#debbie can step up and give him a kick up the ass that he needs without being judgemental about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gallavictorious · 3 years ago

Text

Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It / Rewrite

Right, so fix-its aren’t so much my jam, but there is this one weird, weird, weird thing that I’ve (so far) been unable to meta into any sort of sense. Namely, Mickey looking like that in season 11 while apparently not working out. It’s just… uh… he… what? At one point I hypothesized that he’s been bitten by a radioactive spider or the like, leaving him magically super buff, and to be honest, that’s still the most reasonable explanation I can think of, soooo…

Today I'm back at my nonsense to bring you, everyone and especially our dear @gallavichthings, 2,711 Very Serious words about Mickey being a secret superhero. Well. Except for the hero bit.

Read it below or on AO3.

---

In Which Mickey Milkovich Does Not Save the World

Afterwards, he would always refer to it as the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell, but the truth is that Mickey never saw the thing that got him.

He was going about his business (namely poking around the Gallagher basement for any forgotten shit he could sell for beer money now that all the cash from the wedding had been surreptitiously replaced with I.O.U:s) when he felt a sudden, sharp pain just above his ankle. Cursing up a storm, he desperately waved his foot around and lost his balance and stumbled straight into one of the many piles of boxes that littered the basement. By the time he was back on his feet whatever creature that had dug its nasty little teeth/pincers/claws into his tender flesh had scurried off, leaving Mickey with a throbbing ache and a halfway impressive puncture wound on his left leg.

Muttering darkly about fucking Gallaghers being so used Frank they didn’t know how to keep goddamned monster vermin out of their shitty house Mickey limped up the stairs to pour some Jamison on the wound, and then pour some down his throat because he had the bottle out already so he might as well. He borrowed one of Franny’s colourful pirate-patterned band-aids, and when his nosy as fuck ex-EMT of a husband asked about it later that evening Mickey said he’d dropped a can on his foot, it’s just a scratch, man, no you don’t need to take a look at it, just put your fingers back in my ass, please.

Mickey didn’t make a habit of lying to Ian, but he figured that telling the truth would lead to all sorts of questions about why he was in the basement and having to come up with plausible explanation for that when he should just be focusing on getting railed wasn’t part of his plans for the evening. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Ian, who’d been getting so worked up over money lately, to distract him with that sort of unimportant stuff while they were banging. Mickey was a considerate spouse.

Thankfully, Ian dropped the subject and proceeded to do his husbandly duty. Mickey went to sleep deeply satisfied.

He was almost as satisfied the next morning when he woke up to realize that the pain in his leg was gone, as were all traces of the wound itself. Mickey had always healed pretty fast, but this was quick enough to have him questioning whether or not he’d really been bitten/stung/whatever at all. Maybe he’d had more beers than he thought and imagined the whole thing… ?

It didn’t really matter, and if that had been the whole of it Mickey was likely to soon have forgotten all about the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell. However, in the next few weeks he started noticing stuff, weird stuff. For instance, it wasn’t just the (possibly imagined) bite/sting that healed far more quickly than normal; it was all the little cuts and scrapes he tended to acquire. A big bruise from running into the table while playing with Franny; faded to nothing the next morning. A cut from the razor; gone within the hour. For the first time he could remember, Mickey looked at his naked body in the mirror and saw not one single wound (though there were still scars aplenty). It wasn’t a bad thing, per se, but it was weird.

Then there was that thing with his muscles. Mickey had been in decent shape for most of his life and whenever he got locked up for extended periods of time he made a habit of hitting the gym on the regular. Really wasn’t much else to do in the joint, and having a decent bulk reminded the other inmates that you weren’t someone they could push around; letting people know that you could beat the shit out of them often meant you didn’t have to actually do it, which saved everyone a lot of time and energy and trips to the prison quack. But on the outside, exercise wasn’t very high on Mickey’s list of priorities, meaning he tended to slim down a bit after a while in freedom.

Not now, though. Almost a year after being out of prison, and he was still as built as ever; if anything he seemed to be developing more muscles, in spite rarely engaging in anything more taxing than vigorous fucking. (Okay, so there was a lot of vigorous fucking, but still. If anyone ought to be building their biceps from the sex they were having, it should be Ian.)

Mickey didn’t mind being inexplicably ripped, though. He felt great, looked great – and Ian seemed to be pretty into it, too. Then again, Ian seemed to be pretty into Mickey whether he wore dirty clothes, sported a beard, sported a dress, or hadn’t showered in a week, so maybe that wasn’t saying a lot.

But even given all that, maybe Mickey still wouldn’t have thought too much about it (he was, after all, very busy being on his honeymoon, which required lots of determined sleep-ins, dedicated beer-drinking, and – obviously – lots and lots of banging) if there hadn’t one day come a knock on the front door. At first he ignored itm in the hopes that someone else would get it, but when it became apparent that a, he was alone in the house, and b, whoever was at the door wasn’t giving up anytime soon, he grabbed the family baseball bat (even big soft ass Larry would react to Mickey opening the door with an extremely illegal gun in hand) and went to answer the insistent knocking.

Outside stood two women, looking an unsettling mix of sober and apprehensive and eager. One of them reminded him vaguely of Angie Zago; the other was taller and darker and quite possibly brooding.

“Can I help you?” he demanded, not quite as rudely as he might have. He didn’t think they were social workers, but one never knew; they’d been checking up on Debbie and Franny ever since Debbie pleaded guilty to statutory rape.

“Mr. Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich?” Not-Angie inquired in a polite sort of tremble.

“Who’s asking?” Mickey demanded, feeling a little thrown by the use of his full name. The only people who pulled that out was law enforcement, and neither of these ladies had that feel about them. Especially since they seemed to be… excited to meet him, which wasn’t a reaction Mickey was used to getting. Particularly not from ladies looking like they ought to be out collecting for the fucking Red Cross.

They better not be asking for donations for the Red Cross.

“I’m Tania and this is Dreamweaver,” Not-Angie said. “Can we come in? It’s really best if we talk in private.”

Mickey didn’t move. “Dreamweaver? You kick your mama too many times in the kidneys before you were born or something?”

The women glanced uncertainly at each other. “Mr. Milkovich,” the one improbably called Dreamweaver began, but Mickey cut her off:

“You with the police?”

They quickly shook their heads. “No, we— “

“You here to give me money?”

“No, you see, it’s— “

“Okay, thank you, bye.” But as he moved to close the door, Tania – displaying more spunk than he’d have given her credit for – took a step forward and blocked the entrance.

“Have you been experiencing any strange body phenomena lately, Mr. Milkovich?” she blurted. “Wounds healing very quickly, perhaps, or increased muscle mass?”

Mickey stilled, eyes darting between the two women. Small, small smiles on their faces now, as if they knew they had him. There was a hint of hunger to those smiles, making Mickey feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable. The urge to push Tania back and slam the door shut was strong, but…

“Fine,” he said at long last. “Come on in.”

They better not be fucking cannibals either.

---

They called themselves The Guardians, and they wanted him to save the world.

Mickey asked what numbers they were talking and, after getting bored of their uncomprehending stares, clarified: “How much is it gonna pay? What’s my cut?”

Dreamweaver frowned. “You mean… money? As in a… salary?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s my salary?”

“Mr. Milkovich, saving the world is a higher calling and a duty, it’s not something that– “

“Uh-huh. So, just to be clear, you’re not gonna pay me?”

They weren’t. Mickey laughed in their faces, stood from the couch, and told them bye and good luck with that and don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.

They reasoned with him. They pleaded. They explained, again and again, that after the evil society USCH destroyed The Guardian’s headquarters in a devastating attack, the two of them–and Mickey–was the only thing standing between the world and utter destruction. Surely, he must understand that it was nothing less than Fate that had brought the one remaining Bestower Bot into the Gallagher basement and his path? Admittedly, injecting Mickey with the bio enhancer might have been the result of a malfunction – Tania and Dreamweaver had found the bot dead down the street a couple of nights ago – but didn’t he see that he had been called to serve as a warrior in the fight against evil?

“Yeah, no thanks,” Mickey told them, and then he picked up the bat and waved it around until they took the hint and left.

When Ian returned home a few hours later, Mickey carefully didn’t mention the curious visit or any of what Tania and Dreamweaver had told him. Ian was pretty into saving people and had all these lame ideas about service and honor, and Mickey found it more likely than not that his husband would both be upset that Mickey, rather than Ian himself, had been called as a warrior (it’d be Lip and West Point all over again, Mickey just knew it), and demand that Mickey answer the call and run off like some loon to get himself killed by evil technomancers.

Mickey didn’t particularly feel like dying and he didn’t like the idea of hurting his husband’s feelings either, so he kept his mouth shut and skillfully derailed all of Ian’s attempts at asking about his day by giving him a blow job, teasing him about being a grunt, and allowing himself to be wrestled to the floor when Ian decided he’d had enough of teasing. It was a good evening.

As he lay in bed that night, back against Ian’s chest and with those strong arms wrapped around him, Mickey wondered if it would be worth risking Ian’s reaction by going public. Okay, Tania and Dreamweaver had mentioned how he’d probably gotten a pretty small dose of the bio-whatever-the-fuck, lending him nothing more exciting than enduring muscle mass and enhanced healing, but that should probably be enough to turn him into a cut above the rest, right? He could hire himself out to the highest bidder and make a fortune doing private security or collections or stuff like that. Fuck, he’d even consider taking on jobs for The Guardians, if they just agreed to pay him.

It was a fun thought to play with, but in the end a long life in the shadows made Mickey wary of putting himself out there like that. Besides, he’d seen enough movies to know that it’d probably wouldn’t be long before he mysteriously disappeared to some secret government facility to be experimented on. He’d had enough of the state’s hospitality to last him a lifetime, so thanks, but no fucking thanks.

And that could have been it. Should have been it, but of course Tania and Dreamweaver wouldn’t leave well enough alone. They started showing up at the Gallagher house at all hours, whenever they knew they could get Mickey alone. They accosted him on the way to the Alibi, they sat down next to him on the L, and they left him pictures of puppies with little notes saying stuff like “Only YOU can SAVE him from BURNING. Have a HEART”.

It was exhausting. Fearing the retribution of the cartel hadn’t anything on fearing seeing Tania and Dreamweaver’s disappointed-yet-still-somehow-hopeful-and-terribly-determined faces appear in a crowd, or round a corner, or on the porch when he went out for his evening smoke.

Mickey began to lose sleep. He’d spend the nights tossing and turning, which led to him staying in bed half the day to catch up on much needed rest, and he was often so tired he couldn’t bring himself to put on proper clothes or go outside the door the whole day.

Ian was on his ass about getting a job; he didn’t get that Mickey had a job, and that job was not getting lured into sacrificing his life for the greater good. If Ian didn’t like the prospects of being a prison widow, how offensive wouldn’t he find the prospect of being an actual widower, after his husband got blown to bits by some big bad villain?

It got to the point of Ian initiating a sex strike to force Mickey to get “a real job”, which struck Mickey as really fucking unfair, considering how all he was trying to do was make sure Ian even had a husband to refuse to fuck.

Enough was enough. Something had to be done. Fortunately for Mickey – and unfortunately for Tania and Dreamweaver – Mickey had a guy for everything. As annoying as The Guardians were, Mickey didn’t have the heart to see them killed, but he figured that having them kidnapped and shipped off to some sweatshop on the other side of the world would serve the same purpose. He felt a little bad about it, sure, but he had given them plenty of chances to fuck off. Not his fault they couldn’t respect a fucking boundary.

Mickey called Johnny, told him the score, and a few night later Johnny called Mickey to tell him it was done.

It was done. Over. Mickey would finally be able go about his life in peace again, giving all his attention to his husband and doing his outmost to make him the happiest man alive every single day, even when Ian was annoying as hell and started asking pointless fucking questions about how Mickey was in such great shape even though he never did as much as one single curl up.

I see. So… you’re telling me that you have secret superpowers.

Yeah. Except, not actually secret anymore. ‘Cause, you know, you told me we shouldn’t have secrets.

… yeah, that was three months ago.

Guess it must have slipped my mind, huh.

Must have. But let me get this straight: you couldn’t get a real job because you were busy dodging secret agents, and your muscles are the result of you getting bitten by some magic robot—

Radioactive motherfucker bug from hell.

—and not you sneaking down to the basement to do weights and cardio almost every day?

… oh.

Yeah, oh. Carl told me about it, asshole. He noticed you using some of the stuff down there. Don’t get why you’d wanna keep that a secret though?

…

Mick. We have to be honest with each other, remember?

Jesus Christ, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.

Okay.

Guess the first time was back when you had that dip a couple of months after the wedding. Few times after that, if we had a fight or whatever and I needed to let off some steam. Then you started working and sometimes I got bored watching TV all day but you were all mopey about your shitty job and me not having any and you have this thing about your body—

I don’t have a thing about my body.

—so I didn’t really wanna rub your face in me having all that time to work out when you could barely squeeze in dozen push-ups in the evening. And I guess I didn’t really want anyone to know that I… cared, or whatever.

Cared? About what? Being healthy? Looking good? Being strong?

Whatever, man, I told I don’t fucking know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause it was a radioactive motherfucker bug from hell that did it.

Of course it was. Come here. Show me what that bio enhanced body of yours can do.

---

Ahahahahahaha, would you look at that. I tried to meta it anyway. 😭😭😭

You might reasonably ask about Mickey’s visit to Kev Fit – how does that fit? WELL, I rather imagine that whatever Mickey does in that basement is enough to keep him fit but still not SUPER hardcore? So when he starts worrying about Ian thinking him weaker than, he decides to take it up a notch and do it properly in a real(ish) gym? And his comment about “not remembering how much working out sucks” is part of the whole “not wanting anyone to know this is something I care to do on the regular”… Yeah, it’s pretty weak. All in all, I’d say the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell is still our best bet. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is probably the last time I have one of them tell the other a story this week, but I make no promises. These little ficlets don’t tend to go as planned. (Ha! She said, as if there was a plan to begin with. Oh, well. I guess it’s working out so far.)

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #ficlet #my stuff

37 notes · View notes

megaera-of-pigeon · 4 years ago

Text

Volume 2 but more chronolgically:

Nikki and Momo return from North where they’d wound up at the end of volume 1 along with Ace and Kimi. They go to Apple where they bid Kimi farewell because she has to stay and work there. Kimi gives Nikki a ring before they part.

Ace, Nikki, and Momo go to the Ash Institute of design where the 9 days war took place; they are looking for clues about King Sayet’s designs because they believe that Nidhogg posses something designed by him and they think that is a potential clue to the plot. They find a special mysterious symbol that is present in some of King Sayet’s works and believe it to be important. The principal of the school mentions Bobo had been there to look at King Sayet’s designs.

After their stop at the school, they decide to go to Bobo’s hometown because they miss her and are concerned :( They learn she and her mother are both missing from their home, but they find several letters Bobo had written to her mom that remained unopened, and deduced that Bobo didn’t know that her mom wasn’t there the whole time she was with Nikki.

They find a design in Bobo’s house that has the same special symbol that King Sayet had in his works! Using that, they discover information related to The Enlightened, and Ace narrates that story for them about the king who wanted peace, but when he was murdered placed the blood curse. They decide they need to get more information about this so they head to the Lilith capital to talk the the casket fairy that the royal family has since they guessed it would know the truth behind the legend, being old and associated with royalty and all. Conveniently, Royce sent someone to fetch them just as they were thinking of going to see the casket fairy.

Ace gets a carrier pigeon and has to peace out.

They meet up with Royce (it actually seems that our chapter picks up the scene literally the day after the Tree of Memories hell event lore with Royce and Neva takes place so refer to that for more on those two). The casket fairy gives them more information about the Enlightened and leads them to a chest that belonged to King Sayet. They open the chest via styling battle and see a phantom of King Sayet that gives them a cryptic directive to find “three paths” and unravel the poem in the rosebud

This is where our most recent chapter ends so I’m not sure how long until our actual storyline catches up with the rest of the volume. If we remeber back to chapter 1 of this volume, it picks up Nikki’s quest for King Sayet’s (three?) relics/designs that we learned about in chapter 6. I think ultimately the three items might be these objects?

I still don’t know where Ransa comes from. The Iron Rose had been disbanded by Elle for failing to get adaqute results on finding Sayet’s relics. Ransa is now with Nikki but they’re traveling to City Oren to talk with Elle because Ransa thinks that will help Nikki’s quest for these relics.

Nikki gets arrested by Elle when she goes to Pigeon to ask her questions because Elle is obsessed with finding the ‘final secret’ of the relics and the Rose casket and she believes Nikki has that answer.

Nikki is not aware of that answer.

Ace has to break them out of the palace and reveals that Elle is her sister. They put together some more clues: Sayet had been imprisoned in Pigeon Kingdom’s monastery for some time and is said to have seen the secret of the blood curse. He wrote a ‘poem’ on the wall that Nikki had seen, one they referenced a ‘destined girl’

Ace declares the Iron Rose reformed and makes Nikki their leader. Ransa, Debbie, and Mela show up and join her too. Now that that’s settled, Chloris is waiting to see Ace so they decide to go to the forest.

Nikki Momo and Mela were waiting on the edge of the forest away from their group for some reason. They get lured into the fog and wind up meeting a kindred child named Kyle. They were supposed to go find a girl named Rachel who guards the epic of the forest but Kyle tells them about this girl Elaine who also knows shit. They go to see Elaine. Elaine lets them look at her book the Memory of Time and they read some nonsensical stuff about the blood moon and a frigid dragon 🙃 not like a prophecy or anything.

Part of what they need to craft King Sayet’s relics is something called ‘elven star” and their clues plus Elaine’s book now point them to the stars’ reflection (or, lack thereof) in Lake Bovaly. Time to go to the lake of super happy fun times :)

Meanwhile, Ransa, Debbie, and Ace find Chloris and also realize Mela, Nikki and Momo are missing. They go talk to Rachel who says her sister Elaine had seen them—Elaine is in the Shadow City, and the only exit has been sealed for a thousand years

Nikki and Mela and Momo realize they’re actually in the Shadow city and are in trouble. But happily, Chloris lifts the thousand year old seal so they can get out (provided they change into a cute outfit first). The kindred are free and threaten to start a war again, o no wonder how that will end. Wonder if Chloris will have to mobilize the furries.

Chloris is very weak from lifting the seal and then Cesare biting him so the next morning they look for information to help him recover. Before they can do that they’re attacked and Chloris has to use the rest of his magic to protect them. He faints into his infamous coma. [unclear how he is walking around and fighting in the upcoming war for our hell event as they don’t solve this. Maybe he just needed a nap]

As Rachel and Elaine are trying to help Chloris, Nikki and the Iron rose put together more pieces about this elven star—Nikki believes it’s referring to Sayet’s technique of embedding memories into clothing. (My guess is Nikki will rediscover this technique and utilize it to create the Star Sea out of her memories of her friends in Miraland after the apocalypse event happens, which is where we get that cool SN video).

They can’t wake Chloris. Debbie suggests they go try to wake up the sleeping dwarf elder who is the oldest living being and probably knows how to help Chloris. Debbie also mentioned he’s connected with one of the relics and my guess is it’s that frangipani the dwarves gave to Nikki at the start of our last hell event lore. We didn’t get to read the story of what happened before our event started but that’s what I would predict.

Before they can get going Nikki is pulled into an illusion by Xiao zong who appears and starts on his whole “noooo Nikki don’t be the savior it’s so haaaard to take on the sins of the universe just give me to secrets instead” [at this point he makes Nikki ‘live’ the 9 days war via illusion which was the story we played during the Steps of Sorrow hell] Nikki won’t agree to give over the relic so they style battle. Nikki is getting her ass kicked.

The ring given to her by Kimi waaaaaay back at the beginning of this that was originally made by Sayet starts to glow and gives Nikki major stats boosts. Nikki defeats Xiao Zong. The world goes black. This is as far into Nikki’s story that we have accounted for, except perhaps in hell events that I didn’t realize took place after this point.

MAJOR TAKEAWAYS: The main goal for Nikki in this volume is to discover the secrets left behind by King Sayet through his designs/his three infamous ‘relics’. She also discovers a connection between Sayet’s work and the True King/The Enlightened, the originator of the blood curse, who happens to be running around in Bobo’s body right now. There is also some connection between Sayet’s work and the secrets of the elves/Kindred, although since our 1,000 benchmark of when shit last went down big time with them was *before* the curse of blood was placed, the connection likely has to do with Sayet utilizing elf magic or elf techniques to create his designs, while also connecting those designs to the secret of the blood curse. At different points it’s mentioned that Nikki is looking for his designs/relics, but then I believe she finds his design(s)? somewhere between where the two sections of the volume are blurry, or potentially in a hell event, and it’s a recipe she has to craft—which turns into looking for ingredients to craft said designs by the time she gets to v2ch1. The hope is by completing the cryptic quest left by Sayet, she will uncover the secrets of why North went to war, why Elle and the other participants in the 9 days war are losing their memory, and how to save Bobo from demonic possession. And while I personally adore a story that takes a nontraditional approach to its narration, boy is it ridiculous the amount of legwork required to actually get a handle on this timeline.

#long post #love Nikki lore #love Nikki volume 2 #if anyone is interested I do recommend reviewing the chapter stories because they’re actually more interesting now #that we’ve sort of got a better sense of how they’re all working!!!

91 notes · View notes

peel-a-potato-with-a-potato · 4 years ago

Text

So I binge read Invincible

What a trip of a story. Gotta say, I’m really hoping Amazon doesn’t screw it up, but what I’ve seen of the show so far seems to be a good update. The comic came out in 2003 after all, so there’s some parts that don’t hold up well 18 years later.

The ending wasn’t to my taste, but it was mostly satisfying. Spoilers if you keep reading beyond here.

The comic makes gratuitous use of time skipping, usually because of Mark being very vincible (yes, bad joke, don’t care), at several points. The worst ones for me were the 3 or 4 months he spent with his father and brother healing from a stomach wound and the 5 year skip after the “reboot”.

And oh boy do I have thoughts on that reboot. Some mysterious entity we are never given any further information on traps him in a cave and sends him back to being 17 with no powers on Earth. He proceeds to do everything in the most efficient way he can before giving up to be with his family. And then he’s back, but 5 years after he left. Was he really in the past or was that entity just messing with his mind? And did it really take him 5 years to process those few weeks? Or did he get brought back to the wrong time? Was that thing vengeful and wanted to rob him of what he wanted for disobeying it? And after that little section is over, we never hear about that thing again.

And then there’s the deaths of Oliver and Nolan. Both were mostly well done, Oliver died in battle (sure he would have wanted it that way), and Nolan died with his favorite son present. Or least favorite, it’s hard to tell at some points. And both were well used catalysts into propelling the story. Oliver’s death convinced Mark he had to act against Thragg. Nolan’s death put Mark in control of the new Viltrum Empire, and in direct opposition to Robot. I refuse to call him Rex. Rex Splode deserved better than that.

Through the whole series, I didn’t trust Robot. From the beginning, I had a bad feeling about him, and when he was revealed to be a human, Rudy, that pretty much cemented it for me. A genius who relies entirely on logic, even when they have an emotional attachment to someone? Yeah, if that doesn’t scream trouble, I don’t know what does. Putting his brain in a jar and leaving Immortal in charge seemed like the best option.

But that also brings up the question of why he left Immortal in charge at all. Having been brought to the future by two people working for Immortal just so he could get his death, don’t you think Mark would have remembered that? Would have known the pain he would cause his friend? Or was there really no better option? It does provide continuity, answers why Immortal was in charge, and I guess prevents a paradox, which is all probably why it was done. Mark doing that knowing what would happen though, it’s probably the most Viltrumite thing he does in the series, cold and devoid of human emotion. Mark does have a habit of disagreeing with his allies at times, and sometimes that leads to what feels like betrayal.

Even Allen got the short end of that stick, with the Viltrum Empire spreading peace at the end, Allen’s coalition fell apart. And Mark makes some good commentary there that definitely applies to Earth today. But wouldn’t you think he’d want to help Allen change the COP to make it better for those planets being exploited? That seemed to be his thing, but instead he just left them to figure it out.

Going back to immortality for a bit, let’s talk about Eve. She gets severely wounded and suddenly she becomes a god just long enough to patch herself back up. This is used a couple times, first on Eve alone, and then on herself and Mark. The first time she gives herself bigger breasts (yup, it’s a guy writing the series) and the second time Mark asks “Did you make me stronger?” while he flexes. Given that Eve was carrying their child at the time, it makes sense why he wouldn’t leave her power to kick in to replace her lost leg, but it ends up making death feel a bit cheap, the way Marvel and DC do by killing off their heroes and bringing them back. It’s really made worse when Eve dies of old age and is suddenly in her 20′s again. “Guess I’m immortal” my ass. If she’s just going to keep doing that, eventually she will outlive Mark’s thousands of years and she’ll be just as lonely as Immortal. Feels like they didn’t think the ramifications of that one through. I do enjoy the fact that Eve is always, and I do mean always, the one initiating their intimate moments though. A woman taking charge of her sexuality is nice to see.

And then there’s Marky. Poor Marky. Left alone on Earth with an adoptive human father while Mark ignored him because of his rage at Marky’s mother. Debbie steps in to help, and it’s clear Mark still has some contact with his son, but he’s definitely not going to have the support his father did growing up, even if he is the new Invincible. Why on earth would this poor half abandoned child take the name of the father that clearly doesn’t want to take much interest in him? I get it’s a carrying on the family legacy kind of thing, but it gives me weird vibes.

For all my griping though, I have to mention Cecil. Almost a perfect foil to Mark’s black and white thinking. Cecil only sees in shades of grey. No matter where someone’s actions put them in Mark’s eyes, Cecil always sees them as a force to be used to his own ends. Cecil’s need to protect people and his search for peace align so perfectly with Mark’s but because of his way of looking at the world and lack of superpowers, he contrasts so perfectly with the hero of the story. I disagree with Rudy that Cecil would have been okay dying to get the world brought about by Rudy, but I’m not really sure how to put those thoughts into words just yet.

