jefferson cocks the gun in his hand before pointing it into your back when Emma notices.

"I see you found Spot!" He says enthusiastically as your sister's eyes fill with worry.

"I've already called for backup. They'll be here in any second," she lies while you press your lips together, feeling Jefferson's chin lean against your shoulder.

"You haven't called anybody," he starts as his eyes glance towards the woman besides your sister, "for the same reason you didn't tell me about her. You don't want anyone to know that you're here. Which means that nobody does."

A gasp leaves your lips and you narrow your eyes at your sister. "No one knows we're out here?!" You whisper-yell and the blonde gives you a sorry look.

You let out a huff of breath as Jefferson tells your sister to tie the woman back up. "You won't hurt her, right?" Emma asks, her eyes moving back and forth between you and Jefferson.

"Not if you cooperate."

You can still feel the gun in your back as you and Jefferson watch Emma restrain the girl. You chew on the inside of your cheek, noticing the two whispering to each other and you've never felt more out of the loop.

She usually tells me everything… You let out a tiny sigh as your sister turns back around to face the two of you. "Your telescope. You've been watching me. Why?" She asks and Jefferson lets go of you before walking towards the blonde.

"I need you to do something," he says while grabbing a hold of her upper arm, dragging her out of the room.

Emma lays a hand on you, keeping you close to her as you look back towards Jefferson. "Emma!" A muffled voice comes from the room as he goes to close the door, "don't hurt her!"

Jefferson pushes Emma into one of the rooms before allowing you to walk in. You give him a faint smile and step inside, your eyes looking towards the wall of hats. Hm. Cute. You think to yourself as Emma threatens the man if he hurts her friend.

"What about Y/N? Don't you care about her well-being?" He suddenly asks, his head tilted to the side. "I mean, I had her at gunpoint already and you didn't really seem to care that much."

Emma glances towards you as you stand in front of the telescope, pressing your lips together. "Of course I care about her! She's my sister," she answers and Jefferson scoffs.

"Well, if you cared. You would've told her the truth about going into the woods in the middle of the night," he mentions and you take a step towards the man, placing a hand on his arm.

"Jefferson," you call out softly, gaining the blue-eyed man's attention, "it's okay."

Emma looks between the two of you with a confused expression on her face. "Okay, wait-" she starts before quickly cutting herself off to run a hand through her hair. "What is going on between the two of you? Why are you so worried about her when you're the one who kidnapped us?"

"He didn't kidnap us," you point out while glancing back towards your sister, her eyes wide at what you said. "It's true. Sure, he deceived us, but he didn't kidnap us. We walked into this house on our own."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to get away from him because apparently, he's brainwashing you," she states while grabbing your arm.

You slap her hand away and take a couple of steps back. "He's not brainwashing me, Emma! God. Yes, he knocked us out and captured the girl you're looking for but he hasn't doesn't anything to harm any of us," you exclaim, getting a bit frustrated.

Jefferson's eyes are on you as you run a hand through your hair, letting out a huff of breath. "Listen," he mumbles and Emma looks towards the blue-eyed man, "you may not believe this… but I feel like I know her from somewhere. This kind of connection."

"Enough of this! Why have you been spying on me?" Emma asks and Jefferson moves to walk past her, pointing the gun at her for a few seconds.

"Because for the past twenty-eight years I've been stuck in this house. Day after day. Always the same," he explains while walking around the table that sits in the middle of the room, your eyes following his figure. "Until one night, you and your little yellow bug roll into town. And the clock ticks and things start to change."

You furrow your brows as you listen to his words, your eyes drifting towards the telescope that sits beside you. You wet your lips before leaning down to look through it.

"You see," Jefferson states and licks his lips, glancing back towards your sister. "I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma."

Your breath hitches in your throat as you see a little girl standing in view. Your chest clenches as you take in her features. She looks… she kinda looks like me. You think to yourself as you pull yourself away.

"Jefferson," you call out to him, feeling tears fill your eyes and you look towards the brunette. "Who is she?"

Emma furrows her brows and walks over to you before looking through the telescope. Jefferson walks closer to you and reaches his hand out, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes. "That's… Grace. Here it's Paige," mumbles and you glance back towards the window.

"Here? What do you mean here?" You ask quietly and a sigh leaves the man's lips.

"I'm not from here. I'm from Wonderland," he states and Emma lets out a laugh, shaking her head at how ridiculous he sounds. "It's the truth. Despite what you believe."

You walk back towards the telescope and look through it again, seeing a lot of your facial features in her. "She…"

"Looks just like you," Jefferson finishes and you pull away to glance over at him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his eyes stare into yours. "Can I just test something?"

Emma watches the two of you interact before glancing towards the door behind her. You nod your head and Jefferson takes a step closer to you, bringing his hand back to your face.

The space between the two of you diminishes as Jefferson leans down to capture his lips with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as butterflies soar around your stomach. The blue-eyed man slides his hands down your sides, resting them against your hips as your arms wrap around his neck.

Jefferson pulls away after a minute, feeling an emotion he hasn't felt since Grace's mother suddenly disappeared. His forehead rests against yours, your fingers gliding through his hair as you keep your eyes closed. "You don't think I'm insane, do you?" Jefferson whispers and you shake your head.

"No, absolutely not," you grin and look up at him through your lashes.

You run your hands down his arms and Jefferson looks around the room to see it empty. "No…" he whispers and pulls away from you before rushing out of the room. You follow him quickly and stand in the doorway the mystery girl was in, seeing Emma and Jefferson fighting one another.

"Emma!" You call out as Jefferson tugs on her hair before tossing her against the chair in the room.

You move to intervene when Jefferson picks the gun up, aiming it at your sister. You notice the lines on his neck, curious as to what it was as he mumbles incoherently. Your eyes widen when the shorter woman picks up the mallet used for croquet before swinging it around the man.

He lets out a groan, turning to face her before she drop-kicks him in the chest. Your heart beats wildly as Jefferson falls out the window. "Jefferson!" You yell and push your way through the room, chest heaving rapidly as you lean out the now broken window.

No, no, no. You think to yourself as your sister grabs your arm. Your brows furrow when you don't see his body laying on the ground, swallowing the lump in your throat as Emma calls out your name.

"Y/N! We need to go now!" She states and you turn to face her.

"I'm not going anywhere," you mumble loud enough for her to hear and her eyes widen.

Your sister wets her lips before glancing towards the brunette beside her. "What do you mean you're not going anywhere? Y/N, he's insane and lonely! I'm not leaving you here with him!"

A dry laugh leaves your lips and runs a hand through your hair. "He's not insane, Emma. He may be lonely but that's because he lost his daughter. It's just like you with Henry. Why are you refusing to believe what's happening?!" You practically scream while moving past her, heading back into the room with the hats.

"This is nothing like the situation I have with Henry," she mentions, following you and you scoff.

You look through the telescope once more, your heart fluttering at the sight of Grace. You swallow thickly and pull away from the device, looking towards your sister. "You look at her and tell me she's not a spitting image of me," you mumble and she walks closer to you, resting a hand on your arm.

"She's not yours, Y/N. You've never met this man in your life," Emma mumbles and you shake your head.

"How do you know that?! Like he said, maybe you're just not acknowledging the fucking truth," you huff while prying her grip off of you. "I'm staying here. Now, go. I know how important it is for you to get her back."

You stare at the hat in front of you, chewing on your nails as you wait for Jefferson to stumble into the room. A sigh leaves your lips and you run your fingers through your hair. You stand back up from the chair, moving towards the telescope as you look for Grace, moving the device left and right before finding her.

I wish I could remember our time together… You think to yourself while pressing your lips together. Jefferson limps into the room, tossing his hat onto the table before noticing you standing towards the window.

"Y/N," he mumbles and you jump in your spot, turning your body to face him. "You're still here."

You swallow thickly as you take a step towards him, giving him a small smile. "I-I couldn't leave. Not after everything that's happened tonight," you mumble and Jefferson meets you halfway before resting his hands on your arms.

"I wish I could explain it to you," he sighs before pulling you into his chest. You rest your head against him, listening to his heartbeat. "I wish you could remember it all as I can."

"I can't believe I have a daughter," you mumble loud enough for him to hear, Jefferson's hands gliding up and down your back. "I can't believe there's more than one world."

A chuckle leaves your lips and you glance up at the blue-eyed man, feeling his hand moving to your face. "You're just as beautiful in this world as you are in the other…" he trails off before dipping his head down.

"What is it?" You ask, noticing the shift of emotion on his face.

"You were gone for almost 5 years when I decided to help the Queen. When I got fucked over by her," he explains, and your breath hitches. "I never found out what happened to you, and then I left Grace… I left our Grace behind."

Tears pool in your eyes as you clutch onto his shirt, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Jefferson," you start and lift his chin, having him look you in the eyes. "I doubt she blames you. I'm sure you helped the wretched Queen in hopes of giving her a better life."

Jefferson nods his head before leaning forward, hiding his face in your neck. You card your fingers through his hair and let out a sigh, feeling at ease being in his arms. "It's so nice to finally feel something other than pain," he mumbles against your skin, his lips peppering light kisses to your neck.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you pull his face away from your neck, looking into his ocean blue eyes. You stroke his cheekbone before pressing your lips to his. Jefferson lets out a muffled groan, his hands sliding around your waist before holding you against him.

