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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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I want italyrry to RAIL ME well actually any Harry but especially italyrry in that tank top after his run like sir please TAKE ME

Can you imagine him walking through the door of your rented villa all breathless and sweaty, setting the keys down in the small ceramic bowl near the entrance and carefully removing his earbuds, putting them in their container and setting them down beside the platter.

You can hear him treading down the corridor that leads from the front door to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing lightly against the cement and porcelain tiles, his sharp exhales of exertion unmistakable.

You retrieve a water bottle from the fridge and dampened a cloth under some cool running water, drifting over to him as soon as he crosses the archway into the room.

His voice is wispy and raspy, throat barren and lips slightly chapped, but he gives you a weak smile nonetheless. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, trucker.” You quip playfully, removing his crude cap off his head and tossing it onto the counter, ruffling his matted hair to air out some heat.

“It was a gift from Jeff!” Harry exclaims defensively, a grin toying at the edges of his flushed lips. “Would be mean to throw it in the bin.”

“Mmhm.” You plop the water bottle into his awaiting hand, combing stringy curls away from his forehead as you reach up to gently drag the wet towelette across his ticking jaw and down his flexing neck.

Harry unscrews the cap of the drink with a faint crack, shrugging his brows nonchalantly as he tips it back, taking large gulps. His lashes flutter at the sensation of the chilled water running over his dry tongue and parched throat, humming softly in appreciation. You wipe across his defined collarbones and along his temples, ducking under the thin straps of his muscle tank to get across his shoulders.

He can see you trying to keep a straight face, which results in a light smirk coaxing his dimples into place, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards around the rim of his beverage.

Harry draws the water bottle away, twisting it shut to set it down as he leans his forearm onto the edge of the kitchen island, biceps rippling and pectorals heaving. You carefully fold the cloth over and start scrubbing behind his ears, trying to ignore the way he’s eyeing you smugly over the crests of his colored cheeks, blushing nose sniffling lightly in a cheeky manner. You can’t help notice that his skin is tinged the exact same shade of cherry red from the night before, when he’d worked up at sweat for a very different reason.

“Think you can get my chest and back next?” He murmurs lowly, bottom lip strung between his teeth to keep in an arrogant chuckle.

Your gaze momentarily flickers to his, heat pouring into your face as he blinks at you all sultry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “Sure. Shirt off.”

Harry grabs onto the back of his collar, hauling the grey Nike tank over his head, tanned muscles contracting and expanding with his movements. He drops the crumbled top onto the table, taking a slow step forward so you can have extended range across his body. His tone is dripping with condescending amusement. “Thanks, darling.”

You clear your throat lightly, rubbing the towel over his chest as he had requested, feeling it stutter beneath your touch. You swipe over his stomach, watching the way his butterfly tattoo expands with his gradual breaths, tummy twitching and abdomen tightening. The warmth in your cheeks rises in intensity.

“Turn around.” You murmur, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes, well aware that if you were to look at his cocky expression directly, he’d immediately be able to tell how easily he’s playing you.

After an elongated pause, Harry obliges, spinning around slowly on his heel. You have to bite down onto your tongue to keep from making a noise.

His broad back just looks so fucking tempting, covered in a thin sheet of shiny sweat, rising and falling with his deep breaths. His tendons are taunt under his sun-kissed skin and the second you set the cold cloth onto it, his entire spine shudders under your palms, a hiss streaming through the crack in his teeth.

Harry’s deep voice comes out thick and barely sheepish. “Sorry. Felt good.”

You somehow manage to keep your response steady. “S’fine.”

You begin to work the towel over the extent of his back, cleaning up the stickiness leftover from his jog. Halfway through, he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, a sly simper obvious across his lips as he gifts you a lingering once-over.

You raise your eyebrows at him in a silent question, halting your actions.

“Give me a kiss.”

Your eyes go half-lidded, tone humorously flat. “You’re sweaty and gross. Let me finish this and then maybe you’ll get one.”

“If I wanted one later, I would’ve asked later.” He snaps with a joking edge, turning to once again face you fully, your hands falling away from his back. “I want one now.”

“I’m not going to kiss you right now, you smell like a dirty gym sock.”

Harry wraps his long fingers around your wrist, tender yet firm, tugging you closer until his bare chest presses against your clothed own. His words come out as a rumbling whisper. “You didn’t have a problem kissing down my sweaty chest last night.”

Your cheeks feel like they’ve been set aflame. “That was different.”

Harry lists his head to the side, the gold specks around his pupils dancing coyly in the sunlight that filters through the open balcony doors of the villa, his chestnut ringlets swaying in the faint draft. “How so?”

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize he’s stumped you. There’s truly no difference— no solid rationalization, and he knows that. He just wants to see you fidget.

After a few more seconds of rummaging your brain for an acceptable answer, you gradually shut your jaw in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Harry scoffs, left hand finding its way onto the curve of your neck, lips jolting when he feels your pulse spike under his palm. His other hand coasts onto your hip, squeezing jestingly and yanking you further into his body. “Just one, yeah? Missed you while I was away. You’re not gonna leave your poor, lovesick boyfriend hanging, are you?”

The exaggerated puppy eyes and blubbering pout he puts on causes your eyes to roll up towards the ceiling. “Dumbass.”

Harry releases a boyish giggle that makes your stomach knot. “You can call me all the names you want as long as you kiss it better.”

“Moron.”

“Sure.”

You slowly teeter forward onto your tippy toes, reaching up towards his face. “Idiot.”

An entertained grin buckles his splotchy cheeks. “Absolutely.”

You bump the tip of your nose against his chin, quirking a single brow up at him suggestively. “Asshole.”

His gaze falters from your own to your mouth, tongue peeking out to lick at his itching lips, eyes hungry. “Ouch.”

You ghost your cupid’s bow over his own, the breath of your words burning his skin. “Prick.”

“Okay, that one stung.”

You snort yourself into a round of airy laughter and he mirrors the gesture, leaning down to finally button your mouths together. Your shared giggles make the kiss messy and fun, his mustache and beard prickly in the best way imaginable. He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw, using it to tilt your chin higher to get a better angle, the digit then running gently across the slope of the structure. A hot glow swells in your chest at the action, your hands instinctively wrapping around his strong, bare shoulders, his flesh still slightly tacky from the drying sweat.

The hand resting on your waist drifts over the dip of your spine, his forearm then completely tying around the small of your back. He maneuvers you until you’re pressed against the edge of the kitchen island, wedged between the front of his thick thighs and the marble counter. He peels away from your eager mouth, pasting sloppy pecks down your throat, the thick hair across his face leaving a small rash in its wake. You card your fingers into the baby curls along the nape of his neck, spinning them around your knuckles, easing out a soft groan on his behalf that pools along the crook of your jugular .

You scratch at his scalp, his shoulders giving a swift shiver as a result, his next sentence garbled and almost drunk. “Going on this run was a great idea.”

You tug at his curls until his mouth is once again level with yours, sewing them together and grinning into the desperate kiss. You lick along his upper lip, jumping a tad when he teasingly bites into your bottom one. “Maybe it was.”

A minute or so goes by, full of more needy suckling and rough nipping, and then Harry breaks away for air. He poses his damp forehead to yours, the jade in his eyes electric with newfound energy, voice a low and heavy croak.

“Why don’t you come take a shower with me, hm? You can help me clean up the mess I’m about to make.”

#drabble

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steviespanties · 4 years ago

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a/b/o (alpha!Billy/omega!Steve), POV Billy, fluff and smut, heat sex

The forest around Billy is covered in a blanket of snow, each step engulfed by a few inches. It’s still an unfamiliar feeling to walk through something soft that turns compact underneath his boots. The closest comparison he can think of is walking barefoot through sand right where the waves break and sinking into water-soaked ground. It’s that same feeling of uncertainty as his foot lowers down, not quite sure when his step will meet resistance.

Silence has sunken over the forest. No birds singing overhead and no rustling of leaves accompanies him. He’s trying to catch the last rays of sunlight before everything turns dark and grey again and Hopper comes home in the evening to yell at him for risking discovery with his walks. Technically, it’s his third winter in Indiana, though he’s reluctant to count the one between ‘85 and ‘86 when he spent most of it in a hospital. Even now, the sight of layers of snow adorning empty branches and the ground feels novel. It’s a mesmerizing sight in the winter sun, with stark valleys of blue shadows and glittery, sparkling peaks. Above, the sky is bright, cornflower blue.

The sight is worth getting yelled at by Hopper.

He inhales crispy cold, clean air, holds it in his lungs until they ache and for a moment is overcome with the smell-memory of a different winter day. The first time he went to properly talk to Steve after beating him up, sharing a cigarette behind the gym as fresh snow fell down on them. Sealing their mutual peace-offering with his nose buried in Steve’s neck where he was warm and smelled of the remnants of his first heat.

As he watches the afternoon light bathe his white and dark surroundings in gold, he tries to focus on that memory. Too often, he still gets lost in his mind when he dwells on what the monster did to him. His mind and body an empty nest the parasite has fled after it hollowed him out and left him a wheezing, lightning-scarred husk. But he’s still here. And there’s been enough dark days, he’s decided. No matter how hard it is to hold onto the light sometimes, he won’t let go once it’s in his grasp. So he inhales again and instead of letting the cold scare him, he breathes out slowly and thinks about the good things that happened before everything went to shit. He allows himself to dream of returning to the people he misses once the coast is clear.

Some days, that’s Max. They’d finally gotten to a point where they’d reached a truce. She was better at not getting him into trouble and he was less on edge once he’d established his place in the high school pecking order. Some days, like now, it’s Steve. The whiplash he’d given Billy when he went from being a seemingly undeserving rival- a mere beta once reigning over a school an alpha should have commandeered all along- to presenting as an omega the winter of his senior year.

Steve had already smelled interesting before. Enough to rile Billy up in confusion and rouse his interest, though it had regrettably manifested in aggression. That winter day, though, when Billy apologized for beating him up? He’d caught a whiff of Steve’s post-heat pheromones filtered through cold air and felt hungry. Like a summer breeze had been caught in Steve’s hair, fragrant dried grass and sweet herbs and wildflowers wafting from the scent glands in his neck. That faint smell was just enough to whet Billy’s appetite.

A glance at the sky turning orange-bright as the sun nears the horizon tells him it’s time to turn around. That’s when he catches the sound of crunching steps through the snow from feet that aren’t his own. They come from the same direction as his own trail. Like someone discovered his tracks, he realizes with a sinking feeling. Like someone has followed his trail.

Read on AO3

#harringrove #harringrove fic #sdfghjk that was. a lot.

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northcarolinanative · 4 years ago

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𝐈𝐟 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Boxer!JJ

Requested by anon: Can you write about boxer!JJ, with or without the outer banks’ plot. JJ enjoys boxing and you can’t go to matches because they scare you. But you always prepare with him before and he always comes to see you after. One night something happens and they confess their feelings whatever you want haha I just thought it would be a cool idea (:

Description: After the disappearance of their best friends the pogues all search for different ways to cope. Some working too hard, some fighting, some just blocking it all out. JJ puts himself in danger too often for Y/N’s liking. She finds him an alternative, but in typical JJ fashion he moves too much too fast and gets out in a tricky situation.

A/N: This is so different from what I normally write. I got a bit carried away per usual:) I chose to put it in the OBX plot, this is all after 1x10 because we all know that I am a sucker for that at this point let's be honest. I tried to do my research but the more I read the more confused I got so I am sorry if it is inaccurate. I have ZERO experience with boxing and stuff. As I said this is so different for me so ANY feedback would be FANTASTIC!! MY asks/requests/messages are always open! ALSO, italics are flashbacks. // TW: This talks about character death, panic/anxiety, abuse, and violence.//

*pic courtesy of pinterest*

After the disappearance of John B and Sarah, each of the pogues had their own unique way of dealing with the major loss. The unknown ate them from the inside out until it was turned to grief, washing over them the moment the pair was presumed dead. Over the next few days, they went into denial, finally understanding why John B had been so desperate to hold onto clues about his father when the group had thought that he was grasping at straws. They understood why John B led them on the hunt for the gold because he thought it would lead to his dad. They understood because now they too would follow any lead, risk anything, or go anywhere to find John B and Sarah.

Each of the Pogues were dealing with their feelings in its respective way. Pope was trying his hardest to prove to his parents that he had not messed up his chance to get off the Island. He applied for every academic scholarship on the east coast. Pope was scared. Kie, while the two of us helped Pope when we could, worked countless hours at the Wreck. After running from her parents and being brought into question with the police she was in hot water with her parents. She allowed herself to stay focused on her work and earn back the trust and respect of her parents so that when the time came that John B and Sarah needed them, we could help. Kie was hopeful. JJ was starting fights with everyone that looked at him wrong. He threw punch after punch at the one boneyard party that we tried to attend in an attempt to make things feel normal. He kept going home and picking fights with his dad, he said that he deserved the torment for letting John B get on that boat. JJ blamed himself for pushing John B to his death. JJ was Angry. I let myself get swept up in my art, going to the docks, or sitting in the dunes, drawing. This where the other Pogues found me when I was not working my shift at the Wreck. When I sat down to create I let my thoughts go and wander to whatever I needed to try and process. This was the only time I let myself think about the things that happened between the pogues, or what was ahead for us. I let myself think about both the options, whether they were dead or they were alive somewhere. Outside of that, I shut it off and tried to help the other pogues, as much as I could, to get back to something normal. I was numb.