But the ending in general, while neatly wrapping up most of the plot threads (looking at you tentacle entity from the reboot storyline), feels a bit too much like a happily ever after. Now that’s personal taste, but honestly, if they’d just ended it with Mark taking over and saying he was going to leave Earth with the Viltrumites on his mission to help the universe, I’d have been a lot happier leaving the rest up to the imagination. Instead, we get flashes of this race of near gods forcefully bringing peace to the universe and we end with another vaguely satisfying callback.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the series and I’m honestly tempted to read it again to get a better idea of the callbacks and setups we see. The perspective on some things might be different now too, and that’s always interesting. I’m very much of the opinion that if you love something, you should be critical of it. And there’s a lot in Invincible that seems like doing something just to make the story work. I can’t tell if that’s just because of the medium or if it actually makes sense given that Mark is an alien, so maybe I would need to read it again to figure that out.

#Invincible #Invincible comic #Mark Grayson

31 notes · View notes

one-spidey-boii · 5 years ago

Text

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch. two

read chapter one here

masterlist

an; welcome back y’all. thank you to all who have read so far, even tho it’s only chapter two. i’d love to hear your feedback! enjoy!

**italics indicates flashback**

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.2k+

edie's pov

so that's spiderman? seems like a fun guy, i think as i walk through the dark alleyways so i don’t draw unwanted attention to myself. it's late and i'm navigating my way home, still thinking about my run-in with the red and blue clad boy. it's easy to tell he's young by the sound of his voice, leading me to believe he’s twenty at most. that doesn't bother me of course, as i too am considered young for a crime-fighting vigilante.

i turn the last corner before reaching my street and sigh with relief at the sight of my apartment building. the light in my window is off, aiding in the illusion that i'm asleep so my mom doesn't come in while i'm away on my semi-nightly adventures. just before i can touch the brick stones of my building as i pass by, a mechanical swoosh comes down and picks me up off the ground. i let out a small yelp and quickly find myself placed on the roof.

"hey, wolfie." mr. stark says as he walks out of his iron man suit. i let out the breath i was holding and turn around to face him. i offer him a small smile and take my hood down.

"mr. stark, hello, sir."

"school's almost out, right?" before i can answer, he keeps talking, "good. i'm gonna need your help with something."

i wipe away the beads of sweat running down my forehead as i bend down to pick up my throwing knives from the concrete ground. i steady myself and focus on the tattered piece of cardboard nailed to the wall that is my makeshift target. with a small grunt, i fling one towards the center of the red dot, hitting it dead on. i continue this activity until i run out of things to throw and my arms feel like jelly. i lost count of how many times i'd hit the center of the target in a row.

stepping back with a satisfied smirk, i collect my knives, shoving them back into their rightful place in my bag or around my waist and turn on my heel to head home. i manage to take two steps before a voice stops me in my tracks.

"hey, don't walk away now, kid, the next one would have been fifty." my eyes widen at the familiar voice that often appears on my living room television. i slowly move to face the man and gulp, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, not being able to say a word.

"come on, one more. show me what you got." says tony stark, with a loose smile on his face.

without a word, i force my trembling hands to grab my favorite knife from my right boot and brace myself for a throw. my breathing is shaky as i raise my right arm and inhale along with it. i can feel the sweat running down my back as i close my eyes for a moment. don't embarrass yourself, e, i think to myself. with that i snap my eyes open and silently chuck the knife towards the target.

i missed.

"oh for fuck's sake." i groan into my hands before i remember who i'm with and freeze. i keep my head in my hands, making sure to cover my face, only gathering enough courage to peek at tony stark through my fingers.

"well, that's awkward, i won't lie," he says, looking uncomfortable, "but i think i saw what i needed to see beforehand. i'm tony stark, or iron man if you wanna get fancy." he reaches a hand out in my direction.

"edie wolfe, hi." i reply with a defeated and lame handshake. to save both of us from looming silence, he pulls at my hoodie before continuing on, "okay, ms. wolfe." he pauses to inspect my attire, "what is this? leggings? and a hoodie? kid, if you're gonna be throwing knives, you gotta expect people to throw them back at you. this isn't going to cut it." he motions to the thin fabric covering my arms and chest.

i laugh at his words, "oh hey i see what you did there."

not catching on to his own pun, he moves on again, "what? actually never mind, we have a lot of talking to do, wolfie."

ever since that night, he took me under his wing- and a week later i got a package with a brand new suit in it. one that would protect me a whole lot more than what i was working with before.

"earth to wolfie, beep beep boop," mr. stark says as he pokes me in the forehead. i swat his hand away and give him my full attention. he continues on, "so you're in? a summer at the compound, being scary and keeping bad guys away?"

i raise an eyebrow at him, "what makes you think my family will be okay with that?" i ask. mr. stark simply rolls his eyes, "i already talked to your father, need i show you the proof?" i shake my head and he nods with satisfaction.

"okay, kid. see you in a few days." he says, preparing to get back into his suit, but before he can fly away i stop him, a question looming over my head, "am i doing this alone?"

"of course not. i wouldn't leave you alon- well actually i can't leave him alone so that's why you're gonna be there," he explains with a shake of his head.

"and who exactly is this person?" i ask with my arms crossed.

"how about one friendly neighborhood spiderman!" he yells and takes off before i can say anything back.

finally, the last day of school was upon us. it seems that the ending of every school year is bittersweet, and to be honest it hasn't quite hit me yet. senior year was way lamer than everyone played it off to be. you're told that you're officially ‘top dog', but let's be real- no real credit is given until you've graduated. but hey, here's to making it this far.

i'm sitting at my usual lunch table, surrounded by peter, ned, and mj. we pass jokes around the group and take in every moment we have left of our time together, yanno, since peter is leaving. but so am i. which is something i still have to share with everyone.

"uh, hey, guys. can i be a debby downer for a moment?" i ask, clearing my throat and disturbing the light mood of the afternoon. the table quiets down and all eyes are on me. "so you know how peter is leaving this summer?" i ruffle peter's hair in an attempt to not make that statement so sad.

"yeah, edie, we know." mj says with an eye roll as she picks at her cold french fries. i roll my eyes back at her and mock her voice. i can't help but notice peter's guilty face sitting next to me, little does he know i am going to make it a whole lot more weird up in here.

i take in a big breath and hold it to up the anticipation, "well it looks like i'll be gone too."

ned drops his chicken wrap and shakes his head furiously, "nuh uh, nope. no way. sorry, e, i can't allow that to happen," he says with a stern voice. peter chooses this moment to negatively highlight my new confession, "edie, how dare you! someone needs to be here to look after the kids."

i lower my head in shame, god this was so hard to do. faking a playful smile, i try to make light of the situation, "hey, c'mon, we all know mj is the mom friend of the group."

mj shakes her head violently and protests against my statement, "absolutely not. i veto that with all of my being, ned is the mom." she insists as she points to the pouting boy. we all laugh at that before falling into an uncomfortable silence. i glance in peter's direction and try to smile at him. doing this to him was the hardest, i tell him everything and knowing full well that i can't tell anyone about my stay at the compound, it just hurts my heart. we won't be able to communicate all summer.

"my mom signed me up to be a camp counselor...at, uh, a self-defense camp." i panic at the last second, realizing i never thought about what kind of camp i would fictitiously be a part of. the whole table bursts out into laughter.

through short breaths and a hearty laugh, ned pokes fun at me, "edie? teaching children how to kick someone's ass? look at you, you're like a soft pillowy little marshmallow." i stick my tongue out at him and cross my arms.

"hey, i wouldn't shut down the idea too fast, remember e's dad is like, an actual fbi agent. i'm sure he's taught her some stuff," peter chimes in, coming to my rescue. i nod along and hum a 'mhm', snickering inside at how much they don't know.

once i'm home, i pack my suitcase with all the things i think one would need to stay at a high tech superhero compound. i grab all of my knives and shove them into a utility pack, along with my suit.

my parents know where i'm going, and lucky for me they’re okay with it. well, at least my dad is.

my father, sam wolfe, works for a hidden branch of the fbi that trains government spies and the occasional assassin. thus being the reason i grew to be so good at combat. he would take me onto the roof of our building and have me shoot at targets and hit punching bags. we would practice for hours at a time, his booming voice critiquing my every move and decision as i worked. i've never been comfortable with a gun, so i stuck with knives and made that my craft.

i haven't seen my dad in a few months now. to 'protect' me and my family, we weren't allowed to know where my dad was going or why he had to leave in the first place. once mr. stark came into my life, he and my father became close, putting his trust in mr. stark to watch out for me whenever he was gone.

my mother on the other hand, she hates everything about it. she’s afraid of the world and all the things that lurk behind closed doors. when dad isn't around, we aren't allowed to talk about anything related to knives or fighting or tony stark. and for my nine-year-old brother's sake, i oblige.

pulling my bag onto my shoulder and lugging my suitcase through the hall, i meet my mother and brother in the living room. she meets my eyes with her cloudy ones and closes the distance between us with a strong hug. i chuckle at her before wrapping my arms around her plump frame.

"mom, it's okay-" i start, before she cuts me off, "shhh, edie. let me have this moment."

i shut up and continue to embrace my mom. i know this is hard for her, but she needs to understand that this is an amazing opportunity for me. i'm being put in charge of the avengers compound for the entire summer. i wish i could share this excitement with my dad, but i know he's happy for me, wherever he may be.

"edie, promise me you'll come home if you can't handle it. no one is going to judge you for that. you're only eighteen. i can't believe your father is letting you do this." my mother rambles as she pulls away from me. i smile at her and just nod my head.

my little brother looks over in our direction with a shy smile on his face. i ruffle his hair and pull him to me for a quick hug, "take care of mom for me, booger." i whisper into his ear. he gives me a simple nod and backs away.

my phone buzzes in my pocket. i pull it out to see a message from mr. stark.

'beep beep, i'm here'

i sigh and look up at my mom one last time, "that's my ride." she lets a single tear stroll down her cheek before wiping it away and shooing me out the door.

once out of the apartment, i lug my suitcase down the three flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. mr. stark is pulled up to the curb in his fancy black car. he rolls down the passenger side window and yells at me through it, "time to party, wolfie."

i stroll to the car and pull the back door open to throw my stuff down. then i hop into the front seat and look at mr. stark, "you know, you could have come in."

"yeah, well we all know your mother doesn't like me very much. i don't wanna poke the bear," he says as he pulls his sunglasses over his eyes and revs the engine, "let's get you to your new home for the next three months, shall we?"

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines

55 notes · View notes

naturaldisasterfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

I stayed a few more days in Barbados before I rushed back to London, I needed to recuperate my thoughts still. I needed some peace and downtime, Barbados is the place for that, some inner peace before I throw myself into work and get my life in order before I can’t step outside. I feel sick, I am saying feel when I was sick twice on the jet, I don’t feel good at all but I need to gather myself before landing because I have a meeting to attend to as soon as I land in London. I am feeling a little better, more positive as I learn to accept my situation and learn the fact I will be a mother, I don’t have long. I keep saying this but because I haven’t prepared my work schedule is long and now I have to shorten that, I just want to be on my last months and be relaxing, I just can’t believe I am going to be a mother, I will be someone’s mother, will my child be proud of me. Will they love me, will they think their mother is the best, can I be the best mother, can I be like my own mother. Nothing else matters, like everyone’s opinion of me does not matter if my child doesn’t think I am good, I am shocking myself for feeling this way when I called it a mistake but it’s really making me have these types of feelings. I just can’t believe I am pregnant, I am more than overwhelmed but I hate that I have to somehow tell the world about it, like I would want to keep this a secret forever but then I want to show that my baby is not a mistake either. I have to really get my head in gear, my mom is with me like a bodyguard which I don’t mind at all, she is the best “you know what, everything is going to be ok. Cardi B is a step mother to three other kids, offset had I think like three others, so it’s ok you know. Everything will be fine” dragging my eyes away from the jet window and at Jen “sorry, what are you insinuating?” staring at Jen, what is she talking about “that this set out is ok” staring at her in confusion “are you working or thinking of me? Are you trying to say Chris and I are together now?” Jen laughed “well, I don’t know but I am trying to make you feel better bitch” Jen is a whole trip, acting like I am getting with him “I am nobodies step mother thank you, girl. What is even on your mind Jen!” I shouted at her.

My shouting woke my mom up, she fell asleep “oops” ducking my head down “if Mel were here she would agree to disagree, Debbie. I said nothing wrong” I wish the bitch was here, Mel stayed behind to stay with her family for a while which I don’t mind but I miss her already, she will join me soon on this trip “I am not going to be with him even though I was sad, I am not going to get the whole baby daddy thing. The whole loving thing, I am just going to be on this journey on my own, but I think Chris I are pretty set on our way. When speaking to him it was weird because all he did was stare at me with puppy dog eyes and he did what I said but he has so much mess, so I think with us it will be about the baby if Chris learns to listen so you wrong. I am not a step mother” I pointed at both Debbie and Jen “right, let’s skip a year. Coming up it will be baby big head first birthday party. This is just a scenario, the party is happening, and Chris asks can his daughter and son come, which are half of your child. They will be siblings, even though I have a feeling you both will be disagreeing a lot. What are you going to do, things like this will come up?” Debbie is right, this will come up so how would I even handle that “it’s hard, I know how people dislike him in my camp. Not you guys but there is still some that don’t like him. I wouldn’t want his mom involved either way, the Joyce I see is not what I remember, she is very controlling in terms of I will have the kids but she is not telling him you had sex, you had the kids so you deal with it. She seems to like I don’t know; I am just looking outside in; she just accepts his behaviour this is why he doesn’t learn. She can visit like any grandma and that is it. I wouldn’t shut everyone out, but I need to control my setting” I am just talking right now “you are confused aren’t you? Didn’t think of that one did you” shaking my head “I say, if Chris is playing ball. He is being the best baby daddy; he is active, and all is well. Let the siblings meet with you there unless it’s going to be baby passing?” furrowing my eyebrows “huh?” Jen be coming out with words “like you give him weekends and then he passes it back?” I scoffed “no way, I will not do that. That is my baby!” I spat “if Chris and I work out how I hope then I will not be silly, I will let them see the baby and I will try and allow it. I like my life controlled, like now. How nobody knows things, letting Chris in can just create a gap where people can see in, we will see” there is so much to think about and do.

Jen and Debbie has put scenarios to me and I need it, I think I need to be aware and think of what is around “ok, I have come up with another one” Debbie clicked her fingers across from me in the car going to the apartment “what are you girls doing?” my mom asked confused “we are putting scenarios to Robyn to see how she will react, she is failing Monica” putting a finger up at Jen, she is annoying “ok, the child is three and Chris wants the child to spend Christmas with him?” I groaned out “no” I said straight up “you need to go to court bitch” Jen spat, and I just screamed out laughing “take your ass to court, you are playing now. I know you just being childish” she pointed at me saying as I laughed “you girls need to take it more seriously now; this could all be true. And you, you need to know you may need to give and take, give my grandchild the stable life” here comes the fun police, my mom is not playing “I know, we are just joking” smirking at Jen, she is stupid that girl “what are you going to say to Roc Nation? That you knocked up now so peace?” nodding my head, that is a good thing “pretty much, see you when I see you but it’s there. I love music and I would go back to it and someone asks for a feature I’m there, period. It’s going to be about me and my baby, it has to be. But the answers I am saying now will change, I just need to put things in perspective and just get on with it. I will need you girls to slap me and tell me to sit when I am doing too much because I am going to be working so hard, I need too” that is my priority right now, my empire needs to be ok before I can just leave it to the side “Fenty baby clothes” Jen said pointing at me “girl no, let’s not do this, I have enough on my plate!” I don’t need more even though it is a great idea.

That reminds me I need to make a doctor’s appointment, walking into my apartment “seriously, the mess? Rorrey, come on” they use my apartment and just make it a mess, stopping abruptly and turning around “Jen, can you make me an appointment. The Portland Hospital, it’s the most private and the best. I did my research, the queens here have it there. Make sure it’s on the low, you know” Jen nodded her head “I will get on it, I am like so excited for you. I am more excited then I was for my own kids” Jen is cute “woah, mom is here? What is the event” Rorrey said behind me “the event is seeing the mess you made of my place, not heard of trying to clean” Rorrey gave me a hug “I didn’t know when you would be back, I would have cleaned of course” I guess so “did you get the memo then bitch?” Ja rolled his eyes “I got the memo and then came back around, what is it you want to tell moi? You ditched the meeting for the clothing?” hugging Ja “mhmm, I have some news. Rorrey, mom. Sit your bitch ass down then” pushing at Ja “I could be in France right now, the schedule is so off now” he huffed out as he sat down on the couch “we will catch up, this was important and I had to go. Thank you for filling the place for me, I know you had to guess what I would like and so on, so thank you” Ja held his wine glass up “you are my queen” watching Rorrey sit down, Rorrey is very much more over protective of me then Rajad, he acts like he is my older brother because he feels he needs too, I am a little nervous to tell him such a thing, Rajad was easy to tell because he barely cares.

My mom is here so I have my bodyguard, she will be here taking up for me on the corner. I am feeling it now “so bitch, what the hell?” Ja said, Rorrey is making me nervous “erm, so I have some news for you both. This is something that has to be kept in house but of course, I trust you all. My circle, so yes. I flew to Barbados, unexpected of me. I fainted after the meeting with Seth for the Clara foundation, which is not like me at all. Melissa pushed me to get checked out, I did” clasping my hands together “the doctor took my blood and he came back, he told me that I am pregnant” Rorrey’ reaction is totally different “you said about a donor but I thought you was joking? What do you mean pregnant? Out of thin air?” licking my top lip, this is not the tip of it and he’s kicking off now “chile, you really having a baby? Oh my god. Well a congratulations are in order!” Rorrey put his hand up at Ja “when people have sex things like that can happen? It’s not a secret” Ja needs to shut up “I am talking to my sister” Rorrey said unamused by it all “you need to remember she is older than you, so you better show some respect. She has a father” my mom said to him “I am asking a question, so why now? How is that even logical. You hanging with Drake, so you’re his second baby mother? Come on now, I didn’t even like Hassan because you were going to end up being one of his six wives. Why can’t you just behave. So, you fucking with Drake again? You admitted to the world you don’t like him but having sex with him, how foolish is that. I just want better for you. You deserve it” looking at my mom “I am pregnant and that is all you need to know” this is what I need to get used too because the Chris part is going to cause a breakdown “so the baby has no father? You know how much I hated not having a father around?” I groaned out “Rorrey, you’re getting on my fucking nerves! Support me!” I shouted “I always do! I am always supporting you and your lifestyle, I just want you to find a man and settle, now you are pregnant by who? Drake, that is why you are shying away from it, ashamed to be his second baby mother” Ja is looking in horror, he has worked it out. Ja is not stupid at all, he knows already “I love you Robyn, just wanted better for you” this puts me in a dilemma to tell him, but he will eventually find out “I know the father” I said, looking at Ja and he is laughing which is annoying.

“Chile” overhearing Ja “you the fucking dad? What is funny?” Rorrey said, Ja pulled a face at him “who is it then? Am I right? I’m over it now” he waved me off “Chris is the father” Rorrey is still waving me off before rubbing his face “I mean come on Rorrey, we were all at that party” I might as well tell him the truth, it’s going to come out “Chris Brown, wow. You just continue to improve, you know what. Ja is right, I mean come on. I was there, I saw it all. I saw the happiness on your face, the enjoyment. You were feeling yourself with him, I was stupid to not think that. Fuck me Robyn” he got up from the couch, Ja held up three fingers at me “fuck you” turning to Rorrey “he doesn’t know and for now that is all it will be, until I can work out things. I was going to get rid of it, I myself had a meltdown and then I found out that possibly my baby has a heartbeat and I can’t do it, no matter who the dad is, that is my baby. It was one night, it happened and now I got a blessing. Like mom said, no I haven’t thought of what other’s reaction will be because I want just my family to know” Rorrey nodded his head, he is not impressed “you’re just like the gift that just keeps on giving, from sperm donor, to Chris Brown that gives his sperm out like it’s water” Rorrey put his hands up “the donor doesn’t sound so bad after all but” he paused “you’re my sister and I will be here for you, and the baby” that is all I wanted to hear “we need to support Robyn in this, if we can’t uplift her then who will” my mom said “I guess it’s congratulations, I am happy for you” Rorrey walked over to me, wrapping his arms around me “just no man is good enough for you, you deserve the world Robyn and this baby will be loved, uncle got it” I chuckled, Rorrey doesn’t deem many men good enough for me.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

eddiemoonson · 5 years ago

Text

Rant about the episode? Rant about the episode. (Or maybe not, I never know how long these will be until I finish typing. And I'm on the app so I can't put under a cut because idk how. Sorry about that)

It's not that I liked or disliked this episode specifically. I'm disliking the whole season. I had a real hard time with this show this year and you know when someone/something hurt you somehow and you becomes wary of them? It might have been unintentional but you can't help it, you're afraid is gonna happen again so you just steps away? That's me and Shameless rn.

About 10x08: I confess that I thought it would be worse, but in which sense, I'm not sure. They have been treated so unfairly with their scenes cut short or cut out entirely that I was afraid that their fight was going to look unsatisfactory and disjointed. It wasn't like that, it made sense, it felt like old shameless, when the show used to give me feels.

So they fought and it was bad and made sense and I think that's the root of my issue with this episode. To me, specifically, it feels out of place within the season? It was like a throwback and if I wasn't burned by the show to the point of having to emotionally distance myself from it, I'd have enjoyed immensely. It bothers me that I couldn't bring myself to do it. Their proposal scene was beautiful, the scene with the Milkoviches was a little funny because of the two guys legally married for 9 years just so can't testify against each other (I still think it needs more Mandy and Iggy but what can you do? And Sandy is just meh to me, I don't understand her character at all: she's a lesbian, she announces it in front of Terry and stands up for Mickey and yet she grabbed his cousin's junk, alluded to previous sexual stuff they might have done together, said they were not related and acknowledged he's gay 2 seconds later? I mean ?????? But Terry can fall from the face of Earth for all I care, what else is new?). Their second lunch date was cute and again, the proposal was beautiful. Ian saying "I trust you" out loud was more important to me than him saying "I love you", if I'm being honest.

The fallout was intense and in character. The acting was amazing, I wish again that Shameless could offer Noel and Cameron the opportunity to be recognized by the industry, their performances, given the chance, are breathtaking. I didn't like the punch at all and they could have written in Cameron's injury in a different way but it is in character? Mickey was raised in violence and it's hard for him to process negative emotions (in s3 he was shooting in those abandoned buildings after 3x666 and he punched and kicked Ian after; in 5 he was drinking a lot; Debbie even said "you can't drink him away") and yes, he's grown a lot, but recover isn't linear and all of that, I guess.

I still resent the basic reason for it, though. Both Ian and Mickey are told that married couples can't testify against each other and they both get this advice when they seek for it, it's not an information they get in passing, they're trying to find a way to protect the other because they both believe the other is a murderer.

But they don't hash things out, don't come clean that they're doing it *right at the moment* mostly to protect each other. Because that's their best option then, it's kinda of their last resort. It wouldn't kill for them to say "I want to marry you and I wish it could be under better circumstances but we're running out of time and we need to cover our asses fast". Maybe because I go out of my way to explain stuff in details just to avoid any misunderstanding, this rubs me off the wrong way (and also because I have zero patience for this trope, it's been done over and over again and I'm tired of it). The fact that both of them are sure the other killed Paula also bothers me. Why? If Ian was manic, well, we've seen him put a knife at Kenyatta's throat and threaten those church homophobes. So, manic!Ian might be capable of murder but Ian is completely fine in his illness department right now. And Mickey was raised in violence and crime but the closest he got to actually murder someone on screen was Sammi. So why they believe the other is capable of pushing someone out of a window? (The fact that they believe the other can be a murderer but are completely okay with it is the same bullshit shameless always tries to sell as comedy but isn't funny at all, in my opinion). Then, in the courthouse, when they find out it wasn't any of them, they could stop and reassess and realize that yes, marriage is a thing they both want but it doesn't have to be now and it doesn't have to be like this. They have time. But I guess a fight is better? 🙄🙄 This episode was this season's curve ball so far, imo. They had screentime, development, sweetness and heartbreak. It feels strange to me because they've been denied that for half of the season.

I've said time and time again that all I wanted for them was to live in peace but they always get the short stick, it's disheartening. I guess we have to wait and see what else they have in store for them. I hope they continue with the raised bar. Hm.

Tl;Dr: I don't feel Shameless with the same intensity I did before which is both good and bad. But I think it was a good episode, which in itself, is a novelty this season.

#long post #it's a long rant lmao #shameless spoilers #now I'm late for work

12 notes · View notes

starksnack · 5 years ago

Text

My best bab @withstarryeyes and I did a fic swap. She wrote the dialogue and I based a story around it. Hope you like it C!! Thanks to @wing-heads for the beta

Starting Over From The End // Stony // 2k //TW: Bullying, Blood mentions, vague mentions to past homophobia // Read it on AO3

Tony Stark was not new to the ‘getting the shit kicked out of him’ club. He lay on the sticky tile by his locker, praying for death and cheeseburgers as Justin Hammer introduced his fancy Louboutin sneakers to Tony’s million-dollar smile. It was just another Thursday he decided as the fluorescent lights blinked in and out of his vision.

“Dude, what the fuck? Get away from him.”

And there was Captain Perfect Ass here to save the day with his earnest blue eyes and coconut-sized biceps. With hair spun of gold like Midas had felt his head up, Steve Rogers yanked Hammer away from Tony, dark brows pulled over his stormy eyes.

“It’s fine!” Tony rolled his eyes, flopping onto his front to push himself up. If Hammer didn’t beat the crap out of him now, he would just come by and do it later. Tony didn’t have time in his plans to reschedule his weekly bullying. There were no fucks left to give. “Just leave it.”

Hammer was just upset that Howard had recently scored a military contract for Stark Enterprises that Hammer Industries had been gunning for. He’d probably get over it within the week and find something else to beat Tony up for. It was a dance that Tony had long since gotten used to considering Hammer’s parents could pay off the school, and Howard didn’t care enough to get involved in Tony’s life.