You part your lips and he pushes his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss between the two of you. "God, you're beautiful," Jefferson mutters into your mouth, feeling his hands gripping your sides.

A giggle escapes your lips as the brunette lowers himself to hoist you into his arms. A squeal leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughs leaving both of your lips. "Where are you taking me, mister?"

"My room," he breathes while kissing up your neck, biting down on your flushed skin gently. "I've got to make up for lost time, precious."

A shiver runs down your spine as your grip on him tightens, feeling your stomach flip at his words. Jefferson's eyes look up at you with a playful grin on his lips, your heart beginning to pound against your chest. "I'm all yours."

Taglist: @jessalyn-jpeg @queen-of-mischief @bumblebet-20 @thewxntersoldier

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rodr1cks · 4 years ago

Text

Heather Hills | 1.3k

part one

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

“Rodrick, she ran over your fucking foot for christ’s sake!” He rolled his eyes at you from his position on his bed. “She’s into me, I know it. How could she resist?” Rodrick wasn’t wrong, he was pretty irresistible, to you at least.

The way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the adorable moles on his face, and oh god, his hands. Everything about him captivated you but he could never know. Rodrick liked girls like Heather Hills.

“Y/n? You there?” He said, waving a hand in your face. “Yeah- uh- sorry.” You had zoned out thinking about everything you wish you could do with Rodrick. “I uhm- gotta go. Keep your foot elevated, I mean it.” You gave him your most serious glare and got up from his bed. Rodrick winced at the movement.

You made the trek down the two flights of stairs to the main level where Mrs. Heffley was making dinner. “Hey, dear, is Rodrick doing alright? Did he tell you what happened?” You smiled faintly at her. “Oh he’s just fine. He said he tripped over a rock chasing Greg around.” Mrs. Heffley sighed, “Sounds about right. Well, would you like to stay for supper? We’re having your favorite!”

Mrs. Heffley was always so kind to you, she probably realized you’re the only girl who is actually nice to her oldest son. “Thank you for the offer but I have some work to catch up on.” Truthfully, you just wanted to go home and cry in your bed.

You immediately crawled into your bed as soon as you got home and started going down the list of things Heather Hills had that you didn’t. Blonde hair, tits, friends, popularity, the list continues. You fell asleep mulling over all of your shortcomings.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Rodrick smiled at you slyly. Oh god he has a plan. It always turned out bad when he gave you that look. “So, do you wanna hit the country club with me today?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, “You, Rodrick Heffley, are asking me to go to a country club?” “Yeah, Greg’s chubby friend can get us in.”

He was referring to Rowley Jefferson and he was completely serious. You shrugged in agreement. A smile broke out on his face and he smirked, “Wear something… skimpy.”

You walked back to your house to put on a skimpy bathing suit, per Rodrick's Instructions . What did that mean? Did he want to see you in something revealing? Thoughts aside, you rummaged through your drawers until you found it.

The smallest bikini you owned. It was black and the bottoms were nearly a thong. You put on the top, the minuscule triangles only covering the bare minimum. You threw on a Löded Diper t-shirt that was two sizes too big, courtesy of Rodrick.

You ran outside to meet Rodrick at his van, “Ready?” You nod at him. You had never felt so anxious before in your life. Rodrick reached over to turn the music up and you flinched. “Woah, woah, you okay over there, y/n?” Your face flushed, “Oh yeah, I-I’m fine,” you stammered.

After a short but bumpy ride, you guys arrived. “Follow me,” Rodrick said in a hushed voice. Apprehensively, you did as he asked.

“Rodrick, it reeks back here, when did you say Greg will get here?” Rodrick was obviously just as frustrated as you were but he assured you it would be any moment. Just then, the locked gate rattled. “Finally! Greg, my man!” Rodrick gave his younger brother a couple slaps on his back and you giggled. It was rare to witness them getting along, it was sweet.

The country club was nice. Rodrick led you over to a couple of chairs, “Make yourself at home, señorita.” Rodrick plopped down and stretched his arms behind his head. God, his muscles. You removed your shirt before you sat, and hovered for a moment. You were holding your arms around your stomach and looking around, discomfort evident on your face. So many beautiful girls there made you feel lesser. “Hey, y/n, you look great. Relax.” You instantly felt more at ease. For a while, you and Rodrick just sat and enjoyed the day.

Then you saw her. It was her. Heather Hills in a lifeguard suit strutting past both of you. You sat up and so did Rodrick.

“H-hey Heather!” Rodrick called after her. She made a noise of disgust, “As if, loser!” Rodrick huffed, “Damn it, you weren’t enough? I need to get to her somehow.”

Your heart dropped, you were there to make Heather Hills… jealous? “Rodrick? Did you bring me here just to-“ He cut you off, “Yeah yeah, one minute y/n.” He completely dismissed you and ran off.

You were livid. Absolutely enraged. You could be sad later but right now you needed Rodrick to know how furious he’d made you. The splash he made when he jumped into the pool caught your attention.

What the fuck was he trying to do?

Rodrick began flailing his arms around, splashing and gasping, “Help! Help me I’m drowning!” He cried out similar exclamations for the next minute or so. You’d seen enough. You grabbed your things and left, you’d walk home. Greg stopped you on your way out, “I’m sorry y/n, maybe he’ll realize soon.” You sighed, ruffing up Greg’s hair. How was Greg already smarter than Rodrick?

Jesus your house was further than you thought, did you even know where you were? Whatever, you’d figure it out. You were kicking pebbles along the sidewalk when you heard his van pull up beside you. “Y/n, get in the van,” he called out. You ignored him. “C’mon,” he yelled, “let me make sure you get home safely, please.” You gave in, you were tired of walking anyways. “Thank you,” he said when you plopped down in the passenger seat.

The van stopped abruptly in front of your houses. You broke the awkward silence and started going off on him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?. You used me to try and get to Heather Hills? Y’know how shitty that made me feel? For a second I thought- I really thought-” You paused, “Forget it.” You flung open your door and stormed into your front door. Rodrick was still absolutely oblivious.

He decided to give you some space and go to his own home. Greg was sitting on the floor playing twisted wizard when Rodrick walked in. “You still don’t get it do you?” Greg asked. Rodrick, visibly annoyed, quipped back, “Nothing to get, little bro,” and bounded up the stairs.

You woke up, groggy. You had fallen asleep at some point after getting home. What time is it? It was only 4pm. You heard knocking on your back door, Great. Dramatically, you flung the door open, already knowing who it was. You gestured, reluctantly inviting him in. Remembering what you were wearing, you blushed. You were still in a large t-shirt and bikini bottoms.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I talked to Greg about it and I understand how stupid I am.” He seemed genuinely embarrassed. You took pity on him, how could you not? “It’s okay, Rodrick. I overreacted.” He smiled, “Great! Because I have great news!” You returned the smile, half-heartedly. “What’s your news?” “Okay, so after you left, Greg scored me a gig at Heather Hills’ sweet 16! Can you believe it?”

There was that feeling again, your heart shriveling and dropping to the depths of hell. Greg didn’t get through to him, after all. “Oh that’s- that’s great, Rodrick.” You really tried to seem enthused. “When is it?” you asked. “It’s in a week and you’re totally coming with, I need my favorite roadie there!” Rodrick was sweet sometimes, just not in the way you wanted. At least he wanted you there.

+hi hi this was my first fic in a long long time!! hope you enjoyed:) stick around for part 2

read part two here

#rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick smut #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick #rodrick fan fiction #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley headcannon

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freckleslikestars · 3 years ago

Note

Post episode Arcadia making up and making out

Oh, Nonny, thank you so much!!! I've been wanting to write something Arcadia for a while but just haven't been able to start.

There's not so much making out as I am sure you would have liked, though there is more than was in the episode.

Brine

2480 words, read here on AO3

Dawn was breaking over the rooftops by the time they were done at the house. Statements and initial debriefs given, they were left to their own devices.

She was sat in their minivan rental, door kicked open as she examined a map of the area, whilst he was wandering around the driveway on the phone, looking frustrated.

Fingers traced the veins of half-remembered roads from her childhood, her happiest teenage years sat in the passenger seat of their father’s car as Bill Jr drove his three siblings to the beach for the day.

‘Next flight out is six this evening. We can try and get a motel, try and catch some sleep?’ he slumped down in the driver’s seat, dropping back.

‘Too wired,’ she murmured, ‘besides, we’re not gonna manage to get a room for just today.’

‘You have a better suggestion?’ it seemed like exhaustion was wearing him thin. That, or the honeymoon phase was over.

She dropped the map on the dash, tapped a location, ‘I’ll drive.’

‘Sure. Seat’s adjusted to your height anyway,’ he shrugged, and they swapped positions.

There was a despondency setting in about him, and maybe it was the tiredness, but Mulder didn’t get tired. She was more inclined to believe it was the comedown of living in one another’s footprints for a week, of maintaining a façade of domestic bliss whilst hating one another’s guts.

No, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t hate his guts, and she hoped he didn’t hate her, either. But she did feel betrayed by him, by his unwavering trust in a traitor. And maybe, just maybe, his jabs about playing house had hit just a little close to home.