Kie and Pope had a lot to figure out between the two of them. It took them a while to actually begin to talk about what was going on between the two of them since they kept defecting. That left JJ and I alone rather often. Not that I was complaining. The two of us had never been super close when it came to the group. I was always Kie’s best friend first, pogue second, until now. The disappearance had brought all of us closer. Though I appreciated the closeness with JJ, I was worried about him. He showed up on my doorstep night after night bruised and broken. More often than not it was a fight with some rando that has looked at him on the side of the road. JJ didn’t care who felt his wrath anymore, he would fight anyone, kooks, and pogues alike. The worst nights were those that he came back from his house. Those nights were always the worst because the injuries on his body and the way that his soul sat shattered in front of me told me that he didn’t fight back.

JJ was sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes not daring to look up at me. His face covered in red splotches and bruised from the other fights he had gotten in over the week. Tonight was different though. Normally JJ talked about the way that he handed the Kook a can of whoop-ass or the guy had it coming and that he had ‘totally won’ the fight. Every other night he would boast saying “Y/N, don’t worry about me! You should see the other guy.” He would try to soothe my nerves, but tonight there didn’t seem to be another guy. Just JJ fighting himself, the thoughts raging war in his head, making him beat himself up.

I moved to sit beside him. Finally deciding to break the rooms heavy silence. “JJ, did you go home again?”

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly nodded his head. I saw his jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to let tears fall down his face. He rested his head in his open palms. I wrapped one of my arms loosely around the boy before laying my head on his shoulder. “Why do you go home JJ? Every time you come back you end up so broken?”

“It’s just a few bruises and split lips Y/N, nothing I’m not used to.” He said shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I spoke. I moved my hand so that I could rub his back. I moved softly up and down his spine, trying to comfort the broken boy in front of me.

“I deserve everything he says to me.” He started, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Every time

I go I know he’s ready for a fight.”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath before speaking. “JJ, getting into fights with your dad like that, the things he says to you.” I paused, looking over his face, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. “You know that they aren’t true right? He’s saying those things to hurt you?”

“I know that, but deep down I’m so scared that everyone else sees what he sees.” He signed leaning back and falling onto the bed. “I’m just so angry. I am angry at the system for screwing up so bad that they ran JB away.” My breath caught in my throat as he began his rant. “I am mad that we couldn’t do anything to help him after his dad left. I’m mad that we lost him and have no way to contact him or even know if he’s alive!’ He stood up beginning to pace, and raising his voice. “I’m mad that I pushed him on that boat to sail straight to his death Y/N!”

I stood up on my feet, moving so that I can be in his direct line of vision. “Hey!” I called to him, even though he was right in front of me, he felt a thousand miles away. “You did not push John B to do anything that he would not have done on his own! You have got to stop blaming yourself for all the unfortunate events that lead to John B’s disappearance. This on Ward Cameron and you know it!” I said pointing at him. He locked his eyes with mine for a moment.

He ripped his glance from mine, his jaw still clenched and nostrils flaring as he tried to even out his breathing. It took a few moments and several paces across the length of my room, but he seemed to calm down. “I’m-” He started, looking around the room and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m just so angry. All the time.” He confessed. “I’m honestly scared, it’s like all I can think about is how pissed off I am and the smallest things just add on top of it until I explode for what seems like no reason.” He stopped rubbing his hands over his face. “I just don’t know how to channel it, make it die down.” He confessed, moving to join me back at the end of my bed.

“You know, whenever my brother is upset he goes to the gym-” I started

“You are not seriously telling me to work out right now, are you?” He huffed rolling his eyes.

“Let me finish.” I scolded him before continuing. “He’s a boxer, the have matches and fight, but it is in a safe environment. One where you can let your anger out with out going home or exploding on some rando on the side of the street.” I said. I laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the silence as I gauged his reaction.

“You really think that would help?” He said, the softness in his eyes returning.

“It helped my brother”

It had become routine over the past few weeks that JJ came to my house so that I could help him prepare for whatever match he had lined up for that night. When he first started all the Pogues were supportive of JJ’s new interest, but after the first match, Kie and I decided that we would support him from afar. Neither of us could stomach the blows that JJ took in his first fight. I was happy that he was able to find a more acceptable outlet for his anger, it was still just as painful to clean JJ up after, or to hear from Pope about the hits that JJ landed or had taken. Pope always attended, Kie and I chalked it up to him being a boy and into that stuff, but we both know that he watched because he wanted to be there in case something went wrong.

Tonight was one of JJ’s biggest matches. He had been talking about it for weeks. The guy was from the mainland and was supposed to drag in a huge audience with him. He was being scouted as a professional, bordering on going pro. That bothered me because it had only been a short time since JJ had started boxing. While he had grown up his entire life fighting, boxing against people like this was much different than landing a few punches on Topper.

JJ was sitting on my kitchen table, I was right in front of him with his left hand in my own. I wrapped the sticky red tape around his hands, knuckles, and wrists. I pulled it tighter after each pass around his hand. “Please be careful tonight. These guys got a really good record.” I spoke softly, but the concern coating my voice was evident.

“I think I’ve got it though Y/N!” He said, happiness coating his voice. I just shook my head and switched his hands, beginning to wrap the right one. I was weary when JJ first mentioned the idea of the match, and still am, because the guy was well known and it just did not make sense that he wanted to come down to the OBX to fight a Newby. Things didn’t add up. Of course, none of us dared to tell JJ, because he was so happy, and he finally seemed to be getting back normal, no one wanted to set him off.

I finished wrapping his hands and handed him his gym shorts. I had got him some with his name on the waistband for his birthday the week before. While I couldn’t stomach to sit through the fights and watch them, I wanted him to know that I was supportive of him finding a healthy outlet for his feelings and grief. I had washed the shorts for him so that they would be fresh for him.

“All done.” I smiled, handing them to him. He took them into his newly wrapped hands. “So you look all spiffy when you win the fight tonight.”

“Spiffy?” He questioned causing us both to laugh. He reached forward pulling me into a hug. Whenever I touched JJ I melted into the warmth that his body gave off. He smelled like pine, I assumed it was from his deodorant, but it captivated me every time. He let me go after squeezing me tighter. “Thanks for, you know.” He said scratching the back of his neck. “Helping me with all of this. I wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for you.” He said with a smile.

“Stop being so sappy Maybank!” I said and I turned him to the door. I put my hands on his broad shoulder pushing him softly towards the door. “Now go! You don’t want to be late.” He made his way to the door opening it and standing for a second to look back and smile.

“I’ll see you after right?” He questioned, the hope in his eyes was hard to miss.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else cleaning you up would we?” I joked, before answering him. “Yes I will, just make sure Pope tells me when you're finishing up and I’ll head that way to pick you up okay?” As I finished the car horn outside honked. It seemed to reverberate off the walls. “Now go! You know how Kie gets when you're running late!” I shooed him out the door. I stood watching them back out of the driveway as I waved to Kie and Pope in the car.

I walked to the TV, flipping it onto a random TV show before grabbing my sketchbook and settling into the couch. I had been working on a piece of a deer skull and a floral pattern. I was using ink to draw it. I got lost in stippling the dots on the paged, shading in the sides of the skull, and forming the cracked texture of the bone. I barely noticed the buzzing that came from my phone beside me. When I looked up the sun was setting, almost disappearing behind the horizon. The name flashed across my phone and sent me into an immediate panic. “Popey” was read across the screen, my stomach dropping when I set my eyes on the time. It was way too soon for the fight to be over. I quickly slide my finger across the bottom of the screen, seeing it click open.

I held the phone to my ear, “Hello, Pope? What’s wrong?” I could hear the panic in my voice. My body was moving so fast as I swiped my keys across the counter with a screech, and started through the garage to my car.

“Y/N.” I hear him say on my way out the door. There was pause filled with chants and yelling in the background, signaling that the fight was still happening. “Things don’t look good, Kie’s on her way, but JJ needs you to be here when he gets out.” I was nodding my head, but Pope couldn’t see me. “If he gets out.” My breath stopped in my throat, making me choke slightly on my own air. “ Y/N it’s bad, I don’t know why they won’t call the fight.”

I let out a shaky breath as I pulled myself into the driver seat of my car, slamming the door behind me with a thud. “I’ll be there as fast as I can Pope, Promise.”

“Hurry!” was all he said before the line went static. I pulled the phone down slowly, looking at it. JJ was really hurt. It was my fault, I wanted him to do this professionally. I snapped myself out of my guilty haze, picking my keys up from my lap with my shaking hands. I struggled to get the key into the ignition, before turning it to start it up. I turned out of the driveway as quickly as my mind would let me, leaving a cloud of dust behind me as pulled from the driveway.

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb, my eyes flicking between the road and the number growing on the speedometer. The words of JJ and I’s conversation from just hours before replaying over and over in my head. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” Over and over again. I felt a warmth fall down my cheek. I touched my hand to my cheek only to find the warm wetness of tears falling from my eyes. I was shocked at the reaction that this event had on me. I felt like I was back to the night that we watched John B drive off on that boat. I felt that same sense of panic wash over me. What if this was it? “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” JJ was a fighter, literally, no matter what punches were thrown at him, he was always able to fight back. Part of me wanted to think rationally that Pope was overreacting and when I got there JJ might have a concussion and a bruised ego. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” If it was that bad why had they not stopped the fight, right? Pope had to be overreacting, it was Pope. He likes to be careful.

My fingers kept tapping a quick pace on the back of the I kept telling myself that over and over in my head. I was driving but everything around me was a blur. I was glad that I had the roads of the cut memorized so that I could get there in my haze of worry. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” I know what he meant by this, he meant that I had helped him, but I just didn’t feel helpful at that moment. I was the reason that he was fighting and trained a skillful fighter. This guy hardly ever lost a fight, but none of us wanted JJ’s improvement with his anger to stop, so we let him continue.

I hit the pothole in the gyms driveway, jolting me out of my thoughts. I fell back into the seat from the rough jump and dirt that was kicked up around me once again. I pulled into a spot at a dangerous speed. I practically threw the car in park and yanked my keys from the ignition. The sun seemed to paint the air around us a beautiful shade of orange, but my worry made me look past the beautiful sunset that was illustrated in the sky. Instead I approached the gym. I hadn’t stepped foot in for months now. The one that was seemingly making my worst fears come to life.

I scanned the parking lot looking for Kie. When our eyes met, I started making my way toward her. I broke into a jog, but quickly came to a halt, when I looked behind her. The red and white lights behind her become blinding. I stuttered stepped, coming face to face with her, but I could not look at her face. I was focused on the broken boy that was laid in front of me on a gurney. The blood on his face made him almost unrecognizable. I clenched my teeth so hard that I hurt. Pope was by his side, struggling to keep up with the boy on the gurney. Pope’s worried eyes met with mine that barely held back the tears. He said something that I couldn’t make out before pointing to us. I followed my eyes down to JJ, who’s eyes I met. Even from this distance, I could see the spark still in them. I felt my stomach drop and a wave of nausea hit me. I felt myself physically fall back and feel weak. He weekly raised his hand to wave at me weakly before they began wheeling him into the emergency vehicle. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” My arm felt like my shaking hand to wave at him, The barrier broke and the warm tears fell down my face. I felt the sob make it way up my throat, catching Kie’s attention once again. Her expression was a little shocked at my reaction but wrapped an arm around me pulling me into her. I glanced over to see her worried expression as she watched Pope.

Pope quickly made his way over to us after talking briefly with the medics. As soon as he was turned away from JJ, his expression turned to anger. Kie and I looked at each other, both silently questioning the boy’s actions. He got to us, visibly angry, his breath was heavy as he started walking back and forth. He threw his hat on the ground and ran a hand across his head in distress.

“What happened there?” Kie said being the first to break the tension.

“We shouldn’t have let him fight that guy!” He said, raising his voice making me visibly flinch. “There’s a reason that he always wins! He knocked JJ out in the 7th round!” He spoke looking me straight in the eye. I felt two inches tall and wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.”

I stepped back, it felt the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I heard the conversation that Pope and Kie continued to have, but they still felt miles away. I tried to listen and regain the ability to breathe.

“He had plaster in his gloves” Pope spoke loudly, as people walking outta the gym snickered, only making Pope’s anger grow. I snapped my head up at the tall boy, before looking at Kie, whose face held a confused expression. I knitted my eyebrows looking at Pope who just nodded, silently reinforcing his last statement.

“They caught on, but I’m gonna go back to talk to the fight manager, but y’all should go and meet him at the hospital.” He said, looking between me and Kiara.

Kie was quick to act, while I felt like I was still frozen in place. “Here,” she said, holding her keys out to Pope. “I’ll ride with Y/N and you can meet us there after you talk to whoever you need to?” She questioned, but she had alright dropped the keys in his hand. Pope nodded at the two of us before turning back to the gym.

I looked at Kie just as she placed her shaking hand on my wrist pulling me to the car. “Are you okay to drive? I mean do you think-” He started to mumble on.

“Yea, yea. I can. I think I got it.” I said send her a tight lipped smile. I could tell in her eyes that she knew neither of us believed me. Nonetheless, we both got into the car and made our way to a small emergency hospital on the Island, both of us praying that they had enough space for JJ. The entire car ride was filled with silent, sad, tension. The two of us stuck in our own thoughts, filled with worries about JJ’s health. Kie was the first to break the car’s heart-wrenching tension.

“What did Pope mean, when he said that he had plaster in his gloves?” Kie asked. She hadn’t been privy to the boxing world, much like me. My brother had told me that it was illegal. He knew a kid that got kicked out of his gym for doing it and had told me about it.

“It’s when boxer’s wrap plaster in their wraps and gloves and stuff.” I started, I stuttered over my words a bit, because I was unsure of what I was talking about. “As they sweat it makes the plaster harden or something,” I said shaking my head. The image of JJ getting hit over and over without a chance to fight back made me push the accelerator down and speed up on the long stretch to the hospital. “It essentially makes their hands like stone,” I said recalling the words my brother had used to tell me.

