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beelspillowpet · 4 years ago

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Hiya!! bros + side characters react to a werewolf mc???

Heya!! I’m not that great with the side characters yet unfortunately, which is why I’ve been avoiding them up to this point. 😭😭😭 I’ll try my best regardless!

Lucifer

What the f*ck.

Like actually what the f*ck. A werewolf?? Now he isn’t one to judge- out loud at least- but he can’t help but feel that this is at least a little odd. I guess werewolves are technically a hybrid of human and wolf...

There goes his chances of having a relatively quiet and calm year of this exchange program. Luckily though, you get along with Cerberus swimmingly.

He doesn’t want to compare you to a dog too often- he thinks it might be offensive to your kind. So instead, he treats you more like a human. Unless you ask for otherwise- and why would you? He can’t deny that your reaction to scratching behind your ears doesn’t get a bit of a rise out of him. It’s adorable.

Mammon

DOGGIE?! DOGGIE!

He’s wanted a dog for AGES now. Everyone says he’s too immature to be dedicated and take care of one though. But he has you! You’re just good doggie!

You constantly have to remind him that you aren’t a dog- you’re a werewolf. “I hear ya’ I hear ya’. Now who wants walkies?! You do! Yeah ya’ do!”

He’s attached to you very quickly. He probably does get it through his thick skull at some point that it’s rude to just treat you like a literal dog sometimes- he should leave that to Luke, really. So he does tone it down a bit at some point. He’s your best friend for life now, though.

Leviathan

Wow. It’s like that anime he wanted a little bit ago. Living with you anyways. Except its real, and sometimes it’s like hell.

You are only allowed in his room when you’re not covered in fur. It’s the only way to keep his bathtub bed from being hairy, and all his figurines from being being the same.

Otherwise, hanging out with you is kinda fun. He asks you sometimes what it’s like to be this way. Sometimes he thinks about writing fanfictions based on that one anime (One Day Suddenly A Werewolf Appeared in My House and Is Staying Here With Me and My Brothers and Help Why Are They So Friendly!?) with a more realistic approach.

You two aren’t exactly best friends, but you’re close enough. He knows not to show you cat videos, but at least you have those cute dog videos.

Satan

His first thought was something like “Jacob, is that you?” Then he cringed, because Twilight was a dark chapter in his life, for him.

He’s not THAT fond of werewolves... but his mind wanders back to the excitement of Mammon nearly getting a dog that one time for the family. He tolerates you, at the very least, but at the most, you two get along quite well.

Everyone suspected Satan as the cat-lover, but SURPRISE! His affinity to cats is merely his attraction to their perceived nature. He enjoys your company, especially if you don’t mind his occasional gushing about cats anyways.

As long as you’re well behaved around other animals (you’re from the Human Realm, no? You should be on your best behavior here.) he would enjoy taking you with him on his random outings, especially to cate cafes.

Asmodeus

Oh he can’t fucking wait to do your hair up in little bows and things like that.

He becomes the family groomer- aside from Beel anyway. He loves doing your claws, filing and painting them all these pretty colors that compliment your coat.

Speaking of coats- he’s a little self conscious about the fur coats he has in his closet. If you’re sensitive to those sorts of things, he will be mindful in the future to not wear them around you to not offend. He’s a demon, but he’s not an insensitive jerk! He LOVES you, silly!

Probably doesn’t treat you at all like a dog. In part because you probably get enough of that from Mammon, the pea-brained fool. Doesn’t he know that your true beauty is underneath the fuzzy soft fur!? I mean, just look at those eyes! They’re almost as beautiful as his!

Beelzebub

DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG-

He is BARELY. BARELY. Containing his excitement. If you remember correctly; YES! Beel is a dog lover. An avid one. He isn’t too fond of Cerberus himself, but you’re just his size. Fun sized werewolf. In his attempts at befriending you, he does bring home raw meats and dog treats.

You remind him that you are a werewolf and not a dog- and he calms down a bit. He still gives you tummy rubs after you’ve eaten plenty of food with him. He enjoys the time you two spend together on jogs. He never says it out loud, but it’s like he’s taking his dog for a walk.

He likes spending time with you by default. Please be friends with him. Please like him. He likes you too. You’re his new best buddy, and he’s never letting you go. Prepare for him to lift you up, and squeeze you with his suffocating love, werewolf!

Belphegor

Ya’ll replaced him with a werewolf? Lit.

He’s got a brand new pillow, and it’s name is MC. You two take naps regularly now, you can’t escape his exhausted death grip. He notices that you wag your tail a lot, especially when you’re excited.

He picks that habit up when he sees you. His brothers tease him about it, but he just tells them that they never noticed before. Suuuuure. Over 5,000 years and they’re just now noticing that little habit? Unlikely.