The first stop on their journey was Target. He was dozing – or sulking, she couldn’t quite tell – in the passenger seat, so she left him and went in alone, grabbing the few items she needed and charging it to the bureau card out of spite. After all, they’d bought three weeks-worth of wardrobe that would all be donated to charity shops on the bureau card, she could write it off as that if she had to.

‘Get what you want?’ he asked as she dumped the two bags in the back. She nodded, slid back into the passenger seat and set off again without a verbal answer.

They spent an hour more on the road, the aircon in their rental much more efficient than the usual cars the bureau sprung out for. She could feel, the closer she got, the further her body relaxed, the stress of the weeks melting away. She’d managed to find an old local station on the radio she used to listen to as a teenager for a bit of the journey, Led Zeppelin and Jefferson Airplane and Emerson, Lake and Palmer sinking back into her bones.

It was a Monday. First day of March. Still term time. The drive down to the beach was clear, the weather less scorching than they would have had in the summer, though still hot.

He looked confused when she pulled into the dusty car park of a long-abandoned pier. Rightfully so, she guessed. To anybody else, it probably looked derelict and a health and safety hazard. To her, it was home.

‘Get out. We’re going swimming.’

‘What if I don’t want to go swimming?’

‘Then you can sit in the car and roast,’ she shrugged, dismissive, as she unstuck herself from the leather of the seat. She sensed a quip on the tip of his tongue and shot him a glare. He thought better of it, joined her next to the car. ‘Good choice.’

Bags in hand she led the way, hopped a waist-high crumbling concrete wall, nodded for him to follow as she jumped down onto the sand from the promenade – a drop of about his height.

He could see the odd movement of people wandering along the beach further down, but there was nobody in the area surrounding the pier. Closer, he could see half the planks were missing and the other half rotting, sunlight filtering through the gaps to reflect off the sea below.

Scully was sauntering away from him, barefoot with her shoes in hand, towards the shady patch of cool sand under the pier, and he jogged to keep up, ‘you sure this is safe, Scully?’

‘Been like this for years. We’re fine. They put iron struts in as support back in the seventies, hasn’t been any structural damage since then other than during big storms, and looking at the sky I don’t think we have to worry,’ She’d moved over to one of the uprights, laid her palm against it as her thumbnail carved a rut in the splintering wood. After a moment of reverie, she turned back to him, ‘swimming.’

‘I don’t have anything to swim in.’ She pulled out a pair of neon orange board shorts and chucked them at him. ‘I actually prefer speedos,’ he deadpanned, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

‘They’re your size. You can either wear them or wear nothing. Or, as I said, go sit in the car and roast.’

‘These’ll be fine,’ he nodded, looking around to find somewhere to change. She just rolled her eyes, pulled her cardigan off over her head, and he was somewhat shocked to realise she hadn’t been wearing anything but a bra underneath said cardigan. There was a look of challenge in her eyes as she slid down the zipper of her skirt. When he realised she was seeing how far he would let her go he cleared his throat and turned around, cautiously pulled his polo over his head, certain he heard her derisive snort as he did so. Well, she could watch him strip all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to give her more fuel to add to her angry fire of distaste that she seemed to be aiming towards him at all times these days. He cleared his throat again once he was changed, looked over his shoulder to find her in a bikini, a red bikini, with oh so little coverage that he choked, ‘Christ, give a man some warning won’t you?’

‘You don’t like it?’ her voice was innocent. She knew exactly what she was doing. ‘It was the only one in my size – they don’t really have a lot of swimwear options this time of year.’

‘Well...it’s uh...it’s a look. I’m going to get into the water now.’

‘It’ll be cold,’ she hollered after him as he started jogging down to the shore whilst she was laying two towels out, and she heard him mutter something that distinctly sounded like that’s what I’m counting on.

Her smirk fading, she slathered sunscreen onto her skin, giving each of them a moment to think things through. She didn’t really know what she intended when she bought the swimsuit – there were other, less revealing one-pieces in her size. But she’d wanted to wind Mulder up just a little bit more before they flew home. He’d spent the week antagonising her – the week of her birthday no less – and she deserved her own chance at it.

Sunscreen rubbed in, towels laid out and waiting, both her and Mulder’s clothes folded neatly into piles, there was nothing more she could do to procrastinate from joining him in the water.

Compared to the heat of the sand and the sun, the sea was practically icy, and the initial shock of it on her calves and knees and thighs made her gasp, the wave that lapped up over her stomach stole her breath. But within moments her body was acclimatising, getting used to the cooler water as she sank further into it; ribs, breasts, shoulders, finally taking a breath and diving under.

The slip of sand beneath her feet and the motion of the waves soothed her and she rolled onto her back, floated for a moment through the slats of sunbeams and shadows in the steady roll of the ocean. She could spend the rest of her life here, she thought, just being carried by the tide, letting it rock her to sleep. Saltwater played at the corners of her mouth, filled her ears with a rushing gurgle. Her hair splayed out around her, a halo free-floating in the current. When she was a child she would lay in the bath with her head under the water, look up at the fiery strands twisting about her like kelp; imagine she was a mermaid with the ability to stay under for hours at a time. Her mother would scold her, tell her not to scare the death out of her, floating under the water like that, ghost-like.

She righted herself, shuddering at the memory of the implication in her mother’s voice, and twisted in the water to see where her partner had gotten to.

He was swimming out further and further, following the line of the pier. She was a strong swimmer, but so was he, and she doubted she could catch him, even though he was taking a leisurely pace. She’d wondered, at the very start of their partnership, if this was how their relationship would go – him strides ahead of her at every opportunity. And though that fear had relaxed over the years, it had ramped up again since the introduction of his old flame into their lives. They both seemed keener to space themselves from one another, whilst she constantly craved being right there next to him at the same time. It was near impossible for her to make up her mind as to where she wanted to be around him these days, when before it had always seemed such an easy decision.

As if sensing the turmoil of the eddies swirling in her brain he paused in his strokes, looked up and started treading water as he waved to her. A truce. She swam out towards him, and he met her in the middle, neither of them able to touch the bottom as they bobbed in the gentle swell of the tide.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey.’

‘So, where exactly are we in Dana Scully’s childhood?’

‘Mid-70s. I was a teenager and we were living here. Bill would pack us into Ahab’s car and drive us all down here so Mom could get some peace and quiet. Four teenagers in one house does not a restful existence make.’

‘I can imagine,’ he nodded, swimming around her as she floated on her back.

‘Sometimes there was a whole group of us who’d come down here, mostly Bill and Missy’s friends. We’d swim – sometimes surf if the waves were right – and play catch and have picnics and barbeques. The pier was our spot. We knew when it was going to be busy, to get there early, and we even created a rota one summer to make sure someone was always there at the crack of dawn to save our spot. But nobody ever really came under here unless there was no other space. It was where we smoked and played loud music on a boombox.’

She lapsed into silence, the sound of seagulls and breaking waves on the shore filling the air, water licking at the uprights of the pier and the haunting whistle of the gentle breeze through the broken windows of the buildings above them.

‘Do you regret growing up?’

She rolled over onto her stomach to look at him; study his face. With a mournful sigh, she gave ‘everyone regrets growing up,’ before ducking under the water, letting the sting of salt tears burn with the ocean. She brushed past him under the surface, bobbing up a few yards behind him, ‘come on, I want to try and reach the end of the pier.’

They set into a steady pace, one or the other pulling ahead slightly before being caught again. It was how they worked: challenging, pushing and keeping pace with one another.

‘We’re not okay, are we, Scully?’

She bit the inside of her cheek, twisted like a sea otter from front to back to front again, ‘no, Mulder, we’re not.’

‘Why?’ it sounded like he was genuinely asking, like he genuinely didn’t know.

‘Why do you think?’

‘Diana.’

Her skin prickled at the resignation in his voice, at the exasperation she felt he was aiming at her, ‘yes and no. Or, not just Diana. You and me, too,’ she sighed, stopped swimming, looked down into the depths, unable to see the bottom. It thrilled her and terrified her all at once, just like he did. ‘You have history with her, Mulder, I understand that. But so do we. Six years of history. I...I think that should mean something, too.’

‘It does. It’s just...Diana...’

‘You love her,’ despite all her best efforts her voice sounded choked with emotion.

He swam closer to her, brushed a finger across her chin to tilt it up to him, ‘loved. Or at least thought I did. We were married.’

‘I know,’ she nodded, pulling her gaze from his again, staring out into the horizon.

‘You do?’

‘Byers told me.’

Mulder let out a breath through his nose, uncertain what to think of not having told her himself. He was a coward, he knew that. ‘Of course, he did. He’d tell you anything if you asked him. Frohike might be the one with the crush, but Byers certainly has a soft spot for you. And, of all of them, he’s the one who knows you don’t need protecting.’

‘It’s just about trust, Mulder. If you can’t trust me implicitly, what are we doing?’

‘Right now we’re swimming.’

‘Mulder,’ the warning in her tone matched the one in her eyes.

‘I don’t know, Scully, what are we doing?’ the conversation felt cyclical, like every other conversation they’d had lately.

‘Fuck if I know,’ she shook her head. ‘I’ve spent the past year and a half trying to save our partnership, our friendship, and some days I can’t even tell if you want it anymore.’