Kiara looked over at me with wide eyes. “That’s seriously fucked up!” She exclaimed. She let out a deep sign before falling back into the passenger seat. The rest of the ride remained silent, except for the news that was faintly being spoken from the radio.

When we pulled up to the hospital, it was all a blur from there. Kie could tell that I was worried and in a state of panic. She seemed to be rather calm about the situation, because of this she took the lead on speaking to the front desk. They pointed us to a waiting room saying that the doctor would come out after they examined him.

We sat in the cold metal chair in the waiting room. I tried to blame my shaking on the chill air that seemed to always be contained in hospitals, but I knew it was nerves. Kie placed her hand on my bouncing leg to stop it before looking up at me.

“Hey, It’s JJ.” She said moving to hold my hand in hers, giving me a soft smile. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach, alright?”

I laughed slightly at her joke, looking up to her with a hopeful smile on her face. “You’re oddly calm.” I stated, looking over her relaxed figure, slightly laid back in the chair, her hand resting still on the chair handle, the other firmly grasped in mine.

“Eh, like it said, JJ’s gonna be fine.” She smiled. She leaned forward a bit, resting her weight on the armrest that sat between us. “I am more interested in what is going on inside your head?” She said nudging me with her shoulders.

I took a deep breath, my eyes lining with tears once again. “Over the last few months JJ and I have gotten so close, and after everything with John B and Sarah I just-” I was cut off by a sob, which came out more like a cough. Kie was quick to move her hand to my back, rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. “I am scared to lose him too.” I said quietly, tears falling still, but at a much less rapid pace. Kiara pulled me into a tight hug. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of her coconut shampoo ground me. I closed my arms around her tightly before we split. Kie pushed a piece of hair out of my face softly.

“You’ve got it bad.” She said with a soft chuckle. I looked at her knitting my eyebrows together in confusion causing her to laugh. “You and JJ are so blindly in love with each other that neither of you can see it.” She spoke. Suddenly, things started to make a lot of sense. The way that my stomach dropped whenever JJ was getting into a fight or how I wanted to end Luke Maybank for the things that he did to his son. The most important thing that I had become accustomed to was the way that my stomach erupted in butterflies every time we were close to each other, the way my skin broke into goosebumps when we bumped into each other, or the way that I smiled every time he cracked a joke or showed up at work. I played with my fingers letting a smile spread across my face.I looked up at Kie sheepishly.

“I told you.” She smiled at me, causing me to roll my eyes at her.

We were taken from the serenity of our moment by the doctor calling for those that were here with ‘Maybank.” She informed us that JJ took a lot of hard hits but managed to leave fairly unscathed from such a brutal fight. She let us know that JJ had had a lot of minor injuries, a broken lower rib, and that he passed out due to a pretty serious concussion. It took Kie and I a moment to soak in the abundance of information. “With his current state, we think it would be best if you all went in one at a time.” The doctor spoke, looking between you and Kie.

Kie pushed my shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait here for Pope and fill him in. “She said, a cheesy smile plastering her face. “Go get your man,” She joked causing me to roll my eyes before following the doctor back through the long hallway. The fluorescent lighting made the hallway look and feel more daunting than it should have. The doctor stopped in front of the room letting me know that he was inside.

I smiled and nodded at her. I took a deep breath before preparing myself to enter. I walked through the doorway to see JJ playing with the IV cable that was hooked up to his arm. I was wrapped and tangled around the opposite hand. I laughed involuntarily at the blonde boys antics. He looked up at me, smiling when he realized that it was me. I felt a tsunami of relief wash over me, just seeing that, while he wasn’t completely unharmed, that he was going to be okay.

“There you are, come here!” He said patting the bed beside his legs. I walked into the room slowly, making my way to his bedside. I sat down and turned to look at his bright, smiling face. He scanned over my face, his smile quickly fading. “Wait, are you crying? “ He asked, reaching up to wipe the stale tears from my face.

“Yes JJ,” I said laughing at the boy's oblivious nature. “You looked terrible when they took you out on that gurney at the gym,” I said looking down at the crinkled white bed sheet in front of the two of us. “You scared me. I can’t lose you too.” I said quietly.

JJ hand came up once again cupping the side of my face, pushing me to look at me. “Hey now. You know better than anyone that it's gonna take more than some cheating ring rat to take me out.” Both of us laughed at the statement. I met his bright blue eyes, and instantly felt drawn in.

I didn’t think much about it before I did it. I leaned forward and pressed my lips into JJ's. The kiss started off still and innocent. JJ’s hand moved from my face to the back of my head pulling me in closer. I moved my hands to his shoulders, placing them softly trying not to hurt him. The kiss was passionate and heated, our lips molding together, allowing us to melt into one another. I felt light headed just from the kiss itself. I could feel JJ’s emotion poured into the way that he kissed me back and the way that his hands caressed my sides and the way that he held me close to him.

We were interrupted by the loud beeping of the monitor beside him. I pulled away looking at the machine that ruined the moment. The warning flashing “High Heart Rate”. I looked at JJ and saw the same warning causing us to laugh slightly.

“What was that about?” JJ asked, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“After John B and Sarah I thought I would have learned that time is finite, but I guess it took you, at least in my mind, almost dying for me to realize that I should just say something,” I said, laughing nervously. “Oh and Kie made me realize just how in love with you I am” I spoke rolling my eyes before realizing what I said. I felt my face heat up, as I looked over at JJ with wide eyes trying to gauge his reaction.

JJ grabbed my hand. Struggling slightly because of the awkward tangled IV that was stuck in the back of his hand. He huffed as he tugged at it trying to pull it out of the way. His hand was wrapped around mine when he started speaking. “You know, I’m glad she did because I’ve been in love with you all summer.”

Masterlist

Tagging b/c I asked:) @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @write-from-the-heart @jjmaybanksbaby @kikifromtheblock

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bundleofyarrow · 4 years ago

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requests open!

new milo x reader content appears! hello world, i'm fresh to the pokemon fandom trying out writing fanfiction for the first time. i've started the first few chapters of my milo x reader over at AO3 called A Bundle of Yarrow. i'm also taking requests for general milo x reader imagines or longer scenes that can fit into ABoY's universe. while i will be writing the main storyline, i thought it would be fun to make a part of it collaborative and have other milo x reader fans send in ideas for scenes that fit between chapters. check out the rules page for more!

i'm new to all of this, so people feel free to comment or message me with suggestions. the link to the fic on AO3 is above, but in case you prefer reading on tumblr, below the cut is the first chapter. just a heads up, it starts in leon x reader land but moves into milo x reader as the story progresses.

enjoy!

Chapter 1: Postwick

Galar is a land of hills. Or at least, Postwick is, and it’s just about the only thing you’ve seen since you arrived. Soft curves of verdant green, sometimes tawny gold with a bale of hay or two. There’s a sign around here that says this is a farming town since days of yore, and the near constant whines of Wooloo are determined to never let you forget it. Lying on one such hill, almost completely vertical, you oversee the main road were balls of wool roll where they please. You feel transported, like you’re viewing another planet from some place outside.

The giddy hollering of children and Pokemon at the house not far away pulls you back to earth. A young girl bounds up to you with an anxious-looking blue creature in her arms.

“Look! It’s my new Sobble~ Leon got it for me! Isnt’s he great?”

Your cousin’s bright eyes implore you to sit up, propping yourself on your right arm once you realize one of your legs has fallen asleep.

“He’s adorable Gloria.”

You lean in closer to take a look, you’ve never seen a Pokemon like this before. The Sobble turns his face into Gloria, clearly shy and overwhelmed.

“It looks like he’s already taken to you!”

She looks down and holds him closer, beaming, rocking slightly.

“It’s okay, this is my cousin. That means part of our family!” Gloria turns slightly so her Pokemon can safely peek out at you. “I’m sure he’ll warm up to you too!”

You give the Pokemon your softest smile, and while he doesn’t completely warm up to you, he leans in a little to get a better look at you. Baby steps.

“Oh yeah, I also came here to say that dinner’s ready!”

The sound of sizzling meat and peppers hasn’t escaped your notice, but now the smell entices you to go and socialize with the family neighbors. Gloria shuffles back down the hill towards the fanciest house of Postwick, where the Champion of Galar and his family lives.

You take your time getting up and brushing off the grass from your clothes. A breeze rolled over the hill, reminding you that your Alolan wardrobe is way too thin for Galar’s climate. As you climb down, you see the neighbor boy, Hop, waving skewers at you before turning back to his bunny Pokemon, who kicks up some embers to give the meat a little extra char. You try to put on a smile as your auntie puts food in your hands and introduces you to everyone. It’s hard not too feel awkward, being not only new to this group of people but to this entire region, but you genuinely are looking forward to having the best time you can while you’re here. Eventually the adults get distracted by Hop’s antics, where he ropes in Gloria to do yet another trick with their new Pokemon. You sit down at the table nearby and just watch for a bit.

If you had been distracted, you wouldn’t have noticed the pair of big eyes pop up from the side of the table, topped with green tufts of hair shaped like leaves. You must have had quite the expression of surprise on your face when a little orange hand darted towards your food, because two bigger hands immediately scooped up the trickster before he could make off with your food.

“Now now Grookey, that’s not champion behavior!”

The admittedly cute Pokemon flailed in Leon’s grasp for a bit, shedding some fake tears until he was given a wedge of grilled Mago berry.

“Sorry about that, this little one is quite the handful around food.” He tried to seem stern but you could tell he was more amused. “He didn’t startle you too badly, did he?”

You strangely don’t feel that shy around Leon. It feels like you should be more star-struck, but maybe because this is the first time you even really knew he existed, he came off more as an ordinary guy with a flair for the dramatic. He seemed like a nice guy, wanting to give everyone a little attention, which also made him seem a bit spread thin. But you could see him start to settle as the light faded from the sky and fans stopped coming by to cheer at him.

“Oh not at all, I was just a little surprised! If I wasn’t paying attention, he would have be feasting like a king.”

The Grookey pouts as you let out a light chuckle, taking a finger and lightly rubbing his forehead.

“And have a massive stomachache tomorrow that I would have to deal with!”

Leon says everything with a little bit of a laugh, and his eyes seem like they are permanently smiling. He looks between you and Grookey while seeming in thought.

“You’re staying here in Galar for a while now, yeah? What are your plans?”

You slide over a bit to let Leon sit next to you as he sets Grookey on the table between you. His cape and hair make him seem larger than he is, and talking with him at eye-level feels like talking to Leon, the person not Leon, the Champion.

“I’m not entirely sure to be honest. I just had to…” You’re never sure what to say about your past, and the uncertainty of your future. “…get away for a bit. Maybe start over, find a clean slate.”

The breeze picks up again and you feel the sleeve of your shirt slide a little down your shoulder, exposing some skin. You don’t realize that you should be embarrassed about it until you catch Leon’s gaze eyeing your collarbone and then quickly looking back to the Grookey. It was common to show skin on the hot coasts of the Alolan islands, but as you take a look around, everyone around you is more covered up.

“I’d like a bit of adventure, I think.” You say absent-mindedly as you readjust your top, oblivious to Leon fidgeting a bit.

“Ah, well-” He moves in his seat again, “what do you think of this here Grookey?” Leon rests a hand on his head and lightly rustles it. “I think you two might get along!”

This took you by surprise, the last thing you were expecting was to be offered a foreign Pokemon.

“O-oh really?? But I thought you were going to train him to become a part of your champion team or something?”

He smirked at ‘or something,’ as if entertained by your complete lack of interest in the most popular Galarian sport.

“That was the plan, but you said you wanted some adventure! Can’t get around many places here without a Pokemon. Being a trainer lets you travel a lot here in Galar. Maybe you’ll get to compete in the upcoming Gym Challenge if you’re up for it!” He grinned some more here. “Who knows, maybe you’ll end up facing me in the end. Wouldn’t that be an adventure?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head but trying to show an appreciative face. “Me? Be a trainer? And a good enough one to face you?? You’re funny.”

Hop has already regaled the crowd at dinner about how excited he is for camping in the Wild Area, hiking through ruins and snow, getting lost in haunted forests. You’ve never been one for the outdoors, and don’t think moving regions would change that.

“That’s kind of you, and he is cute. But that wasn’t the kind of adventure I was thinking of.” You smile at them both. “I appreciate you though!”

Leon seems a little confused at first, but recovers quickly and nods. Eventually the kids come over still hollering over Pokemon, and Hop quickly begins to monologue about his favorite topic: Leon, his brother. Hop drags you inside once he realizes how little you know about Galar’s Gym Challenge, Gloria and Leon trailing behind, with the former happy to be spared from the lecture about the Champion for once. You all found yourselves in Leon’s room, Hop showing you different magazines and eagerly pointing at different pictures of his brother’s most memorable fights. The trophies throughout the house and the weights in his room really do scream Champion. Is there ever a moment when he's not? Eventually Hop decides that Gloria and himself need to look up more information on their new Pokemon, and pulls her away into his room, leaving you and Leon alone.

The Champion, who really just seems like a man rather than a god to you, sheepishly rubs the back of his head and shrugs.

“Sorry about that, once Hop gets going, it’s hard to make him stop.”

He begins to collect all the magazines his brother pulled out and carefully places them back where they belong. It just hits you now how carefully organized everything is, and how little escapes his attention. You notice all the hats neatly arranged around his room, walking up towards the rows of shelves and scanning all the different kinds he owns.

“I like your collection.” You mean that, you’ve always enjoyed window shopping at boutiques and spotting people who took fashion seriously. “If I didn’t just hear everything your brother told me, I’d think you were the Champion of Streetwear.”

His chuckle comes from right behind you, startling you a bit. Turning around, you meet his intense and mischievous gaze.