“You heard the nerd,” Hammer sneered, brave enough to go toe to toe with an absolute unit like Steve. Even Tony didn’t have the balls to face the peak of male perfection. “Just leave it.”

But of course, Mr. Big Blond and Busty refused to relocate himself and his massive rack. Tony sighed, pulling himself to his feet just as Steve was pointedly saying, “I will not just leave it, move away before I make you.”

Wrong thing to say. Tony leaned against his locker, recognizing the fury in Steve’s eyes. He’d had that look directed at him once upon a time. He grabbed his mechanical physics textbook out of his locker, slamming the door shut with a resounding crack that had both Steve and Hammer looking up.

Quick to get back to intimidation mode, Hammer balled his hands into fists, thumb on the inside. Maybe those weak punches would work on a runt like Tony but on someone as bulky as Steve? Hammer was about to end up in the ER with broken bones and split knuckles. Karma was a bitch.

“You’re gonna make me leave?” He taunted before turning and thumping Tony in the chest in what looked passably amicable. “We’re friends, right nerd?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, pain pulling at his abdomen. He was sure to have a painting of purpling bruises across his pale skin tonight, but he didn’t need Steve fighting his battles for him. They hadn’t been on the same side for a long time. “Right.”

Steve, always quick to be the righteous asshole in the room, planted himself like a tree and stood his ground. “I said leave.”

“Fine.” Hammer rolled his eyes, shooting Tony a dirty look that promised more pain later. Great, maybe Bruce would let him hide out in the supply closet he used as a panic room for the rest of the week. Tony blew Hammer a sarcastic kiss as the asshole left with a “bye, dweebs.”

Steve turned to watch him go and Tony took that as a cue to turn the corner while he was distracted and sprint down the hall. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Steve Rogers, the asshole that broke his heart just as senior year was starting. They were so close to graduating and then Tony could avoid his perfect pale ass like nobody’s business from the comfort of his dorm room at MIT.

The squeaking of shoes down the hall told Tony that Steve was in hot pursuit, but like a gazelle fearing for its life and delicate feelings, Tony sprinted down the hall fearing for his life and delicate feelings. He turned a corner into the stairwell, headed to the parking lot where his car was haphazardly parked in the back of the lot.

Shit, the exterior door was locked. It was part of Principal Fury’s new initiative to cut down on smoking. What a Debbie Downer. Tony thumped his head against the metal door as Steve slowed to a stop beside him.

Double shit. The stairwell was empty. If Steve really were here to break his heart a second time, there would be no one to hear Tony’s screams as he died of embarrassment. It was probably for the best, he was told his screams resembled that of a dying bus fighting a chain-smoking leaf blower.

“Are you hurt?” Concern was not what he expected, but it was better than an all-out yelling match. Tony took a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing as he really thought about if he was hurt or not.

There was a lot to be hurt about. Justin Hammer using him as a punching bag, Steve breaking his heart eight months ago, the impending end of life on earth as they marched closer to oblivion. Tony shrugged. It could be worse, at least he was here, in high school. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, well,” Steve scratched the back of his neck, a hopeful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Tony immediately beat down the butterflies fluttering in his rib cage with a bug zapper. “I have to meet Nat. Would you like to join?”

“Uh… no.” Nat was one of the friends Tony convinced himself he didn’t want to keep in touch with after Steve left him in the dust to pursue popularity and football. Tony didn’t want to be tempted to ask their mutual friends about how Steve was doing so the only person he didn’t push away, on pain of death, was his science bro, Brucie-bear. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. But would you tell her I said hi?”

“No,” Steve said firmly and Tony resisted the urge to flinch back. With a firm hand around his wrist, Steve led him out of the stairwell and further away from freedom. Tony resisted the urge to let out a sad sigh. “But if you come with, you can tell her yourself.”

Tony frowned. This almost seemed like an olive branch. He wiped his wet mouth, feeling a twinge of pain as his fingers came away bloody. He had to look like an absolute mess. “I can’t stay long.”

“Didn’t expect you to.” Steve smiled, blue eyes bright as the sky and deep as the ocean as he passed a glance down Tony’s body. It wasn’t the kind of checking out that Tony wanted though. Steve was looking for injuries. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

“It’s not anything I can’t handle,” Tony shrugged. He passed a hand across his stomach without wincing. He deserved an Oscar for that alone, Hammer was brutal when he was jealous.

“If I take you to meet Nat and you’re bleeding like that she’s gonna think I caused it.” Steve eyed Tony’s split lip pointedly, digging a tissue out of his bookbag. “Can I?”

Wiping blood off his lip was a surprisingly intimate move. Wasn’t Steve worried he would catch cooties or some immature bullshit like that? Tony hesitated, waiting for the punchline. “...Alright?”

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you?” Steve had an earnest expression written across his features, so Tony decided that maybe his ex-best friend wasn’t out to get him today.

“Sure.” Tony sat down at a bench by the bathrooms and Steve sat beside him. He was silent as Steve carefully wiped the blood off his chin, focused in a way Tony had never seen him before.

Without warning, Steve grabbed the hem of his shirt and before Tony could stop him, his AC/DC graphic tee was being lifted to expose his bruised midsection. Steve made an angry noise, almost like a growl, in the back of his throat as he splayed a hand across the hard ridges of Tony’s stomach. “Who was that guy?”

Tony ignored the way Steve was feeling him up, too tired to fight and make a sexual innuendo that would surely have Steve running for the hills. “Didn’t you hear him? A friend.”

Steve’s brows were pulled together, blue eyes almost black with fury as he fixed Tony with a hard glare. “He’s not your friend.”

“No shit…” Tony rolled his eyes, painfully yanking his shirt away from Steve’s grip. He stood up before Steve could reach for him again. “But he’s not much of a bother. I mean, he’s not usually that bad.”

Steve rose to his feet, heading down the hall. He got a couple of steps away, before turning and gesturing for Tony to follow. With nothing better to do, Tony complied, running down the hallway to catch up. Steve’s voice was dark as he asked, “What’s he usually like? Too dumb to hit a moving object?”

“Nah,” Tony shrugged nonchalantly as Steve pulled open the door to the Sports Med room. “Just too large to catch me.”

Steve nodded, grabbing a plastic bag off a shelf and filling it with ice. Dispensing a handful of paper towels, Steve held it to Tony’s stomach, careful not to press too hard and hurt Tony further. They sat together in the comfortable silence of the classroom, looking out the window together at the cars in the parking lot.

Steve smelled the same as always, like Irish soap, bike polish, and the American dream. Sitting in the empty class with him, Tony was reminded of that time they hid in an empty classroom for hours, hiding from their friends and an aggressive game of Would You Rather? They had spent hours sitting together, talking about nothing. The sports on tv, the recent bumfuck election, their futures.

Clearly, Steve’s mind was on the same train of thought because mumbled words were falling past his lips, almost too scared to break the comfortable silence. “I... don’t you miss this?”

“What, getting beat up?” Tony asked sarcastically. Steve was the one who threw their friendship away. All because he got beefy and decided he was too good to hang out with a fairy like Tony.

“No..” Steve’s perfect brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to get all his thoughts together. Tony knew the feeling. “Us getting along. Not having it be so hard all the time to just…”

“Get ourselves into trouble?” Tony suggested, just to be an insufferable asshole. It was nothing compared to how shitty Steve had made him feel.

“Forget it,” Steve sighed, frustrated as he looked toward the door.

“No!” Tony could swallow his pride enough to admit he missed Steve. Missed their late-night adventures in the woods, missed skinny dipping at the community center after hours, missed pizza picnics in the park and truth or dare, and sharing cotton candy at Coney Island. He missed Steve so fucking much it hurt. “I mean, uh, yeah; I miss this. A lot.”

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Steve’s voice was quiet, tentative in a way that Tony had never heard as he looked up at Tony with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Is that an apology?” As far as apologies went, Steve honestly could have done a little bit better. Though Tony had already forgiven him. Probably since the moment he stepped up and stood up for him against Hammer.

“No,” Steve stumbled over his words, an admittedly adorable blush spreading across his face as he looked up at Tony through dark blond lashes. “I mean kinda. But there’ll be more.”

Tony grinned at Steve, bright as the sun, heart swelling as Steve hesitated before smiling back at him, just as happy.

“It means… maybe I’m willing to see what the apology is.”

#tony stark #steve rogers #stony #stevetony #marvel #superhusbands #starksnack writes #I love c #withstarryeyes #softboitony #fic swap #together

39 notes · View notes

foreverwayward · 6 years ago

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 1 Chapter 1: It Runs in the Family

Summary: As Sam and Dean begin the search for their father, a chance encounter with another hunter will change the roads ahead. Riley Munroe is a hunter, raised by her father after her mother tragically died when she was only six months old. Brought together by loss, grief, and the family business, Sam, Dean, and Riley join forces. They’ll find that their stories are intertwined and lean on each other as they search for answers and to avenge those they’ve lost. They’ll face evil, darkness, and hell itself…as a family.

*NEW SERIES*

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 9,763

Content Warning: language and violence

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

A black 1965 Mustang hummed down the road as the sign ahead read: ‘Welcome to Lawrence, Kansas’. The driver window was down and ‘Bad Company’ played on the stereo. The autumn air was rolling in and blew through her auburn hair as she inhaled the fresh cool air. Riley had one hand on the wheel and the other in the golden hair of the canine co-pilot that laid peacefully in her lap. She would never make it alone in the endless hours on the road if she didn’t have Finn by her side.

Riley was a simple girl. At 22, she’d been through more than anyone should ever have to endure in a lifetime. Though her face was young, her aged soul showed. She was mature beyond her years, in both the best and worst ways. She always tried to appear a little rough around the edges. How jaded she was still showed, but she lived with her heart as her compass; that’s how Dad raised her.

She wasn’t tall by any means. Being under 5′5″ didn’t give her much of an edge, but she never let her smaller stature stop her from anything. “You don’t need to be a man to kick ass,” Dad used to say.

Riley smelled of her favorite black leather jacket that she always wore along with the only perfume she ever used. A simple, silver ring on her right hand, that she never took off, glistened in the light. It the only thing she still had left of her mother.

It was always so good to come home, she only wished was under better circumstances. Riley tried to brush off the thought that evil had come to her hometown and focused on the quiet roads. Every time she came to town, it felt as if she had never left. Nothing ever really changed in Lawrence, but that was one of the best things about it. Small ‘mom and pop’ shops lined the street and the trees had begun to softly litter the ground with colored leaves.

She couldn’t wait to get to Debbie’s. It had been too long since her last visit with her aunt and the idea of home brought warmth to her chest. But first, Riley wanted to stop by the local florist to pick up Deb’s favorite flowers.

She knew lilies always made her aunt smile.

Riley slowly pulled into a parking spot before bringing the car came to a stop. She pat Finn on the head. “Be right back, buddy.” The sleepy pup laid back down on the leather seat and fell back into a blissful sleep as he waited for his best friend. Closing the door behind her, she began to walk towards the shop.

A husky voice to her left spoke up and caught her attention. “That’s a great car.”

Riley turned to the stranger to see a tall man in a brown, worn leather jacket. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he stared back at her as he leaned against a gorgeous, black, classic car.

A smirk curled up on his face and Riley smiled back. “Thanks. I can say the same for yours. That’s a beautiful Impala–a ‘67 right?”

Clearly impressed, his smile grew and a spark lit up in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. So, you know your cars, huh?”

She walked closer to him and crossed her arms as the cold breeze hit her. “Dad was a bit of a grease monkey. Cars were something he could never shut up about.”

At a closer glance, Riley saw his hypnotic hazel-green eyes and the small freckles that peppered his face. His hair was a shorter, sandy blonde and fit him perfectly. His full lips caught her eye and she had to force herself not to gawk at him. But she still took a brief moment to notice how his jeans hugged him just right.

The stranger let out a throaty chuckle and said, “my dad too. Looks like we were raised right. I’m Dean by the way.” He reached his hand out for hers and she took it in return.

“Riley.”

Her name struck something in Dean and he was instantly captivated. Her piercing blue eyes stared back at him and for a second he was lost in them. Something about her was intoxicating.

“So, you from around here?” he asked.

“Yeah. Lawrence is home–just came in for a visit.”

“Same.” He grinned at the beautiful woman in front of him, trying to play it as cool as he could. Riley instantly made him nervous, but in a way that made him want to ride out the high she gave him.

Dean couldn’t help but take in every part of her; the way her stray hairs blew around her face, how she curved in all the right places, and how her smile was something he wouldn’t have believed had he not seen it for himself.

“Well, I gotta run an errand and get going. It was nice to meet you, Dean.” Riley began to walk away, her boots softly crunching the leaves beneath her.

Dean didn’t want her to go, he had to get to know her. Somehow he knew, she was something special.

“Hey, Riley!” Dean called out as he jogged to catch up to her.

She turned to him with a smile, trying to hide how glad she was that he didn’t just let her leave.

“I’m gonna be in town for a bit and have some time to kill. Would you maybe want to get together later? Dinner?”

Riley’s heart fluttered as she tried to calm her excitement. “Sure. Do you know Debbie’s Diner?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Best burgers in town. They make a mean apple pie.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Wanna meet me there around seven tonight?”

Dean flashed a smile that made her weak in the knees. It reached up his face and made the corner of his eyes crinkle.

“It’s a date” Dean replied.

She smirked back at him, revealing dimples that he immediately fell for, “see you then”. Riley turned to walk away, making sure to saunter just a bit to keep his attention.

Dean couldn’t help himself as he watched her walk into the florist shop. She was a knockout.

Filled with anticipation for the night to come, he hopped in the Impala and backed out of his spot. Dean wished he didn’t have to wait another minute to see Riley again. But with a grin on his face and a fire in his eyes, he eagerly imagined the night to come.

------

Grabbing her duffel bag and the new flowers from behind her seat, Riley got out of the car.

Finn jumped out right behind her. He was wagging his tail with excitement knowing exactly where they were.

She walked to the back of the diner and went through the employee entrance. A small break room, that looked more like a family room, was warm and simply decorated. Couches, a TV, a coffee table, and a rug took up most of the room.

Riley pointed to the sofa and Finn hopped on. She briefly rubbed his ear and walked into the back entrance of the diner.

As she took a step onto the tile, the familiar smell of Debbie’s pies filled the air. The hiss of the fryer in the background making her famous fries made Riley’s mouth water. The soft music playing overhead reminded her of all the time she spent in that diner while growing up.

She took a deep breath and let out a sigh as she whispered to herself, “home.”

Riley saw Debbie and quietly crept up behind her. “Surprise!”

Debbie let out a small yelp and turned around. Her eyes widened and her smile grew too big for her face. “Riley!” She embraced her niece tightly and didn’t want to let her go. Riley was the daughter she never had and Deb missed her so desperately when she was gone that it hurt.

After a moment, she let go and gave a small tap to the side of Riley’s head. “You scared the crap outta me.”

Riley chuckled. “Sorry, Deb. But...I come bearing a peace offering.” She handed her the lilies and Deb knew she could never stay upset with her.

“Oh, honey, I missed you so much. I didn’t even know you were gonna be in town. Why didn’t you call?” Deb asked.

“Well, I came in for work and thought I’d surprise you.”

Debbie’s joy fell a little knowing exactly what ‘work’ meant. She hated what her niece did. The job had taken her whole family from her and the idea of losing Riley made her lose sleep at night.

Suddenly, Riley could feel the pain swell in her aunt. It turned her stomach and she felt fear, worry, and sadness all at once. She was left dumbfounded, unsure of what was happening.

“This isn’t the life I wanted for her. Why can’t I convince her to stay?”

Riley froze realizing that Aunt Deb never spoke a word. She was rattled, unsure of what had happened. "Did I just...hear her thoughts? Feel her emotions? No. That’s not possible,” she thought before shaking it off and blaming it on exhaustion. She had been driving for a full day; of course, she was tired.

“Well, I gotta get these into a vase. Make yourself at home, but don’t think I won’t put you to work later.”

Riley chuckled, “yes ma'am. Uh, Deb? Do I smell fresh--”

“You and your pie,” Deb cut in. “I’ll grab you a slice.”

Riley grinned from ear to ear and gave her another hug. She took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of fresh food and her aunt’s vanilla shampoo, one of her favorite scents. “I’m so glad to be home, Deb.”

------

Dean was nervous and it had him on edge. He wasn’t used to the knots in his stomach. He was good with women and he knew it. But Riley was somehow different. She did something to Dean and he was dying to find out what that was.

He let out a heavy exhale and ran his fingers through his hair. Getting out of the car, he straightened his jacket and headed towards the diner.

“It’s just a date,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just another date.”

He opened the door and a soft bell jingled. Dean didn’t see Riley and was happy that he had gotten there before her.

There was a sign that read: ‘please seat yourself. We’ll be with you shortly.’

He found a booth in the corner and sat down on the red padded seat. Fiddling with his hands and looking out the window, he was hoping she wouldn’t blow him off. Dean had been looking forward to seeing Riley again since the moment she walked away.

A familiar and appealing voice spoke out that brought him back into focus.

“Hey, glad you made it.”

He looked up to see the same big blue eyes that he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t made Riley up in a dream.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Dean replied.

“Want a beer?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

Riley walked away and went behind the counter.

Dean watched her with his brow arched, confused as to why she was just helping herself. He saw Riley grab two bottles and pop them open, bringing one to her lips and taking a sip as she came back.

She put the bottles down and sat across from the smile that gave her butterflies.

Dean looked at her and chuckled, “you know, they don’t like it when you serve yourself.”

She tried to stifle a laugh while taking another sip from her beer. “I probably should have mentioned, this is my Aunt’s diner. This is kind of like my home.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense. I was thinking you might just be a little wild,” he smirked.

“Oh, honey. You have no idea.”

Dean’s eyes widened at her response as he bit his lip. Her confident banter was beyond sexy and made her only that much more enticing.

Debbie walked to the table and pulled a pad and pen out from her white apron. “Hey, Riley. Want to introduce your friend?”

“Of course. Aunt Deb, this is Dean.”

Dean shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma'am.”

“Ma'am? Damn. When did I get old?”

They all let out a small laugh. Debbie took a moment and a look of recognition came over her face. Though she thought she might have known the boy, she didn’t want to embarrass Riley and ask too much.

Debbie pushed aside the thought and asked, “you kids wanna order?”

Dean motioned to Riley for her to go first.

“Just the usual, Deb. Cheeseburger and fries.”

Dean loved that she didn’t order a salad or something ridiculous and tasteless. A woman who appreciated good food was a turn on all on its own.

“And for the handsome one?” Debbie asked looking at Dean.

Riley rolled her eyes and pulled her lips together. Of course, Deb would say something like that.

Dean looked down and let out a shy laugh. Turning back to Deb, he gave a soft smile and said, “I’ll have the same.”

“Coming right up.” She shot the two a wink and quickly returned behind the counter as she tucked her pad away once more.

The two were finally alone. There was a moment of silence where they just smirked and soaked up being together.

“So, tell me about yourself, Dean,” Riley said in a calm and flirty tone.

“Well, uh--I’m from here, I have a little brother, I love cars and I may have a slightly unhealthy obsession with classic rock.”

Riley laughed and replied, “I’m the same way. I’m a sucker for when music was actually good, ya know? Def Leppard, AC/DC, Guns 'n Roses, Led Zeppelin…I have too many favorites to name.”

Dean couldn’t believe his luck. She was literally the perfect woman. “You know,” he said coolly, “Not a lot of girls are into all of that. I’m pleasantly surprised.” He took a sip from his beer with a flirty brow.

“Well, Dean. I’m definitely not like most girls.” Her smirk was trouble and he loved it. “My dad and I were always listening to music together. It was something that we both loved. Some of my best memories are of us belting out our favorites during our long drives.”

“Sounds like you and your dad are pretty close, huh?”

Riley’s eyes cast down and her face changed. “Dad, uh--he passed away about a year ago now.”

Dean saw the pain in her face and felt guilty for even asking the question. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks--definitely miss him,” she said choking on a lump in her throat. Riley downed a large swig of the beer, put it on the table, and fiddled with it in her hands trying to get out of her head.

Riley needed to change the subject. “What about you? You close with your parents?”

Dean sighed and wasn’t sure how to explain his relationship with his dad. God only knew how complicated that was. “Uh--dad and I are kinda close, I guess. He raised me and my brother--mom died when we were kids.”

“I lost my mom as a kid too. It was just me and dad. Now, Deb is all the family I got. Well, her and Finn.”

“Finn?”

“Finnick--my golden retriever. Kinda my partner in crime. He’s in the back–can’t have dogs in the diner.”

Dean let out a soft chuckle.

They got lost in conversation, talking about anything and everything. He made her laugh, and she needed that.

Riley loved that he thought she was funny and his laugh was genuine; it ran up her skin like a warm hug.

Time stopped and the two of them let go of the world for just a little while.

After the burgers and fries were demolished and multiple beers were downed, Debbie stopped by the table with two pieces of fresh pie.

Dean’s eyes lit up. “Oh God, yes,” he mumbled with anticipation as the smell wafted his way.

The two ate their pie and Dean finally gathered the courage to ask what had been on his mind. “So, Riley, how the hell does a girl like you not have a boyfriend?” He didn’t notice that his mouth was still somewhat full as he mumbled his words.

“And what makes you think I don’t have a boyfriend?” she teased.

Catching the game she was playing, Dean retorted, “well, I mean--you did take up an offer to go to dinner with a total stranger.”

Dean was a well trained flirt, that much was clear.

Riley smirked, finding him and his sense of humor endearing as she took a bite of the warm pie. Swallowing her food, Riley added, “well, I guess I just don’t stay in one place long enough. Kind of hard to build a relationship when you’re always on the road.”

Dean felt like she was singing his song. Somehow, she understood him. “I know that feeling all too well. Work keeps me traveling a lot.”

“What do you do?” she asked.

Careful not to reveal too much he answered, “uh--it’s a family business. We do a little bit of everything.”

Riley scoffed with a smile. “Well, that was vague.”

He laughed. “What can I say? I like to be a little mysterious. What about you?”

It was her turn to omit her full truth. “We’re kind of a family business too. Odd jobs here and there--just all over the place.”

He looked at her and felt she was hiding something, just like he was. Dean decided not to press it further though.

After their plates were finished, they stood up to leave.

Riley hugged Debbie and told her she’d be back soon.

“Be safe, sweetheart,” Deb told her niece. “It was nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Likewise, ma'am.”

“Oh, for the love of God, please call me Debbie.”

Dean smiled and put his hand out to give her some cash. “The food was delicious by the way.”

“Oh no, honey. It’s on the house. Here, I packed you a pie to go. Seems like you enjoyed it.”

Dean was all too happy with his gift. “Thank you, Debbie. I’ll definitely be back for more.”

With a final wave, Riley and Dean walked out of the diner and slowly meandered towards his Impala.

Walking side by side, they took their time with every step, not wanting to say goodnight. Normally, Dean would have already offered to take her back to his room, but not with Riley; she was different than the rest. She wasn’t just some chick he wanted to have a one night stand with. Dean wanted to see if there was something more and that thought alone was enough to terrify him.

The parking lot behind the diner was poorly lit and next to a quiet alleyway. The moon gave more light than the street lamps, but it was the perfect setting.

Dean leaned against the car and looked up at the stars. One of his favorite things about Kansas was you could always see the night sky.

Riley gazed up as well and they both sighed feeling the comfort of home.

“Dinner was great. Your aunt sure knows how to cook,” Dean said as his take-out bag crinkled in his hand.

“Yeah. She’s amazing. She seemed to really like you.”

“Good. ‘Cause I, uh--I don’t always do great with first impressions.”

“Well, you did just fine with me.” Riley bit her bottom lip, a smile showing through.

Dean let out a breathy laugh and their eyes locked. He was lost in hers and her in his.

There was an electricity between them and it was as if an invisible force was pulling them together.

Riley took a step closer to him and Dean’s free hand brushed her hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful and Dean felt his stomach flip as he glanced down at her lips.

“I had a really good time tonight, Dean.”

“Me too. I’m just glad I got the guts to ask you out.”

She laughed and replied, “me too.”

It was then that they realized the gap between them had closed. They quietly looked at each other waiting for the other to make a move.

Dean put a hand gently on the side of Riley’s face and her breath hitched. Her hands found his chest and felt his cool leather jacket under them. They inched closer, both feeling lightheaded as their lips ghosted over each other, barely touching.

A sudden, loud crash came from the alley, causing both of them to instantly pull away and look in the direction of the sound. It then went quiet, eerily quiet.

That silence was abruptly broken as a horrific, snarling creature with long fangs shot out from the darkness, ready to attack. The vampire was practically already foaming at the mouth.

Charging at Dean first, the vampire went straight for his neck. Dean absently dropped his bag and punched the creature in the face, causing him to stumble. He then shoved the monster away with full force.

Both Riley and Dean shouted to each other in unison, “get behind me!” They shared a look of confusion, but knew any questions would have to wait.

Just as the monster got to his feet to lunge back at them, two more vampires came out from the shadows behind Riley and Dean. They were outnumbered.

As Dean went for the two to his right, Riley went for his original attacker. Dean pulled out his gun, but before he could shoot, he was grabbed and thrown onto the hard asphalt, the gun falling out of his hand.

Riley unsheathed the knife from her boot and brought it up ready to fight. The creature then pinned her to the wall as they both fought for power over the blade.

A deep voice rang out from somewhere nearby, “Dean!” A tall young man with shaggy hair came sprinting into the fray with a machete ready to aid Dean.

He quickly came up behind the third creature and sliced its head clean off.

Dean grabbed his gun again and fired several rounds into one of the vampires; it fell to the floor in agony. He yelled out with worry, “Riley!” and ran in her direction.

Riley finally overpowered the creature and stabbed him in the gut, only slowing it down. She pushed him against the wall and immediately grabbed the lid from the metal trash can next to her. With all her might, and a forceful grunt, Riley plunged it into the vampire’s throat, decapitating the monster.

Dean stopped in his tracks with shock on his face.