‘Scully...our friendship is everything. I want...I’ll take anything you’ll give me. I thought you realised that. Maybe...maybe I haven’t taken your fears and concerns as seriously as I could have, but Scully, that was never as a brush off. Diana...she’s a blind spot, a weakness from my past. That doesn’t mean I don’t hold your opinions higher than anyone else’s on the planet and beyond it.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Mulder?’

‘Hmm?’

‘When you said you’d take anything I’d give you...what exactly did you mean?’ a sly smile was growing on her face, somewhat shyly, and he was positive the redness in her cheeks was not sunburn.

‘I meant whatever you want me to have meant.’

‘Really?’

‘Mmhm,’ he nodded, inched slightly closer to her so their legs were brushing as they trod water together.

‘Mulder?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Kiss me.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

#prompt me bitches #my writing #txf #arcadia #beach day #xf fanfic #msr #diana angst #because how can you have an arcadia fic without diana angst #its physically impossible #the childhood haunts of dana scully

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bignaz8 · 3 years ago

Text

Todd: Hello… Operator…listen to me…I can’t speak very loud. – This is an emergency. I’m a passenger on a United flight to San Francisco.. We have a situation here….Our plane has been hijacked…..can you understand me?

Lisa: (exhaling a deep breath to herself) I understand… Can the hijackers see you talking on the phone?

Todd: No

Lisa: Can you tell me how many hijackers are on the plane?

Todd: There are three that we know of.

Lisa: Can you see any weapons? What kind of weapons do they have?

Todd: Yes…. they don’t have guns….they have knives – they took over the plane with knives.

Lisa: Do you mean…like steak knives?

Todd: No, these are razor knives…like box cutters.

Lisa: Can you tell what country these people are from?

Todd: No…..I don’t know. They sound like they’re from the mid-east.

Lisa: Have they said what they want?

Todd: Someone announced from the cockpit that there was a bomb on board. He said he was the captain and to stay in our seats and stay quiet.

He said that they were meeting these men’s demands and returning to the airport… It was very broken English, and… I’m telling you…it sounded fake!

Lisa: Ok sir, please give me your name.

Todd: My name is Todd Beamer.

Lisa: Ok Todd….my name is Lisa…Do you know your flight number? If you can’t remember, it’s on your ticket.

Todd: It’s United Flight 93.

Lisa: Now Todd, can you try to tell me exactly what happened?

Todd: Two of the hijackers were sitting in first class near the cockpit. A third one was sitting near the back of the coach section. The two up. front got into the cockpit somehow; there was shouting. The third hijacker said he had a bomb. It looks like a bomb. He’s got it tied to his waist with a red belt of some kind.

Lisa: So is the door to the cockpit open?

Todd: No, the hijackers shut it behind them.

Lisa: Has anyone been injured?

Todd: Yes, ..they…they killed one passenger sitting in first class. There’s been lots of shouting. We don’t know if the pilots are dead or alive. A flight attendant told me that the pilot and copilot had been forced from the cockpit and may have been wounded.

Lisa: Where is the 3rd hijacker now Todd?

Todd: He’s near the back of the plane. They forced most of the passengers into first class. There are fourteen of us here in the back. Five are flight attendants. He hasn’t noticed that I slipped into this pantry to get the phone. The guy with the bomb ordered us to sit on the floor in the rear of the plane……….oh Jesus.. Help!

Lisa: Todd….are you ok? Tell me what’s happening!

Todd: Hello…..We’re going down….I think we’re going to crash……Wait – wait a minute. No, we’re leveling off….we’re ok. I think we may be turning around…..That’s it – we changed directions. Do you hear me….we’re flying east again.

Lisa: Ok Todd…. What’s going on with the other passengers?

Todd: Everyone is… really scared. A few passengers with cell phones have made calls to relatives. A guy, Jeremy, was talking to his wife just before the hijacking started. She told him that hijackers had crashed two planes into the World Trade Center……Lisa is that true??

Lisa: Todd…..I have to tell you the truth…..it’s very bad. The World Trade Center is gone. Both of the towers have been destroyed.

Todd: Oh God —help us!

Lisa: A third plane was taken over by terrorists. It crashed into the Pentagon in Washington DC. Our country is under attack….and I’m afraid that your plane may be part of their plan.

Todd: Oh dear God. Dear God…….Lisa, will you do something for me?

Lisa: I’ll try….if I can….Yes.

Todd: I want you to call my wife and my kids for me and tell them what’s happened. Promise me you’ll call..

Lisa: I promise – I’ll call.

Todd: Our home number is 201 xxx-1073…….You have the same name as my wife…Lisa….We’ve been married for 10 years. She’s pregnant with our 3rd child. Tell her that I love her…….(choking up)..I’ll always love her..(clearing throat) We have two boys.. David, he’s 3 and Andrew, he’s 1…..Tell them……(choking) tell them that their daddy loves them and that he is so proud of them. (clearing throat again) Our baby is due January 12th…..I saw an ultra sound…..it was great….we still don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy………Lisa?

Lisa: (barely able to speak) I’ll tell them, I promise Todd.

Todd: I’m going back to the group—if I can get back I will…

Lisa: Todd, leave this line open…are you still there?……

Lisa: (dials the phone..) Hello, FBI, my name is Lisa Jefferson, I’m a telephone supervisor for GTE. I need to report a terrorist hijacking of a United Airlines Flight 93….Yes I’ll hold.

Goodwin: Hello, this is Agent Goodwin.. I understand you have a hijacking situation?

Lisa: Yes sir, I’ve been talking with a passenger, a Todd Beamer, on Flight 93 who managed to get to an air phone unnoticed.

Goodwin: Where did this flight originate, and what was its destination?

Lisa: The flight left Newark New Jersey at 8 A.M. departing for San Francisco. The hijackers took over the plane shortly after takeoff, and several minutes later the plane changed course – it is now flying east.

Goodwin: Ms. Jefferson…I need to talk to someone aboard that plane. Can you get me thru to the planes phone?

Lisa: I still have that line open sir, I can patch you through on a conference call…hold a mo…..

Todd: Hello Lisa, Lisa are you there?

Lisa: Yes, I’m here. Todd, I made a call to the FBI, Agent Goodwin is on the line and will be talking to you as well.

Todd: The others all know that this isn’t your normal hijacking. Jeremy called his wife again on his cell phone. She told him more about the World Trade Center and all.

Goodwin: Hello Todd. This is Agent Goodwin with the FBI. We have been monitoring your flight. Your plane is on a course for Washington, DC. These terrorists sent two planes into the World Trade Center and one plane into the Pentagon. Our best guess is that they plan to fly your plane into either the White House or the United States Capital Building.

Todd: I understand…hold on……I’ll…….I’ll be back..

Lisa: Mr. Goodwin, how much time do they have before they get to Washington?

Goodwin: Not long ma’am. They changed course over Cleveland; they’re approaching Pittsburgh now. Washington may be twenty minutes away.

Todd: (breathing a little heavier) The plane seems to be changing directions just a little. It’s getting pretty rough up here. The plane is flying real erratic….We’re not going to make it out of here. Listen to me….I want you to hear this….I have talked with the others….we have decided we would not be pawns in these hijackers suicidal plot.

Lisa: Todd, what are you going to do?

Todd: We’ve hatched a plan. Four of us are going to rush the hijacker with the bomb. After we take him out, we’ll break into the cockpit. A stewardess is getting some boiling water to throw on the hijackers at the controls. We’ll get them….and we’ll take them out. Lisa, …..will you do one last thing for me?

Lisa: Yes…What is it?

Todd: Would you pray with me?

They pray: Our father which art in Heaven

Hallowed be thy name,

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive our trespassers,

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory

Forever…..Amen

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

He makes me to lie down in green pastures

He leads me beside the still waters

He restores my soul

He leads me in paths of righteousness

for His name’s sake

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil, for thou art with me…..

Todd: (softer) God help me…Jesus help me….(clears throat and louder)

Are you guys ready?……..

Let’s Roll……………………

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years ago

Text

Ficsmas Day #6 “Away in a Spooky Manger”

[Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader]

Word Count: 1.3k

Spooky holds you up as you holler in pain making your way to his car.

“I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t fucking believe this shit! Did you get the bag?” you repeat over and over as the snow crunches under your half tied boots with each step. Your pajama pants are as good as tissue paper at insulating your legs from the cold but the rush is on to get you to the hospital.

“It’s ok baby, we don’t need it. The hospital has all we need. Come on, easy,” Spooky tries to keep you at ease as he helps lift you in the backseat of his car.

“He was supposed to be here on New Years, I’m so pissed.” Your anger quickly crumbles to tears as the gravity of the situation overwhelms you. You and Spooky just finished making some cookies and picked out your favorite Christmas movie to watch and stay up until midnight to welcome in Christmas together.

Spooky reaches for a seatbelt to put on you. “I know, it’s fine though. We’re gonna have our little one as a present, so that’s gonna be good!”

You smack away his hands. “I don’t need a damn belt. I need a tranquilizer, just fucking drive!”

Spooky closes your door and gets in the driver’s seat, peeling out as fast as he can down the road. As he drives, you continue to curse and moan under the pressure of your body attempting to expel the baby boy you spent the last 39 weeks growing in your belly. Pain radiates from your back to your pelvis as you sweat and squeeze the back of the seat behind Spooky’s head.

“How’re you doing?” he asks while looking back in the rearview.