“Adventure, huh?”

He steps a foot towards you, and you instinctually press back against the dresser behind you. Leon closes the distance between you and meets your lips with his, only making your heart race faster. What is happening?? You melt into the kiss, I mean, this is the Champion we’re talking about here, and go along with his lead. He doesn’t draw it out or take it too far; it wasn’t a sweet kiss but one of intrigue.

Parting just moments away from your lips, he breathes out a “You’re so different, too bad-”

“KIDS? Are you up there!? It’s getting late and time to go home!”

The moment is broken by a yell from your auntie, and the shuffling of feet all over the house makes Leon swiftly give you some space. You’re still a bit flustered, and confused honestly, but you know to shyly smile in these situations.

“Pity we won’t be seeing much of each other, now that challenge season is on.” He takes your hand and guides you off his dresser and towards the threshold of his room. “But I hope you find that thing you’re looking for.”

He winks as Gloria pops her head in and calls for you, and watches her take your hand to pull you away. You wave to Leon, not really knowing what to say.

Outside it is dark, the faintest hints of dusk dropping further behind the hills. Butterfree flutter from tree to tree, and your aunt’s Budew are nestled in the front yard. All you can hear are Gloria's footfalls up towards her house and the thumping of your heart against your chest. Your cousin is quite tuckered out from all the excitement, and you only stay up a little with your auntie with the family’s Munchlax resting in your lap. She asks the usual ‘how are you adjusting’s and ‘do you think you’ll enjoy it here’s, and you begin to think you made a mistake turning down Leon’s offer. Eventually you take Munchlax over to the guest bedroom and nestle into bed, hoping to understand what you’re supposed to do in this new land.

~*~*~*~

The sounds of yelling and Pokemon cries jolts you from your sleep. It takes you a couple moments to realize an organized battle is going on, rather than some emergency.

“How do people get used to battling happening all the time?”

Yawning, you pawed the blankets of the bed until you found the lump that was Munchlax.

“Rise and shine, if I have to wake up, so do you~” Groans of protest shuffled under the covers, only twisting more into a warm cocoon. “Well, don’t blame me if auntie doesn’t prepare you breakfast.”

You hear frantic scrambling as you leave bed and head towards the kitchen, where your aunt is already drinking tea and checking her phone. You exchange usual pleasantries, making toast for yourself and ducking out to take a shower as soon as you could find a way to excuse yourself.

Eventually you find yourself wandering out of the house and into the late-morning air, smelling greenery and hay as usual. You notice a Wooloo hitting itself into a nearby gate, and shrug it off.

Walking down the main path, you see Hop containing a tantrum within himself as he stands over his fainted Scorbunny. It looks like Leon is giving Gloria and Hop a speech of sorts, something about being rivals, and you’re able to pass by with a wave. Leon nods at you with a cordial smile, not at all seeming like a man who kissed you the night before. It seems like in public, he always needs to be the Champion.

Unsure of how you feel about that, you decide to pick a new resting spot, down closer to Route 1.

#milo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield imagines #a bundle of yarrow #pokemon milo imagines #pokemon swsh imagines #leon x reader #pokemon milo #fanfiction #fic

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

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Imagine:

Erik sneaking into the readers phone buying her all the things she has saved on her wishlists (Amazon, Fashion Nova,) etc.

Sort of for the holidays. CUTE AND FLUFFY.

Erik was trying all day not to be sneaky with the shit but fuck it, Y/N was his baby; his everything so it was only fit to be a sneaky nigga for a second.

She works so damn hard. Such an independent black woman with an education. She never let Erik spoil her because she would always remind him that she could take care of it. And here she was, saving shit on her wishlist to purchase for later. Y/N knew Erik had bread. He didn’t understand why buying her anything she wanted had to be an issue.

“Hey Babe,” Erik was seated on the bed, back resting against the headboard.

“Yeah,” Y/N was busy scrubbing her face down with some exfoliating shit that Erik loved because it smelled like chocolate.

“What you want for Christmas.”

Y/N looked over at Erik with a soft smile, “whatever you can afford to get me, Erik. You know I don’t need you to buy me everything under the sun,”

“But if I could I’d by you the sun, shit, the whole fucking world,” That smile he loved was brighter and better than the last one she gave him. Y/N had him sprung; head over heels.

“Babe, stop making me all fluttery I’m tryna clean my face off.”

“Hurry up, I miss you,” Erik gave her an air kiss, “you’ve been in that bathroom too long, girl.”

“So damn needy,” she teases.

Y/N’s phone starts to ring, Erik teaching over to pick it up. With a loud groan, he tosses the phone next to him, allowing it to ring on purpose.

“Who is it?!” She walks out of the bathroom, reaching over the bed to grab her phone only to be pulled onto the bed and in Erik’s lap. She squeals, Erik placing kisses onto her wet cheek. She grabs his face, pulling his face away from hers so she could properly glare at him.

“So...this is your way of getting me on top of you, huh?”

“Anything to get you on me,” He places his lips on her neck, “you smell so fucking good girl I could eat you.”

She starts giggling from Erik’s tongue on her neck, squirming in his lap. She was creating a lot of damn friction. She was starting some shit Erik would gladly finish. Just looking at her with a T-shirt wrapped around her curly wet hair, his old military shirt on like a night gown, his name on a gold plated necklace around her neck, skin so soft and smelling tasty, she was his undoing.

Now, Erik has one arm around her waist, making her look down at him with his other hand on her chin. He rubbed his thumb there before placing a few soft, very tender kisses onto her lips.

“You never answered my question, what you want for Christmas?”

“Um,” she played with his fathers ring that hung from a gold chain on his neck, “Baby, I don’t know. You don’t have to get me anything. You always get me shit that I don’t need.”

“I’m getting you something, fuck that. If it gotta be a surprise then that’s what it’s gonna be.”

She kissed her teeth, “You spoil me too much.”

“You’re my little brat, I gotta spoil you.”

“Haha,” she sarcastically laughs, “whatever big head, buy me my sushi!!”

Y/N lifts from him, Erik smacking her ass while she walked away and out of the bedroom. With her gone, Erik quickly grabs her phone, entering it with no problem since he knew her passcode was his birthday. He found the Amazon app, going to her wishlist. She had a few items in there that she really wanted but didn’t purchase. Erik shook his head at that. He could have bought her all this shit.

She wanted a new sewing kit since she was always making sweaters and shit, Apple Watch Series 5, some Powerbeats for when she went to the gym he assumed, and a crock pot. Erik purchased ALL of that shit in one swift motion. He made sure his card info was linked to her Amazon account and he had Prime too so that was a plus. Erik looked up at the doorway of the bed room to make sure the coast was clear.

“Babe, what you doing?!” Erik yells.

“Making some brunch. You wanted French toast, right?!” She yells back. The sound of pots and pans confirmed it.

“Yeah...yeah I did. Thanks, baby!”

Erik went back to being sneaky. He pulled up her Fashion Nova app. This girl was a Fashion Nova Queen! She probably owned every pair of jeans they came out with. She always talked about wanted new dresses and she had a lot in her wishlist so Erik picked out however many he wanted to see her in. Sweater dresses, mini dresses, sun dresses, a few formal ones, bodycon dresses, any that Erik would love to see his woman in.

“Shit, she need some new lingerie too.”

He was getting real happy with the online shopping. Now, he was on the Savage Fenty site, buying Bodysuits and teddies, corsets and bustiers, Babydolls, garters, and a few sexy accessories like paddles and pasties. Thank God Erik knew what size his woman wore in everything. Doing this made him feel excited. He couldn’t wait to see how shocked she would be when all this shit arrived. Now he wanted to buy her some Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Gucci...

“Damn, she about to have a new wardrobe fucking with me,” Erik smiles to himself. Tossing her phone on the bed, Erik was now on his phone buying her some other shit that he wanted gift wrapped with pretty red bows for Christmas. He didn’t care how much money he dropped on his girl, that was his baby. Satisfied after about another 30 minutes, Erik finally gets up from the bed, walking into the kitchen to find his girl twerking with a spatula in her hand. He snuck up on her, dancing behind her while she dipped low.

“Erik!” She pushes him back with her ass, “Babe, you scared me.”

“Aww, I’m sorry,” Erik was in love with the little pout she gave him. He placed kisses from her cheek down to her shoulder.

“You forgive me?”

“For now,” Y/N flips the French toast, “What were you up to in there anyway? I hope you weren’t watching Disney Plus without me.”

“That’s a fucking betrayal, I would never do that shit to you.”

She gave him a look before rolling her eyes, “Mhm I saw you watching Nightmare Before Christmas!”

“We can watch it again with our food,” Erik reaches over to steal a piece of turkey bacon.

“It ain’t the same.”

He laughs at her overly dramatic response.

“Stop acting like that, girl.”

“No, because we were gonna watch that one together!”

“Listen, I already have something in the works for you so you won’t be mad we didn’t get to see Jack Skeleton bitch ass together.”

“Don’t talk about him, he’s cute.” She scrunched her nose at him in a teasing manner.

“So I’m not cute?”

“Your sexy as hell, but Jack is cute.”

This girl had him whipped. He kept kissing and holding onto her, so in love with her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when all those things he bought for her arrives. Now, if only she let him buy her a Jeep.

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

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all that glitters is not gold (1/1)

Incomplete-ish fic for Bechloe Week 2019, Day 4: High School. More of a drabble, but you get the gist.

Summary: Chloe Beale’s fifteen-year high school reunion.

Word count: 1.3k

Read on AO3 or below.

The fifteen year reunion is all everybody can talk about. Leading up to it, it’s like the sleepy suburb of just outside of Portland comes to life and the town has purpose once more.

For as much as they like their quiet and peace, they like their little moment to shine even more, because it’s not every day a celebrity returns home.

It’s like the prodigal son, only better.

Perhaps worse, depending on who you ask.

–––––

“Did you hear? Chloe’s coming back for the reunion.”

“Who?”

“Chloe. Chloe Beale.”

“Oh. Oh.” A pause, then a scoff. “Don’t pretend like you were ever on a first name basis with her.”

–––––

Chloe is somewhat of a household name at this point. Not just in Portland, Oregon, but all over. At thirty-three and a half, she is the star of an HBO series and regularly gracing the covers of magazines. After leaving Barden, Chloe takes the chance to move to L.A. with Beca who had needed a roommate and somebody to basically hold her hand through the entire process.

At twenty-five and a half, she finally graduates from University and moves across the country, back to the West Coast, to live with Beca Mitchell.

At twenty-seven, she goes on an audition on a whim. She takes the day off work from the advertising agency she works at, she stares fondly at the good luck text from Beca (who is not quite a girlfriend, but no longer just a friend), and she heaves a breath before walking through the first of many non-descript doors to follow.

At twenty-eight, Chloe is being interviewed by Variety, Paper, and MTV all in one circuit. At twenty-eight, Chloe is attending Sundance, wishing that Beca was by her side. Beca, who is off producing music that the entire world listens to.

At thirty, Chloe is sitting in the audience at the Academy Awards, crying not because she lost her first-ever nomination, but because Beca is sitting at the piano, performing on the world’s stage. The papers later will say she was crying because she was emotional over her loss, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She had stared at Beca on stage and realized how lucky she was to have gained everything and more, all in one lifetime.

Now, at thirty-three and a half years old, Chloe stands in front of her full-length mirror and wonders where all the time went. Where it disappeared to, while she was off in Los Angeles. Only a plane-ride away. The same time zone.

Portland has never felt further. She is suddenly eighteen again and staring at her shoes while the principal reads names at graduation. She is suddenly eighteen and realizing she is out of place. That she never belonged. Her smile was always too wide. Her voice was always just a bit too loud. Her tendency to overshare and pry made her an oddity. A bit of an outcast.

(The whispers in her direction, floating all up over her head. At fifteen, rumors were everything and anything. They were somehow both vicious and sweet.

Chloe still hears some of them in her mind. Random, mindless rumors of her latest boyfriend. Who she made out with. It was all just the cruelty of children, really. Teenagers, but really children, who were too immature to grasp the repercussions of what it meant when they tore her down for her looks, her confidence, and how she tried to handle things with as much grace as possible.

Until the cracks finally appeared; until everything finally spilled over. But then, the rumors didn’t stop, they just changed and morphed into false concern. Eyes that glazed over when they looked at her. People never ran out of things to say.)

Beca, at thirty-one years old, comes up to stand beside her. A little bit behind. Her chin rests on Chloe’s shoulder.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes,” is Chloe’s only response. “Yes,” she repeats, weaker.

“We don’t have to go,” Beca says immediately, like she has been saying repeatedly for the past two weeks. “We can just stay home. Your dad said he just cleaned out the barbecue.”

“No, we should go,” Chloe says. “I have to go.”

She is happy that her voice doesn’t waver.

Beca says nothing, but she does not have to say anything, not when she has spent years learning all of Chloe’s quirks and insecurities. So, Beca simply nods and relaxes.

–––––

Chloe stands off to the side, near the small plates and piles of finger foods. The scent wafts around her, but she pays it no mind. Her stomach rolls unpleasantly.

Two time Academy-Award Nominee and this is what sends you into a wreck?

Beca has left for a moment, having received a phone call from her manager.

Suddenly, Chloe finds herself surrounded.

People want to know things about her life, about the kinds of things she does. About all the gossip and the fame and that seemingly untouchable and indescribable part of Hollywood.

The glamor and the glitter.

So Chloe manages a smile – she has had practice – and keeps her head high.

She tries not to think about the girls who hid her gym clothes or the boys who smirked at her as she walked down the hall after a bad break-up.

–––––

“This is not where I imagined I’d be,” Chloe says, keeping her head bowed.