Regardless, he appreciates your company, and that you get along famously with his brothers- especially Beel. Though admittedly, he’s a bit worried that you will accidently scratch him while you two sleep. Nightmares must suck for you, but it certainly sucks for him too if you decided to kick with those claws out.

Diavolo

Oh whose a good doggie? You are! Yes you are!!! Oh YES you are!! This is amazing!!!! The best day ever!!!! Who knew that when he planned this exchange program, a werewolf would end up here!?

He loves talking to you. What’s it like being a werewolf? Are you more human? More wolf? Do you shed? Do you-

Prepare to have the demon prince of hell pestering you and adoring you. You’re his new best friend, sorry Lucifer. Sorry Cerberus. Or rather, you, and he can go on strolls on Cerberus’s back! That would be lovely!

Barbatos

Please. Kill all the rats you find and make sure he doesn’t find them. He doesn’t care that you’re not a cat or anything. Just... do him this one favor.

Otherwise, he doesn’t mind your existence much. He finds the shenanigans you and the others get up to is quite funny, but is mindful and reserved on his teasing and manners around you.

He pampers you, and watches carefully for your interests. If you like certain things, he will be sure to list them down privately and bring them up when needed, the ever attentive and loyal butler he is.

Ok... so he might have a joke or two about you being a werewolf. They aren’t dog-themed, he promises. But would you like a treat? He’s specially baked one for you. It’s a nice cupcake. See? No dog jokes here! :)

Luke

Thank God everyone can stop making dog jokes about him now.

Wait, that was rude wasn’t it?! Forgive him! He loves animals! N-not that you’re an animal or anything, b-but...!

Graah! Forget it, okay?! He’s sorry. He’ll do better, and he’ll start by baking you some sweets. You know, Archangel Michael really likes sweets. He’s gotten pretty good at making them himself, so he’s sure you’ll like them as an apology!

He still gets teased about being a chihuahua, though. He is effectively, you’re puppy, as far as everyone else is concerned.

Solomon

Oh fuck. This is pretty cool.

He won’t stop making dog jokes. He can’t help himself, honestly. It’s too funny.

He appreciates that you don’t take his teasing too seriously, but he seems the least bit surprised that you are a werewolf.

If he comes at you with a fancy knife, he’s planning to make a sacrifice of you. Don’t hold back on this crazy sorcerer, please!

Simeon

Oh my. This wasn’t expected! This year should be most enjoyable!

Will actually not make dog jokes. Unless you find them funny. He has a few dogshit ones to offer~

Like the others, he seems to see you as the superior to Luke. He’s your puppy, treat him well! Of course he’s teasing, all in good faith. He more than likely has inspiration to write in a character like you now. He does have a good point of reference for werewolves now thankfully!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #om!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon

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simply-trash5 · 4 years ago

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PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building.

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs.

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days.

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close.

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me.

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door.

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more.

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

#naruto #naruto oneshot #naruto fanfiction #naruto au #kankuro x reader #kankuro au #kankuro #kankuro imagines #naruto imagines #eeeeek #im v nervous #please like it kank simps #trash writes

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Crown Princess of Charming - part 3

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. This Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

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@wolf-lover-bookdragon

@wonderlandfandomkingdom

The next day I was woken by the sound of Jax talking quietly on his phone. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. “… and I want Fat Phil on her at all times”, he muttered. “Jax?”, I said. He looked at me. “Let me call you back”. He snapped his phone shut; and leant over to kiss me. “Did you sleep ok?”. “Yeah”, I said. “What was that about”.

Jackson frowned and sighed. “I’m gonna have one of my guys stay close to you for a few days. Just until we know, what this guy is planning on doing”. I shuddered. He stroked my cheek. “Hey. It’s ok. You’ll be safe. The prospect will be by the school all day; and I’ll pick you up afterwards”. “Phil?”, I said. “The big guy, with the glasses?”. Jax nodded. “You want him hanging out in front of a middle school all day… that’s not creepy”. “I didn’t think of that”, Jax chuckled.

I sat up, and took his hand; kissing his knuckles. “I’ll be fine Jax. Last night was just… a scare”, I said. “I know Josh. I’ve dealt with him before”. “Josh?”, Jax grimaced. “Sounds like a dick”. I smiled. “You’d be right”.

I began to get out of bed; but Jax grabbed my wrist; pushed my shoulder to lay down again. “It’s only 6.30. We got time”, he smirked; and laid himself on top of me; pecking my lips cheekily. “Oh, really?”, I smiled; and ran my hands down his strong arms. “Let me get under there…”, Jax whispered; and moved the covers from between us; to put them over us both. His fingers found my folds; already moist from his kisses and his soft voice.