As she wiped off the blood that had splattered onto her face, Riley turned to Dean.

All three were out of breath, not sure what to make of what had just happened.

The remaining vampire laid on the ground, groaning in agony. Dean and his partner sauntered over to it and hovered above.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” the monster snarled.

“Those are dead man’s bullets, you son of a bitch.”

Riley strode in between the two boys with that same lid, slamming it down and finishing the monster’s final breath.

There was silence once again in the parking lot as they all panted.

Dean turned to Riley. “You’re a hunter?!”

“You’re a hunter?!” she replied in shock.

“Yeah. We came into town hearing about a vamp nest nearby.”

“Me too.” Intrigued, her curiosity unable to resist, Riley questioned, “dead man’s blood?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s uh--something Dad figured out. Bullet’s dipped in the blood of a dead man. Doesn’t kill ‘em, but it’ll hurt like hell.”

“Huh,” she replied plainly while in thought.

Still catching their breath, no one knew what to say until Dean finally motioned to his partner. “Oh, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Riley.”

She looked up at the brother. He looked so young, handsome like his brother, but in his own way. He had soft hazel eyes and his brown hair swept over his forehead. Though Dean was much taller than Riley, Sam practically towered over her smaller figure.

Riley had a realization that struck her like a bus. “Wait--Sam and Dean? As in Sam and Dean Winchester? John’s kids?”

The brothers stared at each other and Sam finally spoke up with an incredulous look. “Uh--yeah. Do we know you?”

“Your dad was my dad’s hunting buddy.”

“Who was your dad?” Dean asked.

“Jackson Munroe.”

Dean’s eyes grew. “Jack Munroe? He and dad hunted together for years. Damn, he was a hell of a hunter.” He let out a heavy exhale of disbelief. “Man, I can’t believe you’re Jack’s daughter.”

“Dad didn’t do too well hearing about Jack last year. I’m so sorry, Riley,” Sam added.

Riley nodded in gratitude as she pulled her knife from the vampire’s corpse. She cleaned it on the creature’s shirt and sheathed it again. “How’s your dad by the way? I haven’t seen John in a while.”

Sam scoffed, “yeah, join the club.”

Dean scowled at Sam and then turned back to Riley. “We’re actually looking for him right now. He went on a hunting trip and we haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“It’s John Winchester. I wouldn’t be too worried,” she said. They found themselves in that familiar silence again. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I could use a drink. My aunt has an apartment above the diner and I happen to know that she has some whiskey hidden away upstairs, if you’re interested.”

“I am definitely not gonna turn that offer down,” Dean answered with a tired smirk.

While Riley dragged one of the corpses off to the dumpster, Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and turned him towards him. “That’s the girl you went out with tonight?”

“Yeah. She’s incredible. Did you see her? Dude, she’s a total badass.” He smiled like an excited kid as he tapped his brother’s chest.

Sam let out a breathy chuckle in agreeance and they both went to help Riley remove the evidence of their violent supernatural encounter.

------

The three hunters stepped into a small apartment; it was cozy and welcoming. Pictures of the Munroe family made it feel like a real home, one that neither Sam or Dean had ever experienced.

Riley closed the door behind them and a happy dog came running to her. He jumped up to hug her and she rubbed his back. “Hey, Finn. You been a good boy?”

He got down, stood next to her, and observed the strangers.

Sam bent down and Finn went to smell him. He pet him and the dog wagged his tail in appreciation.

“What a beautiful dog,” Sam told her. “I always wanted one. But, uh--Dean’s not exactly a huge fan of dogs.”

Dean gave Sam a nasty look and then shot back to Riley with a big cheesy smile. “I like dogs--I do. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Riley turned with a questioning expression on her face and Dean slugged Sam in the arm. “Dude, not cool.”

Riley went to the kitchen, grabbed glasses from the shelves, and found the bottle of whiskey stashed under the sink. Finn settled next to her chair and laid his head on her feet.

The boys went to the table and she brought everything to join them.

As Riley poured the glasses, Dean let out a scoff. “Man, what are the odds? I mean, it’s Lawrence--small town…but still.”

Taking a drink, Riley sighed as it burned in her throat. “You’re not wrong.”

Sam let out a throaty chuckle. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.”

The front door opened and Deb walked in, her apron draped over her arm as her fingers worked to take her hair out of its tied up bun.

Finn ran to greet her and she rubbed his head before looking up.

“Oh, didn’t know we were having company. Dean, nice to see you again.”

“You too, Debbie. This is my brother, Sam.”

Her eyes grew wide and Riley chuckled before telling her, “yup, Sam and Dean Winchester.” She turned to the brothers. “And yes, Deb knows all about it.”

“I knew I recognized that face. Dean, I haven’t seen you since you were a little kid. And Sam…my God, you were just a baby.” Deb pulled up a chair and joined the group. “Now that love of pie makes so much sense. You were the same way as a little boy,” she said eyeing Dean.

Dean let out a small gasp of frustration as he remembered his forgotten to-go bag. “Dammit! I dropped my pie back in the alley.”

Debbie laughed, “don’t worry, honey. There’s plenty where that came from.”

She got up, grabbed two pies from the refrigerator and some forks before bringing them to the table. “Dig in. We don’t need plates when we’re with family.”

Dean lit up with excitement and went right for the pie as Riley did the same.

“So, the Winchesters are back in Lawrence. Is your dad with you?”

“We’re only in town for the case. Dad’s out kind of doing his own thing right now,” Dean said with a full mouth.

“You boys came in for the vamp nest, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sam chimed in.

Dean shook his head with his cheeks stuffed, “mm-mm. She doesn’t like that. Gotta call her Debbie.”

Sam, being slightly embarrassed by his brother, returned to his conversation. “So, you know all about the job?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. Deb lifted a small bite of pie to her mouth, chewed and swallowed, followed by a sigh. “My brother was a hunter–cost him his damn life.”

Sadness fell over Riley’s face. She hated that her aunt still hurt so deeply. Not to mention how disappointed she was that Riley was following in her father’s footsteps.

“We heard about Jack. We were all so sad to hear of his passing,” Sam added. “If you don’t mind me asking, we never really heard what happened.”

Riley put her fork down, ran her hand through her hair as it fell back in her face and she took a deep breath.

Dean could see the pain in her eyes and put his hand on top of hers that sat on the table.

She looked at him and could see he genuinely cared. He was calming her. How he was able to do that already was beyond her comprehension.

“Dad had been hunting down the thing that killed mom for as long as I can remember. That’s why he became a hunter. I don’t even remember my mom. I was only six months old when she died. But, the night Dad died,” Riley paused as she swirled the liquid in her glass. “He didn’t tell me anything was wrong. He said 'he had to handle some business’ and went alone. I would have never let him go if I had known something was gonna happen.” Riley choked back tears and cleared her throat before her jaw twitched with a hint of anger. “God help that yellow-eyed son of a bitch if he’s what took my dad from me.”

“Wait a minute. Was your dad after a demon? A demon with yellow eyes?” Dean asked.

Both Riley and Deb’s faces went white. They looked at each other and then back at Dean as they both froze.

Debbie’s voice cracked in her throat. “H--how did you know that?”

“Because that’s the same thing that killed our mom too.” Sam’s was completely taken back as he answered her. “Dean, Jack must have been working with Dad on the case the whole time. We always knew they went on hunts together, but Dad never really talked about them.”

Deb took a breath and continued, “he was gone so much. Riley was just a baby and spent a lot of her time with me--I practically raised her. And whenever Jackson would come back home, he would teach her everything he could about hunting. I hated every second of it. Watching her learn to handle a gun when she was only in kindergarten made me sick. But, Riley wanted to be a ‘hero’ just like her daddy. I knew I couldn’t stop her, no matter how hard I tried.” She grabbed her glass and downed the last bit of whiskey, trying to stifle her emotions. "And then one day, 'Riley was old enough to hunt’,” she scoffed in annoyance. “She was just a child, but she didn’t want to be away from her father and wanted to help him find the thing that killed her mom.”

“Deb, I didn’t want to leave, but I had to.” Riley reached her hand to Debbie’s and squeezed. “You were like a mom to me. That never changed.”

Deb returned the loving gesture and exhaled.

“So, you hunt alone now?” Dean asked Riley, surprised.

“Yup. Well, Finn comes too...sometimes. He’s mostly there for the company on the rides and in the motels, but he’s saved my life a couple times. He’s the only partner I’ve ever had besides Dad.”

She reached under the table and pet the sleepy dog.

“Well,” Deb sighed as she stood up. “I have to go close the diner and clean up. Riley, you’re off the clock tonight. Stay here and enjoy the rest of your night.” She kissed Riley’s head and looked to the boys. “It was nice to see you both.”

“You too,” replied Dean. “Thanks for everything.”

Debbie gave a half-smile and headed out the door.

Riley stood to clear the table and Sam stopped her, “I got it,” he told her.

She realized that Dean had never let go of her hand. They had absently intertwined their fingers and found comfort in each other.

Riley glanced at him and their eyes locked.

That electricity was there again and they could practically feel the charge in the air around them.

Sam quickly cleaned up and then turned to see the two of them. He cleared his throat, reminding them that he was still there. “Well, I’m gonna head back to the motel. Thanks for everything, Riley. It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too, Sam.”

The brothers exchanged looks and Dean nodded in his direction as to say, ‘I’ll be there in a bit’.

Sam acknowledged the notion, pat the dog, and left.

Finally, they were alone again.

“Come on.” Riley grabbed her glass with her free hand and lead Dean to the couch with the other. He scooped up his own glass as well.

The couch was dark blue and incredibly clean. Dean was impressed with how neat and tidy Deb kept her home.

They both sat down and looked at each other.

“I gotta admit, Winchester, I did not see tonight going the way it did.”

Dean let out a throaty laugh. “Definitely not.” He searched for the right words. “You’re incredible though, Riley. You just keep surprising me.”

“In all good ways, I hope.”

She smirked at him and he felt chills go up his neck. “In all the best ways,” Dean said.

Riley smiled and took a drink.

Pausing, Dean gathered the courage to keep talking. “You were right, you know? You’re not like most girls. You’re something different altogether. …I actually don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.” He looked up and caught her eye as the charge surging between them only grew.

“Listen,” he said, putting down both their drinks. “I gotta do this before something stops me again or I know I’m gonna regret it.” Dean pushed her hair away from her face before taking her chin in his hand. Slowly, the space between them closed and their lips touched.

Riley felt a spark in her that she never had with anyone else. It was terrifying but amazing. He was amazing.

As the kiss intensified, Riley’s hands slipped behind his neck and his other hand found her hip.

They pulled each other close together and began to lose themselves in the moment. The rest of the world faded. The pain, the stress, the monsters, all but forgotten. All that existed was them.

Dean ran his hands through her hair as she pulled him close by his jacket. “I’m not gonna let this girl go,” he thought to himself before slowly laying her down on the couch, their kiss never breaking.

------

The next morning, the boys drove down the main strip of town, the sound of Baby rumbling beneath them. That Chevy was the only home Sam and Dean had ever known, the only constant in their lives besides each other.

Dean flipped open his phone to reveal a message from Riley.

‘Come in through the back. See you soon’.

A Blue Oyster Cult song played softly from Dean’s go-to cassette tape.

Sam broke the silence saying, “so, you sure you wanna see Riley after your night together? I mean, I have never seen you do that before.”

Dean knew he was right. “It’s not like that, Sam. We kissed, that’s all. And yeah, I definitely want to see her.”

Sam was pleasantly surprised by his brother’s response and nodded in understanding.

After turning off the engine, they stepped out of the car, the doors creaking behind them as they slammed shut.

As the brothers walked around the back, they saw the diner in the daylight. Memories from the night before played in their minds; remnants of blood that couldn’t be scrubbed away were still staining the concrete.

Opening the back door, the two stepped inside.

Riley was sitting cross-legged on the couch with papers, newspapers, and a map sprawled around her on one side and Finn on the other.

She glanced up, trying to not seem too eager to see Dean. “Hey, guys. Good morning.”

“Morning,” they both replied.

Dean sat on a single chair close to Riley and Sam made himself comfortable on the longer end of the sofa as he greeted Finn. The golden pup was already a fan of the youngest Winchester.

Riley sipped her coffee and nodded towards the side table. “There’s a fresh pot if you want some, help yourselves.”

Dean got up and poured two mugs full, giving one to Sam and then returning to his chair.

He looked at Riley and studied her. She was just as beautiful in the morning. Her hair up in a messy bun and glasses that were sexy as hell rested on her nose. She was wearing sweats, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and socks.

Riley didn’t even have to try to impress Dean. It happened so naturally.

“So, whaddya got?”

“Well, looks like all the attacks have been up north on the furthest skirts of town towards the city of Midland.”

Sam chimed in. “I did some digging and I haven’t seen a single attack here before the recent ones this last week. It’s so weird that they just showed up in Lawrence out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, but with the death toll piling up, and the visit from our friends last night, I’d say it’s a safe bet we have a full-blown nest now. Now where they came from? I don’t have a damn clue.”

Riley pushed everything to the side to focus on the conversation and the warm coffee in her two cupped hands. She always joked about how the smell of coffee would ‘wake up her soul’ as she was not a morning person.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Dean asked while he sipped at his warm mug.

“I say we stake it out tonight. If we think we can handle it, we go in. If not, we gather intel and we’ll regroup for tomorrow. At least if we’re there, they can’t leave without us knowing,” Riley added.

“Sounds good to me. Guess we have the day to kill,” Dean said with hope in his voice.

Sam knew where his brother’s head was at and smiled at the thought of Dean being so keen to be with this new girl.

“Well, let’s go grab some breakfast and we’ll make plans from there. I am in dire need of more coffee. I’ll go change and meet you in the diner.” Riley got up and pat her side for Finn to follow.

“Great! I’m starving” Sam shot out in response.

“Meet you in ten.”

Dean watched her disappear up the stairs, his eyes locked on her.

Once she was gone, Sam laughed.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Dude, could you be more obvious?”

“...shut up.”

------

After a day of lounging in Deb’s apartment, copious amounts of delicious food, and a couple of classic movies, it was time for the hunters to head out.

Grabbing her gear and giving a kiss on Finn’s soft head, Riley followed the boys out to the car.

Dean popped the trunk to check on their supplies while the sun set softly behind them. The sky was barely lit with beautiful orange and yellow light coming over the horizon.

Riley peered down into the trunk and was thrilled with all the different ‘hunter toys’ it held. “Oh, my God.” She pulled out a baseball bat wrapped in barbed-wire and grinned as she admired it. “This is so badass.”

Dean chortled admiring the weapon as well. “That’s actually one of Dad’s favorites.”

“Don’t think I won’t be taking a swing with this baby at some point.”

Sam let out a playful sigh. “My God, there’s two of them.”

After Riley and Dean exchanged a flirty glance, they shut the trunk and walked around Baby.

Sam went to the front passenger door and opened it for Riley.

“Such a gentlemen” she teased.

After all three were in the car, Dean started the engine and cranked up the music. “Let’s do this.”

------

Night had fallen as the Impala’s lights shut off and rolled to a stop. It hid behind some brush just shy of a rusted metal gate that led up to private property. From there, the hunters could still watch to make sure no one left the cabin on the hill.

A beat-up old van was parked in front, warm lights seeping out of the house windows.

The still night’s silence surrounded the car with only the sound of crickets chirping around them.

“Did you happen to get maps for the property? Do we know if there’s a way out on the other side?” Riley was frustrated that she wasn’t able to find them while researching.

“No,” Sam responded.

“Dammit.”

Dean saw an opportunity to get a moment with Riley and formulated a plan. He put his arm over the seat and looked back at Sam. “Well, Sammy, how about we stay here and you do recon around the property? You can come back and let us know what you find.” A look of ‘play along’ sat eagerly on his face.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure. Why not?” he said with annoyance in his voice.

Grabbing a flashlight and packing his gun into his hip, he got out of the car and tried to close the door gently.

Dean peeked his head through the crack in the window and whispered, “take your time. No rush.”

Sam rolled his eyes again and began his trudge down the road, keeping his eyes peeled.

With Sam no longer in view, Riley and Dean were alone again. They both had been hoping all day for the moment that would happen.

Riley couldn’t tell if the night before meant as much to him as it did to her. Maybe it was just a playful moment together after a fight, leftover adrenaline egging them on.

What she didn’t know was Dean had been aching to kiss her again all day as he replayed their time on the couch together again and again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Listen, at the risk of sounding like a complete idiot,” he stopped and laughed under his breath. “I really like you and I actually had a really great time with you last night. Even if it was interrupted by blood-crazed monsters.” They both let out breathy giggles. “But had that not happened, I may have never seen what a kick-ass hunter you are.”

Riley’s stomach flipped. Knowing that she impressed him filled her with pride that she couldn’t contain. Watching him in the fray the night before turned her on and she couldn’t wait to see him in action again. “Last night was pretty awesome. Definitely my most interesting date so far.”

Dean’s lips pressed together while a smile grew behind them. She looked so perfect. There hadn’t been a moment since they met that he didn’t think so.

Riley bit her lip, catching his gaze and it was happening all over again.

With heated eyes, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Their eyes shut as they were both lost in the gentle moment between them. They broke apart only to softly smile and look at each other once again, fire and hunger for the other growing with every second.

Breathing heavily and not able to take it anymore, the two crashed their lips together and pulled each other as close together as possible. And yet, it still wasn’t close enough.

Dean’s hands were everywhere; grabbing at her sides, her face, in her hair and on her neck.

Riley tugged at his shirt and pulled at the nape of his neck while the short hairs rubbed against her hand.

The two hunters were completely lost in each other, even forgetting they were on a case.

That’s when the back door opened and they both jumped to look back at Sam getting in the car.

Sam hesitated when he saw the couple. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I come back?” he asked sarcastically.

“Shut up, Sam. What’d you find out?” Dean asked trying to subtly catch his breath.

“This is their only way out. If they leave, we’ll know it. I was able to get a view into the window and heard them talking. They’re pissed about the three vamps we took out last night. Losing them apparently brought their nest down to four. They know it happened behind the diner and they plan to hit it hard.”

Riley’s eyes grew with anger and a hint of panic at the thought of Deb getting in harm’s way. “That’s it. I say we handle these bastards now. No way in hell am I letting them near my home.”

Dean loved seeing that side of her, the hunter side. She was always ready for a fight and clearly had true loyalty in her. It made her that much more attractive and he wanted her even more.

With Dean’s mind set on being at her side and raring to go, he looked to her and then Sam. “Agreed. Sam, you in?”

“Let’s go,” the younger brother replied.

The three got out quietly and grabbed their gear from the trunk. A gun on each of their hips, knives hidden in boots or sheathed in jackets, and a machete in hand.

Riley reached for the bat and studied it in her hands. She gave a fiery look that sent chills up Dean’s spine, diving him wild, while her hands tightened their grip around it.

With purpose and intensity, the three marched up the hill, ready for whatever awaited them behind that cabin door.

The remaining four vampires sat in the main room venting their anger in front of a roaring fireplace.

Thirsty for blood and revenge, one of the men with black hair and a large build hissed under his breath. “I’m not waiting. Those fuckin’ hunters took out our kin. They die tonight.”

With the rest of the nest in agreeance, they got up ready to leave.

Just as their decision was made, the door was kicked open. It swung with force and slammed against the wall. Chips from where the door met the frame splintered out.

Riley went in first, ready to lead the others. Taking large, controlled strides into the house, she swung the bat with abandon and hit the black-haired monster in the head, caving in the side of his skull. He hit the floor and Riley swung another two times ensuring that he was down, blood splattering from his fresh wounds.

Dean and Sam went in opposite directions ready to take their part in the fight. Punches were thrown and the youngest Winchester took a blow to the jaw that caused him to falter back, but Sam shook it off and charged back at the creature.

On the other side of the room, Dean faced off with a long-haired vampire in a leather vest.

As they danced around a bit, trying to corner each other, Dean looked the monster over with a chuckle. “Dude, you know, you reek of 'douchebag’, right?.”

The vested animal let his rage take over and rushed at Dean, creating the perfect opportunity for the hunter to duck away. He spun around and sliced the vampire’s head off its shoulders.

Turning around while still riding the high of the kill, Dean then removed the head of the other monster that was fighting his brother.

Riley, face to face with the only remaining creature, was met with a monstrous woman with a pixie haircut. Her teeth were bared and she snarled at the hunter.

“You, bitch! You come into our house and kill my family?”

A cocky smile grew on Riley’s face as she tensed around the bat and jested, “better yours than mine, you piece of shit.”

After a couple of swings and misses, the vampire lost her step and was met with a swipe to the side of her face. She hit the ground, blood dripping from her head as she realized she could no longer stand.

Riley took her time and walked behind her. She reached out her hand to trade her weapon for Dean’s machete. She grasped it firmly and walked back to the beaten monster who was leaning back on her hands.

Barely able to get out words the woman hissed through her breaths, “you…hunters…you’ll never win. There’s too many of us. We’ll always…come for you.”

With one final look, Riley replied, “and we’ll always be ready.” With one swift motion, the blade cut off the evil creature’s head and it thumped to the ground.

------

Baby pulled up in front of the diner. Deb had already closed up for the night and must have gone to bed as all of the lights were out.

Exhausted, covered in blood, and still coming down from the adrenaline of the tussle, there was quiet between them.

“You know, Riley, you’re a damn good hunter,” Sam admitted from the back seat. “We could use someone like you on hunts more often.”

“He’s right,” Dean added. “You kicked serious ass tonight.”

Riley sighed. “This was actually the first time I hadn’t gone on a hunt alone since I lost Dad. I guess I was always too scared to--” her voice trailed off. “I couldn’t afford to lose another partner.” Her head fell slightly and she knew that if she got too close to the boys, odds were, she would lose them too.

“Hey,” Dean said lifting her chin up softly to look at him. “Look, this job sucks. We’ve lost more friends and family than we ever care to admit–it hurts every damn day. And the thought of losing more? It’s almost too much to live with. But this ain’t a one-man show, sweetheart. We survive because we do it together.”

A small smile came over Riley’s face and she knew he was right.

Sam’s hand landed on her shoulder and her hand went to rest on top of his. “You have two partners right here if it feels right to you. We can figure out all this shit as a team. We can go after Yellow Eyes, together. We got your back.”

The thought thrilled Dean to his core and he couldn’t help but grin. “Sam’s right. So, whaddya say, kid?”

A million thoughts ran through Riley’s head while she tried to fight her fear of getting too close to anyone. There was a reason she tended to keep to herself.

“I--I need to think about it. I know you guys are headed out in the morning. So...I guess I’ll let you know then.”

Riley’s uncertainty kept her hesitant, afraid to make the wrong decision.

Both brothers nodded in agreement and a swell of comradery swept through the car.

Whatever her decision, an undeniable bond had been formed.

Leaning over, Riley planted a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. She looked at him and then back at Sam, “goodnight, guys.” Getting out of the car and swinging her bag over her shoulder, she disappeared into the back of the diner.

Dean’s eyes had watched her every move until she was out of sight. “I really hope she says yes, Sam.”

------

It was a brisk morning and more leaves had covered the streets and sidewalks of the quiet street. The mood in the town had shifted and even the air felt lighter.

Evil had left Lawrence, for the time being.

Dean stood leaning against Baby, never breaking his gaze from the diner door. He had tossed and turned all night worried that he would have to say goodbye to Riley, and he just wasn’t ready.

Sam saw the concern in his eyes. “She still might come, Dean. We’ll give her a few more minutes.” Even he was keeping his hope that the new friend he had made would be leaving with them.

Dean’s heart sank and with a heavy sigh, he turned to the door to get in the car.

As he did, he heard the soft jingle of the diner’s bell behind him. He spun at the sound and beamed when he saw her.

Riley was grinning from ear to ear, a bag over her shoulder, and a guitar case in her hand. Finn and Deb followed close behind.

“Still got room for one more, Winchesters?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean hugged her and happily took her things to put in the back seat.

Sam went to her and embraced her tightly. “You play guitar?”

“Oh, honey, I’m full of surprises.”

Riley walked over to Finn and got down to his level. With a tear in her eye, she pet him and rubbed his ears while she looked him over.

“I love you, buddy. But we’re going after something too big and I can’t risk you getting hurt. Aunt Deb’s gonna take good care of you. I promise I’ll be back soon.” She wrapped her arms around the whining dog and kissed his head. “I love you.” Tears crept up in Riley’s eyes and the lump in her throat threatened every breath she took.

Getting up, Riley squeezed Deb in a loving embrace.

Her aunt whispered in her ear while her voice broke and held back tears with each word. “You come back to us, you hear me?”

“I promise. I love you so much.”

The two tried to pull themselves together as Riley stepped away and walked towards the Impala.

Debbie hugged both of the boys and handed Dean a large bag. “It’s filled with food for the road. I made sure I packed some pie in there too.” She winked and Dean’s smile was beyond enthusiastic. He then hugged her one more time. “You take care of her,” Deb told him softly.

“Thank you, for everything. I promise to get her back to you.”

The trio got in the car; Riley, and Dean in the front again with Sam in the back.

With tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, Riley waved one more time. She had no idea how long it would be until she would be with her family again.

“I hope I made the right choice,” Riley thought as she wiped the tears from her face.

Dean backed out of the spot and headed on the road.

Finn and Debbie were right where Riley had left them as they faded in the side mirror.

Seeing her pain, Dean squeezed her hand.

Riley took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “Music?” She asked as she turned the dial.

Nothing took her mind off things like the beautiful sound of memories. That’s what music was. It was solace, it was Dad.

Bob Seger’s ‘Night Moves’ came through the speakers and it was as if Jackson had sent a message just for her. That was their song and Riley beamed knowing he was always with her.

“I love this song!” The music swept through her soul and Riley sang to the tune. “I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds. Tight pants, points hardly reknown. She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes. And points all her own sitting way up high…”

“Woah, she sings too,” Dean teased as he soaked up every beautiful sound that she shared.

“Always the tone of surprise with you, Dean. Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy. Out in the back seat of Dean’s '67 Chevy. Workin’ on mysteries without any clues. Come on, boys!”