Beca’s thumb never stops moving soothingly over the back of Chloe’s hand. “Where?” she asks gently.

“Back here. With you. All of this.”

A part of her wants to clarify that she does not mean to imply any regret about her life, especially not the parts that involve Beca. Nerves rise steadily in her until she feels nauseous.

Then, Beca’s grip on her hand tightens and she holds Chloe’s hand warmly and securely without a care in the world. Almost as if they’re the only two in the shoddy light of the now too-small gymnasium.

At one point, Chloe sat in this very gymnasium and listened to guest-speaker after guest-speaker, police officers, firemen, and therapists alike. All of them always came to their school for the same reason: This is how to be a better member of society. This is what not to do. This is what to do when you feel afraid. This is what to do when somebody is bullying you.

Chloe never quite feels like they are speaking to her directly. The disconnect echoes around her and she always bows her head a little solemnly.

But what do you do when you’re lonely and wanting? What do you do when the ache becomes too much?

When she lifts her head, however, Beca is still there. Beca is there, she is solid, and the anchor that keeps Chloe from going adrift.

–––––

Chloe at thirty-three years old - almost thirty-four - gets on stage to receive an award (a nondescript one, congratulating her vaguely for all her successes and laden with admiration that Chloe always craved but now doesn’t know what to do with all of it) from a classmate she barely remembers. She hugs a teacher she never forgot. She tries not to smile at Beca side-eyeing her old high school flame.

Somehow, as her past, present, and future come together in this too-small space under too-bright lights, she feels something in her chest give way to the warmth she always craved.

When Beca kisses her neck, then her jaw, then behind her ear later that night, Chloe tucks Beca’s hand against her chest.

She dreams of the future.

fin.

#bechloe #mine #my fanfic #bechloe week #high school reunion #pitch perfect #pp #text #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #i don't mean to bully chloe or anything but she's such a good vehicle for angst

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jflashandclash · 5 years ago

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Luke: Big Boy Conversations II

They couldn’t meet up until the sun was setting. As usual, things around camp got in the way: settling fights that broke out, making sure the mortal cleaning staff didn’t go on strike with all the monster ooze, getting Helios and Morpheus to stop playing matchmaker. This last one was particularly difficult. The former sun driver believed he could still see all things and knew what was best for people and Morpheus could subliminally message potential matches in their dreams.

Very annoying.

By the time the centaurs dropped Axel, Luke, and Jack on the cliff’s edge with a cooler full of drinks and snacks, the stars had risen into the sky.

Luke handed the centaurs a six-pack of low-alcohol beer to appease them and make sure they didn’t get too drunk. Riding with an intoxicated mount? A terrible idea. As soon as the centaurs found out that half-bloods could buy alcohol for them, Luke and Jack had to set regulations about RWI. Riding While Intoxicated.

Axel wasted no time. He took a water bottle from the cooler, sat down on the edge of the cliff, criss-crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

Jack twitched. As happy as he was that Luke agreed to work on his mental health with Axel’s help, Jack couldn’t sit still for meditation. To keep himself from distracting his friends, he would hum, sing, or play an instrument. Tonight, he’d brought a sitar.

Luke was disappointed to see Axel immediately go into meditation mode. He wanted to talk to these two about something. “I’m not going to be able to focus today,” Luke decided.

Axel cracked an eye open. Up here, he never looked at Luke with fear or suspicion. Probably because he could shove me over the cliff faster than I could say, “Zeus sucks.”

“Your life would be a lot easier if you could get along with Alabaster,” Axel said, as always, a little too on the mark. “Though, his hatred does have some merit. Keeps you on your toes during training.”

Jack snorted, strumming a calming tune on his sitar.

That was why Luke started meditation in the first place. Luke had hit Alabaster. Not during training and not at a time that Alabaster felt he could hit back. Luke hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t remembered doing it until he saw the welt forming on Alabaster’s cheek a day later.

Luke wondered how many of his troops he’d hit in a blind rage. When Luke expressed this to Jack, scared he’d hit Jack, Jack had suggested talking to Axel. Apparently, Axel’s biological father thought Axel had anger management issues. Despite Axel’s resentment when discussing his father, it was obvious he liked the meditation.

“I’m tired of him saying my plan won’t work. He doesn’t know Thalia and he doesn’t know Annabeth. Neither of them will fail us,” Luke said. Instead of joining Axel in his criss-crossed stance, Luke picked two beers out of the cooler. He offered one to Axel.

Axel shook his head. He stretched his legs out in front of him and dangled them over the edge. After a moment of fishing around in his pockets, he withdrew a cigarette and lighter. “I don’t drink,” said the fifteen-year-old as he cupped his hand over the cigarette to light it.

Jack paused his strumming. He held the sitar by the neck so he could fold his arms. “Where did you get those and who started you on them?” He reached to grab the cigarette from Axel’s lips.

Axel swatted his hand away, a dangerous game so close to the edge. “The convenience store. Santiago. Buzz off.”

Santiago was Axel’s blood father. That ended the conversation. Jack withdrew his hand and returned to strumming. Now, the tune was sadder. ‘Think of what those will do to your vocal cords,” Jack said.

“Didn’t you want me to be the raspy background singer?” Axel said. He glared at his “dad” and blew a puff of smoke straight at him. The wind whipped it up the coast, twisting the swirls away before they reached the son of Apollo.

Luke frowned, thinking of what little he knew of Axel and Pax’s biological father. A month ago, when the boys were joking around in the upstairs pools, someone—Matthias?—commented how cool it was that Axel and Pax already had tattoos: Mayan hieroglyphs that peaked out at their hips. When asked how their parents had been cool with it, Axel left without a word.

Twenty minutes later, Alabaster and Pax ran to grab Jack, saying Axel had peeled off his tattooed skin with a hunting knife. Jack had panicked to Luke that one of his boys had hurt himself. When asked, Pax would only say that the tattoo reminded Axel of his biological father.

Luke shook off the memory, focusing on the conversation at hand.

Once Axel was sure that Jack wouldn’t comment on the cigarettes again, Axel turned his attention back to Luke. “It’s good to have people that are willing to point out potential problems in a plan,” Axel said with a shrug. The Witch Boy. Right.

Luke downed half his bottle. He sat beside Axel on the ledge, scowling off. He admired the fact that Alabaster was willing to criticize anyone, including the Titan Lord. That pissed him off even more. “It’s not hard for Alabaster to be ballsy about it. A third of the army is related to him. And that trust-fund bastard owns half the ship. He knows he’s untouchable.”

Meanwhile, Luke had… what? Friends who didn’t believe he was doing this to help them? That didn’t know what was the best for them? A mother driven to insanity by his asshole of a father, neither of which could or would do anything for him. His mother had barely been able to give him a blessing for… for what he had to do.

Besides, with his money and his relation, it didn’t matter how Alabaster acted. He could be the creep that lurks in the lab and no one would notice or care. Monsters, gods, and demigods alike were watching Luke, looking for a weakness, for something to mark him as unworthy.

You are unworthy.

Luke shuddered.

Then, why didn’t Kronos pick someone else?

He shook off the thought, trying to keep calm. He took another long swing, tossed his beer bottle to the side, and grabbed the one he’d pulled for Axel. They would get to that, to what he really wanted to talk to them about. For now, he wanted to pretend they were just hanging out. Had he ever had that with friends? Been able to hang out when he wasn’t on the run for his life?

Or sanity, that voice cooed.

“And then he talks about Thalia like he knows her,” Luke said, remembering where they’d left off. Alabaster being an asshole. Right.

Luke’s hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. Axel narrowed his golden eyes. Jack played a few tense cords. “He thinks the plan with Thalia will fail,” Luke continued, like he didn’t sense their concern. “But, Thalia, she’s strong. After all her Dad put her through—put us through—she’ll see the way. I’ll bet she’s just biding her time to convince Annabeth. Annabeth was fed their lies for years, so she’ll need some persuading. She’s so stubborn.”

He laughed, thinking about the bounce of her curls. As Axel tapped some ashes into the whipping wind, Luke shoved Axel’s shoulder. “What about you? What girl is keeping you from exploring the beauties we have here?”

Jack had been whining for weeks that Axel didn’t have interest in anyone. Although Pax was silent around Luke, apparently the little brother was the opposite, babbling about the awesome and gorgeous demigods and creatures aboard the ship.

Axel shrugged and frowned slightly. His gold eyes drifted off to the distance. Out on the water, they could see the bright lights of their cruise ship, docked offshore.

“You spend a lot of time with Mercedes,” Jack said lightly behind him.

Axel cracked his neck. His expression went blank. “The only mistress Mercedes has time for is her spymaster project. Her eyes are only on Ajax and me because we’re useful.”

Jack made an indignant snort over the sound of his sitar. “That’s not enough for my boy—”

Luke reached backwards to slap Jack’s foot. If Jack wanted the Pax brothers to open up to him as a friend, he had to stop the dad talks.

“I doubt that,” Luke said. “Though, hard to say with that girl. She’s such a stiff.”

Axel covered a smile by taking a drag on his cigarette.

Despite the number of times Pax swore to others that Mercedes was a prankster with an evil sense of humor, Luke had only seen her strict, curt, dry, and tense. She’d spent the last few months rubbing it in Luke’s face how badly they needed a spy unit in New Rome and how shitty their defenses were against enemy spies. Humor or no, she was proving her worth. Though, Flynn would be livid if Axel became a spy instead of a member of the Assault and Battery Unit. Assuming Axel had time to be part of anything with Jack’s crazy projects keeping him busy.

Luke blinked, realizing how popular this kid had become.

“Come on, man. You’re really good with the girls. Even Ethel likes you. And that prickly Echinda doesn’t like anyone,” Luke said.

The smile vanished from Axel’s face. “It’s because I meet her on her terms. You can’t rush her. She’s… she’s still recovering. You gotta let her decide how close she wants to stand and you gotta remember not to block her exit from the room.” Axel pulled his knees up and leaned his chin against them. “That miscarriage was insult to injury for her. And don’t even get me started on separating her from Charlie. Child of the Big Three or not, Charlie is five. The kid should keep using the Hyperborean giants as a jungle gym, not being prepped to replace Thalia and Percy if they fail.”

Luke gritted his teeth. He didn’t know Charlie, the daughter of Zeus, had been told she could be the child of the prophecy. He wondered if that was Alabaster’s work or one of the other Titans.

“You seem to know a lot about how to work with people like Ethel,” Luke said carefully.

Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. The smoldering on his cigarette had burned down to the filter. Casually, as though he was going to press the butt into the ground, he lowered his hand, then pressed the hot tip under his shirt, into his hip and the scar tissue of the former tattoo.

Axel didn’t even flinch.

Between Jack and Axel, Luke wondered what it said about him if he preferred to befriend crazy people.

Jack must not have noticed Axel’s movement. He continued to play his sitar, adding a soft hum into the breeze.

Axel released the cigarette and hugged his legs tightly. “It’s hard for me to accept that the women around me aren’t being paid or threatened to enjoy my company, or that they don’t want something from me,” he muttered, “I don’t like to talk about it.”

The music stopped again.

Luke frowned. Why can’t we have a normal talk about hot chicks? He didn’t even want to think about what had happened to Axel and Pax to give Axel that impression.

Jack hopped down beside Axel, keeping his legs as far from the cliff’s edge as possible while also sitting beside him. He slipped an arm around Axel’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. Luke expected him to say some meaningless dad cliché. Instead, Jack said, “Luke, you should show him that picture Silena gave you of Thalia and Annabeth.”

A grin twitched back onto Luke’s lips. He could tell Jack the same stories about Thalia and Annabeth every night for a month and Jack’s eyes would still light up with delight. That’s what they often did at the Monster Mash bar, to the point where the bartender, Dean, got tired of them and would kick them out.

Luke fumbled for the photo he’d kept in his wallet for the last few months, since Thalia returned to camp. He had to make a copy to keep in his room, because this one’s edges were so crumbled.

The picture was at Camp Half-Blood, outside Cabin One. Thalia looked confused at the photographer. She still wasn’t used to the idea of a camera phone. Annabeth looked so happy.

“It’s weird to see Thalia look so young,” Luke said, grinning, “I kept thinking she’d come back looking older. She’s actually nineteen, I think.”

For a panicked moment, Luke couldn’t remember how many years had passed. The times he’d displeased Kronos, when the Titan Lord showed him centuries of pain during moments of sleep, time stopped having meaning.

“She’s cute,” Axel admitted, staring down at the picture. His brow furrowed. “She’s my age. And Annabeth…”

“She’s growing into a beautiful girl. Give her a few years.” Luke couldn’t wait to tease her about it, imagining the way she’d scrunch up her face, all annoyed and adorable and fierce. “We just need to remind her that the world needs to be rebuilt, and she can rebuild it to fit her wildest dreams. We’re going to be in high demand for a good architect. Then, she’ll be happy. That’s all I want.”

Axel’s tone was careful when he said, “She looks closer to Ajax’s age.”

“She’s older than Pax,” Luke said. He struggled to remember their ages. Pax looked so young and Annabeth looked older than she was.

“By what, a year?” Axel snorted.

“She’s mature for her age,” Luke snapped. Why did Luke feel so defensive? Awhile ago, he’d stopped referring to Annabeth as a little sister, but she was still young, right?

“Annabeth is Luke’s little sister,” Jack chided Axel, like he’d read Luke’s mind. Jack ruffled Axel’s hair.

Axel slapped away Jack’s hand.

She was like a little sister, right? Luke just wanted to make a world that she would like and to protect her. He could never think of Annabeth like that with Thalia around. Weirdly, he guessed it was how Flynn felt with the Pax brothers. She may have had whomever she wanted, but, with Jack around, she would never want or need to think of Axel and Pax as anything more than their obnoxious children.