Our lips and tongues moved more frantically; and before long; Jackson was inside me again; moving slowly – trying to gage my limit; as I was still slightly sore from the night before. His eyes searched mine. “Ok?”, he whispered. I nodded and smiled; and Jax kissed me.

—

30-40 very pleasurable minutes later; we were cuddled up on the bed; Jackson resting his head on my chest, and letting his index finger circle the outline of my nipple. “This here… I like this”, he smiled. “What; my boob?”, I chuckled. He raised his head; and pushed my breasts together. “I like both your boobs”, he smirked; and kissed first one, then the other. “I was talking about laying here with you”. I pulled his face to mine; and kissed him; nibbling lightly at his lower lip. “It’s pretty high on my list too”, I smiled. He rubbed his nose to mine, and pecked my lips.

“We should get dressed”, I whispered. Jackson groaned; and wrapped his arms around me – rolling over, so I was now laying on top of him. “That’s the worst idea you’ve had all morning”. I laughed and stroked my fingers across his forehead. “It’s still early. I can have plenty more”.

Jax grabbed my ass-cheek and pulled me impossibly tighter into his grasp. I felt his cock twitch against my stomach again. “Jax…”, I moaned. “As much as I’d like to spend the day letting you screw my brains out; I have a job, and you have a son you haven’t seen in 3 days.

Jackson sighed. “You’re right”, he smiled. “Let’s do it”. He rolled me off him and got out of the bed; before turning to me; flaunting his semi-hardon. “Quick BJ?”, he smirked. I threw a pillow at him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going…”. I climbed out of bed myself, walking towards the bathroom for a quick shower. “You’re a horndog; Jackson”, I smiled over my shoulder. “It’s all for you, babe”, he called after me.

I got cleaned up; and let Jax step into the shower after me; fighting of his attempts to get me to join him. We got dressed; and drove towards a part of town I hadn’t been in yet.

Stopping in front of a nice, small house; Jax let me get off, before parking next to Gemma’s car in the driveway. He took my hand. “This is me”, he said; and we walked towards the door.

Inside, I was met by the welcome smell of coffee and toaster waffles. “Mom?”, Jax called out. “I’m in here!”, Gemma’s voice answered. “Go grab some coffee, babe”, Jax muttered, and gestured towards the kitchen.

The house was warm – homely. I felt completely at ease in it; as if I’d been here 1000 times before. Had it been my own home; I’d have changed the curtains – but it wasn’t my place. I grabbed a mug from one of the pantries; and poured myself some coffee – placing myself by the window, so I could look outside. The neighborhood was quiet, it seemed. Well-trimmed lawns, and well kept, modest houses.

Looking down; I noticed a baby-bottle waiting to be cleaned in the sink. I picked it up, and rinsed it out; before putting it in the steamer. “You didn’t have to do that”, Gemma said from behind me. I turned to face her. “I was just standing here, anyway”. She smiled at me kindly but warily. “Did you both spend the night at the motel?”, she asked. I smiled nervously. “My son is a grown ass man. He can do what he wants. Just make sure you know what you’re getting yourself in to”. I frowned slightly, avoiding her eyes. “Abel?”, I muttered. “Him too…”, she said.

Gemma grabbed a mug of coffee herself; and sat down by the table. “It seems everyone thinks I should back off Jackson…”, I said quietly. Gemma shook her head. “Not at all, sweetheart”, she said softly. “Just… take care of that heart of yours, ok? My boy has a soft spot for good people – which means you must be one”. I sent her a crooked smile. Gemma continued. “I haven’t seen him this caught up in someone in a long time – if ever”.

“What are you talking about?”, Jax asked, as he stepped into the kitchen carrying Abel. “Girl talk”, his mother answered, and got up from her chair. “Neeta will be here in 30 minutes. See you later, baby”. She kissed Jacksons cheek; and sent me a smile; before leaving through the front door. I saw her drive away.

“You good?”, Jax asked; standing next to me. I smiled at him. “Yeah”, I said. “She’s just protective”. He frowned. “I’ll talk to her”. “Actually, she was trying to protect me”, I chuckled. He laughed. “Well I am a dangerous biker”, he said. He was standing, bouncing a baby on his hip; with a nappy over his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re badass”, I grinned.

He leant in and kissed me softly. “Can I hold him?”, I asked. Jax’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, of course”. He handed me Abel, and I lifted him into the air; before lowering him to my face. “Hey baby. Remember me?”. The baby giggled in recognition. Jax looked at me cautiously. “Will you be ok with him, while I change?”. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before. “We’ll be fine. Just hurry. I might run off with him. He is the cuter Teller”, I smiled. Jax smirked at me; and kissed Abel’s head. “Don’t steal daddy’s girl; ok, buddy?”, he said, and walked towards his bedroom.