“How do you think, Oscaaaar??” A contraction seizes you as you bellow in agony, beating his seat as he approaches a red light.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask, unzipping your jacket as your body heat fights with the heat circulating in the car.

Spooky points, “It’s a red light, I can’t get another ticket.”

“If you don’t get this car moving Oscar! What the hell is wrong with you, fuck a red light or a ticket!”

Spooky looks both ways before neglecting the laws of traffic, looking fully back at you with concern. “You gotta calm down. I’ll get us there, just breathe, remember?”

You give a laugh that is mired by your sounds of torture. “How about next time I just breathe on your dick instead of letting you all up in here to plant your big headed baby, how about that huh?”

Spooky grips the steering wheel tightly as he rips around a corner, sliding on the slushy streets, and sending you flying from one end of his backseat to another.

“DAMN! What was that for?!” you exclaim, sitting up.

Spooky looks back again. “Shit, you alright? Am I going too fast? I’m still getting used to riding in your area. Don’t know shit about snow.”

You breathe through your nose and out of your mouth. “I think you have to pull over.”

Spooky takes another turn, gentler this time. “We’re almost there, like 15 minutes.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I’m not gonna make it.”

The engine revs a little louder as he accelerates. “Fuck, just breathe baby. Think of anything but the baby right now. We’re so close to the hospital.”

Spooky looks in his rearview and sees you squirming around, grunting as you fiddle with something.

“What’s going on back there?” Spooky asks right before a pair of grey flannel pajama bottoms of his that you like go flying in the front passenger seat.

“I can’t make it Oscarrr!” you scream, laying flat across the back seat with your legs wide.

Spooky immediately pulls over to park, turning his whole body to see you fully ready to give birth. His eyes are horrified as he rubs his head, trying to think.

“Ok! Ok! Lemme call 911!” he reaches into his pants to pull out his phone, hitting the emergency button.

“Please please come back here with me! I need your help, I don’t wanna do this alone!” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel like you’re being ripped in half as your baby makes his way out of your cervix.

Spooky gets out and back in the backseat with you. He lifts you up against him, holding our head as he answers 911.

“Yeah we are on Jefferson and 38th, down by the office building. My girl’s in labor.” Spooky winces as you squeeze his hand, shaking your head back and forth through the pain.

“39 weeks….Contractions? Uh like 5 minutes apart….The baby’s not out yet, I don’t know…”

Spooky goes quiet a second listening to the 911 operator. “Shit! Ok, I’ll see.”

Spooky gets out of the car again, causing you to panic. “No no! Where are you going Oscar?” you hold your belly feeling the urge to push as he opens the other door that is in front of you, getting a clear view of burgeoning birth.

Spooky’s eyes are filled with fear and worry. “I see him. God, he’s coming out! He’s got so much hair.” He wipes his eyes as they turn red with emotion.

“Oh God, that’s good. Now get him out please!” you beg Spooky as he puts the phone down and on speaker to talk to 911.

“Get a blanket, or jacket or shirt, something to wrap the baby up in,” the operator instructs. Sooky takes off his jacket, placing it down in front of you.

“Ok, now what?” Spooky asks. You cry out in pain as you instinctively push.

“That sounds like a contraction. Every time she feels one, she needs to push and you have to be ready to catch that baby.”

“Ok, baby. Push through the pain. Come on.”

“Once the baby’s head is out, don’t pull it but hold it as she pushes through the shoulders. Is the cord around its neck?”

Spooky shakes his head as you scream. “No, but he’s coming out so fast!”

“Get the jacket ready!” the operator exclaims.

Spooky looks at you straining once more to push as your child enters the world in a Carhartt jacket. A wave of relief washes over you and you both begin to weep, looking over the prettiest gooped up screaming baby you both ever laid eyes on.

“That sounds like a good cry! What did you have?” the operator asks.

Spooky wraps him up tight. “A boy. He’s a baby boy.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Looking up at you with elation. “You did it baby, here he is. What about the cord, do I cut it?”

“I would hold off until the ambulance arrives. Congratulations guys, for now keep the baby warm and tight, the ambulance should be there any minute to look over the baby and get him and mom to the hospital. Merry Christmas you all!”

“Merry Christmas,” you both say. You hold your baby tight to you, wiping off his face as his lower lip trembles with a whimper. Thick dark hair covers the top of his head and you pull out his little hands just to kiss them.

“All ten,” you look down at his narrow feet, “...toes too.”

Spook kneels on the car floor looking down at his son with you, sniffling. “He’s got eyes like mine. Eyebrows too.”

You nod. “Hair too. Damn shame. You should grow yours so you’re twins.”

Spooky laughs. “Maybe.” He lays his hand on the back of your head, kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips. “You did so good, baby.”

“I think that’s the most scared I ever seen you be, Oscar. A little baby had the gangster on his knees today.”

Spooky sighs. “Please. It was you being in pain, cuz I never want to see you like that, and then...he’s out and...this is some tough shit."

You cradle the side of his face as his tears roll over the tattooed ones on his face. You coo at him, trying not to laugh just because his hard demeanor has turned completely to jelly for care over his new family.

Your eyes well up again looking from him to your son. “I still can’t believe it. He did me dirty for this one. I wish he had the little hat I packed for him.”

Spooky’s eye catches something in the back behind his backseat. “Yo, yes! Look!”

He reaches over the two of you to find navy blue bag with cartoon doggies all over. Your heart swells at the sight.

“The bag! Why did you stuff it back there?!”

He unzips it, excitedly rummaging around. “For an emergency! It’s a backup, but I put this in here...”

He reveals a grey hat with multi colored triangles down the middle that makes your baby resemble a mini sleeping dinosaur. You both help to carefully slide it on top, keeping his eyes free although his have stay cozily closed.

You chuckle to yourself. “You got him his first. You did it. Daddy brought some Christmas to him.”

Spooky kisses his son once more before noticing the approaching sirens and lights in the distance.

“I’m gonna give him a lot. You both won’t need for anything, just so he can be great. Greater than me even. My first born, my world.”

#shakafic #oscar diaz x reader #ficmas

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kelyon · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Rings 20: A Line

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs.

Rumple and Jefferson explore some boundaries.

Read on AO3

It was still raining as Rumpelstiltskin drove Mrs. Gold back to the pink house. She had dried off, in the hours since she had come into the shop and seen him standing too close to Jefferson. Her clothes had dried, but her attitude was still as stormy as the thunder and lightning in the sky.

That morning, the silence between them had been sullen, resigned. The silence of two people who couldn’t speak to each other, even if they wanted to. Now, Mrs. Gold’s side of the car crackled with unspoken hostility. If he looked at her closely, Rumpelstiltskin could almost see her trembling. Poor woman was fighting to keep silent, straining to keep herself from saying any words that would finally sever the last fraying threads of her marriage.

Once the car was in the garage, Mrs. Gold burst through her door and bolted into the house. She didn’t even stop to pick up her shopping bags from the back seat. Walking around to her side of the car, he took as many of the bags as he could carry. There was one still left on the floor. He would have to come back for it.

He entered the kitchen just in time to hear her door slam shut upstairs. He sighed, and shook the rain off his coat.

Could he offer her an explanation? Would she care about what he had to say? Mrs. Gold already knew that there was someone else. He had told her Belle was a woman, but she had no reason to believe him about anything. Throughout all the years of the curse, Mrs. Gold had trusted her husband. She had trusted in his cruelty, in his rules, in his appetites. She may have been on her knees, but at least she knew where she stood. In only a few months, Rumpelstiltskin had destroyed that trust.

He made dinner, wondered if she would come down to eat. When she didn’t, he brought a plate up to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door.

“What?” Her ragged voice was at the exact midpoint between rage and despair.

“I brought you dinner,” he explained to the door.

“Leave it.” Even through the wood, he could hear her labored breathing. “Then go away. I don’t want to look at you.”

Wincing, Rumpelstiltskin set the plate on the ground. Then he stood at the door a moment longer. He should say something. He should apologize. He should be kind to her.

But the longer he waited, the longer she didn’t open the door because she didn’t want to look at him, the more he understood. The kindest thing he could do for Mrs. Gold would be to leave her alone. She was allowing him to provide for her--taking his money, eating his food. She wouldn’t leave her room, as long as she thought it was safe.

He would make her feel safe. As best he could, at least.

Limping, he headed for the stairs. Halfway down, he heard her door open, and the china plate scraping across the floorboards. She had been listening for him, to make sure he was really gone. She had been listening for the tap of his cane.

He heard the door shut. And the metallic mechanism of a lock.

Once, he had locked Belle in a library, in order to keep her burgeoning love for him from ever coming to life. Now Mrs. Gold was locking herself away, because any love she’d had for her husband had already suffered a messy, painful death.

With a heavy tread, he kept walking.

****

In his study, Rumpelstiltskin sat down at Gold’s desk and poured himself a tumblr from a sky-blue bottle. Johnnie Walker Blue Label. The liquor was a dark, golden brown, but the glass bottle was the same color as Belle’s eyes.

From his breast pocket, he took the paper where Jefferson had written his address and telephone number. He tossed it on the desk and stared at it.