“I’ll bet Thalia and Annabeth wouldn’t approve of how you’re getting information from Silena,” Axel said.

Luke shrugged, folding up the photograph. “We need a spy. It’s hard to trust her though. I mean, she’s a daughter of Aphrodite. She must know I’m not in love with her. I’ve never said I was. And she’s beautiful and a camp counselor; she can’t be that deprived of attention that she needs it from me.”

Luke frowned, remembering how Silena was thrilled with the dove broach Beckendorf had made her. She had unabashed talked about it when he’d found it fumbling with her clothing.

Luke refused to feel guilty. He wasn’t the one cheating a new crush. He wasn’t the one cheating his camp. All he could assume was that Silena really wanted the Olympians to burn, but she didn’t have the heart to leave the camp. She’d heard the stories about him poisoning Percy and about poisoning Thalia’s tree. He’d never denied them. She was the one choosing to ignore them.

Axel stretched out his legs, straightening them completely over the cliff’s edge to show off the animalistic arch to his calves. He cracked his neck to one side. “Hey… Luke, Jack.”

Both boys perked up.

The wind whipped Luke’s face harshly. He thought he could hear someone shouting aboard the boat, their voices carried up with the breeze. Axel waited long enough that Luke could count enough stars in Centaur constellation to get angry at Chiron.

“Someone who slays the Ophiotaurus… if they have the power to destroy the gods, wouldn’t they have the power to take out the Titans too?” Axel asked slowly.

That was a dangerous question.

They remained silent as they inhaled the salty air. Luke tossed his empty bottle to the other one. He fished into the cooler for a third, wondering if it would be unwise to speculate.

Axel couldn’t pledge his soul to Kronos. He wasn’t Greek. That made Kronos think he was untrustworthy. It made Axel one of the few people Luke felt like he could trust. But, what if Kronos mucked through Luke’s memories? Could he? How pathetic was Luke if he feared speaking against Kronos when Kronos wasn’t around?

Luke bit his lip. He wondered if he could have handled criticism from other people, like Alabaster, before Kronos poisoned his thoughts. He’d handled criticism fine from Thalia and Annabeth and even Chiron before all of this. Was that pride his? Or Kronos’?

Queasiness warned him not to take another sip of his beer. I’ve only had two, he scolded himself. The sense of helplessness made him gulp until his head felt light.

“Luke?” Jack asked slowly.

Axel and Jack were waiting for an answer, like Luke knew everything about the universe. He didn’t. He didn’t know anything without Kronos. He was just some pawn piece abandoned by his father and his friends. Kronos’ puppet, Alabaster had said, only worthy of Hermes’ attention when you’ve become a threat during your temper tantrum.

Thalia will join, he told himself to shake off the nausea. She’ll join, and she’ll help you remember who you are. We can fight this war together, even if that means fighting the Titans later.

“Hey… guys…” Luke said. It was something that had been on his mind, lurking in the background when Kronos wasn’t around, something he’d wanted to bring up but... he’d been too scared. With the light buzz in his head and the way his chin wanted to droop, he found some courage. “If Kronos erases me, if I try to hurt Thalia or Annabeth, will you kill what’s left of me so I can’t hurt them?”

“Luke!” Jack squeaked. His voice sounded near tears. “You—you saved me. You gave me a world where I wasn’t just confused—”

Luke was about to force a laugh, to change the subject like he’d been joking. His lip began to bleed where he bit it. He should have known Jack was too soft to handle the thought, let alone the action.

A hand clamped over Luke’s shoulder. He glanced into Axel’s golden eyes. Axel’s other hand had clamped over Jack’s mouth, shutting him up.

“I will,” Axel said. His gaze was steady. “I would hope you’d do the same for me if I ever hurt my family.” He swallowed. “The family I choose.”

This time, it was Jack’s turn to slap Axel’s hand away. “Axel Jackson Pax!”

That wasn’t Axel’s real middle name, or Luke certainly hoped it wasn’t. When the Pax brothers refused to give their middle names, Mercedes had supplied them with that, her face stern as usual. Luke wondered if that was a custom in… where was she from? Morocco? To take the father’s name as the middle?

Whatever it was, Jack loved it and decided the two Hispanic boys really had the middle name of Jackson.

“You lay a finger on Luke and you’ll have the worst case of chicken po—”

Luke was happy Jack’s shrieks would cover his response. He gripped the hand Axel had on his shoulder. “Thank you,” Luke said.

Axel nodded and released him, looking uncomfortable with the display of gratitude. Luke could guess why. He had just said thank you for offering to kill him. Probably not a common topic amongst friends.[1]

“And you won’t be able to walk with the spinal meningitis—”

“Jack, you could never intentionally make someone sick,” Axel teased. “You’re always panicking about doing it on accident.”

Those words silenced Jack. Luke wondered if Axel thought it was a rumor that Jack had killed his whole family with a song.

Luke stretched so he could casually lean forward to check on his friend. The redhead toyed with his bracelet: a braided electric base string. His brilliant eyes held that distant glint, the one he got when he forgot to take his medicine. Flynn and Phil had been pretending Jack didn’t need his medicine anymore. Luke struggled with the fact that they were lying to him.

Jack wasn’t like his mom. The medicine did help, right?

Pushing the old anxiety out of his head—he didn’t need to worry about Jack on his day off—Luke leaned back, taking another swig of his bottle. He couldn’t really taste it. Since Kronos had infiltrated his thoughts, simple pleasures like eating and drinking seemed to deteriorate. One day, there will be nothing left.

“What did you really bring us out to talk about?” Axel asked, folding his legs criss-cross style again. “Since you’re clearly so interested in breathing exercises.”

Luke wanted to say it was girls: Thalia, Annabeth, Flynn, and whomever had stolen Axel’s heart. It wasn’t.

His heart rebelled against his mouth. They needed to have this talk. Somehow, it was harder than asking them to kill him. He took another gulp of beer, feel the carbonation fuzz against his tongue.

“In order to…” his words failed him. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Thalia failed them or if they couldn’t capture the Ophiotaurus. He didn’t want to admit that this was one more thing Kronos was making him do, another thing he had no control over. “I need to get the Curse of Achilles,” he said finally.

Neither boy spoke, waiting for Luke to elaborate.

When Luke took his time to inhale the dulled scent of salt water, Jack whispered, “Aren’t curses usually to be avoided?”

Luke wanted to laugh hysterically, but knew that would worry Jack. “To get it, I need to go to Hades,” he said in response.

“I hear you’re not exactly popular there,” Axel said.

Luke nodded. “And I need to bath in the River Styx. I want people I can trust to go down with me, some of the best fighters and best healers. However, I need Flynn here. She’s one of the only ones that can keep order. The Titans respect her.” Luke bit his lip, tasting the slight twang of blood. Sometimes, she’s respected more than me.

Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “I’ll have to find a way to convince Ajax to stay here.”

Luke knew that would be a complication. The littlest Pax would die on a trip below. Jack pointed out the bigger problem.

“I won’t be able to convince Flynn to let me go. And none of us can lie to her.” The redhead frowned. Jack couldn’t lie to Flynn by choice. The rest of them would have the truth forced out of them under her melodious wrath. If Luke really wanted Jack along, they would need to kidnap Jack without prepping him, claim it was Kronos’ idea, and accept any punishment she’d unleash upon them after they returned.

“How soon do we need to go?” Jack asked.

Luke forced himself to stop biting his lip. “Before I take Atlas’ burden.”

What if they say no? Luke trembled at the thought. He could order them, but he wanted them to come of their own volition. They were his friends, right? Or are they only your friends because you’re Kronos’ puppet?

Axel laughed.

Luke balked, glaring.

The youngest of the three clutched his stomach. “Alright, alright, right, Jack?”

Jack joined in on the crazed revelry. “What else are legendary heroes for? And you’ll definitely need a bard to lighten the soul when you go somewhere so gloomy.”

Luke wondered, for a second, if this was a surprise attack from children of Dionysus. They were agreeing to go through laughter?

Axel patted Luke’s back again. “You’re a demanding guy. It’s not every day I have a friend ask me to kill them, then follow that by asking me to go to Hell and back for them.”

A bitter smile slid onto Luke’s lips. “It’s good to keep my troops on their toes. Prepares you for anything.”

All of them laughed.

“I have one request,” Jack said. His voice shook with repressed chuckles.

The other two settled down to listen.

“Next time we come up here, let’s just talk about girls. We can invent a really hot one for Axel to fancy. It’ll make Lou Ellen and the other girls all jealous when the rumors spread.”

Luke loved that idea: not just that they could torment the girls crushing on Axel, but that he’d be himself again soon, able to differentiate Kronos’ thoughts from his own. That these days won’t become less and less frequent. That what makes me me won’t dissolve. He tried to force the worry out of his head as he, Jack, and Axel flopped back onto the ground to stargaze.

Thalia will join, Luke thought. She and Annabeth will see that it’s better to start the world anew, to make a beautiful place where we can all be happy without living under the massive shadow of Olympus.

Staring out into the brilliant constellations, Luke thought, My friends won’t abandon me again and together we’ll make an unstoppable team.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned in two weeks for a little novella where Pax and Lou Ellen show why you can’t leave younger siblings unattended.

(Sorry for all the breaks between shorts! Thank you for all of your support throughout my pauses. <3 It really helps to keep me going!)

[1] False. Author Jack and friends had frequent conversations about who would be willing to murder whom in the event of a zombie apocalypse or entrapped starvation. Author Jack is gangly and would not be good pickings for cannibalism, but would also likely starve first, so frequently oscillates in line for cannibalistic choices.

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #TFMO #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #luke castellan #Axel #Jack #I feel like my writing was as good in this one-but I hope it was still enjoyable!#Jack would be ashamed XD #he expects the best for his son and his boyfriend #I mean friend.#Person he totally has no weird feelings towards #Rumors around Othrys

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psychic-timetraveler · 5 years ago

Text

Time Traveler’s Oliver and Company AU

About the AU (x) Other Drabbles (x) ___________

Part 4: Streets of Gold

The sunrise over the city was quiet lovely, despite it already being rush hour. People were eagerly on their ways to get to their jobs throughout the city. The traffic on the streets were just as bad as the traffic on the sidewalks. Rose made sure she was always within an arms reach of Quincy, especially having no idea where they were headed.

Eventually, Rose finally asked a question that had been bugging her since she woke up that morning. “Okay. What did you find out?”

“What?” He asked looking down at her quickly.

“You know what I mean. You were there all night. Like you didn’t do some digging on the internet. What did you find?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much. Social media accounts, foster system file, your paypal. No wonder you’re not worried about running from the system.”

“If you saw my social media, then you saw my YouTube account. Thus, the paypal. Stay in a place for so long, make a few videos, post them sporadically, rake in a few pretty pennies.”

“I didn’t watch any videos, just saw that you had one. Honestly, I was too focused on the foster system file. You have some track record there. Coast to coast and everywhere in between.”

“What can I say? I hated the system.”

“Obviously.”

He quickly grabbed her backpack strap and pulled her into an apartment building. She made a tiny noise at the sudden change of direction. The stairwell to this building seemed a bit run down but not to the point of being a shit hole. Hell, she’s lived in houses worse than this. He lead her up three flights of stairs and down a hallway. Always the last door on the left. Always!

He stopped at the last door on the left, so cliche, and opened it. He ushered her in first and shut the door behind them. “So my roommate should still be out. Bathroom is down the hall, you’re free to use it. Was not expecting to spend the night at the warehouse so, I gotta shower and grab some shit for the day.”

She nodded and headed back where he had pointed. Before she could even shut the door, she heard another door close. Assuming it was his door, she went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Though a shower sounded nice, dry shampoo would be her friend for a day or two still.

Instead she brushed her teeth first before spraying her hair down with dry shampoo. She dug into her backpack and changed clothes for the day. Those travel sized vacuum seal bags were lovely, the kind where you just rolled out the air. Layers were also a friend. She changed everything but her hoodie and jacket. Deodorant went next after feeling not disgusting anymore followed by some body mist.

She debated for a minute if she even wanted to bother with makeup, which she decided yes. Just some eyeliner and a nice lipgloss mostly. Soon she deemed herself presentable enough and cleaned up the bathroom like she had found it.

By the time she opened up the door, the apartment was still empty and Quincy’s door was still shut. Already hearing his voice in her head about not touching anything, she went over to the couch and sat down. This was going to be an ideal time to plug her phone in for a bit and charge it, alongside her backup battery. Despite it charging, she poked at it a bit and checked on her social media accounts to keep occupied.

A door opening caused her to look. What she thought was going to be Quincy was not, it was another man instead coming through the front door. He gave her a look and an equally confused courtesy wave.

“Q?” The man asked.

Rose pointed to his bedroom. Jesus how many nicknames did this dude have?

The man, instead of knocking, burst right into Quincy’s room. Rose turned her attention back to her phone, best to just stay out of it.

The man didn’t care by this point and just walked into Quincy’s bathroom in his room. Thankfully he was still in the shower.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Quincy yelled.

“I should be asking you the same thing!” The other man shouted back.

“Fucking knock next time, asshole!”

“Why the hell is there a teenager sitting in our living room?”

“Uh, my living room. You’re the one who’s moving out.” Quincy was terrible at answering questions.

“Not the point, there’s still a teenager in the living room!”

“I know that!” He shut off the water and grabbed the towel he had draped over the shower curtain rod. “It’s a long story, okay? When are you officially moving out?”

“I came to grab a few more things and I’m out today. I’m leaving you a check for the rest of the month’s rent and whatever else I owe you and I’m gone.”

“The rest of the shit in your room?”

“Leaving it here.”

Quincy groaned and stepped out of the shower with a towel around his waist. “God you suck.”