I made funny faces at Abel for a little while; before Jax stepped in to the kitchen again – looking every bit the hot biker I’d met a few days before. A crisp white t-shirt was covering his torso; over which he’d put a gun-holster. I grimaced a bit at the sight. “It’s part of the package, Cat”, he said softly. I nodded with a hesitant smile. “Are you going to be ok with that?”. He sounded worried. “I can’t say yes; because I don’t know why it’s necessary”, I said.

He stepped over to me; wrapping his arms around both me and the baby. The sensation was unfamiliar; but strangely comfortable. I was standing in the arms of a gorgeous man; holding his son in my own. “If this is what I think it is…”, Jax said, “… What I hope it is… I’ll let you know everything you want to”. He kissed my forehead. “Ok?”. I nodded.

Neeta let herself in to the house. “Hello?”, she said softly. “Hey, Neeta”, Jax said. “We need to run. He’s already eaten, and I just changed him a little while ago”. The woman smiled warmly, and took Abel from my arms. “You need anything from the store today?”, she asked. “Nah; we’re set. Thanks”, Jackson smiled. He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go”.

He kissed Abel’s head again; and we walked out of the house. Getting on the bike behind Jackson was becoming like second nature; and I quickly got comfortable in my seat. “A little closer”, Jax said over his shoulder; pulling at my arms; so I was wrapping them around his torso, instead of just holding on to his waist. “Are you afraid I’ll fall off?”, I said. I heard him chuckle. “Nah, you ride like a queen. I just like it when you rub up on me”, he smirked. “Horndog”, I chuckled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, darlin’”, he said, and revved the engine; driving us down the street.

—

I slipped into a nice routine, my second week in Charming. I spent my days at the school making friends with my coworkers, who all seemed very nice. Ray hadn’t told anyone about my record; which I thanked him for when I met him in the hallway. “New job; fresh start”, he’d smiled.

My afternoons shifted between coffee-dates with Lyla – who had a much more flexible schedule than me – and grading book-reports. Jax had business in Oakland all Tuesday; so I didn’t see him until Wednesday night – when he showed up with a pizza and a sixpack of beer. We hadn’t eaten or drank much; but in stead ended up under the sheets; passing out from exhaustion a few hours later. At 5 am; he kissed me goodbye, and gone home to take over Abel from his mom.

We texted throughout the day – but it was frustrating to know I could only have him with me part time. I tried not to let it show in my messages.

I picked up my mail from the reception. I’d received the check from the scrapping of my old car, and a yellow envelope. I went to my room to open it. Inside the envelope was a picture of me, from my dancing days. I was dressed in a black corsage, and red frilly panties – a seductive grin on my face. On the back of the picture someone had written a message.

What do you think will happen, when they all find out who you REALLY are?

I tore up the photo; throwing it in the trash. I was about to call 911; when I realized they couldn’t do anything. I’d been through it before. “Sorry, miss. There’s nothing we can do, unless you have tangible evidence that this man is a danger to you”. “He’s an FBI agent! He knows how to hide evidence!” “Like I said… sorry…”.

I wanted Jax. I didn’t even really know him, but at that moment I wanted him beside me so badly, I could taste it. I counted the minutes until it was 10 pm – the time Jax had promised to call. Just knowing that I would hear his voice, made my breathing relax. This is still nothing. He’s not here. If he was, he’d show up himself.

When my phone rang; I picked up at the first ring. “Jax?”. “Hi, kitty…”. “Leave me alone, Joshua!”, I yelled. “I can’t, honey. You know I can’t. I just want what’s best for you… for us”. “There is no us. Don’t call. Don’t send flowers or pictures. We’re done”. “Is he there?” I didn’t answer. Josh’s voice boomed. “Is he there, I said!”. “Yes…”, I said; hoping my lie would put him off. “No, he’s not. I know when you’re not telling the truth, Catherine”. I heard him sigh. “This is such a breach of trust, honey…”.

I hung up; and ran to the door – putting on the security chain, and turning off the lights.