Dean watched her as she warmed his heart. Every word and ridiculous sway she did in the front seat of his car was magic, she was magic.

The brothers chuckled and joined in as they all sang in unison.

“Workin’ on our night moves. Trying’ to make some front page drive-in news. Workin’ on our night moves in the summertime. In the sweet summertime.”

At that moment, driving past the sign reading: ‘you are now leaving Lawrence, come back soon!’ and lost in the night moves, the three of them let the weight on their shoulders fall.

It felt right, like pieces of a puzzle were slowly coming together and finally making sense.

Sam got comfortable in the back seat and Riley scooted closer to Dean. The older Winchester wrapped his arm around her as they both imagined the roads to come.

That day was the start of something bigger than the three hunters could ever have known. Call it fate or destiny, but Sam, Dean, and Riley’s lives would never be the same.

“I woke last night to the sound of thunder. How far off, I sat and wondered. Started humming a song from nineteen sixty-two. Ain’t it funny how the night moves when just don’t seem to have as much to lose? Strange how the night moves...with autumn closing in.”

Chapter 2: Bloody Mary

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester #sam and dean #spn family #writer #story #series #new #gif

263 notes · View notes

thelittlestkitsune · 7 years ago

Text

Take-Backs. [smut]

A/N; I don’t have the words to tell you how proud I am of this. All I can really ask is that you read it and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. love lau xoxo

Pairing: StuartxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: Smut.

Word count: 7,575.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HAVE THIS ON REPEAT.

Clothes littered your bedroom floor, bottles on the sideboard as your alarm rang, pulling you from your sleep. You groaned rolling over in the bed, the space beside you empty. Memories of the night before ran through your mind, the way his lips had felt on your skin. Your mouth was dry as you sat up, bruises scattered over your skin. Flashes of heat panged over your skin as you writhed in your sheets, your body stretching out knots that seated themselves deep in your muscles. You still felt embers of his hands on you, ghost like shadows of a feeling running through your body. Your head spun as you tasted liquor on your lips; eyes unfocusing as sunlight streamed through your sheer curtains. Your alarm clock blared from beside you, reminding you of your responsibilities. You lay there for a moment, clearing your head of the fog; before swinging your legs out of bed. A cool breeze hit your heated skin as you shivered; running your fingers through your tangled hair. You sighed, toeing on your slippers as you headed through to the bathroom, running the shower as you gazed over the marks he left on your skin. Scratches marred your shoulder blades, deep purple bruises accentuated your collarbones, a visible trail of the night before. A smile played on your lips as you stepped into the water, a play by play running in your mind from the night before.

Steam billowed around the bathroom as you scrubbed at your skin, nothing dampening the fire that still burned within you. Your hands ran over your legs, shivers running down your spine as you remembered the way he ripped your stockings from your body. Your lip caught between your teeth as you wrapped your towel around yourself, your body still tender from the night of drinking. Your fingers wrapped around the handle to your room, the steam and cool air rushing together as you readied yourself for work. You sat almost in a stupor as you tried to cover the marks he left on your body, your eyes glazed over as you towel dried your hair, wondering where he went to so early this morning. Time rushed by as you stood in front of your wardrobe, trying to figure out what to wear. Clouds hung low in the sky, overcast as you dreamed of curling up in bed, your head on his chest, the same way you had done for years. But nothing had compared to last night.

“Come on, don’t be such a Debby downer!” you called out, your voice barely making a sound in the packed bar. “I can’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow, we have that big meeting remember?” Stuart slurred, his glasses low on his nose, eyes glazed over as he slumped over the table. “Don’t look at me like that Twombly, you knew this would happen, we can’t just stay in the house!” You pouted as you looked at your housemate, your lips pressed together as he sighed. “Fine, one more! Then I’m calling it. Chetty’s going to kill anyway for that proposal last month.” You cheered as you flagged the bartender, your body rising out the bar stool. You flirted slightly, pressing your arms tighter against your chest, almost falling out the tight red dress you had expertly picked earlier that night. “You know he has a giant crush on you y/n-” Stuart started as you nodded, your eyes blinking slowly. “I know, but how else am I going to pay for this whole tab.” You laughed, joking with the dark brunette boy next to you. “Google pays us more than enough you know, you don’t have to flirt with him just to get cheaper drinks.” You shrugged, settling back into your seat as you leaned over to Stuart, your nose nudging against his beanie clad ear. “I know.” You whispered, your body perilously close to his as you smiled.

“How long have we been roommates now y/n?” He asked as you counted the years. “About three? Why?” You asked, gripping your freshly poured vodka and coke. “Cause in all that time you have had the worst taste in men.” He joked as you looked at him; your mouth hung open in shock. “Stewie!” You mock slapped his arm as he smirked, his cheekbones protruding further out as he nursed his drink. “You can do so much better. That’s all I’m saying.” He shrugged, his long fingers tapping against the glass on the bar. Deep down, you knew you could, hell you were looking at him. But he would never think of you that way. Even if you felt that way for him. “Well, maybe I just want to have fun-” You sighed, your mood deflating as you licked over your lips. “Hey, we have fun, right?” He joked, his elbow connecting with your arm as you gave him a lopsided smirk. “Of course, we do, even if you are a Debby downer.” You rolled your eyes as you sipped on your drink, the buzz you had deepening with every drop. “Someone has to be!” He laughed, the sound vibrating through you as you smiled. “Look, I’m going to head back home, I can already feel the hangover kicking in.” His hand rested on your shoulder, his fingertips burning into you as you nodded. “Don’t be home too late or you’re going to break another alarm clock.”

You laughed as he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek as you stared at your glass. “See you back home.” He smiled, standing to pull his cardigan over the crisp grey shirt he wore. “See you then!” You waved as he downed the last of his drink, adjusting his glasses as he left the bar. “Your boyfriend’s leaving early?” You heard a male voice over your spinning thoughts. “Not my boyfriend.” You sighed, the bubbling brown drink your only vision as you looked to the source of the voice. The bartender that you shamelessly flirted with stood before you, his eyes tracking over your skin as he wiped a towel over a dripping glass. “Well that’s a shame-” He started, his blue eyes catching yours as you smiled. “-for him at least. Name’s Alex, let’s get you another drink.” He winked as he walked away, leaving you alone at the bar, Stuart’s empty glass beside you. “To hell with it.” You spoke quietly, downing the glass in your hands. “Maybe I will break another alarm clock.”

You blinked slowly, realising half of your wardrobe was in your wash basket, your severe lack of clothing becoming apparent as you shivered. You sighed as you crossed the room to your phone, messaging your roommate Stuart as you gripped your phone, trying not to shiver. You sighed as you sent him a message, chucking the handset onto your unmade bed before heading out your room. You marched across the hardwood flooring in your hallway, your knuckles rapping on his bedroom door. When no groan came in response you tried the handle, sighing as it opened. His room was a mess, abandoned coffee cups on his desk, posters of musicians littering the walls. The same way it always was, you toed around his bag on the floor as you walked to his closet, screaming internally as his was just as bare as yours was. You glanced around, trying to spy anything that you could fashion into some sort of outfit. You sucked at your teeth as you spotted his grey shirt from the night before, groaning as you picked it up. Returning back to your room you picked out some underwear, pulling the lace bodysuit over your still damp skin. You layered his shirt over the top, the hemline barely grazing your thighs as you grabbed a black skirt from your dresser, praying that it was clean enough.

Finally dressed you checked your phone, your text unanswered as you grabbed your handbag, running down the hallway to the front door. Your hair hung loosely around your shoulders, the strands still damp as they soaked into the shirt, a darker grey patch over your chest. You groaned, your mood dipping from the mornings happiness as you prepped a coffee for the walk to work, thanking that you and Stuart lived close enough to the office. Heels did not help in the walk though, your feet burning as you walked up to the glass building, the neon lettering glowing in the overcast weather. You waved to co-workers as you made your way to your office, the do not disturb already hanging as you shook your head. You sipped at your coffee as you sidled through the door, a coy smile on your glossed lips. Your team smiled, diving back into the conversation as Neha walked over, bringing you up to speed. “Hey Y/N what took you so long? You’re like an hour late?” She asked, concern in her eyes as you shrugged. “I couldn’t find anything to wear. Sorry, what did I miss?” You asked, taking a seat at the acrylic table, your legs crossing as you leant in. “Not much, just talking about a new potential app. I see you’re wearing Stuarts shirts again.” She quirked her brow, giving you a pointed look. “I really need to do laundry. Hey, how did you know this was his?” You asked, your own brow quirked, your coffee still in hand. “The dude only owns like 5 shirts. I’ve begged him to let me take him shopping but he’s a hard ass-” Chetty coughed as Neha slumped back in her seat. “Nice of you to finally join us Miss Y/L/N-” He spoke, his hands latched together over his laptop keyboard.

“Sorry Mr Chetty, I won’t interrupt again.” You gave him a half smile as you pulled out your laptop, signing into the shared Google Doc for the meeting. You tried to focus on his words, your fingers running over the back of your neck, your thoughts distracted. You shivered as you licked over your lips, your mind wandering to the night before once more.

“So, if he isn’t your boyfriend, who is he? Your brother?” Alex asked, his biceps almost popping out of the tight white shirt he wore, his tan from the California sun accentuated by the light colour. You shook your head, a small smile on your lips as you raked in the sight of him, his slightly dishevelled blonde hair falling in his eyes as he wiped the bar down. “He’s my roommate and my co-worker.” You grimaced as you shucked some of your drink, the vodka emboldening you as your buzz returned. “So, he’s gay right? Cause there is no way he can’t resist hitting that.” He laughed, pointing to you as you blushed. “Nope, not gay. I think. Just not interested I guess.” You laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling inadequate. “No wonder dude needs glasses.” Alex joked, your head nodding slowly. “So, if you’re not with him then what are you still doing? Hoping to hook up?” You shook your head, your hair sticking to your lacquered lips. “Just wanted to unwind after work. I was in meetings all day, I got chewed out by my boss and I have a meeting to go to tomorrow and I’m stressing about it.” You gazed into your drink, the stresses of the day melting away with each glass you drank.

“Well if you need another way to de stress I get off in a half hour.” He winked as he walked to the other side of the bar, your lips downturned as you swivelled in your seat. Reaching for your clutch, you grabbed out your phone, your head spinning as you tried to focus on the dimly lit screen. You checked your messages, sighing in defeat as you realised Stuart hadn’t texted at all. You burped, the smell of vodka filling the air as you opened your chat with Neha. The world spun as you typed, your mind fuelling all your focus into crafting the perfect message.

y/n; Random hookyp or should I jyst go home lnley agin?

Neha; wait, you know you should just go home, you’re in no state to make a decent decision. Call a cab or get Stuart to take you home.

y/n; ok mom, thnks.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” Chetty spoke towards you as you pulled yourself from your reverie. “Yes of course, sorry. Busy morning.” You laughed awkwardly, reality crashing around you. “So, any thoughts?” You shook your head, your lips pressed together in a hard line. “The plan seems pretty solid as it is, I don’t think we need to change anything.” You bullshitted as he nodded, his hands unclasping as he placed them palm down on the table. “Well, I guess that means we’re done here. Good meeting today you guys, you have the plans there, now let’s get going!” He smiled, a rare occurrence from your boss as you all packed away your things. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?” Neha asked as you nodded, tucking your laptop back into your handbag. “Sure, fancy grabbing something to eat?” You asked as she nodded, her black hair swinging as she picked up her messenger bag. “You sounded like you’re going to need something to soak up all that you had to drink last night.” She laughed as you blushed, your skin going hot. Stuart passed by Neha, not making eye contact with you as he headed to his office space, his head staring at the floor. Neha watched as he passed, her eyebrows knitted low over her eyes. “What’s up with him?” She asked, circling to you as you shrugged, your own face as perplexed as hers. “I don’t know, brainstorm with a bagel?” She nodded as you headed out towards the cafeteria.

You placed your phone back into your bag, turning to drink the last of your drink as you found your glass empty. Sighing you signalled Alex, his lips turned up in a smile as he walked over. “So, what can I get you?” He asked as you shrugged, your shoulders falling heavy as your lids drooped. “How about, a shot of tequila for the road? I need to be up early tomorrow.” You pursed your lips as you rubbed your hands together, watching as Alex’s muscles rippled beneath his shirt. Something lit within you, your chest rising and falling as he placed the shot glass in front of you. “Are you sure I can’t do anything else?” His eyes glinted in the dark bar, something playing on his lips as he poured the amber liquid into the glass. Thoughts of amber eyes played in your drunken stupor. You held your breath as he grabbed the bottle, his fingers tapping at the label, the small sound drowning in the din of the bar. You pushed all thought of Stuart to the side as you locked eyes with the hot bartender, licking a stripe on the back of your hand. His eyes flickered to your tongue as you grabbed the salt, dusting it over where your tongue was. “One more shot.” You flirted, brazenly lifting the shot glass to your lips, downing the sour liquid. “You did that one wrong.” He spoke quietly, leaning over the small space between you. “You can lick it off if you like-” You trailed off, a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, I have something else in mind, wait here.” His eyes were dark as he pulled away from you, turning tail as he waltzed to the other side of the bar. “Sorry Rich, clocking off early for the night, just take it out of my tips.” you heard his voice through your haze. You wobbled to your feet, your fingers gripping onto the bar for support. “Your place or mine?” He whispered as he laced his arm around your waist, his fingers gripping onto your dress. “I live closer.” You smiled as you stepped forward, leaving the warmth of the bar as you headed out into the clear night.

“What happened last night?” Neha asked as you sat down, your tray perched on your hand as she took the seat opposite you. “Well, I was so stressed about the meeting we had with Chetty, you know the one where he basically said he has no idea how we got hired?” Neha laughed, her head nodding slowly. “Even though he’s the one that gave us the job?! Yeah, I remember.” She took a bite of her bagel as you pulled your leg up beneath you, struggling to get comfortable in the wire chairs. “Anyway, I wanted to blow off steam but Stewie was being a butt about it.” Neha didn’t utter a word as she looked at you mid bite. “But, when isn’t he? Yesterday I couldn’t help but feel a bit unwanted and useless and Stu-” You paused, searching for the right words to say. “-was just being Stu. I ended up in that bar near our apartment, you know the one with the super-hot bartender?” She nodded, letting you talk as you picked at your fries. “I got all dressed up because fuck it, you’re only 24, once right? So, Alex AKA Hot bartender dude started hitting on me and that’s when I text you.”

Her eyes narrowed as her head cocked to the side. She swallowed quickly, placing her food back down as she turned towards you. “Please tell me you didn’t-” You grimaced as you looked to your food, ignoring her judging eyes. “I didn’t-” She cut you off, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “I thought you liked Stuart?” You fiddled with the napkin on your tray as you looked up finally. “I do, but wait there’s more.”

Your hands gripped onto Alex’s arms as he walked you to your apartment, his long legs propelling the both of you forwards. “So, will your roommate mind that you’re bringing a guy back?” He asked as you shrugged. “I don’t think he cares what I do, not like I’m his girlfriend.” You laughed, your voice loud in the late hour. “Well then, I hope he has earplugs.” Alex’s voice was husky as you walked up the steps to your apartment. “Oh, he does.” You smiled, your lip catching between your teeth as you unlocked the door, crashing through it noisily. You grabbed Alex’s hands as you headed down the hallway to your room, your heels clicking against the hardwood flooring. A sliver of light shone through the crack beneath Stuart’s door as you pressed your finger to your lips. “Shhhh, I think he might still be up.” You whispered, a hiccup punctuating your sentence. Alex mimicked your action, his lips pressed together as you walked into your room, closing the door fully behind you. “Now, I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to hear us now.” You spoke, your words slightly slurred, even after the sobering walk home. “He’ll be able to hear us if I do something right.” Alex spoke, closing the space between you.

His lips found yours as his arms snaked around your waist, his palms flat against the arch of your back. You moaned slightly into his lips as his hands pressed down, smoothing over the curve of your ass. Your body moved closer to his as you laced your arms around him, intrusive thoughts of a certain bespectacled brunette. Your tongue rolled over Alex’s lips as he pulled away, his head dipping into the crook of your neck as he walked you backwards, your shoulders hitting against the cool plaster. His breath fanned over your skin, igniting something within you as you sighed, your nails raking over his shoulders, fingertips raking at his shirt. A moan left your lips as you breathed, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. “Stu-” You breathed, your eyes flying open as you shut your mouth, the damage already done.

“What do you mean there’s more?” Neha asked, her eyes boring into yours as you sighed, your skin clamming up as you picked at your food, your appetite lost. “Just, I clearly can’t do random hook-ups.” You admitted, brushing the comment to the side as Neha pressed for answers. “I brought Alex back to the apartment, and things were going great. Well a bit better than great but then I ruined everything. I messed up-” Neha’s eyes tracked up behind you her eyes widening. “Stuart! Hey, what’s up?” You swallowed your words as Stuart put his hand on your shoulder. He leant down, his lanky frame over shadowing you as his cologne filled your senses. “Hey Neha, you don’t mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment, do you?” Neha shook her head as you shot her a pleading look. “Go ahead.” She smiled as Stuart gave her a smirk, his fingers grazing over your bare skin. “Y/N we need to talk. Privately.”

Alex loosened his grip on you, his head dipped as he pulled away, his mouth in a scowl. “What did you just call me?” He asked, his eyes avoiding yours as you pressed your fingers to his chest. “I wasn’t thinking-” You mumbled, incoherent as you scrambled to make a sentence. “You weren’t thinking of me at least. Look, I think I’m done here. I don’t want to be second best to a scrawny nerd.” He adjusted himself as he reached for the door handle. “You’re hot, but you’re not worth the baggage.” He frowned as he left, leaving you as you sunk to the floor. You heard his footsteps echo down the hallway as he left, the door slamming shut as the whole apartment shook. Tears began in your eyes as you wiped at them, refusing to let yourself cry over some guy you barely knew. But you knew you weren’t crying because of him, he didn’t mean anything to you. Not like Stuart did. A sob wracked your chest as you picked at your heels, undoing the small clasp as you threw them across the room.

“Y/N?” You heard Stuart speak, his voice thick with sleep as he opened your door, his floppy haired self-appearing in the crack of the doorway. “What’s wrong?” You opened your mouth to speak as he came in, his blue sleep shirt hanging loosely from his body. No words came out as tears spilled, frustration and alcohol hitting you hard as he crossed to where you sat. He crouched, pyjama bottoms hitting against the carpeted floor as you buried your head in your hands. “It’s stupid-” You started as you heaved, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat. “Come on now, I bet it isn’t?” He cooed, his fingers rubbing over your stocking clad legs as you lifted your head to look at him. “It’s all your fault.” You sighed, anger building in your small body as you pulled away from him, struggling to stand. “What do you mean it’s all my fault?” He asked, his face painted with confusion. “You. You’re my problem Stuart, always getting into my head, stopping me from being happy.” You prodded at his chest, your nails digging against hard muscle as he stepped backwards. “You know I just want you to be happy?” He spoke, his glasses low on his nose, alcohol still on his breath. “Then why won’t you be happy with me?” you broke, your fist falling limp against him. “I am happy-” He started, his hands covering yours as he pulled you to him.

His arms wrapped around you; warmth encompassing your cold body as you sighed. “You don’t understand do you?” He shook his head as he leant his chin against your hair. “You’re not with me. I like you Stu, I have for a really long time.” You admitted, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, chuckling as he ignored your confession. “Not nearly enough. But enough to finally feel brave enough.” You swallowed your better judgement, pulling from his arms as you reached up to place your lips against his. He stood stunned, his body harsh against yours before he relaxed, his lips meshing with yours.

“What’s wrong Stu?” You asked, your eyes searching for his as you crossed your arms. He pulled you by the wrist to a nearby office, abandoned as he leant against the desk. “You know what’s wrong.” He stated, his amber eyes dark as he looked over you, his eyes drawn to the shirt you stole from him this morning. “You’re wearing my shirt.” His words were harsh as you felt a chill in the air. “Yeah? What’s the problem? I always borrow your shirts, you know I look better in them than you do.” You laughed, his face stony as you let your laughter die down. “I don’t remember saying you could?” He leaned back, his hands gripping at the edge of the desk, his khaki clad legs crossing as he looked over you. “You’ve never had a problem with it before?” Your lips pressed together as you paced the small room, confusion and hurt flowing through you. “That was before last night.” His words were sharp, almost cutting through the air as he avoided your eyes. “Nothing’s changed Stewie?” You reached for him as he pulled away, something glinting in his eyes as his lips set in a hard line. “But that’s what you don’t see Y/N, everything has changed.”

It felt like an infinity had passed since you kissed him, your lips meshing with his as you held your breath; air finally flooding your lungs. His arms wrapped around your body, muscles encompassing your small frame as he scooped you up, his hands running over your thighs. A groan passed his lips as he smoothed over your ass, hitching your legs around his hips as his tongue rolled over your lips. He staggered forwards, your back hitting against the bed, cushiony down billowing around you. He tore away from you, his touch ghosting over you as he stared at you, a reflection of light in his thick rimmed glasses. “We shouldn’t be doing this-” He started as you propped yourself onto the bed, watching as he paced the end of the bed, his hands on his hips as the hemline of his shirt rode up. “Why?” You asked, your eyes wide as he looked at you, his fingers pressing against his lips, a half drunken look in his eye. “I can’t think when you look like that Y/N.” He whined, your body half exposed as your dress rode up. “Then don’t think. Just do.” You pouted, reaching behind you to undo the zipper.

You stood confidently, sure in your footing although alcohol still coursed through your veins. Your fingers tangled with the zipper, your arm contorted as you stood in the dim light, Stuart’s eyes stuck to your figure. He went to speak, the words not coming as he closed the space between you, his hands turning you away from him. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath on the back of your neck, warmth spreading through your body as he pushed the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his lips pressing chaste kisses to your skin. You sighed, a breathy moan escaping through your parted lips as his hands fumbled over your shoulder bones. Teeth sunk into soft flesh as he sucked purple marks into your skin, a fire igniting deep within you. Rough fingertips grazed over your zipper, tugging at the metal as your dress came loose falling to the floor. You shivered once more, no longer cold as you kicked the dress to the side, turning to look at Stuart. Neither of you spoke a word, sharing a look that said it all as he pulled you to him, his lips needy against your own.

His hands roamed over your body, gripping at your waist pulling your hips flush to his as you fell to the bed. Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed down your chest; your hands pulling at his shirt as you arched against his touch. He didn’t stop, his glasses fogging up as he snaked down your body, lips trailing against the curve of your bra, his teeth snagging on the simple lace. You sighed as you reached behind you, undoing the clasp before ripping the hindrance from your body. Stuart paused, staring at you beneath him, his lips caught between his teeth. A small smile stretched across his mole speckled face as his hands flattened over your ribcage, tickling a spot that had you writhing beneath him. “Y-” He started as you latched your legs around his waist, need growing in your core as you lay back fully. “Don’t speak, just do-” You whispered, his tongue flickering over your chest.

“It’s like you’re not even listening to me Y/N” Stuart brought you back from your thoughts, your fingers absentmindedly twirling your necklace. “This is what I’m talking about. You don’t get it.” Stuart almost shouted, frustration hinting in his amber eyes. “What do you want me to say Stu?” You asked, your voice thick as you stared at him. “I don’t know.” He sighed, defeated, his body slumping slightly as he looked at you through thick lashes. You let your arms fall to your sides, exasperated as he scowled. “Well then what do you want me to do?” You asked, closing the space between you, your hands reaching for him shakily. “I don’t know that either” he spoke in a small voice, his lip trembling as he looked up at you. “I didn’t want to lose my best friend” Your heart panged at two simple words. Best friend. “You didn’t lose me dumbass, why do you think you lost me?” You asked, your words filling the room as he looked away. “Cause now I can’t look at you the same way, I can’t be close to you in the same way.” he mumbled, his fingers tapping against his arms as you let out a groan. “Why because we slept together?” The question was laced with confusion, his eyes softening as he turned back to you.

“Because we made a mistake.” You felt your heart drop as you stepped back, staggering slightly as you processed his words. “Stuart-” You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as he stared at the floor, standing slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore Y/N” He whined as you leant against the door, his long legs carrying him through the room in a few bounds. “I just need to think, can you let me out?” You shook your head, your resolution made as you started to unbutton his shirt, the grey material hanging from your arms. “Y/N stop. I need to leave before anything else changes.” He begged, his voice thick as you refused to stop. “Just let me-” you started as his hand grazed over yours, stopping the trembling. “Stop-” He asked again as you pushed on his chest. “Just take your shirt back.” You cried, the tears now falling over your heated skin, air brushing over your bared chest. You thrust the crumpled material towards him, pressing yourself further into the door. “Y/N” he pleaded, his eyes misty as his nose reddened.

Your head swung back as he licked over you, his teeth barely scratching at your sensitive skin. “Stu-” you moaned breathily, your fingers threading into the tendrils of his hair. He paused, looking up at you as you focused on him, looking through hazy lids at his swollen red lips. “Say it again” He asked, more of a demand as he returned to you, his tongue flickering against your hardened nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you took a shaky breath, his lips sucking your nipple between them as his name cascaded from your lips once more. Your legs itched against his as you felt yourself grind against him, his cock already hard between your legs. Eyes rolled backwards as he explored your body, his lips sucking red marks across every inch of flesh that you had, your breaths becoming more laboured as you lost yourself.

“I can’t take it back.” He continued as you brushed your hair from your face, sniffing slightly as you shook your head. “Neither can I.” you whispered, his hand reaching beneath your chin as he forced you to look at him, your skin on edge as you swallowed. “What can’t you take back?” He asked, his amber eyes searching your own for answers. “I can’t take back what I said last night.” You admitted, blinking back more tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t want you to.”