He shrugged. “Well at least I don’t bring teenagers to the apartment.”

“George, it’s a long story okay? I should still be pissed at you for leaving all of your fucking furniture for me to deal with.”

“Well the next poor sap you live with won’t have to worry about it.”

Quincy gave his ex-roommate a look. “You done roasting me now? Leaving?”

George groaned. “Yes, I’m leaving. Jesus. Just going to leave everything on the kitchen table and I’m gone.”

“Still see you at the gym next Thursday?”

“Obviously.”

With that, George left Quincy’s room. He dried off and go ready, or at least as best to his ability. That mostly consisted of picking things throughout the room that he assumed were still good to wear. Whatever, it was good enough. Hell, he even threw on a dodgers baseball hat to seal the deal.

By this point he did not care, he just wanted to get the job started. He grabbed his own backpack of goodies from beside his bed and double checked he had everything in there. Everything seemed to be there, what really mattered was his flash drive. That had everything in it for the job.

He grabbed his jacket and slung his backpack over his shoulder. When he walked out into the living room, he wasn’t surprised to see Rose sitting there on her phone.

“Is George still here?”

“Nope. He left a few minutes ago.” She responded, not looking up from her phone. “You two argue like an old married couple.”

Quincy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You ready?”

“Waiting on you.” She had already begun to gather her chargers and plugs. “What’s the game plan, chief?”

“Use public wifi to get into a big name business computer for starters. The key is getting in, everything else can then be done remotely at the warehouse.” He explained, opening the front door again. “And don’t call me ‘chief’ again.”

Rose shoved the charger plugs into her bag and zipped it up. She flung it over her shoulder and headed out the door. “Fine.”

He shut the door behind her and they walked down side by side. “You’re the first one of the gang to see where I actually live, let alone half meet my roommate.”

“Ex roommate.” She corrected. “For real though, argue like a married couple.”

“Thus why he’s moving out.”

“Is it really though?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, he started seeing someone and decided to move in with her.” He rolled her eyes. “Spare me.”

“That means you have an opening for a new roommate. Melissa perhaps?” She smiled to him. If anything it was a shit eating grin.

He gave her a tired look. “I swear to the gods above, you are worse than the rest of them and I’ve known you the shortest.”

“Oh, I heard a lot yesterday while you and Charlie were out. A lot.”

He let out a defeated sigh. “I bet.” With that he opened the door and ushered her back onto the busy sidewalks. “In this lighting, you can see the new patches of grey I obtained just from that conversation. Thank you for that.”

“Glad I can be of assistance with that.” She smiled proudly.

He let out another sigh. “God, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Yet, you still haven’t told me to fuck off yet.” She reminded.

“That’s correct.” He began to nudge her down the street again.

She decided to leave it at that. Not knowing what the day ahead was going to bring, it was probably for the best that she kept her mouth shut. Besides, she was too focused on how lovely the city looked this morning.

The rising sun cast an orange glow onto the buildings and streets to give everything a pleasant glow. Actually, it looks as if the streets were paved with gold. This had to be one of the prettiest cities she had lived in since she’s been in the foster care system. It took seven years to finally feel at home and at peace but it came.

That was quickly taken away from her as Quincy was pulling her backpack to the right as they took a corner. This street wasn’t as pretty as the last one they just walked down but something about this city was really starting to feel peaceful, despite it being loud and dirty as hell. It was a city of wonder and mystery that she loved.

Now it was time to get to business. Quincy and Rose went in and out of coffee shops all morning and well into the afternoon. Various points of the city, trying to get into their client’s target’s computer. Though their client didn’t give them much to go off of, it was something and Quincy at least knew what he was doing. Despite getting frustrated and wanting to jump into oncoming traffic every hour and a half or so, it was sort of productive.

All that mattered to Rose was the coffee she was drinking and the homework she was finishing. Though she completely missed that day of school, it was for the best not to mention it. Quincy seemed like the sort of guy who would’ve flipped and said she should’ve been in school that day. It was best to just leave it at that. The only downfall to not being in school that day was she would be without her laptop all weekend.

Fridays were her day to get out a bit earlier too so she could do just this, use coffee shops free wifi to upload her youtube videos. Now she spent her day drinking lots of coffee and doing her homework with social media breaks every so often.

It was around four or four thirty in the afternoon. Somehow they had managed to get uptown into the nicer district, close to where the upper crust people lived. It was a small coffee shop that happened to be below a paper shop. There was a dude with an acoustic guitar playing in the back of the shop that made Rose cringe externally and internally.

Either way, Quincy was getting a lot of work done and this seemed like it was going to be the ideal spot and hopefully the last. They had been at this all day and she could tell Quincy was getting annoyed. Though they had not said much, it was the amount of caffeine that man had been drinking all day and his frustrated habits were easy to pick up on. Especially the one where he put his head down on the table and groaned into his jacket sleeve. That was her favorite. Well that and when he’d lean all the way back in his chair and put his hat over his face for a minute or so. That was also comical.

Rose had looked up from her phone and saw a familiar face walk into the coffee shop. He didn’t see her right away, he was too fixated on the menu towards the side of the shop. When he walked passed her, she could see headphones in his ears. A teen with priorities.

The other young man ordered his coffee and waited for it to the side, now rocking one headphone. In one hand he held a guitar case, or in his case a bass from what she remembered about her friend. In the other he had his phone as he searched for a song. Once he settled on one, he pocketed it again and waited for his drink.

The barista called out for a orange hot cocoa and he grabbed the beverage and thanked the woman. He took a sip and that’s when Rose decided to offer a small wave to him. He smiled to her and stopped next to the table with her and Quincy.

All that mattered was that Quincy was oblivious to everything happening currently around him. Though it didn’t matter. He would try to roast her for her male friend but she’d shoot back about Melissa again.

“Hey.” The taller teen smiled down to Rose. “Didn’t see you in class today, everything okay?”

“Hey.” She returned the smile, though it was forced. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a bit hectic right now. Trying to get my shit in order.”

“Well, if you ever need a quiet place to do some studying or to run away for a bit, my place is always open to ya. My parents are usually away on business most long weekends so it’s always quiet and it gets a bit lonely sometimes. Wouldn’t mind to have a friend come over once in a while.”

“Thanks, really. I’ll have to keep that in mind at some point.”

“I’m actually late for band practice.” He laughed a bit and held up his bass case. “I’ll catch ya later, Ro.”

“See ya, Brad.” She waved to him as he walked out of the coffee shop.

She went back to her phone, completely oblivious that Quincy was staring at her. It took her a few seconds of him staring to finally look up. To be honest, she didn’t realize he knew that her friend had talked to her for a moment either.

“What?” She asked.

“You know that kid?” He asked.

“Yes? I go to school with him. He’s a bit upper crust but super down to earth.”

“Brad? Right? That’s his name?” Quincy asked.

Rose put her phone down to give him her undivided attention. “Yes. Okay, what is with these questions? Yes, his name is Brad. Yes, I know him from school. Yes, we are friends. No, I do not plan on dating him. What else do you want to know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Listen. That’s the son to our client’s target.”

“Daniel Slater?” She asked, remembering the name.

“Yes.” He shut his laptop and leaned back in the chair. “Wow, this is going to be a helluva lot easier than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

He dug into his backpack for the flash drive. “This. If you can get what’s on this flash drive onto one of Daniel Slater’s computers, we’re golden. Mr. Sykes is going to be one happy man and he’s not the type of man you want to piss off.”

“Okay. So what are you then getting at?”

The flash drive made a small plastic clink when it hit the table. Quincy slid the device over to her. “You’re going to be the one who plants it.”

She plucked it off the table. “Me?”

“You know his son, and who literally just offered you to go over at any time. Who better? Charlie said you were apart of the gang anyway. Think you can manage it?”

She turned the flash drive over in her hand a few times before pocketing it in her hoodie. “I think I can manage it.”

“Attagirl.” Quincy smiled at her.

Something about hearing a form of validation from an adult made her smile a bit on the inside. She was apart of something. Okay, something a bit sketchy but it was something! Half of the other foster homes she’d been in were garbage and yet these hackers were willing to take her in with open arms. This was something she did not want to lose. They were all good people who just chose to do questionable things in their free time.

Quincy gathered his laptop and charger and shoved them back into his bag. “Let’s get outta here.”

She pocketed her phone next and stood up after him. “Fucking finally. I think I had enough caffeine to last me a week.”

“Or a day?” He laughed a bit.

“That too.” She smiled.

He nudged her. “Come on, there’s a pretty good pizza place up the block a bit.”

#oliver and company au #disney au #category: ttAU #category: time traveler #oc: rose #oc: q #writing post #drabble series #wip

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 6 years ago

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Baby Daddy - Chapter 2

You can find the Chapter Index here. Or read it on AO3!

Derek comes awake from the same old nightmare, gasping for breath in a world that tastes like ash and thick, choking smoke. Stupid, since the fire was already out by the time he made it to the house, but since when do nightmares have to make sense? He lurches upright, sucking in a ragged breath, and the night air chills his sweat-slick skin.

It’s dark.

It’s quiet.

In the distance he can hear a siren, but it might be miles away. Noise at night travels strangely.

From the room next door he can hear Laura’s heartbeat. It’s a little fast, a little too strong for sleep.

“Bad dream,” he murmurs into the darkness.

She doesn’t answer him, but he hears the rustle of her sheets and comforter as she settles back down in her bed.

Derek reaches for his phone. He keeps it on the nightstand beside his bed, although “nightstand” is an exaggeration. It’s a plastic crate he took from work, brought home, and upended beside his bed. It does what it’s supposed to do.

The screen on his phone tells him it’s 4:32 a.m.

He didn’t work last night, but Laura did, until two. So, great. She’d probably barely gotten to sleep before he woke her up with his nightmare.

Ever since they came back to Beacon Hills, Laura has been working at an all-night diner. Derek works a few shifts a week as a bouncer at a club. They’re not great jobs, but they’re something. Something to do instead of sitting around wondering what the fuck is going to go wrong next.

Derek hates that they came back here at all. He doesn’t know why they couldn’t just keep moving, but Laura has her alpha instincts and they’ve been pulling her back towards Beacon Hills for a while now. It’s her territory, and it’s harder for her to ignore that than it is for Derek. He’s a beta. His territory is wherever his alpha is, and for a long time that was a collection of shady motel rooms and crappy apartments on the east coast. Coming back to Beacon Hills hasn’t settled anything inside him. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.

Sometimes, when the wind is right, it carries the scent of the Preserve into town, and homesickness hits Derek in the gut like a fist. Homesickness, and longing. It’s worse somehow, because the Preserve is right there, but it’s still not home. It can never be home again, he thinks, despite what Laura wants, because of what happened there to their family.

Derek doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night. He can’t. He lies awake and waits until dawn.

***

On Friday and Saturday nights, Derek is partnered up with Boyd on the door of the club. The club is a shithole, basically, and the clientele reflects that. There are usually at least one or two fights every evening, and while it’s nothing Derek couldn’t handle on his own, he likes knowing Boyd’s got his back. Boyd is big and quiet. Derek likes him. He doesn’t talk much about his personal life. Derek knows he works days at the tire place out by the exit to the highway, and he knows he has a girlfriend, but she doesn’t come to the club. Something about the flashing lights. Other than that he doesn’t know much about Vernon Boyd at all, but Derek likes him.

It’s been a long time since he was comfortable enough to turn his back on someone, but he finds he can do that with Boyd. There’s just something about his calm, solid presence that Derek trusts. It’s been so long that Derek doesn’t know what to do with a revelation like that, so he guards the feeling carefully and, when Laura badgers him about whether or not he’s made any friends yet, he grunts and refuses to be drawn further into any conversation.

Laura seems better since they came back to Beacon Hills, more settled somehow, and a part of Derek hates her for it. A part of him is jealous of her.

He wishes they were still living in shitty hotel rooms and shittier apartments. At least when they were on the run they weren’t here.

Sometimes he drives past the coffee shop on Main where he remembers being sixteen-years-old and stumbling over a complicated coffee order, because he wanted to get Kate the exact one she liked.

Sometimes he drives past the high school, where he first caught a glimpse of the beautiful new substitute teacher, and his heart skipped over a few beats.

Sometimes he drives past the turnoff to Harper’s Bluff or, as the kids probably still call it, Makeout Point, and he can still smell her perfume, cloying and sickly sweet in his memory now, although he never hated it at the time.

And sometimes at night he hears sirens as a fire truck hurtles down the street, and his blood runs cold.

***

Peter turns up every Sunday morning with bagels. He lives over on Maple, in an airy modern apartment. Derek has only been there once or twice. Everything was so new, apart from the books, that the smells made his nose twitch. It didn’t smell lived-in last time Derek visited. It didn’t smell like pack. Neither does the loft, really, but at least it makes no pretence of being a home.

Derek had commented once on how everything in Peter’s place was so sterile.

And Peter had only raised his eyebrows. “Sterile? I’ll tell you what sterile is, nephew. It’s hospital-grade disinfectant, bleach, and ammonia. I’ve got fucking years of sterile behind me!”

Derek had flinched back, and Peter had turned away, and neither of them had mentioned it again.

Still, Peter turns up every Sunday morning, and Derek makes the attempt to remember who he was before the fire. Who they all were. Peter was the fun uncle once, and Laura and Derek adored him. It’s all gone now. They’re all broken, and they all broke in different ways. They don’t fit together the way they used to. Instead, all their jagged edges come up against each other, and cut and tear. They all pretend they don’t, but the wounds still rip open every time, if only because they remember that once it was all so different.

Or maybe…

Derek watches as Laura and Peter fight over the last bagel, tearing the bag and showering crumbs all over the couch, both of them immediately bickering about who has to clean up the mess.