When my phone rang again, I didn’t recognize the number; so I didn’t pick up. 5 minutes later Lyla’s number flared up on the screen; and I answered the call. “Hello?”, I said quietly. “Baby?”. I exhaled in a sob. “Why didn’t you pick up?”, Jax asked. “I didn’t recognize the number”. “Did he call you again?”, Jackson growled. “Yeah…”, I whimpered. He let out a long breath. “Are you at the motel?”, he asked. “Yeah, I put the chain on. Turned off the lights. “I can’t come over, I’m so sorry”, he said with sadness and anger in his voice. “I’m safe here”, I said. “No, I want you at Opie’s”. “Aren’t you already there?”, I asked. “No, I’m at Cara Cara. Using Lyla’s phone”. The thought of him in a porn studio, while I was hyperventilating; made me sick. “Ok”, I muttered. “It’s business, Cat. I know it sounds bad, but it’s life or death right now. I’m meeting some people”. He sighed. “Look, I’m calling Opie right now. He’ll pick you up…”. “No, Jax. I can’t be around his kids right now”. “Shit!”, he yelled. “Ok, listen to me. Pack whatever shit you need; get in your car – and drive straight to TM. There’s a dorm at the clubhouse”. “What am I gonna say?”. “Chibs is there. Tell him you’re waiting for me. He won’t ask questions”. “Ok” “Bye, babe”. He hung up.

—

I arrived at TM 15 minutes later; having sped, and run two red lights. As Jax had said; Chibs was in the clubhouse; greeting me with a big smile. “Hello, my love. How can I help you this fine evening?”. I was desperately trying to calm my breath. “I’m waiting for Jax. He said to go to the dorm”. Chibs narrowed his eyes at me. “Aye… everything all right?”. I searched for an answer; coming up short.

Chibs walked over to me, and took my overnight bag. “Come on”, he said; and I followed him down the hall; to a room furnished with a bed, a desk and a couch. “It’s in here”. “Thanks”, I muttered, as he put down my back, and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get you a cup of tea. Jackson will be here in a couple of hours”. I nodded, and sat on the edge of the bed. Chibs sighed. “Don’t know what’s wrong, luv’; but you’re safe here – no matter what it is”. He lifted his cut; showing me a gun strapped to his side. “All right?”. I tried to smile.

A little while later, Chibs came back with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Out of tea. Hope this is ok”. He set the cup on the nightstand, and kissed my forehead. “There are nudiemags in the desk if you need a good read”, he smirked. This time I did smile. “Thank you Chibs”.

He nodded; and answered his phone, that had been in his pocket. “Yeah?… Yeah, she’s here…”. He turned his back to me, and walked down the hall. “You know I will… right… No, just me… I won’t”. His voice faded away, and I stood up to close the door after him; not feeling the necessity to lock it. I drank my hot chocolate; and got under the covers fully clothed – falling into a restless sleep.

A few hours later I was woken by the bed dipping. “Shh, babe. It’s me”, Jax whispered. He gently undressed me; not making a lewd remark, or touching me in any sexual way. He was just gentle. Once he was done, he undressed himself; and crawled under the sheets – pulling me into him.

“It’s not supposed to be like this, Jax”, I whimpered. “What isn’t?”, he asked. “I don’t want you to have to take care of me like I’m a wounded animal”. “But you are wounded”. “I hate that you have to see me like this… weak”. He kissed my forehead. “You’re not weak, baby. But you’re not safe either”. He sighed. “I’m gonna have Phil with you tomorrow. No discussion. He’ll keep a low profile”. “Ok”, I whispered.

He held me tightly until I fell asleep again.

—

The next day I woke up to Jax kissing me. “Hey”, he whispered. I smiled softly at him. “What time is it?”, I asked. “7.30”, he said. “Shit, I have to be at work in an hour”. “Phil picked up your work bag at the motel”, he said. “He swore that he didn’t go through your underwear”. I chuckled.

“Thank you, baby”, I smiled. “You’re welcome, darlin’”. Jax kissed me softly again. “After work, come back here. If I’m not around, someone else will be. Just tell ‘em…”. “I’m waiting for you”, I said. He smiled. “Good girl”.

He kissed me deeply one last time; before he had to run off for something.

I noticed the prospect they called Fat Phil, driving behind me in the TM tow-truck; on my way to work. He lifted his hand in greeting when I parked my car, and went in to the school. He, himself, parked a little down the street.

I found it difficult to concentrate on my classes; even getting to the point of checking my phone for unanswered calls while the kids were asking me questions. I didn’t know whether I was waiting for Jax to call – or Josh. None of them called.

When I started the old chevy, it stalled a couple of times, before I could get it running. Phil stepped out of the tow-truck to see if I was ok. I shook my head at him; and he got back behind the well. I mouthed a thank you; and the kind looking big guy smiled at me.

—

Arriving at TM; I parked the chevy by the shop. I didn’t see Jax anywhere; but Tig was having a cigarette next to an oil-can. “Living on the edge, Tig?”, I smiled. “You know it, sweetheart”, he grinned. “Car acting up?”. I shrugged. “She stalled a few times after work”. He took the keys from me. “I’ll look her over quick”, he said. “Here comes your prince”. He nodded in the direction of the clubhouse. Jax was walking out the door with Chibs and Happy.