Stuart shifted, pushing you up the bed as he breathed, his warm breath rolling over you as you smiled, something burning deep within you. You bit your lip slowly, revelling in the way he felt on you, the rough pads of his fingertips over your hips as he hooked them beneath the elastic of your panties, a moan leaving his lips as he pulled them down your legs. His lips pressed together as he let out a breathy sigh, his hair flopping over his forehead as he stood up quickly. You lay there, nothing but your stockings on as he pulled his shirt over his head. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but now in this light you really could appreciate him. Light shone off his pale skin, shadows forming in the crevasses of his muscles, a dark trail of hair leading down beneath the band of his blue boxers. His hair was pushed back, barely any gel in it for once; his hands trembled as he played with the drawstrings on his pyjamas, hesitation in his movements. You smiled, the corners of your lips turned up as you sat up, pulling him to you as you pushed his hands to the side, your fingers tucking beneath the band as you pulled his boxers and pyjamas down in one.

He looked at you, some embarrassment on his face as a shy smile spread across his cheeks, his hands pressing against your shoulders as he kissed you, his body hovering over yours as you leaned back into the bed. His hands grabbed at your skin, ripping the stockings as he pulled you around him, his cock already pressing against your dripping pussy. “Stu-” You choked as his head rolled over your clit, sparks igniting a flame that already licked at your throat, threatening to burn everything in its path. Fingers laced together with yours as his forehead rested against yours; your eyes half lidded as he pressed forward, a look of contentment crossing his face as he buried himself within you. Moans fell from your lips in sync with his hips, his cock burrowing into you as he rolled, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the small space between the two of you.

His lips gaped open as the two of you moved in tandem, your bodies singing as toes curled. Your mind grew foggy, all your focus on the sound he made, the air growing thick as you spoke. “I love you.” The words left your lips as he silenced you, his nose brushing yours as he pressed forwards, a silent reproach to your statement. “Say it again.” He asked as you smiled, your fingers twirling with his. “I love you Stuart”

“I don’t understand.” you frowned, your skin growing hot as confusion and frustration ebbed within you. “You do, deep down you know what I’m saying.” Stuart gripped the shirt you had forced into his hands as you thought it all through, your mind combing through everything that had happened. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” He asked, his voice soft as he closed around you, his lips perilously close to your cheek. “I didn’t want that to happen-” He paused taking a deep breath as you panicked. “-not like that. I wanted for us to be together, I wanted you to be my girlfriend, not just my roommate. I don’t regret sleeping with you, I regret not making a move sooner.” He whispered as you pulled him to look at you. “You what?” You asked, your eyes searching his face for any hint of a lie. “I love you. Have for so long now it’s stupid. I would never say anything because you showed no interest in me. What kind of interest would you have in a scrawny nerd like me.” His eyes dipped away from yours as you shushed him, the words Alex had spat at you the night before echoing through the empty office.

“You heard him.” You stated, your fingers reaching for his face as you smoothed over his cheek. “I hear everything. When you said my name, the way you sounded; it made me brave. You make me brave Y/N, ever since the internship.” He smiled, his lips crooked as he chucked the balled up shirt in his hands to the side, favouring the curve of your waist instead. “Your walls are as thin as paper.” He joked, his hands flattening over the lace of your body suit. “Well he was wrong. You don’t need to listen to anyone like that.” You pursed your lips as he nodded. “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry I left you alone this morning. I just didn’t know if it was the alcohol that played games with my mind, or the disbelief that someone like you would like-” You pressed your lips against his, cutting off his words as you pressed yourself to him. “-love-” The word was barely a whisper as he took a shaky breath. “-love someone like me. I just wanted to do it right, not the way it happened. I want to be with you, take the dive with a clear head.” He trailed off as you blinked slowly, your eyes flickering down as you noticed your state of undress. “I’m clear headed now. Ready to take the dive?” Your lips caught his as wood pressed against your back, the door supporting your waist as he hoisted you around his hips.

“I just want to be sure, no take backs.” He whispered, his eyes glazed over as his lip caught between his teeth. “Don’t say anything, just do.” you repeated your words from the night before, your lips tracking over the slope of his neck, teeth grazing at his freckled skin. You kissed over the column of his neck, your tongue rolling over him as he groaned; a guttural sound that shook the both of you. He pulled from you, readjusting you on his hips as he snaked his hands up the back of your thighs. “I want to do this right-” He stammered, your heart slamming against your ribcage as he spun, locking the door with one hand as he walked you over to the desk. You fell to the wood, your body shaking as he ripped his shirt from his body, his eyes dark as he adjusted his glasses. He paused, staring over your chest as he admired the bodysuit, his fingers trailing over the delicate material as he pulled it from your shoulders; the straps hanging loose around your arms. He dropped to his knees, his hands pulling at the material of your skirt, fingernails pinching to grab it before pulling it down your legs.

You looked over him, your tongue stuck between your teeth as you pulled the last of the straps from your arms, his hair tickling at your thigh as he kissed the sensitive skin there. Your head rolled back once more as he pressed his hands to your hips, anchoring you in place as your legs parted, his head growing closer to where you needed him most, a fire building with every kiss. He smiled as he unbuttoned the lace, his eyes widening as he looked over you, lust burning between heavy lids. Not a word was spoken as he pulled you flush against him, his stubble scratching at your inner thigh, a burning sensation running through your veins. Every nerve was on edge as his breath fanned over you, your back arching as you pressed yourself against him, a shaky moan leaving your lips as his tongue ran over you. Stars exploded behind closed eyes, your legs hooking over his shoulders as he licked again, his tongue flattening against you as you mewled. Muscles tensed as his fingers splayed against your skin, nails cutting into you as he moved slowly. Each breath you took felt like a lifetime, his mouth moving over you almost agonisingly slow. “Stu-” You breathed, his tongue moving to a point as pleasure washed over you, a wave of euphoria shaking your whole body.

His tongue circled; half moons and figure eights dancing over your skin as you sighed. Your fingers fumbled with the last of your body suit before you sought out his touch, every part of you wanting to be closer to him. Your fingers found his as his tongue dipped, teasing inside your entrance as you caught your breath. “Stu-” You whined, your body rolling against his mouth instinctively, pure instinct taking over your body as your toes curled. The pressure within you built, reaching its peak as he sucked your clit between his lips; your body curling as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your eyes screwed shut as curses filled the air, your voice ricocheting off the walls as your mind let go, everything washing away as he surfaced again. Your body went limp as he wiped over his mouth, unbuckling his belt as you smiled at him. You battled to control your breath, your lungs aching as the flooded with air after what felt like a lifetime. Stuart stood before you, almost a daydream as you reached out to touch him, almost pinching yourself as he moved towards you. His lips were red raw, a glisten still on his lips as he dipped his head to yours, your fingers looping into the waist of his khakis. Your tongues battled for dominance as he pushed you backwards, the clink of a belt falling to the floor as you bit your lip, stifling a moan as his fingers rolled over your clit. Already sensitive you mewled, your chest rising and falling as he rubbed figure eights over you whilst pumping his cock in his other hand.

Your body tensed as he pushed forwards, burying himself to the hilt within you as you both let out a shaky breath, your hands entangled in one another's as you paused. “I love you Y/N” He spoke quietly as he brought you to his chest, your head burying into his skin. “I love you too Stuart.” Your voice was barely a whisper as he careened forwards, rocking forwards as he filled you, his cock hitting deep within you; the feeling of him only intensified by your shared words. Your nails raked at his back, tracing between the constellation of moles that splattered on his shoulders. His lips sought yours as he picked up speed, your need growing stronger as his hands found your jaw, long fingers cupping at your cheek. Your tongues danced together as you felt yourself lose control, waves of pleasure rolling through your tired body. “Stu-” His name caught in his mouth, his lips silencing your moans as his hips snapped against yours.

His moans vibrated through you as his lips left yours, chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. He sucked at the over sensitive skin as he spurred you onto your peak, your body already on edge as he sped up, his groans filling the air as he gripped at your skin. “Y/N, I’m going to cum, but I need you there with me okay?” His words were punctuated with breaths, a whine almost as you nodded. “I’m right there with you.” Your words cracked as your head fell back, his lips stilling against your neck as he slammed forwards, his orgasm crashing over him as he stammered your name. Your legs tightened around him as you tensed, your walls clenching around him as you came, a high-pitched scream falling from your swollen lips.

Your bodies fell against one another's; each of you gripping to the other as you battled for your breaths, heartbeats slamming against your chests. “Y/N?” He spoke, his glasses fogged up as he brought you to look at him. “You want this right? All of this.” He gestured to the two of you; your legs still slung around his hips. “I need this, Stuart, I love you.” you smiled as he pulled from you, his cheeks flushed a light pink, sweat sheening on his forehead. “I was just making sure.” He smiled shyly, so unsure of himself as he dressed again, passing you your forgotten clothes. You smiled as you pulled the lace over your skin, sweat rolling down your bare legs as you buttoned up your skirt. “So, about the shirt.” you grimaced, pointing to the discarded item, your fingers shaking as you adjusted your hair. “It’s yours, anything of mine is yours.”

“Are you sure? No take backs?” You winked as he smiled, his tongue rolling over his teeth as he chucked you it, watching as you buttoned it up loosely.

“No take backs.”

TAG LIST:

@thisrandombitch @honeymoonmuke @sincerelystiles @sammyrenae68@fillthevoid-stilinski @5sospoplikerock @lovefilledtragedy @ellie-bee242@cobrienkai1972 @dumbass-stilinski @maddie110201 @rememberstilinski@sweetmisseddreams2002 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @obrosey-af@sammwhiches @mf-despair-queen @7e6205 @stilinski-stydia-obrien@wydobrien @we-are-like-a-timebomb @dylan-trash-tbh @lydia1524@minhosmeanhoe @redstringlovers @werewolfmutant @itsall-inmy-head@susybird @hirafth @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @girlwiththerubyslippers@fan-child @sarasmismyonlydefence @cuillere @vixsyncynco @sumcp@fuckwhateverfuck @itsbilescallmebiles @relentlessgame @ninja-stiles@sumcp @teenwolves-ahead @skepticalstilinski @sarcasticallystilinski@apollogirl13 @savage-stilinski @montanagirlatheart @alexhmak @cathobs @sarcxstic-stilinski @dylrider @wittystiles @stilinski-jpeg @stilinski-lover-24

305 notes · View notes

internaljiujitsu · 4 years ago

Text

RAGE INSIDE YOUR MACHINE: How Your Brain Makes You Mad

“The best way to control your anger is to control your body.” — Jiu Jitsu Master Rickson Gracie to Edward Norton (as Dr. Bruce Banner) in the 2008 film, The Incredible Hulk.

Bill Bixby terrified me. He’s the actor who played Dr. David Bruce Banner on the 70’s tv show, The Incredible Hulk. Bixby was a harmless looking guy, but when he’d flash those white pupils — signaling the surge in hormones that were about to transform him — I’d shit myself. The transition from man to monster, the anticipation of the horror that awaited, the build up to the inevitable carnage and destruction scared me to death. When the mild mannered scientist changed into his green alter ego, his brow widened, skin turned bright green and clothes tore from the out of control growth of his freakish muscles (while his pants always ended up making the perfect pair of shorts). Frightening.

I’d hide behind the couch whenever someone pissed Dr. Banner off. My older brother and sister thought it was hilarious, but I dreaded that moment. It reminded me that we lived with our own version of the Hulk.

My father, a giant in my eyes, would go from doting dad to terror inducing tormentor in a flash. He was the scariest monster I knew — I’d hide under desks and fake Illnesses when I knew he was angry. Given the choice, I would have taken my chances with Dr. Banner or the devil himself over my dad’s fury.

I thought I had inherited my father’s anger. Certainly, genetics played a part, but rage had also been programmed into me — to deal with a loud voice with a louder one. To conquer violence with violence. To shout down dissent in my own defense.

I worked my entire life to overcome what I and those around me deemed an anger management issue. It wasn’t frequent, but it was more intense than anyone was used to seeing. Level ten anger for a level four problem. The kind of anger that makes people of all ages want to hide under desks or behind couches.

Was I just mimicking what I’d learned as a kid? Did the build up I felt that led to the eventual eruption signify a flaw in my makeup or morality? Was I just an angry, abusive asshole at heart? All the therapy, books and lectures hadn’t helped. I still didn’t have control!

I’ve spent three decades searching for the source and solution for the anxiety and depression that made so many of my days miserable. I never examined the anger itself. The intense, rage filled outbursts I experienced were how everyone expressed anger in our home. I just happened to be the most intense of us all. I thought level ten anger was normal.

But it never felt good afterwards — I’d be exhausted. Not the good kind of exhausted, like after a grueling workout or savage sex. More like when Banner was just waking up, clothes shredded but somehow still on him, despite the fact that he was several times larger in his agitated state — fearful that he may have done some irreparable damage. I’d be groggy, sometimes in tears, breathing hard, wondering how my temper had gotten away from me again.

I ruined more than one Thanksgiving, pooped on plenty of parties and played the role of Debbie Downer on more occasions than I care to remember. Sure, the triggers were there, but my reactions were so unbelievably over the top that I was too embarrassed to go back and apologize — even though I always wanted to. Worst of all, the people I lost it on were often the ones I loved the most.

In my fits of anger, I became the meanest version of my father. Eyes bulging from his skull (partially because of his chronic thyroid condition), neck and forehead veins threatening to burst, a primal snarl through clenched teeth. Then, a voice louder than the horn on a battleship — violent hatred punctuating every decibel.

I’d punch walls or bash my own head against the nearest hard surface when I got angry. I’ve broken furniture, thrown appliances and crushed wine glasses in my hand at restaurants. The rage would only last for about twenty minutes — three or four episodes a year. The rest of the time, I was a tree hugging hippy at heart who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

That’s why it killed me so much each time I lost control. I wanted to be kind, and I knew what it felt like to be around someone scary. It sucked. Being on edge, walking on eggshells to avoid the explosions. Constant tension.

Some of my jiu jitsu buddies once nicknamed me “Buddha” because I appeared to be meditating when I sparred. They said that it seemed like I could take a nap in the middle of a match. On the days when I felt at peace, I conquered my internal demons by being calm in the face of physical conflict. In real life, when anxiety would hit, the reverse was true. Facing no real threat, fear would grip my body, and I would either whither away or explode to defend myself from an imaginary adversary.

My reactions were over the top because I felt so vulnerable. It always seemed that my mom was afraid I’d get hurt as a kid. I remember stories about how my family almost lost me as a baby or how my aunt saved me from certain death somehow. I felt weak and fragile. Seeing violence break out nearly every day on the streets of my childhood neighborhood only made the fear more real. Whether in a classroom, on the bus or in the bedroom I shared with my volatile older brother, I always had to be on my toes.

It’s no accident that I became a champion bodybuilder and martial artist. Though I wanted to focus on academics, I knew I couldn’t just rely on my mind. I needed to look strong. I needed to be confident in a fight. I didn’t want to be bothered and I didn’t want to be scared anymore. Back then, I didn’t know that it’s normal to be afraid before a fight. I thought there was something wrong with me because of it, so I worked to make that feeling go away.

But the extreme, explosive anger I exhibited as a 113 pound thirteen year old boy was the same I expressed in my twenties. I had grown into a 250 pound ball of muscle by then, and my devastating bite could be even worse than my terrifying bark. On the inside I was the same fragile person I had always been. To anyone that saw me angry, I was a scary beast.

So, like Dr. Banner seeking out Rickson Gracie to calm his inner beast, I sought peace through activity and non-activity. I gained more control over the outbursts. But when I began having episodes on days that I stuck to my rituals and felt good, I knew there had to be more to my anger than self-control. Until then, I had only addressed the depression and anxiety that I experienced since childhood. I had never looked at the anger directly, or at how it made me feel about myself.

Uncontrollable anger was the source of a lot of my shame. Self-control was always what I was after — the freedom to not be a slave to emotion. The power to never instill the kind of fear in another person that my father instilled in me. When I failed to control my anger, it was as if I devolved into my genetic predecessor — morphing into my father despite my best efforts — as if I didn’t have a choice. All the hard work of a lifetime would be gone in a burst of rage.

The realization that this anger persists under the surface inspired me to examine it beyond my triggers, or the deeply personal meanings I’ve attached to them. Rather than only experiencing and then lamenting these explosive outbursts, I wanted to understand why they happened. To do so would take being honest with myself about the circumstances surrounding triggering episodes, as well as a firmer grasp of the general causes of anger. This process has helped me to step outside my anger for the first time, depersonalizing the rage and allowing me to observe it from a distance.

I could finally understand how incredibly out of proportion my reactions were once I reexamined the triggers with my rational mind. This was aided by the fact that my latest episode took place in a hotel room covered in mirrors. I was forced to watch myself go through the entire thing. I had never seen my face — my eyes — at level ten anger. I think I may have scared myself straight.

Observing yourself in an explosive anger episode will either drive you deep into a depressive hole or kick you in the ass to figure out why you can’t seem to keep yourself together. This time, I berated myself for a day before deciding to figure out what was going on in my head, so that I can fix it.

GETTING IN YOUR OWN HEAD

The shameful hangover that persists after an episode of explosive rage will only go away when failure to self-regulate isn’t simply labeled a lack of discipline. Subconsciously reprogramming limiting beliefs that have kept you stuck in negative patterns is critical for change, but so is identifying the physiological markers of anger that serve to prep you for confrontation. Knowing that there is more happening in your head than meets the eye gives you an enormous advantage in correcting emotional disregulation. Only then can you train yourself to recognize when you need to course adjust , shutting down your body’s irrational reaction before it gets out of hand.

While traditional therapy and behavioral modification may be key in recovery, ignoring the chemical component of explosive anger is discounting the twisted scaffolding on which the ego is built. Brain function is the invisible variable that turns some of us from Jekyll to Hyde — Banner to Hulk.

There are two parts of your noggin that are key in processing anger:

The Anterior Cingulate Cortex has connections to both the prefrontal cortex (reasoning) and the limbic system (emotion).

The Amygdala — made up of almond shaped clusters inside the temporal lobes — is also a part of the limbic system, which governs emotion.

An inactive Anterior Cingulate Cortex or an overactive Amygdala can both lead to poor decision making and antisocial behavior .

The Anterior Cingulate Cortex (ACC) regulates rational cognitive function. This area of the brain affects decision making, empathy, impulse control, and reward anticipation. It connects your emotions to your actions and intercedes by considering the repercussions when your lizard brain wants to impulsively lash out at someone or something.

According to leading ADHD researcher Dr. Russel Barkley, clinical professor of psychiatry at the VCU Medical Center, the ACC does nothing in ADHD brains. There is no stopping to self-regulate the emotional state — no holding you back from making decisions that could be detrimental to a future you’re incapable of imagining.

Because ADHD is a failure of the inhibition system, Barkley says it’s critical to decouple events from responses. This can only happen when you stop and engage the prefrontal cortex to devise rational responses to triggers. Acting on impulse can be disastrous.

What Barkley describes as a “nearsightedness in time” leaves those with ADHD blind to the future. Unable to anticipate the consequences of their actions and incapable of self-regulation, they often impulsively act out against their own long term self interest. This can sometimes have severe financial, social and legal consequences.

Barkley suggests designing “prosthetic environments” to elicit behavior modification and assist in self-regulation. By externalizing pieces of information with hand written or electronic notes and reminders, envisioning future events and the sequence in which they should take place becomes easier.

In their book, Nudge, Nobel prize winning economist Richard H. Thaler and Cass R Sunstein describe the vast number of ways our decisions can be influenced by subtle suggestions. Strategically placing reminders to curtail or reinforce behavior, building in immediate rewards and consequences, and manually problem solving whenever possible can prop up executive function and lead to better decision making and fewer outbursts.

While the ACC takes into account consequences, the amygdala is a group of structures in the brain that process strong emotions, particularly fear — provoking an automatic fight or flight response. Amygdala hijack (a term coined by psychologist Daniel Goleman) occurs when the amygdala disables the frontal lobes (which govern reason and higher level cognition) and limits some unessential functions in order to prepare the body for conflict. Stress hormones flood your system, pupils dilate, heart races, blood vessels constrict and pressure rises. While being on high alert is helpful when facing life or death situations, putting your body through the emotional ringer on a regular basis due to everyday stress will break you down mentally and physically.

Setting off this chemical dance are the triggers that sit atop the surface of your mind like land mines hastily planted by everyone you’ve ever known — buried under all the shit you only think you remember. The stories you tell yourself set off a tingling sensation when someone reminds you of what you don’t want to be. Your thoughts travel and the feeling in your body transports you to a different time and place. The explosions go off, cortisol and adrenaline flood your system and you react as if you are there again.

Individuals with Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED) exhibit repeated, explosive, sudden episodes of rage that are drastically out of proportion to the trigger. These outbursts can manifest as verbal or physical abuse, destruction of property or personal harm. A study published in the journal Neuropsychopharmacology looked at brain scans of patients with IED. Researchers found that the white matter connecting the frontal lobe (decision making, emotion, understanding consequences) and the parietal lobe (language and sensory input) had less integrity and density than in healthy brains or those with other psychiatric disorders.

With what is essentially the wiring between these two regions of the brain damaged, communication becomes limited. Unable to take in all the information available, you only hear the things that confirm the irrational notions of your lizard brain. Everything becomes an attack. You are looking for the insult that will reinforce the shitty way you feel about yourself. Acting as if everyone is out to get you will miraculously make people want to stay away.

In her book, The Upside of Anger, Dr. Kelly McGonigal argues that it’s our own interpretation of stress that turns it negative. McGonigal says that if we view stress as our body’s way of preparing us for whatever comes next, a rapid pulse can mean excitement instead of fear. McGonigal’s research shows that this shift in perspective leads to physiological changes. Blood vessels no longer violently constrict when the heart pumps faster. However, the organ itself is still fed more nutrients, making it stronger. As in the physical stress put on your body when you exercise, as long as you do not overtrain, the increased demand over time creates greater capacity. According to Dr. McGonigal, a heart pumping vigorously while blood vessels stay relaxed, “looks like what happens in moments of joy, or courage.”

Meditation is an invaluable tool for transforming your reaction to stress. Dedicating time every day to practicing stillness is the best training for both recognizing the onset of symptoms (by learning to notice subtle changes in your internal state) and shutting down a reaction before any negative physiological effects take hold by instantly being still. Building my meditation muscles before figuring out what was wrong with my wiring helped me find the quiet space between trigger and reaction to perceive my anger differently.

If you see anger as an alarm signaling that some potentially nasty shit is being released into your body, you may pump the breaks when you feel yourself losing control. Doing otherwise is knowingly poisoning yourself. Once you realize what’s happening inside you when you are triggered, you’ll be able to direct the process through conscious attention. The feelings won’t trigger irrational action, but thoughtful consideration. Not only of the steps to take next, but of the source of your emotional response — thereby allowing you to choose to react differently.

When the flutter in your chest and butterflies in your stomach signify fear to your mind, your body will act afraid and your thoughts will race. The bells and whistles that go off under your skin will take on new meaning if you train your body to sit still when your mind wants to sprint. With a little knowledge and a lot of discipline, you can, in the words of the late Ted Cassidy, “control the raging spirit that dwells within.”

#mind #body #mentalhealth #anger #angermanagement #mindfulness #meditation #awareness #brain #change #behaviormodification #ied #adhd #relationships #selfimprovement #personalgrowth

0 notes

kazosa · 7 years ago

Text

Secrets - SoA: Chapter 8

Summary: Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 8: The party and after... Warnings: language A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, SPOILERS! Italics are for Chibs and his inner thoughts. Bold is for the reader’s inner thoughts. Word Count: 2173 Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller @sam-samcro @tstieff @yourcroweater @kacilove26 @hiddlelove @evilsorceress @reallynigga21 @suz-123

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. COMMENTS WELCOME!

Secrets Masterlist

Chibs introduced you to everyone in RedWoody. He liked showing you off and told you, when you were embarrassed about your cut and swollen cheek, “No one here will give you any trouble, love. Ye look beautiful to me, anyone can see tha’.”

You almost cried while you held the ice pack to your cheek. Everyone was very nice to you, almost grateful that you kicked Jarry’s ass. Some people commented that you impressed them, but it was Marcus who made the biggest impression.

“Your mom was tough like you. Didn’t take shit from no one, including her brother and Gemma. Before things with Robert, the Mayans and the Sons were friendly. Gemma still got mad your mom brought me a beer. Gemma towered over Debbie, but she didn’t back down. Put Gemma in the dirt. You’re like her that way, and that’s not a bad thing, darlin’,” he told you.

It wasn’t long after talking with Marcus that Chibs decided it was time to leave. Neither one of you had very much liquor for a few hours, so you both were quite sober to safely ride back to Scoops.

You needed help changing into your jeans and Chibs was all too happy to help as he took you back to the bathroom/dressing room. Jarry had bruised your ribs and bending smarted, but not too bad. Pulling your hair back, you were ready to go. You gave Chibs a “How do I look?” gesture.

“Ye could wear a garbage bag and I’d still want to jump yer bones,” he winked, closing the space between you. He kissed you as deeply and passionately as your sore mouth would allow. His hand dropped to your ass for a squeeze when he kissed your neck, his other hand warm on your shoulder. Wrapping your arms around him, you nuzzled into his neck. A thought popped into your head, So this is what it’s like to fall in love.

The warm embrace only lasted a few moments, but it filled you with very strong emotions for Filip Telford. Still holding you, he leaned back and softly touched your sore cheek.

“Does it hurt verra bad?” he asked and you shook your head. “Are ye up for a ride or do ya wanna go home?”

You were a little overwhelmed with emotion.

“Did I hurt ye, lass?” he asked, loosening his hold on you, genuinely concerned that he may have caused you any pain.

“No, no,” your hands held his face, “you did everything right.”

He reached up to take your hand in his and led you out.

“Maybe a short ride,” you told him. It only took ten minutes to ride to Scoops from RedWoody. You weren’t quite ready to go “home,” as Chibs had called it. He handed you your helmet with a grin that made his dimples show.

“Alrigh’,” he said, “I can give ye a long ride when we get home.”

He grinned up at you from his bike and you couldn’t help but return the smile, albeit, a little less enthusiastic than a few hours ago.

“You’re terrible,” you chuckled. Climbing on behind him, you patted his chest when you were ready.