Jefferson. His truest friend. The only person he had trusted, before Belle. He hadn’t been the first man Rumpelstiltskin had taken as a lover, but he was the only one who had been just as pleasant company outside of the bedroom. They had gone on many adventures together, fetching items from different worlds, running errands for kings and empresses, sometimes getting richly rewarded, and sometimes barely escaping with their lives. Jefferson had always been loyal, brave, and clever. A good man to have by his side.

He could have loved him, if he hadn’t been such a fool. If he hadn’t kept the boy at a distance in a thousand tiny ways. If he hadn’t insisted that he leave him after every adventure. Jefferson would have lived in his castle, if Rumpelstiltskin had asked him to. Jefferson would have traveled with him forever, if he had ever indicated that he wanted to. They could have stayed together. If Rumpelstiltskin had thought that anyone could have loved him.

As it was, Jefferson had found Leona Ogg, a woman who never doubted that she could love and be loved. They had married, and had a daughter, and Rumpelstiltskin had wished them well--from a distance. From the lonely darkness that he knew was all he would ever deserve.

Belle had changed that, of course. Too late for it to benefit Jefferson much. But now Belle was gone. And even Mrs. Gold didn’t want to speak to him. And Jefferson’s wife was in another world, alive but inaccessible.

Jefferson had spent the past twenty-eight years alone in his house, spared from the curse, but unable to interact with anyone in Storybrooke. Finally, he had come to Rumpelstiltskin in need of a friend.

Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a friend as well.

He dialed the numbers on the black telephone on Gold’s desk. He emptied the glass and didn’t pour another. After a few rings, there was an answer.

“This is Dodgson,” Jefferson’s voice said.

“Are you sure about that, dearie?” The alcohol had eased his tension, but talking to Jefferson had truly loosened him. Dropping the mask of being Mr. Gold felt like being able to breathe again.

Over the phone, Jefferson’s tone became softer, warmer. “Hello,” was all he said. One word, full of meaning.

It wasn’t flirtatious. Flirting was asking a question. But these questions had already been asked and answered long ago.

“Hello yourself,” Rumpelstiltskin answered. He heard his own voice as low and heavy, thick with want.

“I’d like to continue the conversation we were having earlier. Are you free?”

“Magic always comes at a price. But for you, I am free indeed.”

He heard Jefferson breathing into the phone. “Tonight?”

“I can leave right now. Your house?”

“I’d rather die,” the boy said quickly. “But come here to pick me up, and I’ll tell you where to go.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Rumpelstiltskin was already standing up.

“Good.”

****

The rain had stopped by the time he got to the winding forest road where Jefferson lived. He was waiting in front of the driveway, leaning against a stone pillar, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. Rumpelstiltskin stopped the car and he got into the passenger side.

“Now follow this road for another two miles.”

Nodding, Rumpelstiltskin drove. “Where are we going?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s the most interesting place in Storybrooke.”

Jefferson didn’t say more and Rumpelstiltskin didn’t ask. Unlike with Mrs. Gold, he could relax in the silence between himself and Jefferson. He knew the answers would come. He just had to be patient.

“You know the town well?” he said after a while. There weren’t many turns on this highway, just woods and darkness.

“I’ve had twenty-eight years to look around.” Jefferson stared out the windshield. “And six months to explore.” He sighed. “I tried to map it, you know. I tried to figure out the limits of this place. Find out if there were any… I dunno, weak spots.”

Trying to keep his eyes on the road, Rumpelstiltskin glanced over at Jefferson. “What did you find out?”

He scoffed. “If there was anything useful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. There’s a spot over here where you can pull over.”

The tires crunched on gravel as Rumpelstiltskin parked the car on the shoulder. They were still in the forest. The road kept going on ahead of them. There didn’t seem to be anything interesting about this spot.

No, there was one thing.

“What’s that sign up there?” he asked Jefferson. They faced the back of a sheet of metal on a pole. “Do you know what it says on the front?”

“‘Welcome to Storybrooke,’” Jefferson sneered. “Three of the most loathsome words in this world.” He opened the door and stood up. “Come on, Dark One, I want to show you around.”

By the time he had gotten out, Jefferson was standing in the middle of the road behind the sign. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk forward. His pace was measured, careful. In the still night, Rumpelstiltskin could hear the boy muttering under his breath.

Counting.

“What are you doing?” he asked after a moment.

“Watch,” was all Jefferson would say. “It should happen any minute now. Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty--FUCK!”

From out of the darkness, a deer came barreling down the road. It ran at full speed along the painted yellow stripes on the pavement. Head bent, antlers pointed, it was dead set towards Jefferson.

With impressive agility, Jefferson swerved from his path in the center and raced back to the car. Once he was behind the signpost, the deer also changed course. It leapt into the brush along the roadside and--utterly unperturbed--walked back into the forest.

Rumpelstiltskin looked over at Jefferson, who had braced his hands on the hood of the car. He was breathing heavily, but not too heavily to speak.

“I hate it when it’s deer,” he panted. “The moose and the bears just kind of stand there, being big and scary. But the deer are always on the attack, always out for blood.” Shaking his head, he straightened up and turned to Rumpelstiltskin with his arms spread wide. “So this is the town line, and that’s my parlor trick.”

He stared. “You knew that would happen?”

“I knew something would happen. Animals are a pretty regular method. A few weeks ago, this road was a sheet of ice once you got past the sign. If we had come out here while the storm was still going on, a bolt of lightning wouldn’t have been out of the question. Or a fallen tree. Something like that.”

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing, so Jefferson kept explaining.

“It’s actually safer when you’re walking. Whatever happens will just kind of shoo you back to the town limits. In a car is where it gets really bad, I guess because you have a better chance of actually getting somewhere. You ever hear the locals call this the widowmaker highway?”

“Mrs. Gold said something about that,” he nodded. He was beginning to understand.

“Funny thing, that. If you look at, say, twenty-eight year’s worth of newspapers, you’ll see that no one has ever actually died on this highway. Lots of accidents. Lots of previous fatalities. Every family knows somebody who’s died here, sometime in the past. But no one has been killed on this road since October 23, 1983.”

“Of course not,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “The curse wants to keep people alive.”

“It wants to keep people inside,” Jefferson agreed. “Trapped like animals in a simulated habitat.” He made his way over to Rumpelstiltskin, leaned against the car next to him. “Nothing is real in this town.”

He had worn gloves against the chill. Black leather driving gloves. The headlights reflected against the rain brought out the dull sheen of them, especially contrasted with Jefferson’s gray wool coat when he put his hand on his arm.

“You’re real,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “I don’t know how you managed it, but you are.”

Jefferson looked down at the place where they touched. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, that’s the whole point of this world--this is the place where we only exist as stories. None of us are really real. We’re not supposed to be here, not walking and talking and--feeling.”

Rumpelstiltskin could only squeeze more tightly on the boy’s arm. Early in his own experience with immortality, he had spent a decade or two grappling with the potentialities of existence and non-existence. Whether or not anything could really be true. Whether or not actions actually had consequences. Whether or not every reality and every world he knew was nothing more than a grain of sand on an infinite, eternal beach full of other realities.

It was the sort of thinking that could drive one mad.

“I tried calling the real world once,” Jefferson went on. “The world without magic. I found the phone number for a chartered plane service in Bar Harbor.”

“Where?”

“Bar Harbor!” Jefferson snapped. “It’s a town, in Maine. A real one. Unlike Storybrooke, it shows up on maps! I called the airport there--and I was just so happy to hear another voice. This was after things started changing. Before that, all the phones in my house were disconnected.”

Jefferson rubbed his hand over his eyes, his forehead. The poor boy looked so weary, so defeated.

“I called. And I told the lady on the other end of the phone where I was, and that I wanted a plane to come get me. There’s over a hundred thousand dollars in cash in a safe in that house, I would have given it all and more besides. But the lady just laughed at me. She thought I was playing a prank. Because Storybrooke, Maine doesn’t exist! She’d never heard of it and it wasn’t in her database when she looked it up!”

He began to laugh, a wild, manic sound that could turn into sobs at any moment. “The next time I tried to call, I couldn’t get through! I called a hundred times one day and they’d never pick up!”

“Jefferson,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly.

But he couldn’t stop. “Then! I tried to rent a boat! Lots of boats in the harbor! I went to this grumpy drunk and gave him a thousand dollars to take his boat out for the day. It was a clear day--freezing, but not a cloud in the sky. I picked a direction and I just went. I motored out into the harbor until this town was just a speck in the distance.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist. “I could see the open ocean in front of me. The horizon was limitless. It was beautiful. For one shining instant, I though I could go anywhere.”

Then the boy shuddered. He curled in on himself, head between his hands as he nearly bent over double.

“And then the fog rolled in,” he whispered. “One second you could see for miles, the next I couldn’t see past the front of the boat--the bow or aft or whatever it is. The next time I saw anything, I was back at the docks.”

“Jefferson,” Rumpelstiltskin said again. He put a hand on his shoulder, wished desperately that he didn’t have to use the other hand on his cane. Jefferson needed him, needed whatever strength he had. He couldn’t be crippled now.

He stroked his back. “Jefferson, my boy, I’m sorry.”

He looked up. His dark blue eyes glinted like steel. “You’re sorry?” Slowly, he registered Rumpelstiltskin’s hands on his body. He backed away. “You’re sorry?” he snarled. “Twenty-eight years of this hell and all you have to say is that you’re sorry?”

Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “We have all suffered, my boy. Do you know what the curse did to--”

“To you?” The edge in Jefferson’s voice was sharp and jagged. “Or to Belle? Yes, I know both. I know all about the proclivities of Mr. and Mrs. Gold.”

“And I’ve had to live with that--”

“For six months! Oh boo hoo! It’s such a fucking tragedy that you’ve got a brain-dead bimbo begging you to fill her up in every hole!”

“Don’t.” Rumpelstiltskin spoke through his teeth to keep from shouting. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

For a second, Jefferson seemed taken aback. He looked at him, level and even. Appraising. When he spoke, the hostility had ebbed away. “You know I meant Mrs. Gold, right? Not Belle.”

Rumpelstiltskin unclenched his jaw. “Yes,” he said. He took a breath. “But even then… she is still a person.”

“No she’s not.” Jefferson turned away, to look up at the trees overhead. There were no stars in the sky, nothing but gray clouds. “Even if we’re real--if we were real back in our old world--the people in the town aren’t real. Not now.” He sighed. “Mrs. Gold isn’t any more real than Dodgson or Gold or little Paige Lewis.”

“Grace,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Your Grace.”

He nodded. “She has different parents now,” he said softly. “At least they love her. They’re giving her a good life. I watch her, every day.” Jefferson swallowed hard. “I do have you to thank for that.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You remember the telescope you gave me and Leo? The magic one?”

“Of course.” The enchanted spyglass could see across distances and worlds, to focus on any single person at any time of day or night. In the old world, Rumpelstiltskin had adjusted it so that Jefferson and Leona would always be able to see Grace, and she would always be able to see them. “Did it come with you?”

A slow nod. Jefferson stood in the road while Rumpelstiltskin remained by the car. “It doesn’t have magic, but it’s still damned useful. I can see her, even if I can’t do anything else. I know she’s alive, I know she’s happy. At least I have that.”

He covered his mouth with his hand, and Rumpelstiltskin understood.

“As for Leona...?”

Jefferson shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Nothing. Not for twenty-eight years. I don’t know if she’s happy, if she’s safe, if she’s even still alive.” Tears brimmed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he looked at Rumpelstiltskin. “What if she’s grown old, Dark One? What if she’s outgrown me, forgotten me? What--what if she found someone else and got married again? I wouldn’t blame her for that. But what if she had other children? Her children could be older than I am now! What if Leo moved on and lived this full, rich life that Grace and I didn’t get to share with her? And what if I never know? What if I never see her again?”

He was sobbing now. The sound was a weary ache, an old wound that had never had a chance to heal. Jefferson, poor Jefferson, was giving voice to demons that had plagued him since the curse was cast. For twenty-eight years, his pain had festered in silence, in loneliness. There had been no one for him, the poor boy. Not a single human soul.

Until now.

Despite the uneven, rain-soaked forest floor, Rumpelstiltskin hobbled over to his friend on his cane. He wrapped his arm around Jefferson. He let the man lean against him, and silently prayed that he would be strong enough for the task. He rubbed his back, while Jefferson moaned out his agony.

“It’s all right,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “It will be all right, my boy.”

Jefferson didn’t answer, just shook his head and swayed to the rhythm of his sorrow. Rumpelstiltskin stood by him. He stayed, while Jefferson wept. He offered whatever support he could. The crying eased, though the pain would take far longer to abate.

A drop of water landed on Rumpelstiltskin’s ear. Had that come from a tree branch, or was it starting to rain again?

“Come on, my boy.” He shook Jefferson gently. “Let’s at least get into the car.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, Jefferson managed to stand. He walked on his own to the side of the road. Opening the backseat door on the driver’s side, he slid across the red leather bench. There was plenty of room for Rumpelstiltskin.

He didn’t wonder why Jefferson had chosen to go to the back seat instead of the front, why he wasn’t in a hurry to drive out of the forest, what he expected to happen next. Those were questions that had been answered already.

Jefferson was waiting for him. He had wiped the tears from his face, but when he tried a smile, it was too shaky to be convincing. His back was pushed up against the far door. His long arms and legs tried to sprawl out, but the car was too cramped for that kind of thing. They would have to be close, if they were going to be there at the same time.

Before he got in, Rumpelstiltskin took off his heavy coat and laid it over the front seat. He left his cane up there as well. He wouldn’t need it in such close quarters. When he took off his gloves, his wedding ring glinted faintly.

He hadn’t fucked Jefferson since he had married Belle. There hadn’t been enough time. The curse was coming, and every moment he had he wanted to spend with her.

But Belle was gone now.

And Jefferson was here.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down in the back seat of Gold’s car and shut the door behind him.

They stared at each other for a moment, as best they could in darkness. Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t see Jefferson’s eyes, but he knew them well enough. He knew how they could darken as they filled with want. How he could gaze, unblinking, lips parted, waiting for the next move.

But this time he didn’t wait. Jefferson made the first move. He leaned forward with his hands outstretched. Rumpelstiltskin felt his fingers on his face. Then his palms on his cheeks. Then his mouth on his mouth.

Jefferson had always been free with his kisses. When they’d first started, that had been a shock for Rumpelstiltskin. Many of his lovers had held kissing as something altogether different than fucking. Something far purer, more sacred, more meaningful. They would offer every part of their bodies to every part of his--all except for the meeting of their mouths. That would be too much of a violation. Jefferson had never seemed to think kisses were that important.

Or maybe he did, and that was why he gave them so generously.

When they broke apart, Rumpelstiltskin held Jefferson by the back of his neck. “What are we doing?” he whispered.

“Missing our wives,” Jefferson answered. Then he kissed him again.

It was thrilling, even to be this close to another person. To feel his heat and his weight, to hear his breathing in his ears, to smell the scent of another man’s body--the cologne and the sweat and the unique essence of Jefferson. That hadn’t changed. Even after all this time. Even after marriages and curses and resentments--Jefferson tasted just the same.

They began to touch. Shirts were pulled out of trousers. Buttons were undone. The boy’s body was so smooth, so firm, so strong. Jefferson’s hands started cold, but soon warmed on Rumpelstiltskin’s skin. Ties and scarves were cast aside. Rumpelstiltskin ran his lips over the scar on Jefferson’s neck, as he had done a hundred times, before the boy had started wearing the collar that marked him as Leona Ogg’s. The sigh Jefferson gave out at the sensation was the most erotic thing Rumpelstiltskin had ever heard in this world.

“Hey,” Jefferson rested his large hands on Rumpelstiltskin’s shirtfront. He was more or less on top of the boy now. His suitcoat was draped over the front seat, his waistcoat was unbuttoned and hanging open. “Did I see what I thought I saw in that plastic bag?”

It took a moment for Rumpelstiltskin to understand what he was talking about. Then he saw the pale shape of a shopping bag on the floor of the backseat. Mrs. Gold had left it there.

“I have no idea what’s in that bag,” he answered.

Reaching down, Jefferson pulled it up and examined the contents. “Yep.” There was a smile in his voice. “Condoms and lube. You are hospitable as ever, Dark One.”

Rumpelstiltskin let out a breath. “Why did she buy all that? She knows I won’t use them.”

Jefferson looked up from the bag, a black paper box in his hand. “Not at all? Because this world isn’t like the old one. You really should--”

“Not on her,” he clarified. “I can’t touch Mrs. Gold. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To Belle?”

“No.” He sat back, a little away from Jefferson. “To Mrs. Gold. It would be too cruel to her.”

There was a crisp rustle of plastic and paper, then the quieter movement of cloth. “If that’s cruelty, I hope you won’t mind being cruel to me.”

“She doesn’t know who I am,” Rumpelstiltskin said simply. “You do.”

In the darkness, he felt Jefferson’s body shift again, leaning against him. Deft hands undid his belt buckle. Strong arms lifted him up, for just long enough to pull down his clothes. Smooth fingers glided over his legs, his thighs.

His cock.

“I know who you are.” Jefferson’s voice was soft as he stroked Rumpelstiltskin into beautiful hardness. “And you know who I am. You always have.”

He felt the needful, wet heat of Jefferson’s lips on the head of his cock. Then, in one skillful, fluid motion, the boy opened his mouth and swallowed him to the hilt.

“Oh, fuck!” Rumpelstiltskin moaned loudly enough that it echoed around the car interior. “Gods, boy! Give a man a bit of warning first!”

Without seeing him, Rumpelstiltskin knew that Jefferson was smirking when he came up. “You look different, but you feel the same in the dark. It’s been too long since I’ve done that to you. Or to anybody.”

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes. “Have you had sex at all? In the past twenty-eight years?”

He shook his head back and forth between Rumpelstiltskin’s thighs. “Good thing I’m ambidextrous.”

“And I thought six months was bad.”

“We have each other now,” Jefferson said. “We may not have anyone else in this world, but we have each other. We have now.” He grasped Rumpelstiltskin by the shaft. “I have this. And I’m going to make the most of it.”

“Fuck.” Rumpelstiltskin threw his head back against the headrest while Jefferson set to his work. His hands felt for his body in the darkness. His bobbing head, his tense shoulders and arms, the sensitive shell of his ear. “You don’t have to,” he whispered. “I do like talking to you too.”

Jefferson came off his cock with a pop. “We can talk when I’ve got my cock in your ass. How about that, Dark One?”