A white Honda rolled in to the lot; parking near the clubhouse. The blonde who had given me the finger my first day in Charming; stepped out. She was wearing a barely-there denim skirt, and a tank top that didn’t cover her bra. Her presence certainly made me feel over-dressed – in my jeans and Ramones t-shirt.

“Who’s she?”, I asked Tig. He clenched his jaw, and looked at me almost apologetically. “Bad news”, he muttered. “Cara Cara”.

I walked towards Jax, who hadn’t seen me yet; but the girl made her way to him before I had a chance. He finally noticed me, looking over her shoulder; as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. I swallowed bile, and walked closer.

“You left this at my place, honey”, she purred. Handing him an SOA t-shirt. “We’re you trying to tell me something?”. Jax clenched his jaw. “No, Ima. I was just in a hurry to leave”, he said. “And that was weeks ago”. She ran a finger down his chest with a pout on her painted lips.

“Jax?”, I called out. The girl turned around. “He’s busy”, she sneered. “I can see”, I answered, with a sarcastic smile. Jackson tore himself loose from her; and walked over to me, taking my hand. “Sorry”, he muttered. Chibs looked at the blonde. “Go home, Ima. No one’s in the mood for the claps tonight”. Ima sent me a venomous look; and went back to her car to drive away. “Let’s go inside”, Jax said quietly. I took my hand from his; and walked in front of him into the clubhouse.

Once inside, I sat down on a couch by the wall; accepting a beer from Phil. “Thanks for hanging out today, Phil”, I smiled at him. “No problem, ma’am”. He walked back behind the bar.

Jax sat down next to me. “You have a smoke?”, I asked. He grabbed one from his packet, and lit it; before handing it to me. He lit one for himself. “I’m sorry, darlin’. You shouldn’t have had to see that”. “What? That you’ve had sex with someone else? I knew you weren’t a virgin”, I scoffed. He bit his lip. “Still…”, he muttered; taking a drag from his smoke. I clenched my jaw. “Her, though?”, I said. He frowned. “Yeah, I know”, he said. “It’s not a good look”.

I stifled a laugh. “She got a crow tattooed somewhere?”, I asked. He shook his head. “If she does, it’s not mine”. “I’m never getting one of those things”, I said. He gave me a half smile. “You’ve got ink”, he retorted. I raised my brows at him. “You’d have to get me drunk, and hold me down”. “That can be arranged…”, he smirked.

Jackson slid his arm around me; and pulled me in for a kiss. I put my fingers to his lips. “Please tell me you got tested afterwards…”. He grimaced. “I did… even the painful ones”. I grinned at him; and kissed his lips.

I took a sip of my beer; and Chibs joined us; having brought a drink for himself and Jackson. “VP”, he muttered; handing him the beer. They clinked their bottles, and drank. Jackson leant back in the couch; and playing with the hair at the back of my neck. “You don’t like porn stars, babe?”, he asked. “What about Lyla?”. I smiled brightly. “Lyla’s a doll. I love her”, I said, and took a sip of my own drink. “And her movies”.

Jax’s eyes widened, and he grinned widely at me. Chibs laughed out loud. “She’s a keeper, Jackie!”, he proclaimed loudly. “Ever thought of going in to the industry yourself, luv’?”. Jax stared at him with mock menace. “I’ve done my stint in underwear”, I smiled. “But I never got naked”. “This I have to hear”, the scot chuckled. “Another time”, I winked at him.

The sheriff from Gemma’s birthday stepped into the clubhouse. “Hey fellas. Got a beer?”. “You off duty yet, Unser?”, Bobby said from his stool at the bar. “When am I ever?”, Unser answered, accepting the cold brew from Phil.

The sheriff walked over to where we were sitting. He stuck out his hand at me. “I didn’t get to introduce myself at the party last week”, he said, as I shook his hand. “Unser. Sheriff of this… shithole”. “I dunno”, I said. “I like this town”. “Well, Samcro’s got you under their wing, so you’re set up”. “I’m Cat”, I said. “The school teacher”, the sheriff smiled. “Welcome”.

“Unser!”, Clay called from a doorway to what looked like a meeting room. “I need you”. “Duty calls”, the sheriff muttered; and joined Clay. I leaned back against Jacksons arm. “You’re working with the sheriff?”, I said quietly. “When we need to…”, he said. “Don’t worry about it”. He kissed my cheek.