There was something very therapeutic about riding. The cold air felt especially good on your face, too. Riding for hours on end had been a great way to work out whatever was bothering you. Chibs took you around Charming showing you some of the places he liked best, including an old house that he stopped in front of, killing the engine.

“What’s this place?” you asked him.

“It’s my favorite house in Charming,” he said.

The house was lit by the moon and the one streetlight at the end of the cul-du-sac. In its day, it had been a cute little cottage, something you saw in a magazine like Good Housekeeping. By looking at it, you could see that there were at least two bedrooms on the second floor and a master on the main. There had been shutters on the windows and maybe even some window boxes for flowers. There were trees in the yard that looked like kids would love to climb. You could see why Chibs liked it. It had been well-loved once, it just needed to be loved again.

“It looks really nice, Chibs. It has a lot of potential,” you told him.

“I’m gonna buy it someday,” he said wistfully. “Be a nice one to grow old in. Well… older anyway.”

It warmed your heart to hear him talking about the house like that. Your mind flashed to you and Chibs in the backyard, on the patio in rocking chairs, maybe holding hands while you rocked. You giggled.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

A hot blush burned your cheeks. “I pictured us old here,” you spoke into his shoulder.

“Wee ones running about,” he patted your hand on his chest.

You figured he was thinking of Kerrianne just then because you were, too. He’d missed almost everything with her. The idea of giving him a family wasn’t scary. With him, you actually thought you could. Even when you were with Tom, you couldn’t picture it, but Filip was different. He made you feel wanted, like you were important, like you mattered to him…...like he loved you.

“You alrigh’, lass?” he was looking at you with his eyebrow cocked.

You quickly pushed away the ludicrous notion that Filip would be in love with you, too. He’d said he’d have you as long as you would have him, too, it just seemed too much to ask for that he felt the same way. After all, just because he wanted you, didn’t mean he was in love with you, did it? It had been an incredible few days and there was still a lot of work to do for the audit.

Mustering a smile for him, “I’m fine, promise.” You kissed him quickly and sat up, hoping you weren’t making a fool of yourself.

He’d said too much. He was going to scare her off with all that talk of buying houses and having kids. He started the bike again and pulled away from the curb. She was in Charming for work and he was assuming an awful lot by what he’d stupidly said. There were no promises of anything in the future, just what was right now.

He’d always wanted a bunch of kids, but those plans had gotten cut short when Fiona left him. In all of the years since, he’d never much thought about it. Never had someone he could even think about it with. In the last few years, things had changed. The club was stable and Fiona was finally out of his life. Then (Y|N) walked into his office…

He’d pulled into the parking space behind Scoops. (Y|N) got off first so he could park. She seemed a little tense, like he’d spooked her.

Your brain was screaming at you, “RELAX! He wants you, too!” Saying the last three and a half days were a whirlwind was like saying Clifford was a small red dog. How in the hell were you supposed to go home to Iowa after the audit was done? You’d been on the road almost a year as it was, but there were things that you needed to do in Iowa. Jack was running things just fine, he kept you apprised of everything that was going on with the company, though, you felt like you needed to go home to see your mom and say…well, you didn’t know what you’d say… What could you possibly say, “sorry for being a shit for the last 30 years?”

Stepping inside the small apartment, you hung up your coat and immediately when to the bathroom to check the damage on your face. The cut didn’t look too bad. Chibs had put a piece of tape over it to keep it closed. It hurt and the tape was awkward, but the cut wasn’t too deep. Your cheek though…it was swollen and bruised already. The inside had been cut up by your teeth. Thankfully, all of your teeth were still in your head, too. Combine all of that with your bruised ribs, you felt like a hot mess.

You’d had to close the bathroom door to use the mirror to look at your ribs. While you were in there, you decided to run a nice hot bath and squeezed a bunch of your coveted shower gel into the water until you were happy with the amount of bubbles and scent. It wasn’t until the that you realized Chibs’ bathroom was surprisingly plush. The walls were white subway tile with a black accent stripe. Directly across from the door was the toilet. The walk-in shower was on the same wall next to the toilet. The sink was immediately to the left of the door when you walked into the room and in an alcove between the sink area and the shower, was a clawfoot tub. By looking at it, you were pretty sure it was vintage, cast iron and coated in ceramic.

Running your hand along the smooth curve of the lip, “Very nice taste, Mr. Telford.”

You quickly stripped and shut off the water. Just as the last drops fell from the faucet, there was a soft rap on the door.

“Can I talk to ye, lass?” Chibs asked through the door.

“Sure, come on in,” she said from the other side.

He opened the door and was graced with the most beautiful sight. (Y|N) was standing with her back partially turned to him, completely naked. He knew she thought she wasn’t beautiful, but she was so wrong. She was absolutely perfect in his eyes.

“Oh,” he said, but recovered quickly. “You sure ye need a bath right now? We could get all manner of dir’y first.”

She smirked before stepping into the water, “I need to be clean first. I was on the floor…at RedWoody…”and did a grossed-out body shiver as she sank down into the tub, “I couldn’t bear to let my shower gel go to waste, either.”

He didn’t mind. He would wait for her. Chibs didn’t want her to waste the shower gel either. It was the same stuff she used that first night she was with him. He’d buy her a case of the stuff if she liked it so well. The smell was like heaven; sunshine and coconut. It suited her. He sat down on the towel that (Y|N) had tossed down on the floor near the tub. Her face was starting to turn pink from the heat already.

“I’m sorry if I scared ye wi’ my talk of houses and wee ones,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, she just slid forward in the tub and leaned over, reaching for him. He leaned into her and she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said, sitting back in the water.

He felt like the longer he looked into her eyes, the easier it would be for her to read his mind.

“It’s a nice house, I hope you get it,” she told him.

He couldn’t help himself, “Do ye see yerself staying? After the audit?”

You wanted to say ‘yes’ so badly. “I have to go back, Filip,” you said gently. You knew what he was feeling because you were feeling it, too. The terror of the unknown, the wanting to make plans for the future, but knowing it was futile. “Just like you running the club, I have an accounting firm to run. I can’t just abandon it.”

He didn’t say much. He must have known you were right. You suggested you both make the most of the time that you did have together and he agreed to that. He might not have liked it, but he didn’t say so. You weren’t ready to give up your life for a guy you just met, though, you thought maybe you could be persuaded.

After your bath, you got dressed and met Chibs in the bedroom, he was waiting up for you. There would be no more “good Scottish humping” that night. Instead, Chibs had found an icepack in the freezer that you could lay on while you talked with him. He wanted to know everything about you, he asked you endless questions. It wasn’t all one-sided, he told you anything you wanted to know, too.

You didn’t know how long you talked, it didn’t matter. You were with Chibs and you were safe, anything else was just noise. The last thing you could remember asking him about before you fell asleep next to him was his tattoos...

a/n: again... sorry it took so long... it’s been a crazy few weeks... so busy! feedback is welcome and appreciated!

#Secrets #fan fiction #sons of anarchy #chibs telford #reader insert #chibs x reader #kazosa #chapter 8

92 notes · View notes

shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Happy Fuckin’ Birthday.(NSFW)

I know the months don’t add up to the events in canon perfectly, but this idea popped into my head and I went for it anyway. Set around Season 2/3. Enjoy :) xx

“Hey! Hey, Gallagher!”

Lip glances up from his phone and gives the young man walking towards him a suspicious look. Fresh out of juvie and walking as if he owns the damn world, Mickey fucking Milkovich.

“Do I need to run?”

Lip calls and Mickey shrugs

“If you do, I’ll break your fuckin’ legs.”

“And if I don’t run?”

“What’s with twenty fuckin’ questions? Just say hello like a normal person.”

“Hello Mickey.”

Lip sighs and puts his phone away. What the fuck Ian sees in Milkovich, Lip will never know. The guy is short as shit, walks like he’s got something jammed up his ass – which he might, Lip reasons – and seriously needs to learn basic hygiene. Lip stands up from leaning on his fence and quickly looks over his shoulder to make sure he can run if it turns out he needs to.

“It’s Ian’s birthday soon, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well … what the fuck does he want? Army shit?”

“Why would you get my brother a present, Mickey?”

Lip sees alarm flicker across Mickey’s face but it is gone in the time it takes for Mickey to blink and the look is replaced with one of open hostility.

“Mandy wants to get him something – that OK with you?”

“Oh, sure, if it’s Mandy …”

“Wipe that shit eating grin off your face or I will remove it for you, fuckhead.”

Even if Lip was not a certified genius, he would be able to tell that he is on very thin ice and he holds up his hands apologetically.

“Ian likes army stuff sure, but he also likes cigarettes and beer, might be more appropriate.”

“Nah man, she wants to get him something like … ah … like something he can keep.”

Mickey shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip, rolling it self-consciously between his teeth. Lip smirks and draws on his cigarette, enjoying the other boy’s uneasiness. It is funny really, if someone had asked Lip, he would have said that he didn’t realise that Mickey was capable of emotions beyond anger and malice but actually watching him talk about Ian, there is a carousel of different feelings playing out that are visible for the whole world to see. If anyone actually bothered to look at Mickey for more than a couple of seconds, Lip thinks, his secret would be well and truly be out.

“You play much poker, Mickey?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason, just wondered. Anyway,”

Lip smiles and cocks his head to the side thinking.

“Ian is careful with his lighters. I reckon if Mandy got him a nice one, he’d take care of it.”

Mickey considers this for a moment and then nods curtly

“Alright. Thanks. I’ll tell her.”

“Want me to tell her? I’m seeing her later.”

“What? No! I mean … yeah. Whatever. Do what the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit.”

Mickey frowns at Lip and turns on his heel, walking back up the block.

Ian wakes up and heads downstairs. There is the familiar hushing and suspicious silence as he gets half-way down and he grins to himself before arranging his face into sleepy, unawareness and plodding down the last few steps.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The chorus greets him as soon as his foot hits the kitchen floor and he is bundled in a proper Gallagher group hug. There are pancakes, balloons, and a small pile of presents on the table.

Ian never goes into school on his birthday, it’s kind of his whole thing and as it is the only time he plays hookie, Fiona has let him do it since he was ten. They eat together and watch Ian open his ‘big’ present, a pair of Haix military boots that everyone had chipped in for then there is the usual chaos of the family getting ready to leave the house.

Finally, Ian is on his own and he turns his attention to the rest of his gifts. There is a knitted scarf from Debbie and Fiona in soft green wool, a drawing from Liam, a knife from Carl that looks like it has seen better days and Ian makes a mental note to ask his little brother where he found it, a bottle of Makers Mark from Lip and a card with twenty dollars in it which is signed ‘Dad’ in Fiona’s neat script.

Ian pockets the twenty and picks up the last package. It is small and wrapped in cheap metallic blue gift wrap; a folded scrunch of paper taped to the front opens up to reveal the words ‘Ian. Happy Birthday. M.’

Ian’s heart thuds in his chest and his palms slick with sweat. It is not Monica’s extravagant penmanship, all loops and swirls, nor is it Mandy’s deliberately spiky lettering. He only knows one other ‘M’ who might send him a birthday present. The words are almost carved into the paper, created with swift, sure strokes and a heavy hand.

Ian sniffs at the package but any possible trace of the senders scent has long since faded.

He almost doesn’t want to open it but he also wants to see what Mickey has sent him. He pours himself another coffee and sips it slowly before taking a deep breath and judiciously peeling off the slip of attached to the gift. He puts in in his front pocket and unwraps the box slowly.

The gift wrap peels away to reveal a smooth black zippo box. Ian opens it carefully and tips the contents into the palm of his hand. It is a simple steel lighter, elegantly crafted and on one side, the initials ‘I. C. G’ have been painstakingly carved across the middle. Ian flips it over, for a split second he is disappointed, and then he sees in the corner, a very small, neat ‘M’ and his heart soars.

He pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text:

‘It’s perfect! Thank you! Best birthday gift ever!’

Moments later his phone vibrates on the table – Mickey must have been waiting for him to text.

‘Welcome. You home?’

‘Yes. Come over?’

‘K.’

Ian dashes upstairs and tugs his bed into some sort of order, he lies down and tries to get into a pose that is both casual and impossibly sexy before realising that he’ll have to go downstairs to let Mickey in anyway.

He delves into his backpack and meticulously lines up lube, condoms and cigarettes on his dresser, Mickey is likely to want them in that order and it pleases Ian no end that he knows this.

There is a knock on the door and Ian sprints down to answer it like an over excited puppy. Mickey is stood on the step, tongue already set in the corner of his mouth and dick very visibly straining against the crotch of his pants.

“Happy fuckin’ Birthday, Firecrotch.”

His smirk changes to a look of shocked irritation as Ian throws his arms around him.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Ian babbles as Mickey futilely pushes at his chest.

“What the … get the fuck off me, idiot!”

“It’s perfect, Mickey!”

Ian finally pulls back to smile down into Mickey’s scowling face and finds himself roughly hustled inside as Mickey bundles him in and kicks the door shut behind them.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that again, you hear me?”

“Sure, sorry, just … really happy.”

Ian can’t stop smiling and Mickey holds his grouch for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and giving into a small smirk

“Yeah well, glad you like it. It’s not stolen either.”

“Really?”

Ian looks as if he is about to throw himself on Mickey again and the shorter man quickly sidesteps him, moving over to peer at the photos on the mantle piece, wanting to get away from the windows before Gallagher does any other gay shit.

“You eat already?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know you’d be coming or I’d have saved you something.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Was gonna buy you breakfast or something if you hadn’t.”

“Oh.”

The pancakes turn to ash in Ian’s stomach and he doesn’t think he has ever regretted anything as much as he regrets eating them. He looks at Mickey hopefully and gives him a lopsided smile

“We could get something later?”

“Yeah whatever man, I ain’t got anything on today.”

Ian can’t quite believe that Mickey would have kept his schedule free specifically because it is Ian’s birthday, but he is not completely beyond hoping and the thought makes his heart flutter. Mickey adjusts the crotch of his jeans uncomfortably as he turns back to Ian.

“Got somethin’ else for you by the way.”

His grin is the most beautiful thing Ian has ever seen, all white teeth and pink tongue and sweetly arching eyebrows over perfect blue eyes. Ian wants to tell him this but pushes the idea away and tries to get himself onto Mickey’s level, it’s not exactly a challenge and he feels a little swagger creeping into his stride as he approaches Mickey.

“Two presents? Must be my lucky day.”

“Uh-huh. Get upstairs, Gallagher.”

Mickey jerks his head toward the stairs but Ian grabs his shoulders and pushes him forward, slapping Mickey’s ass sharply

“You go first; I want to watch you walk.”

Mickey ducks his head and his grin becomes almost shy but he obligingly walks ahead of Ian who takes a firm grip on Mickey’s hips and makes an appreciative noise at the back of his throat.

“Damn, your ass is perfect.”

Mickey cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder at Ian and doesn’t reply. Ian considers this progress in itself and smiles. When they get into the room Mickey closes the curtains which is unusual in an upstairs room, even for him.

“Ya know, birthdays come once a year.”

“I’ve had a few. I know how it works.”

Ian laughs and Mickey raises his middle finger as he closes the bedroom door. He is gnawing at one side of his lip and looking pretty damn nervous all of a sudden.

“Yeah so … I figure something … nice for you is ok as like a one-time thing.”

Ian draws his brows together in confusion

“Okay…?”

Mickey closes his eyes for a second, clearly making up his mind and then all at once, drops to his knees in front of Ian, his hands tugging roughly at Ian’s belt and the buttons of his pants. Ian is too shocked to do anything for a moment and then he begins helping Mickey, who’s fingers are trembling too much to get the small fly buttons open.

“Are you sure?”

“You fuckin’ want this or not?”

“Yes I do.”

Ian nods hastily and Mickey give him a curt nod in response before licking his lips and contemplating the object now quivering an inch from his nose. Ian fixes his eyes on the ceiling, patiently waiting for Mickey to decide exactly what he is going to do with it. He is willing himself to stillness, trying not to even breathe too loud for fear of spooking Mickey.

Eventually, after what feels like an age, he feels the tip of Mickey’s tongue briefly flick against the slit and makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, trying to keep still and not plunge his hands into the dark whorls of Mickey’s hair. Far from scaring his lover, the noise actually seems to encourage Mickey, who tentatively takes Ian into his mouth, then swallows a little too enthusiastically, and promptly chokes.

“Ugh! Fuck!”

“Shit! You OK?”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, I’m concentrating.”

“Sure. Sorry.”

Ian’s lip is shaking like a leaf but he knows this is over if he laughs so he uses everything he’s got to push it back.

Mickey tries again, a little less exuberantly and begins to find his rhythm. It is not the most expertly delivered job he has ever had but it is definitely up there in terms of the most enthusiastic. Ian places an experimental hand on Mickey’s head, letting his fingers stretch through the black lengths. Mickey makes a noise of his own and Ian shudders happily.

“Use your hand for the rest of the length.”

He urges and Mickey complies instantly. Ian gives it a moment, chances a look down, and is met with an intent blue gaze looking up at him and knuckles that say ‘FUCK’ wrapped around his cock.

“Aww Jesus, Mickey.”

It is all too much. Ian feels so much love in his heart for this unusual, beautiful and passionate man that he can barely stand it.

“Mick, I’m going to … I can’t hold it …”

Mickey’s eyebrows lower a fraction, an expression that even from Ian’s vantage point clearly spells determination and Ian loses all control, dragging Mickey closer by the hair, his body convulsing and hips slamming forward.

A little while later as they lay side by side in Ian’s bed, sharing a cigarette for no reason other than because they want to, Ian toying with his new lighter and Mickey toying with the silky hair on Ian’s thigh, Mickey clears his throat

“So … uh … was that OK?”

“You know it was! The way you clenched …”

“Nah, not that.”

Mickey shakes his head but he is smiling happily and clearly as pleased with the results of that escapade as Ian is.

“I meant the first thing … what I did.”

“Oh!”

Ian looks across at Mickey. His face in profile is almost achingly perfect and Ian wishes he could kiss him but contents himself with a sweep of his thumb over one darkly stubbled cheekbone.

“Yeah! Shit! Yeah that was amazing, Mick. Thank you.”

“Cool. Yeah, I never did that before.”

“Really?”

Ian doesn’t mean it the way it sounds and Mickey glares at him for a second before settling.

“Course not. That’s like the gayest of the gay. It’s fuckin’ sick, man.”

“But you did it for me.”

Ian smiles coyly and Mickey purses his lips before nodding.

“Yeah. I did it for you. Don’t get fuckin’ used to it though. I’m not your mouth whore.”

“I know.”

Ian passes the smoke back to Mickey and they lie in silence for a minute or two.

“You wanna get some lunch?”

Mickey asks finally

“Sure. Why not?”

Ian feels like he is floating in some sort of perfect bubble and for once Mickey is in it with him. It is shaping up to be one of the best days of his life. Happy fuckin’ birthday, indeed!

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #mickey milkovich #Milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #Ian loves Mickey #fan fiction

37 notes · View notes

jawllines · 8 years ago

Text

Y/N hasn't left his side since he found her a week ago and he can't say it's the worst thing. Sure, she can be a menace and an absolute nuisance at times, and she eats all of his food, but she expresses her gratitude in his saving and feeding her by protecting him, whether it be from seedy burglars or a raccoon that had scampered in through his open patio door. And he can't say the company isn't nice either, since he'd never liked being alone in the first place.

"Harry," she begins, voice soft, low, and borderline monotone that drags him from his reverie, and he looks towards where she sits besides him on the couch, "I'm bored. Can we go to the grocery store?"

His brows furrow, "We went yesterday, what could you possibly need from the grocery store?"

"Milk, please." She stands up and grabs his keys, her gestural way of saying that she is going with or without him, "And Little Debbie."

Y/N is 100% not a human

(this is part 1 of a small little series I’ll be writing in between one shots!!)

She showed up on his doorstep like a lost kitten, Harry remembers, only opposed to a kitten she was covered in blood and looking half dead.

It was unnerving, and he probably should have called the cops or an ambulance or someone who could properly take care of her. But when he reached for his phone, she shook her head slowly, pointed her finger at his door like a take me in there, and he wishes he could blame it on some hypnotic trance or something - wishes that he could say she stared into his eyes, bewitched him before using him as a pawn -- however it was sheer stupidity on his part. Stupidity and a niggling thought at the back of his head that said getting police involved wasn't the best way to go (especially since he is who he is), that all that blood couldn't be just hers and she'd still be alive, that whatever her injuries were Harry had loads of medical stuff shoved in a cabinet in his kitchen thanks to a worrywart of a mother and a company who sends him free gauze due to a generous donation back in 2013, when they were touring Take Me Home.

So he threw all caution to the wind, opened his door, slid his arms around her weak body, and took her inside. Never mind her being a bloody mess and introducing stains to the fabric of his clothes, he held her closely to him and asked if she was okay. "What happened? Are you hurt badly? Where did you come from?" Whose blood is this? gets lost in the muddle of confused thoughts and urgency. He remembers he tried moving quickly but not too fast; while he needed to treat her wounds as soon as possible, one wrong move at this point could be fatal, or so he thought at the time.

She stared blankly at him, he remembers, and for a moment he thought she might be unresponsive or in shock, until a crackled, dreary voice trickled into his ears.

"I'm hungry. Do you have turkey?"

He should've known she'd be a pain in the ass then.

After bathing her, he isolated where her blood was coming -- a haunting gash at her back, and a long cut from the apex of her thigh towards knee -- and after fighting past his wooziness, he tried to disinfect, stop the bleeding, and wrap her up the best that he could while she ate a sandwich like she hadn't eaten in decades. She still managed not to give him any answers to questions that mattered, like what the fuck lead her to his door and why she seemed completely unaware of the deep wounds she had, no matter how many times he asked them. "Are you just going to ignore me?" He had groused, tossing the trash from the bandages in his waste bin, as she sat on his sink, not bothering to pretend her eyes weren't trained on his every move. When Harry signed up for being a pop star he knew he would have some weird moments, but a girl covered in blood at his doorstep now in one of his fluffy robes ignoring him -- had never even crossed his mind as a possibility.

Exhaling loudly, Harry knuckled at his eyes and tried to ward away a growing, glowing red headache starting to dig at his frontal lobe, "Will you at least tell me your name?"

She took a few moments to think about it, swinging her legs back and forth atop of his counter and chewing slowly, slowly, slowly until she swallowed and frowned and a dry cough left her, "I'm thirsty."

Harry gets her the drink, even though she's being a little shit, but it's when he presents her with a glass of water and a pill from an old prescription for her pain, that she answers him.

"Y/N." Her voice was still rough and ragged, dragging through the air, "My names Y/N. Do you have a cat? I can smell it."

It hadn't taken long for Harry to figure out she wasn't human. While healing quickly (or quicker than any human might -- she wasn't free of her wounds just yet, but she was moving around easily and not bothered by them) can always be pinned on everyone's body repairing differently and at different speeds, the fact that she had taken down two grown men who had tried their hand in sneaking past Harry's security system, was not so easily excused. That night couldn't have been excused at all, if anyone were to see, and if those dolts who tried robbing him were dumb enough to share a story about their attempted crime being duped by girl with one arm around a cat, they'd surely be told to lay off whatever drugs they'd made acquaintance with.

No, not human in anyway. . .she couldn't be. . .yet Harry doesn't fear her. How could he when she capers around in silky floral robes, flops starfished onto the couch, and begs for him to play with her hair?

She had stood in front of those two barbaric looking guys all done up in black (which was so stereotypically burglary-like), looking a few feet too small to be dealing with them. Harry had tried to intervene, having grabbed his phone to call the police but Y/N -- much like when he first met her -- shook her head at him, pointed back towards his room like a Go in there before making her way down to confront them, with her arm around the cat. And maybe if Harry had full faith that she wasn't going to be pummeled, or killed then he would have shrunk back into his room like a coward, but instead he sits at the top of his stairs and peeks through the banister like a coward instead. Watched as her eyes changed to two deep, black lakes and stared agape when she shuffled Marshmallow over into the crook of her left arm before taking the one by the throat and tossing him back into Harry's foyer, then dodging the other's attempts at hitting her before kicking his feet out from beneath him, (she hadn't killed them, no, though she admits she would have had Harry not been watching).

The memory is vivid, of Harry sat unmoving in his place not so hidden anymore. The men had scrambled out hastily, nearly leaving a few incriminating items as they shouted and understandably freaked the hell out, wondering aloud what the "fuck was that!" and who the "fuck was that!" (now that he looks back on it, it was quite funny that they left out the front door then, unlocking it from the inside before charging out). Y/N pivoted on her heel, still clutching tight to the cat who also had been stunned to silence (she normally meows a damn storm) as she tiptoed her way up each step. Stopping before him. . .he half expected her to relay some speech to him about what she was, and what that was, and finally explain how she had gotten to him in the first place.

Instead, in what he now realizes is in very Y/N-like fashion, she held out her other hand for him.

"Can we sleep now?"

Y/N hasn't left his side since he found her a week ago and he can't say it's the worst thing. Sure, she can be a menace and an absolute nuisance at times, and she eats all of his food, but she expresses her gratitude in his saving her by protecting him, whether it be from seedy burglars or a raccoon that had scampered in through his open patio door. And he can't say the company isn't nice either, since he'd never liked being alone in the first place.

His brows furrow, "We went yesterday, what could you possibly need from the grocery store?"

"Milk, please." She stands up and grabs his keys, her gestural way of saying that she is going with or without him, "And Little Debbie."

Harry jumps up, going for the keys and in response she drops them into his hands, "Yeah, and where do you expect to go dressed like that?" He refers to her robe, falling loosely on her shoulders but she tilts her head like she doesn't understand, "And stop saying Little Debbie it makes you sound like you're trying to eat a child. You like the Donut Sticks from the company Little Debbie."