Or maybe it’s just Derek who’s still broken.

***

Derek doesn’t always dream of the fire.

Sometimes he dreams of his life before that. He dreams of walking through the house, the light painting the floorboards gold, and he can hear his family all around him. Cora’s laugh. One of the twins squealing from upstairs. His mom yelling at Patrick to take his shoes off before he tracks mud through the kitchen. His dad humming along to some song on the radio, the keys on his keyboard clicking as he works.

And Derek walks through the house looking for them, but every room he checks is empty.

***

Boyd shifts from foot to foot, breathing on his cupped hands to keep them warm. It’s two in the morning, and tonight has been quiet. It probably won’t stay that way—it’s a dive, really—but it hasn’t been too bad yet. Derek doesn’t feel the cold like a human does, so he makes sure to stand between Boyd and the wind as much as he can.

“Forgot my jacket,” Boyd grumbles.

Derek shrugs his off.

“Derek. Man, really, you don’t have to—”

“Just put it on,” Derek says, and rolls his eyes.

Boyd’s too cold to refuse, he guesses.

The next night, Boyd turns up with a thermos of hot chocolate his girlfriend made.

“You have to have some,” he tells Derek, his mouth quirking in a smile that’s both pleased and a little embarrassed. “Erica made me promise to share.”

It’s been years since Derek had hot chocolate.

It reminds him of his mom’s.

***

Derek wakes up one afternoon to find that Laura’s been out and bought a throw rug and cushions for the couch.

“Like it?” she asks him, hands on her hips as she squints down at them. The cushions are a weird plum color. The throw rug is olive. Laura’s brows tug together. “Maybe I should have got the white throw. Do they clash? Peter’s going to be all snooty about it if they clash.”

Derek shrugs, fetches a glass of water, and climbs the stairs back to his room.

He can hear Laura muttering under her breath as he goes.

All of Derek’s possessions fit in a single gym bag. It’s been that way for years. Pack light and move fast. Derek’s been on the run for so long that he doesn’t know how not to be. How the fuck do throw rugs and cushions fit into the world that he and Laura have lived in since the fire? How can she just decide that they’re done running, and suddenly they own cushions and throw rugs?

Because, if he’s honest with himself. Derek never thought a day like this would come.

He thought Laura was lying every time she talked about how they’d settle down one day. How they’d stop running. He thought she was just saying the things that an alpha and a big sister should. He’d thought she was lying to him to protect him from the truth: that the only way this would end would be by dying.

And isn’t that what he deserves, for what he did to his family? His pack?

Sometimes Derek doesn’t know if Kate intended for him to live or not. He thinks she probably did.

Because it’s so much more cruel this way.

***

Derek wasn’t with Laura when she first came back to Beacon Hills and met the crazy werewolf in the woods. Neither her nor Peter talk much about what happened, but Derek knows that Peter tried to kill her. He knows it was only luck that she dodged him long enough to give him a moment to come back to his senses.

“No,” Peter is saying hours later when Derek comes downstairs again. “The throw, I like. The cushions though?”

“They clash, right?”

“Not violently,” Peter says. “But they aren’t exactly pleasing to the eye.”

Derek shuffles past them to the refrigerator. He makes himself a protein shake, because he learned to live on them when they were on the run, and living in places with no refrigeration. Like the car. Protein shakes, crackers, and, if they had cash at the time, gas station food.

Laura hums thoughtfully. “I should have got the white throw.”

“No, you should have got some cream cushions and kept the olive throw,” Peter says. “In fact, you should still go and get some cream cushions, and get an armchair to put under that window. And you can put these cushions on the chair.”

Fuck if Derek knows how they made the leap from almost killing one another in the Preserve only a few months ago to this home decorator stuff, but it’s ridiculous. You don’t just go from running for your life to picking out cushions. You don’t.

What happens—

What happens if Kate finds them?

Derek’s grip loosens suddenly, he drops his plastic shaker, and his protein shake spills all over the kitchen floor.

“Derek?” Laura calls.

He doesn’t turn and look at her, already too aware that his sudden spike of panic must have been as loud as a blast of static to her and Peter. He pads over to the sink, grabs the cloth, and wets it.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, and bends down to clean the mess up. “I got it.”

He swipes the cloth over the floor, his face burning, and listens to the silence between Laura and Peter that tells him everything he needs to know.

They’re not broken anymore. Not like he is.

And if they don’t know what to say to him to make it better, then that must be because there’s nothing they cansay.

Maybe this is just how Derek is now.

Maybe this is what Kate made him.

***

The weeks pass. Derek goes to work, comes home, sleeps, rinse and repeat. His shifts sometimes end up in sync with Laura’s for a few days here and there, and they eat together and Laura tells him about her day, about her co-workers, about this one college kid who comes to the diner and pays his tips in nickels and dimes, and Derek nods and grunts to show he’s more or less listening.

“I think it’s time,” she says one night, her eyes bright with determination. “Time to start rebuilding the pack.”

Derek’s dinner tastes suddenly like ash.

#baby daddy #sterek #discontentedwinter #my fics

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peacefulwriter88 · 6 years ago

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Disarm

Lance Tucker x Curvy WoC

Warnings: Fluff, language like subtle hints of SMUT but nothing to crazy kids

A/N: I’m just trying to clean my system of this asshole, don’t mind me…

The room reverberates as the crack of thunder hits above the hotel. You’re frozen in your bed, comforter pulled to your chin as lightning flashes against your pulled curtains, the stiff material doing nothing to dispel the chaos that is happening between the thin layer of glass. Can’t help dispel the anxious way your chest heaves up and down, the way your tank top sticks to your sweat drenched skin and you try to close your eyes, willing the scenario away from your mind. But another clap of thunder has you snapping your eyes open and you whimper lower into your bed.

You hated thunderstorms like this.

Your grandparents who had a home in North Carolina loved storms like this. Wasn’t bothered by it. So, that night when a hurricane had blown in, it had taken them off guard. It was a wonder that your grandfather was able to get you and your grandmother to safety, but he had lost his life in the process. Nights like this drew you back to your six year old self and you jump at another flash of thunder, before you’re giving into your anxiety and pull your phone from the nightstand.

You knew he’d be up. It was only 11 – he was always up this late.

Are you up?

You knew it’d throw him off. You never texted him outside the context of work. When you were hired to help coach the girl’s Olympic team, you and Lance had naturally butt heads. He thought he knew what was best for his winning team and you assured him that he didn’t, that there was more that could be learned. You would know, you were a former gold and silver winner like him and that was probably what irked him as much.

You were on his level.

Over time though, annoyance became respect. Lance realized that you did a lot more with the girls than he was capable of, connecting with them on different levels that translated in the gym. Though you barely were in the gym as much as your former self was, it helped when you were able to jump on a beam or the bars to show a technique. You’re muscles had memorized techniques, form, even if the weight of your body’s curve betrayed you and made you regret the suppleness of your ass and breast as a 29 year old. Barely 30 and anytime you were done after a day’s technique, you felt like you body was going on 50 after you finished a demonstration, needing to ice and soak every part of you.

Lance respected that you still got up there and could do it with ease though. Was impressed on the way you were still able to call control to your body and show the mental and physical discipline that is gained if your mind is in the right place. Lecturing them that boys were nice, sure, but the wrong boy could have you in the wrong state of mind when you were twisting your body off a vault. That going to ballet was a bummer after spending hours in the gym but it strengthened your calves, helped you meditate in a different way. He would also echo his agreement, his eyes lingering a little too long on your ass or chest when you finished a move. You ignored the way that made you feel, you had no room for a Lance Tucker.

Except tonight, as you look down at your cell phone. Two minutes had gone by and he hadn’t responded which mean he hadn’t taken Kyle’s offer to go out for a drink. That he was in bed – hopefully his own. Another boom of thunder and you throw the covers off of you. Fuck this. You weren’t going to be stuck in this room all night, unable to sleep when you both had a long day ahead of you. You find your room key, take a deep breath and lunge out of your bed after a rumble of thunder, counting slowly down to yourself as you scamper out into the hallway. If he wasn’t going to wake up and give you the comfort you needed you were going to force it on him.

There’s something loud banging on his door, drawing him out of his subconscious. He’s suddenly aware of the coolness in his room, the way something bright flashes occasionally throughout the small space and the buzzing of his phone. He groans, blindly looking for the metal contraption that’s annoying him first, rubbing his eyes as he croaks out an answer,

“Hello?”

“Open your goddamn door!”

Your voice is different. It’s not commanding, confident or elegant. It’s the opposite – needy on the verge of fear and it’s enough that has him stumbling out of his bed, clicking on a light as he makes his way to the door.

The pounding has stopped now and by the time he cracks open the heavy wood, you’re pushing past him with lightning speed. You’re just wearing a tank top that pushes up your ample bosom and shorts that might as well be illegal as they grip your ass in the best kind of way, causing him to bite his lip as he tries to look away. You throw your phone and room key on his night stand, push your phone into his charger, before your wrapping yourself in his comforter. He furrows his eyebrows together as he closes the door, looking at you with skeptically curiosity as another boom of lightening hits and you jump nearly off the bed, fear laced in your eyes.

“…you’re afraid of thunderstorms?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to be cynical, he’s genuinely curious and you snap a look at him, one he’s seen enough times. The one that makes him want to go hide in a corner while simultaneously bending you over his knee in punishment.

“Maybe.”

“You? Really?”

You give a deep sigh, pinching your nose as he walks over to the window, taking a peek outside and whistling under his breath.

“It’s coming down. But makes sense for Florida – it’s trying to wash away all the crazy shit that happens in this state away.”

He looks back at you as you watch him with wide eyes.

“Don’t be so close to the window. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your voice is meek but genuine and he gives a deep sigh, shaking his head as he closes the curtain, turning to walk toward you.

“You know I was charging my phone. Now it’s going to die.”

“I’ll make sure to keep it at full charge tomorrow. Besides anyone important who needs to talk to you can also connect with you through me. The skanks in your life are just going to have wait a day.”

Despite the sassiness in the comment you’re frozen, he can see the way your body shakes while you hold yourself. He places his phone next to yours before he grabs the sides of your body, pushing you over a bit. You’re soft and hard in the way he’s always imagined and he prays the small erection that always makes an appearance whenever he’s this close to you isn’t apparent as he gets into bed. He pulls the comforter a bit, enough so you have to share and another bout of thunder hits that has you practically jumping into his arms. He chuckles as he wraps them around you, drawing you close as you rest your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry this is unprofessional. But I was stuck for two days in a hurricane that started like this and…..it brings out the worse fear in me. I know it’s unfounded and unrealistic but I can’t afford not to sleep. And Kyle’s a fucking pervert, no way I’m trying to bunk with him. Tracey would keep me up all night talking my ear off about that one time you banged her in her office and the girls would wake me up constantly, asking if you and I were a thing. I just wanted to be with someone who I felt safe with and that I trust….”

You’re shaking and he nods, placing his head on top of yours. He knew your story – it had ben plastered all over the news the years you had gone to the Olympics. Your grandfather had gotten killed in that hurricane that ripped through the east coast. A few years later, your grandmother had passed away and the orphan in you had found a way to overcome, to practice and train and work and go to school to be an American Olympian. He had respected it, respected it more than Hope.

What surprised him was that you trusted him. You talked to him the least, kept him at an arms distance. The fact that you thought to come to him made him feel proud and something else he can’t put his finger on. Tries to push it into the back of his mind even though he knows it’ll linger there for weeks as he rubs your arms up and down as he whispers,

“You don’t have to explain, its ok. I get it. You can stay here as long as you want….”

You fall into his embrace, a sigh of relief hitting his exposed chest.

“Thanks Lance,” another bout of lightening that has you jumping into his lap, arms wrapped reverently around him. When it passes you look at him, large doe eyes that make his cock twitch before you give a sheepish smile. “Probably the night.” You admit and he chuckles as he falls back into his headboard.

“That’s fine with me,” another smile as he grips your hips. “I’d be more than happy to find a way to distract you.”

His moves his hips into your own, his erection moving against your center and you let out a small moan, before you narrow your eyes and shake your head.

“Are you trying to use my fear to seduce me?”

He gives a lazy smile.

“You want to tell me you’ve never thought about you and me? I’ve seen the way you’ve checked me out in the gym….”

You roll your eyes as you shake your head.

“Yea Lance you’re hot. And sure, I’d love to ride you like no tomorrow,” the honesty of the words take him off guards as his eyebrows raise. “But we work together and honestly, I’m not just trying to find some guy to fuck me. I’m past all of that. If I’m riding you like the stallion you are, it’s because you’re more than a good lay.”

Even though you say the words, he sees the way you bite your lip, the way your eyes scan down his chest before your pushing off of him.

“I’m going to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Fine. But just for the record, I wouldn’t just consider you a good lay. I actually like you. You think I’d let Tracey in my room if she was pounding at my door this late at night. I’d send her over to pervy Kyle.”

You giggle as you lay on your side, shaking your head and he takes the opportunity to wrap himself behind you, drawing your backside to his erection that causes you both to groan.

“Let’s at least cuddle. My fee for disrupting my good sleep. Although, you’re going to have to deal with the consequence of my erection from coming in looking as hot as you do...”

“….unbelievable….” you mutter, but your hand already falls over his arms, snuggling back into him.

Neither admit that it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in months, even if you both wake up with the worst case of blue balls. Even if you can’t help the lingering way Lance pulls away when you hug him thanks in the morning, or the way his eyes fall on you even more openly throughout the rest of the meet.

Even if you do give in a little bit when he asks you out to dinner, the moment you both land back in California. Even if you say yes with a big grin on your face.

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x plus size reader #lance tucker x person of color #lance tucker x woman of color #Sebastian Stan

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