My ordeal with the photograph and phonecall, disappeared into the very back of my mind; as I spent the next hour in Jax’s warm embrace – listening to stories from the road, and laughing at dirty jokes; even telling some myself. At one point, even Clay joined us. “How you doing, teach’?”, he asked. “I’m good”, I smiled. Jax squeezed my thigh; before noticing Tig calling him over. “I can see that”, Clay smiled.

Jax left me with Chibs and Clay; Juice taking his seat – though keeping his hands to himself. “I don’t know what you’re doing to that boy”, Clay said. “But he’s awful happy these days”. I smiled and blushed. “It’s the dirty jokes, Clay”, Chibs said. “Girls got a mouth on her”. Clay laughed. “Tell us one”, Juice said. “I think I’m fresh out”, I chuckled. All three men booed me; and demanded I think one up. “Ok, ok…”, I said. “Why does Santa have such a large sack?”. Chibs halted me. “Bobby; this one’s about you!”, he cried out. Bobby sauntered over. Chibs smirked at him. “Bob, why does Santa have such a large sack?”, he said. Bobby shook his head. “I dunno, tell me”.

“He only comes once a year”, I said; to a roar of laughter.

Jax came over to us. He looked worried. “Cat, I need to talk to you”. I took his hand and followed him outside to my car; which Tig had parked in one of the spots by the clubhouse. He handed me the keys; patted Jax’s shoulder, and walked towards the door. “I’ll tell ‘em myself”, Jax called after him. “Sure thing, brother”, Tig answered.

I looked at Jacksons concerned face. “What’s wrong?”, I asked timidly. Jax showed me a small grey box. “Tig found this in your car. It’s a GPS-tracker”. I shook my head. “Where did it come from?”, I said. He raised his brows at me, and shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me”.

I stepped back from him. “What are you saying?”, I sneered. He grabbed my hand, and pulled me back. “I’m not saying anything, babe. I don’t…”. He sighed. “We’ve been getting some heat lately; with our business”. I clenched my jaw. “What business?”, I said. “Cat…”, Jax began. “No, Jackson! What business?”, I demanded. “If you’re going to put your heat on me… suggest that I’m somehow…”. “I’m not suggesting anything”, he said softly. I tilted my head; and looked deep into his blue eyes. “Tell me”.

Jax sighed. “It’s guns”, he said. I parted my lips, stifling a gasp. “We mule guns and… other things. It’s why I leave town for days at a time… The ATF is on to us… we think”. “Shit…”, I whispered. He chewed his lips, before putting his hand to my cheek. “If you want to walk away; there’s your car. GPS-free. I won’t hassle you; or do anything about it”.

My heart was racing. This is bad, Cat. Run!

I took a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere”, I said. He put his forehead to mine. “Thank you”, he whispered. “Don’t ever accuse me off…”. He pulled back and shook his head profusely. “I would never…”, he insisted.

I slid my arms around him; and he held me close; kissing the top of my head. I breathed deeply again. “I need to tell you something”, I said. He looked at me. “That guy… Josh…”. I swallowed. “He’s FBI”. Jackson looked dumbfounded. “Shit”, he breathed. “That’s why you couldn’t get a restraining order”. I nodded. “He had too much pull”.

Jax shook his head. “Last weekend, a deal went south; when we were interrupted by the feds”. I sighed. That’s why he’d been bruised. “I did that…”. He pulled me tighter against me. “No, baby. No”, he said. “We don’t know this has anything to do with that… But – if you and I are going to do this – I need to take this to the club”. I swallowed. “I’ll go with you”. He shook his head. “No, Cat”, he muttered. “You don’t need to be a part of this”. “I might already be…”, I said.

He sighed, and nodded.

—

Ten minutes later Jax had most of his brothers sitting around the large wooden table, in their meeting room. I figured this was where they held church. It was clear women weren’t allowed at the table, so I’d taken a seat in a chair behind Jackson.

Clay folded his hands. “Why’d you ask for this meeting, VP?”. He looked towards me. “This young lady here is beautiful, but we don’t usually allow old ladies at the table”. Jax shook his head. “This isn’t church, Clay”, he said. “This is information. And it’s not to leave this room”. “Nothing ever does, Jackie”, Chibs said. Jax nodded. “Our situation with the Irish last weekend… I think I might know why the feds showed up. I’m not sure; but it looks like Cat might be involved”. Happy turned to look at me – fire in his eyes. “Cool it Hap’. Hear Jax out”, Clay said. “She’s innocent in this; and she didn’t know what she brought with her when she came here”, Jax said; and turned to look at me. “Tell ‘em”. His expression was encouraging.

I sighed, and looked at the floor. “I came here from Chicago… actually; I ran here from Chicago”, I began. “I’d been seeing a guy who… he wasn’t a good guy”. I noticed Chibs smiling at me. ��Go on, luv’”.