He gives her a moment to consider this new information as he jogs into his laundry room. Sure, Harry doesn't particularly feel like venturing to the grocery store on Tuesday at 9AM but he can't risk her going alone. Harry really can't risk her going into public alone at all, and it wasn't because she couldn't hold her own (she could definitely do that), Y/N was just terrible at assimilating and not rousing suspicion. When they'd first gone to the grocery store she had wandered off while Harry was getting toiletries, and he'd been completely oblivious to what was happening until he heard the hustle and bustle of people and a small, "Sir, um, the girl you came with is on top of the dessert aisle and she is refusing to get down."

Atop of the shelf she was sat angrily, with her arms crossed and her legs dangling, ignoring the few people who have gathered around and tried to coax her down. "Where is the Little girl?" She kept asking and it took Harry a moment to realize she meant Little Debbie snack cakes, and completely mortified, he pushed his way to the front of the group of people and held out his hand for her.

"Down ya get! Yeh can't just climb up on shelves in stores, Pet, that's not safe." ("and you're drawing a little too much attention to us right now" fell into the spectrum of things he always almost nearly says but never follows through), "Plus you're in the wrong aisle."

It wouldn't have been a big deal had Harry not been anticipating it would make the papers, which thankfully it hadn't. People are used to seeing him around leggy models in fancy clothes so that was never a worry and he could dodge those questions tastefully, but how was he supposed to explain to anyone a girl in one of his shirts and sweatpants sitting angrily above boxes of raspberry tarts and cupcake mix? Hell, he couldn't even make sense of it himself, really, and he's grateful he is on break right now so if any questions arose he could avoid them.

Harry can't say he isn't worried though, for when he's off break. His album is coming up soon and so is his movie, but the only way he can imagine leaving Y/N behind is if someone were to watch over her or she left herself. Who would he get to watch her though? The only person who would do it who isn't busy with a child and no questions asked would be Nick, if he thinks about it. Though is it a dick move to drop off a demon at your friend's house while you go gallivant at interviews and go to movie premieres? He supposes he could take her with him and leave her in the hotel, perhaps, but Y/N grows bored easily and would scout him out most definitely, and she wouldn't bother to find something appropriate to wear either -- maybe just slink her way into the movies with a robe and ask the person besides him to, "Move. Please." Because though she is demanding, she is quite polite, even if her tone gives them no room to decline her request.

How would people take to her though, if he just let her lounge around him? It's no denying she's enchanting in a way he's not able to describe very clearly. Something in the way she carries herself, the bright look in her eyes and how they dazzle him often, her skin is soft, her body is made by the god's -- he thinks -- and while she's the demon, he just wants to sink his teeth into her sometimes. And despite her often expressionless voice, her personality was quite amiable and friendly, which he wouldn't expect from a demon. Maybe it would've been more believable if not for the way she shown up on his stoop covered in blood and not very concerned about it -- but he can't say he wasn't shocked when she did something kind.

When he says kind though, he uses this word loosely. Y/N does what she can, since Harry is the only real human contact she's had that he knows of, so she'll get him a bag of chips when she gets one but then successfully steals his bag of chips and eats it when he's taking too long. Or she'll walk in on him in the shower and step in behind him because, "This will save you water, no?" before he shoos her out and tells her not to worry about it. Y/N means well, she just isn't well versed on displaying it, which -- if Harry can admit -- is pretty endearing.

"You take too long." Y/N lets him know while she grabs the clothes from his hands, the robe slipping off of her shoulders. Harry diverts his gaze. It'd been pointless trying to explain to her why she couldn't disrobe in front of him; anyway he put it she only countered with "They're just parts. You've seen them before, yes?" And she had him there, so he'd given up.

Harry rolls his eyes, "You're just impatient." He utters, busying himself with tidying the throw cover she'd been covered in that had puddled to the ground before finding his boots.

"No," she says seriously, "I am Y/N, you know that." His eyes clicker towards her, drawn to the effortless way she makes a terribly wrinkled band shirt look impossibly nice. Often does Harry wonder if being beautiful comes with being a demon -- if that makes it easier to draw prey in (i.e. unsuspecting prats like himself).

The floorboards creak as he shifts his weight, stepping off towards the door with a grumble.

"You give me a headache, you know that?"

. . .

It's a Tuesday, exactly one week and three days that Harry has had Y/N, when he wakes up to her on the phone.

On his phone.

Talking to someone on his phone.

So Harry thinks it was understandable that he scrambled up from his bed, gangly limbs tangled in egg white sheets. He'd left his phone on his bedside table which meant it must have been vibrating and ringing loud enough to wake Y/N up (unless it was due to some acute sense of hearing or summat), who must have stomped into his room and answered herself. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it were Niall, or Nick, but the possibility that it was his mum, or Jeff, or even his record company on the other end sends the hairs on the back of his neck straight up.

"Harry is asleep," he hears her voice from the kitchen (figures), "I will tell him your country called. What? What do you mean you are not a country, you are Colombia no? That is a country. Did you go to school?"

Sliding in, disheveled and wearing one sock half on his foot while the other is bear patting on cold linoleum, he snatches the phone from her hand, because that was definitely the record company which means Y/N was also definitely belittling one of the poor workers. Y/N looks disgruntled that he took the phone from her hands, furrowing her brows and frowning at him but Harry pivots on his heel and walks the other way. "Hello? Sorry 'bout that, m'friend 's a bit loopy from pain medicine." The lie slides easy off his tongue while he rubs the sleep deep from his eyes, stumbling as far away from Y/N as he could.

"It's alright Mr. Styles, it's not everyday my intelligence is questioned, so it was a sure way to start the morning," they say through a chuckle, "We were just calling as a remainder for your scheduled meeting. Are you still able to make it?"

"Yeah, course, wouldn't miss it fo' the world." He answers quickly, checking the clock to see it is 9:50 which prompts him to start shoving his boxers down his thighs, waddling in the direction of the bathroom, "See ya soon."

Harry isn't going to say he forgot about he meeting, the meeting just hadn't been on top of his list of priorities for the past two days which is ridiculous he knows. This is his solo debut, he's been working on it for ages and wants everything to go over well and make his mark darker in the music industry, but it reigns true that having a demon as a pet is a lot of god damn work. Almost like taking care of a kitten that he so often compares her to, keeping to herself but raids his pantry at all hours of the night, pulls at him when she wants to be entertained, kicks major ass, and doesn't understand the concept of being patient entirely. She also enjoys her hair being played with, which he'd only done twice but each time she was rendered pliable and soft for bed.

What he really needs right now is a babysitter -- or someone at least to just check in on her, but this is very short notice and he knows there is no way out of this. It wouldn't be a problem had she not shown her distaste for sitting in the car and waiting, so he knows she would try following him in and that wouldn't be good. How unprofessional would it be to bring someone with him to a business meeting, who has nothing to do with anything, and they'd most likely perceive as a fling he's become especially clingy over. And dammit, Harry has done a lot to rid that image of himself from people's minds, and he wasn't looking on giving that all away just so a demon wasn't upset.

So he's hoping to reason with her about staying in the car, or better yet staying home. That's why he doesn't make a big deal about it when he hears her enter the bathroom.

Sometimes she sits on the sink and waits for him; she gets bored and lonely is what he figures, and it's actions like this that make him want to know where she came from. From what he knows of her kind (which is very little and based off TV, Movies, and Stephen King novels) they're supposed to be reclusive, conniving, and if ever a dull moment they'd just go fuck with a human or summat. It was perplexing, how she acts completely different than expected of her, but he guesses she's much like him in that sense. People expect him to be a proper diva, even with however many articles coming out of people giving him their good word. Just because he was famous he's meant to be full of himself and up in the clouds, and he hates that, so he can only imagine she might hate what people think of her too (if she even knows).

Sometimes he wonders if all demons are like this or if it's only her. . .wonders if there are a lot of them in the world or if she's one of few. There's so many questions he has but he fears she may answer none of them. Or rather, he knows she won't answer any of them, because when he finally works up the nerve to get at least on inquiry out she stares at him blankly then changes the subject.

Where did you come from?

It is much too cold in here. Turn on your heat. Now please.

Sighing, he massages so much shampoo into his scalp that it foams up and falls in clumps at his feet. If there were more time he would sit and let the hot water soothe the ache in his shoulders from sleeping all twisted up, but he supposes he'll just have to deal with it for today. His stomach also grumbles something fierce, and he pouts down at it -- he could probably just grab a breakfast bar, if Y/N hadn't dug into those yet. Really, how much could one person eat? Harry knows she's not technically a person and for a moment does he play around with the idea that human food might not fill her like. . .like whatever she eats out there.

Though thoughts of what she might have eaten when she was not around him makes him shudder, so he shuts those down quickly.

"Y/N?" He calls over the pattering of water echoing off the shower walls. A low hum in her response tells him she's listening, "I'm going to a meeting today and I assume you're going with me?" Another hum, mm-hm, "Well, I'll need you to stay in the car alright? I'll only be inside for a moment, but you're not allowed in with me."

In the next few moments its quiet, save for the noises of his bathroom and his own breathing. Brows furrowed, he repeats her name, and when she doesn't answer this time, he just shoves his head back under the water to finish washing his growing curls. He hadn't expected her to be happy about it, per say, but he hadn't expected her to be so enraged she didn't respond. Even if she never answered his questions, Y/N never truly ignored him before, and he doesn't like the sad little feeling bubbling up in his belly because of it. Harry hadn't left her side for two weeks, surely the trauma of her accident (or whatever happened to her) had settled by now, hadn't it? Shouldn't she be able to spend just a few moments on her own? Or was he not being empathetic enough with her situation?

Harry is gearing up to face a glare when he slides the shower door open a sliver so he could reach for his towel, but when he peeks out from behind the glass his muscles lessen a tense he hadn't known they'd been holding. A smile even pulls at his bitten red lips when he slinks back so he can tuck the towel around his waist. Sliding the door the rest of the way open so he could step out onto a memory foam mat he'd bought as a late night Amazon decision.

There on the sink Y/N is sat, head leaning against the mirror and eyes shut, the glass fogging up with her warm, gentle breaths slow and easy. It's when she looks like this it's hard to believe she's anything but human, and if not for what he saw that night he wouldn't believe anything but that. Just a very, very hungry girl who healed real quick and was well skilled in the art of fighting.

Harry fixes her robe back onto her shoulders, covering her breasts a little more than they had been by the silky floral fabric (Harry had already had two nice robes, and let her pick about an additional seven because it seems to be the only thing she likes to wear). He slides his arms beneath her body carefully, lifting her up so that he could relocate her to her bedroom (he had more than enough space for her to have her own). Y/N leans into his body easily, her face tilting into his damp chest, eyes remaining closed.

"Here we are." His voice is but a whisper as he nudges open her door, and he walks quiet as he can to her bed, pulling back the covers so he can slip her beneath them. Droplets of water from his hair dot parts of her face and neck so he takes it upon himself to wipe them away, all while trying to be careful not to wake her. It depends on the day whether she's a heavy sleeper or if Harry twisting the door open tears her from her dreams. Thankfully, today, she slept like a log.

From there, Harry precedes to get ready and counts his lucky stars that he had such a sleepy demon on his hands.

. . .

The meeting went well. They talked numbers mostly; discussed how much they'd like to see this album sell, where they want to see it sell most, but they also touched on the rating, a few dates, potential interviews and performance debuts. Harry felt good walking out of the conference room, his bones buzzing and fingertips tingling with excitement at the thought of being on stage again and where this would propel is career, along with the upcoming movie he'd had a chance to star in. He told himself this would be his year, dammit, demon or no demon, he was right on track.

Speaking of which, he was surprised that she stayed home. Harry had half the mind she'd track him down or something, since no doubt she would be pissed he left her when she was meant to go with him. Though he is quite proud of her for resisting and letting him get his work done. . .maybe she would be more compliant with his traveling than he'd originally thought.

"Mr. Styles, there is a woman demanding to see you at the front desk." A soft spoken intern tells him.

Harry spoke too soon.

As he's jogging to the front, Harry's imagination wanders into the depths of what could be happening. She can be rather unpredictable, especially in a surrounding unfamiliar to her. Does she have a knife to the secretary's throat? Has she shown her true self and gone and let her eyes change? Was she threatening them how she does him when he doesn't make dinner right away? Or had she simply already killed her after the secretary refused to take her to Harry? There are too many possibilities of what could be happening, so Harry really has no clue what to expect as he stumbles forward onto the scene.

However, he can say that he didn't expect this.

The poor secretary (he thinks her name is Tanya -- cute little thing she is, and she always greets Harry with a big, sweet smile) had a lap full of Y/N, who was only dressed in her robe and had her hand gently holding the side of her face, "Be a good girl," her voice was enchanting, mesmerizing, slow and syrupy, dripping down Harry's insides from here so he can only imagine how Tanya must feel, staring at Y/N with wide eyes but making no move to push her off, "Take me to Harry. I have something for him. Now please."

"Y/N!" He just about shrieks, tripping over himself trying to get to her, "You get off of her!"

Doing as told, Y/N slips off of her and Tanya stands straight up so quickly she nearly knocks her chair back, cheeks red as flames when she faces him, "Hello, Mr. Styles, you have a visitor." She squeaks, and it's when he hears a collective group of sighs accompanied with small utters of S'not fair, I wanted to find him for her! that he notices the pack of people who had crowded around the desk. Had Y/N given them that blank, longing look in their eyes? They were all staring at her, the lot of them looking proper enthralled with her existence as she moved around towards him.

Look at her. . .ethereal.

Amazing.

What does she want with that pop star prick anyways?

I want her.

Harry decided to let that particularly rude comment slide because he doesn't like confrontation and to be fair the guy didn't look like he was in his right state at all. Actually, he looked drugged out of his mind when Harry looks closely. . .all of them do, with moony smiles as their eyes cast onto her. The whole situation was rather bizarre, no doubt someone looking in on them is probably as alarmed as Harry feels right now.

It's not until one of them reaches out towards Y/N's robe like they were about to readjust it for her that Harry's hand darts for her wrist, fingers looping delicately around the thin skin contradicting the way he tugs them both towards the bathroom. Clambering out from the group that had begun craftily slinking around the two, near encasing them in a circle. He hadn't known where he was going to go until he sees a restroom sign tacked up on the wall, and figuring that is their best bet (specifically since he wasn't quite sure if they were being followed or not by lovesick workers).

Shouldering at the door, it swings open, and with a quick once over beneath the stalls he reaches back to slip the lock into place, "Would you like to explain wha' in the bleeding hell that was?" He turns back towards her and watches as she heaves herself up on the granite counters, leaning her back against the cool mirror. The look she gives him is one that might say she thinks he's overreacting, swinging her legs playfully as she stares at him.

"S'nothing," she tells him, "They'll be normal in twenty minutes or so -- wouldn't let me through if I hadn't persuaded them a bit."

"Persuade 'em with what, some kind of spell or something?" His next words fall out of his mouth before she has time to answer, "You can't -- yeh can't just do that Y/N! I'm doing business with these people, this is serious, and I can't chance messing it up. I can't chance you messing this up for me! Christ, I take care of you I just need you to listen to me, but all you've done is cause me trouble."

Brows furrowing, Y/N leans forward a bit, "I'm not messing anything up." Her arms weave around her body, fingers hid behind her biceps as a frown settles on her mouth, "It's important, I know that. You tell me this all the time, and they won't remember this in a day anyways, so do not yell at me, Harry." As if to punctuate her point, she slides her hand into the pocket of her robe and it resurfaces with his thick, leather bound wallet in her grasp. She throws it at him a little forcefully, so that it knocks into his chest but his reflexes catch up in just enough time so he can catch it before it fell, "You left your money holder, so I brought it to you, but now I wish I hadn't. I'm going home."

With this she rips the door open, not bothering with the lock so there is a sickening crunch of metal as she stomps out. Harry watches as she storms out, and before the door swung closed he sees a few of the workers (he presumes most of them are interns, as they seem more susceptible to trailing after people) skipping after her and throwing questions out, like:

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pet, why're you mad? Are you okay? Do you need anythin'?"

. . .

Admittedly Harry feels like shit on his way home -- so much so that he stops by the grocery and gets everything together for chicken fried rice, two things of Little Debbie zebra cakes, a thing of banana milk, and a pair of slippers that looked rather soft and were in the shape of big bears. It's the least that he could do, really, after being such a prick. All she'd been doing was bringing him his wallet that he'd so stupidly left it on the table -- he remembers now that he'd forgotten it in a hurry to get out before Y/N had woken up.

And he can't say he hadn't been worried a bit, with what home she meant. Did she mean his home or where she came from? When he got back would she be sitting waiting for him or had she left with a robe and no money into the woods close by his house? Her wounds, while not as severe as they had been, still need to be cleaned out and redressed often, and he isn't sure where she would get that out there. Would she be okay out there anyways, or would she get even more hurt than she had been?

Why did Harry have to care so god damn much?

It was bothersome -- the turmoil in his belly was one of guilt and angst chasing after each other to determine who would reign supreme in his undoing. The cashier had to repeat the amount to him at Whole Foods at least 3 separate times before he finally just took out a hundred and set it on the table (he hates using big bills but he couldn't focus enough to count). On the ride home he caught himself considering what to do with all this food if she's gone, like it wasn't an option to cook it for himself, but if she had left he doesn't think he'd want to eat tonight. Which is dramatic, he knows, and he wonders if she's got him under some spell too, to make him feel like this.

When he pushes the door open to his home, he feels the dread creeping up from his toes to the tips of each hair on his body. There is a low murmur of the TV thrumming though an otherwise silent house, which was a good sign, and eases his mind to some degree, but that doesn't mean she is here. She could've came back to take the extra robes and stow away, but decided to eat a quick something before hand and hadn't bothered to power off the telly, as she's proven to do a few times. So with this in mind, as he creeps around the corner and doesn't see her sat where she would be, he feels his shoulders deflate and another emotion well up in him entirely.

He hadn't wanted her to go -- no, not at all, and the thought of any empty house, lifeless and Y/N-less makes him sadder than it should. If he weren't willing them away, tears probably would've crept into his eyes. He felt like absolute shit about it. . .there was no reason to snap at her, even if she had just come for no reason. She might be a demon, but she could be scared of whatever hurt her. Maybe she kept him around because she didn't want to be alone in case the thing attacked her again, or maybe Harry's cat was able to ward it away somehow.

The bags of food are seconds away from slipping out of his hands, when the floorboards shift behind him, "Harry, I'm angry with you, but I'm hungry, and your stove makes no sense." With wide eyes, he spins around fast to face her. Never had her fluctuation lacking voice sounded like such a symphony before, charmingly delightful on his ears, enough so to make his skin rise with goose pimples up and down his arms and legs. There she stood, in a different robe and smelling of Apple Cinnamon body wash and her hair askew in a bun near the top of her head, holding up her finger's bright red tip towards him, "I've burned my finger three times, and it's starting to hurt me."

A small smile twitches at his lips as he slides the bags he holds from one hand to the others, reaching to take hold of her hand gently, so he could hold it closer to his eyes. He tries not to let the relief and happiness show too much in his voice or in his features, but he wonders if she's able to feel it exuding off of him, "Give it here, Pet, lets take a look."

After further inspection Harry takes her to the bathroom and instructs her to sit on one side of the double counter for him, and she takes back the spot she had had this morning. Leaning into the mirror and holding her finger out before her, she pouts as he busies himself with taking care of it, "I'm still mad at you." She reminds him once more, shuffling against the counter with a pout at her mouth, "You were very unkind, and this is coming from a demon."

Harry sighs, turning on the tap besides her with cool water, directing her finger beneath it as he speaks, "I know, and I'm sorry for that. I -- I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did." He admits, and Y/N nods like she's waiting for more, "And I won't do it again."

"Good." She withdraws her finger from the stream of water, "Next time, I will spend all of your money instead of being helpful."

. . .

That night, before they go to bed, Harry reiterates his apology.

Y/N pats his head with a small smile.

"It is alright. Lock your windows tonight, please. Sweet Dreams."

She had a knack for that. . .saying rather off putting things right before bed -- but nonetheless, Harry locks his windows, triple checks, and sleeps with his TV on.

. . .

The sun is glittering through his window, when Harry wakes up. Along his bedsheets, turning them into dazzling crystals through his bleary eyes as he tries to make sense of the world in his first few breaths of consciousness. He was burrowed beneath the covers like he'd gotten cold throughout the night, more so than he usually does, and absently does he wonder if he'd left the air conditioner on too low. Spring was still early, so while it might be warm in the day, in the night the air is cold and it seeps through windows and doors into his home. The wide spacing doesn't help it much either, so he makes an effort to shut it off before he goes to bed. Apparently he'd forgotten last night.

It takes him a few moments to realize the body next to him, and when he shifts on his mattress he faces Y/N, who is sitting patiently up against his headboard. An arm around her stomach and eyes trained on the TV, reruns of an old sitcom playing lowly on screen. The robe she wears droops off her shoulders as it normally does, showing off bare shoulders and the supple, soft skin of her breast, and he makes a mental note to buy her a bralette or something, more for his sanity than anything else.

She smells like thick sheets of rain and leaves, from where he sits, and he's about to question whether she'd been outside or not when Y/N looks over to him. "Good morning, Harry, will you change me?" His brows furrow, slowly pressing himself up when she pulls her arm away from her stomach and he sees blood staining the skin and her robe. Then he's scrambling up, standing to fast so black blobs dot his vision but he has no time to be concerned with it.

"Jesus fuck! Wha's happened?" His voice is thick and raspy from sleep, but he's hitting high pitches he's never hit this early before, "C'mon then, let's get you to the bathroom," he doesn't wait for her answer, rounding over the corner of the bed to slip his arms beneath her and heave her up. Y/N leans into his body, blinking wearily at him.

Harry doesn't think he's ever panicked this much before -- consternation dripping sticky down his insides and making his chest squeeze tight. The last time he'd seen that much blood was when he first met her, and while alarmed he hadn't grown this odd attachment to her quite yet, so this time around it was much more frightening. So much so that after he settles her onto the cool ceramic of his toilet, he throws the drawers beneath his sink open so hard that it tries swinging back against him. He's fumbling with all the gauze and ointments he thought they'd been done with since Y/N did away with them last night.

"Off with this," he orders, however his fingers slip along the fabric at her shoulders and push and pull it down further than it had already fallen, exposing her to the chill air and he watches goosebumps ripple along her skin. The destroyed silk puddles around her body and reveals a new nasty laceration on her side, accompanied with the reopening of one of her earlier wounds, and a few abrasions scattered amongst the wreckage of it.

A gasp leaves him, lifting his eyes to look into hers, and Y/N seems out of it, more so than usual.

"What -- Y/N?" She blinks up at him as he reaches for a flannel, screwing on his sink to wet it, "Tell me. Tell me what happened."

Water droplets dribble down his forearms after he's wrung it out, getting down onto his knees before her as he starts wiping her clean so he could make out exactly where the new wound started and ended. She was unmoving save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and she watches him -- he could feel her gaze burning into his head -- and he meets her curious eyes a few times as he waits for her to answer. Though he expects her not to, the hope for some sort of clarity is still alive.

Once the excess blood is soaked into the flannel, Harry gets to work on cleaning them out. He's gentle as he can be, though she doesn't feel much of anything -- or at least he doesn't think she does, given her unresponsiveness to it -- and the quiet is eating him alive. At least before when he'd done this she was eating, and asking questions about his cat, and not looking so soulless and vacant as she is now. What happened last night? Had it something to do with her telling him to lock his window? Was whatever it was after him or was it after her?

It's when he is securing the gauze around her reopened wound that she speaks, "I am sorry."

"For what Pet?" He asks her, regarding the fresh white bandages while he swipes some petroleum jelly on the scrapes.

"You went to bed late last night, and now you are up early. It is my fault for both."

He shakes his head, wiping off his hands on a dry towel, "You're not at fault for either. I kept myself up, I woke myself up. Stay here."

Harry grabs the soiled robe from the floor before retreating through the door, heading towards his laundry room. On his way he manages to unwrap it and get a good look at how terribly she'd been bleeding. Blood in large, dried splotches ruining the beautiful floral design and tears only an animal could make through the fabric. His chest clenches tight once again, and he stops in the hallway, closing his eyes for a moment to recoup. This feeling is suffocating, whatever it is. Whatever is making him well with such sadness and guilt.

When he returns, Y/N is sat where he left her, only standing when she sees he has another robe for her to wear in his hands. This one is a greyish blue, a pattern with trees like weeping willows. "Lift your arms fo' me." He helps her into it, tying it snugly around her waist.

Now they stand in his bathroom, with the steady drip off a wet flannel hanging over the sink onto the floor.

"What happened?" Harry tries once more.

Y/N blinks at him, "Will you make me eggs?"

"Y/N," he repeats sternly, using the tips of two fingers to turn her chin towards his, "What happened?"

Sighing, she tries to avoid his eyes again, noticeably biting the inside of her cheek. She's warmer than she had been -- he had realized he'd been cold because for some reason, her body wasn't giving off heat. None of it makes sense. . .he wishes he could get down to the nit and grit of what she was, but there was no way if she wouldn't tell him anything.

"I was. . .fighting." She answers slowly.

"Fighting what?" He encourages, nodding.

"It wanted to hurt you." She continues, ignoring him for the most part, the floorboards shifting beneath her weight, "And I didn't want it to. So I stopped it."

"But you got hur--" he began, though she is quick to cut him off.

"Yes, and I heal, you would not. Just. . .rely on me, for this one thing. Please."

This is a side of Y/N, Harry has never seen before. Her melodramatic, food gluttonous, "play with my hair, now please" is the one he's been privy to this whole time, not this perfervid girl in front of him, a fire in her eyes that renders him speechless, all bandaged from a life endangering fight that she'd managed to handle so accordingly. . .so quietly. . .that Harry had no idea there had been a fight in the first place (if not for her wounds, he would've noticed nothing at all).

"Besides," she adds with a huff, "If anyone is taking your soul, it is me. You are my human. Remember that."

#AHHH #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #STEPHEN KIN G HAD ME FEELING SOME SORTA WAY #BUT IM WRITING THE REGULAR ONE SHOT DONT SWEAT IT #THIS IS PART 1 #HARRY SMUT #THIS IS SUPERNATURAL AS YOU CAN PROBABLY TELL #WRITING #WOO

1K notes · View notes