“Wait.” Rumpelstiltskin pushed him up. Jefferson went along, but his hands kept moving. “Don’t call me that, Jefferson, please.”

He was still stroking him. “You told me once that your name has power.”

“It does, but not here. Not in a land without magic. And besides, we’ve been through so much together. I think this is a power I can trust you to wield.”

Jefferson chuckled a moment, and looked down. One of his hands was still pumping back and forth along the length of Rumpelstiltskin’s cock. The other was gently cupping his balls, rubbing them ever so slightly. He placed a kiss on his groin, around the base of his shaft.

“Alright,” he whispered. Then he gave him another kiss. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The shudder began at the base of his spine. Perhaps there was a hint of magic in it. Emma had brought magic to Storybrooke, it was possible he was feeling it. Perhaps it was only that Jefferson was the first person to touch him since Mrs. Gold’s failed attempt to pleasure him on their anniversary. Perhaps it was that this was the first time he had heard his own name--his true name--in more than twenty-eight years.

“Again,” he breathed. “Please, my boy.”

Jefferson was moving faster now, his caresses were rougher. His voice was more sure when he said, “Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Oh fuck,” he gritted his teeth. He felt his body tighten. His hips jerked up erratically, but Jefferson was there. Jefferson was with him. Jefferson would make this so good, he always did. “One more time.”

It didn’t have to be three times, but it was such a nice number, and people expected this sort of thing.

Knowing what was coming, Jefferson clenched his grip into a choke-hold. He moved his face into the dim light coming through the car window.

Rumpelstiltskin could see the boy’s eyes as he looked at him. He could see his plump lips begin to form the word that would make him come undone. He could even see the smooth stretch of skin between Jefferson’s cheek and his nose and his mouth. That was where his semen would land.

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

The name was a roar, and he roared back--hungry and desperate and heart sore but not now. Not in this moment. Now he had Jefferson. Now he had completion. Now he had peace and satisfaction. Now he could rest in oblivion.

He breathed. And he heard Jefferson’s breathing in the darkness. He collapsed against the leather seat, and Jefferson settled in beside him. Blearily, he felt the boy take his wrist and put his fingers to his face. Hot, sticky fluids dripped down Jefferson’s cheek. Moving Rumpelstiltskin’s hand for him, Jefferson coated his fingers in semen, then sucked them into his mouth.

“You’re delicious,” Jefferson murmured. “But this is very much why I said we should use a condom.”

Dazed from the intensity of his orgasm, at peace for the first time in months, Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “You can put one on,” he sighed. “When you stick that massive cock of yours up my arsehole.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #mad gold

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

Text

Centerfold 1- Another New School

Centerfold Masterlist

Author’s Note: Written for Meghan who requested some fluffy A/B/O smut and then I came up with an idea and ran with it. Smut will start after the plot is established. Also, this is gonna go toward my @spnabobingo squares. This chapter fills my Rose/Gardenia/Amber square and is rated G for General Audiences.

Summary: Dean is a Junior at yet another brand new high school. He meets a sweet young woman in his homeroom and starts a relationship with her.

Pairing: Dean x Y/n

Word count: 1211

Story Warnings: none really, mentions of A/B/O dynamics, overprotective parents

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean didn’t like that there were so many miles between the middle school and the high school John registered his sons at in Olympia, Washington. John had the Impala, so Dean had to walk with Sam two miles to his school and then walk four miles to his own. “Gonna have to hit a bar and hustle some cab money. Can’t be doin’ this walk twice a day, Sammy. It’s already killin’ me,” Dean complained.

“At least it’s not winter,” Sam said, sarcastically. “Anyway, Dad will be back soon, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a witch hunt, practically a milk run for Dad, but still. I wish he’d left the car or something.”

“It’ll be okay, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he patted his brother’s shoulder and walked away, disappearing into Jefferson Middle School. He hated this walk and it was the first time he’d even done it. He made it to Olympia High just as the bell rang. Definitely needed some money for cabs. Maybe he could call Bobby, get some cash Western Unioned to him. He definitely wasn’t going to get any more money out of his dad. John always gave him just enough for him and Sam to eat for a couple weeks.

He pulled a paper schedule out of his pocket and sighed. “Homeroom. Mr. Philips. Room C-215. That’s D-100 and that’s D-200, so C Hall will be…” he said to himself, walking toward his classroom. He found C-215 and stepped inside. “Mr. Philips? Dean Winchester. I’m new.” He handed the schedule over to the tall man behind the desk and smiled tightly.

“Right. Take a seat behind Miss Y/l/n in the pink,” Philips said, dismissively, handing the schedule back. Dean nodded and scanned the room for ‘the pink’.

His eyebrows jumped in surprise when his eyes fell on the girl in the second row with the blush pink fuzzy sweater on. She was gorgeous, looked sweet and innocent, smiled at him as he walked down the aisle to slide into the desk behind her. He leaned forward close to her. Whatever perfume she had on smelled amazing. Roses, gardenia maybe...amber? “Miss Y/l/n, huh?” he whispered.

She looked away bashfully and bit her thumbnail. “Shush. Mr. Philips is really mean. Don’t get sent to detention on your first day.”

“You keep talking, we’ll both be there...and that’d be worth it.” She stifled a giggle and looked at her desktop. “Come on, sweetheart. What’s yer name? ‘Less you want me to keep callin’ you, Miss Y/l/n.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked back over her shoulder. “Y/n,” she said.

“Quiet!” Mr. Philips called out from the front of the classroom. “We observe quiet in my classroom, Mr. Winchester.”

“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t here for the syllabus,” he joked. Y/n giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. Dean thought she was just...adorable. It wasn’t often that he fell into a crush right off the bat, barely knowing her name, but Y/n was just...sweet as sugar...and Dean loved his candy.

“So, I’m new, you wanna show me around?” Dean asked as he followed her down the aisle after homeroom let out. It was every bit of the line it felt like leaving his mouth and part of him doubted she’d fall for it. She seemed like too good a girl to fall for his lines. “I’m sure a smart girl like you knows her way around school...around the neighborhood?”

She turned to him in the hallway just outside the door and smiled brightly. “Dean, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’re you from?” she asked.

“Kansas,” he responded, warily. He didn’t understand why she was asking.

“Parents’ names?”

“It’s just my dad,” Dean answered, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” she said, softly. “But what’s your dad’s name?”

“John.”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“Sells vacuums. Why are you asking all this?” he asked, eyebrows tucked together.

“My parents don’t like me talking to strangers and now you’re not a stranger,” she said with a smile. “If you can find your way to the parking lot after school, I’ll show you around town a bit...and I’ll help you study.”

He got a whiff of her floral scent as she twirled and practically danced away from him and down the hallway. She was something special.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, sixteen or seventeen, Dean?” Y/n asked, as she walked across the parking lot with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Sixteen...for another three months. You?”

“Seventeen, two months ago,” she responded.

“Are your parents really gonna ask about all that junk you been asking me?”

“Some of it, yeah, but the most important question is ‘what’s your presentation?’” she asked, turning to him and walking backward.

Dean licked his lips and shrugged. “Don’t have one yet. Dad’s alpha, so was our grandpa. Pretty much destined. What about you?”

“Haven’t presented either, but there hasn’t been a female in my family that wasn’t omega in a hundred and fifty years. How’s that for ‘destined’?”

“If I were alpha, your parents wouldn’t let me around you, huh?”

She chuckled. “That’s a hard and fast rule. Even though I’m not an omega yet, I’m not allowed near alphas.”

“Well, thankfully, I’m not alpha yet.”

She smiled and turned back around. “Yeah. Thankfully.” She reached a small red convertible Mercedes and pulled out a set of keys. Dean’s eyes went wide as she popped the trunk and set her backpack in the trunk. “What?” she asked when she noticed the look of shock on his face.

“You...this is your car?”

“Yep! It’s a hand-me-down. It was my mom’s first. Dad bought it for her when she got pregnant with my brothers. A station wagon or a van would’ve been a better choice, of course, but she made it work.”

Dean walked around it. “1980 Mercedes-Benz 280SL. Wow...Euro import with the flush headlights and bumpers. It’s beautiful. You can drive a stick shift?”

“Of course.” She shut the trunk and walked over to the driver’s door. “Get in, Dean. Unless you have a problem with riding shotgun.”

“In a car like this with a girl like you? No problem on my end, sweetheart.” He smiled as he pulled open the door and settled into her passenger seat.

She smiled as she turned the key in the ignition. “Only man I’ve ever had in this car was my dad...he wouldn’t let me drive my own car because the idea of a woman behind the wheel was just too much for him.”

“Sounds like a jerk. No offense.”

She chuckled. “Well, he’s just an alpha, ya know. That’s how they are.”

“Well, I’m not an alpha yet, Y/n, and I think you belong behind the wheel.”

She bit her bottom lip and maneuvered the transmission into first, easing off the clutch and rolling out of the parking space. As he watched her drive, he suddenly wished his father would never come back so Dean would never have to leave. He shook his head when he realized he’d essentially just wished for his father’s death over a pretty girl. He’d never had a girl grab his heart and soul so quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips

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#cassie writes stuff #a/b/o dynamics #high school #teenchesters #dean x reader #spn fanfic #spnabobingo

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