I continued. “His name is Joshua Kohn. We went on some dates; and he… wanted more than I was willing to give. I tried to break it off; but he began stalking me… One time, he tracked me down at work; and when I tried to make him leave; he got violent”. Jax’s face turned to rage. “You didn’t tell me that”, he said. I looked at him timidly. “I didn’t think it would matter. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with him again”.

“So he hurt you”, Clay said matter-of-factly. “Yeah”, I nodded. “He planted a story about drugs on me; to threaten me to come back to him. But it didn’t work… obviously”. Tig shook his head. “I’m sorry that happened to you sweetheart, I really am”, he said. “But that doesn’t explain the GPS in the chevy”.

“He’s FBI”, Jax said. It was like all air went out of the room. “I’m worried he’s trying to get to me… through you”, I said. “I’m sorry…”.

“It’s not your fault, teach’”, Clay muttered. “We’ve been getting heat even before this… But the feds. We need to figure this out”.

Jax put both his hands on the table; and sat up straight. “Cat is my old lady”, he declared. A rush of heat went through my body; and I didn’t know whether to smile; or go hide under a rock. “I take responsibility for her”. “We all do, son”, Clay said. The rest of the table muttered in agreement. “This club is nothing without family. We are a family”. “Thanks, brother”, Jax said. “But what’s the next step?”.

Clay sighed, and clenched his impressive jaw. “Like you said; we don’t know if what happened with the Irish has anything to do with Jax’s old lady. So for now; we play it safe. Treat it as we see it”. He looked at me. “We’ll keep you safe, sweetheart. This guy isn’t going to get to you. If he shows up; and it turns out he’s also to blame for our situation with the feds – well, it’s two birds with one stone when we get rid of him”. “We’re not just going to get rid of the FBI, Clay”, Tig said. “That’s for church. Tomorrow”, Clay answered; and stood up. “3 pm. Juice brings donuts; he’s behind on his dues”. Juice shrugged an apology. “Take your girl home, Jax”, Clay said. “She looks like she needs some tlc”.

They all stood up, and began leaving the room. Chibs walked around the table; and gave me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, my love. We’ve got you”. “Thanks”, I muttered.

Once everyone had left the room; Jax put his arms around me. “How are you holding up?”. “I just told six armed criminals that I might have brought the FBI to their doorstep”, I said. “I’ve been better”. He kissed me softly, making me melt into his arms. “You have nothing to worry about”. “Because I’m an old lady?”, I chuckled. “You’re my old lady”, he smiled; and kissed me again.

“This has got to be the weirdest two weeks for anyone, in the history of time”, I said. “Welcome to Charming”, Jax smirked. “Let’s go”.

—

I left my car at TM; and Jax drove me to his house on his bike. He unlocked the door; and followed me inside; hanging his cut on the coat-hanger by the door. I put my jacket next to it. “I’m gonna take a shower”, he said; and kissed my cheek. “Wanna join me?”. I smiled softly. “Yeah”.

He took my hand, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I hadn’t been in this end of the house. To my right I saw the door to a nursery; and to my left; what I thought was Jax’s bedroom.

Once in front of the bathroom door, Jax halted; and put his hands on my waist. “If you just want to sleep; I’ll understand”. I shook my head. “I need something to take my mind of things”, I smiled. He smiled, leant in; and kissed me. My lips parted; and his tongue found mine – softly letting them both brush against each other.

As I pulled back and met his eyes, I suddenly noticed specs of green in them. It made them even more deep and soulful.

He pulled off his t-shirt, and stepped into the bathroom. I followed his lead; and pulled of my own. He gently turned me around, and undid my bra for me; pushing the straps down my arms, kissing my shoulder gently. As I shrugged off my jeans and panties; he followed suit – and we were both naked.

Jax turned on the shower, and stepped inside, giving me a hand to follow him. The water was a perfect temperature. Warm enough to heat up my body; but not so hot it scolded me. Jax pulled me close, and kissed my neck; before pulling back to look at me. He smiled warmly. “Yeah…”, he said, and nodded. I smiled back at him.

He pulled out a bottle of soap; and squirted out a little of the liquid in his hand. “Turn around”, he said. He began washing my back gently; lathering up the soap. It was a masculine scent. Jax’s scent. And I loved it. He slowly ran his hands up and down my back, before running them over my bottom; and to my front, stroking over my stomach – concentrating on cleaning me off. This was all for pleasure; but also, to relax me.

His hands moved up; sliding over my breasts; covering them in the lather from his hands. His fingertips traced my nipples, finding my nipples erect; and gently tugging at them. I stifled a moan; and leaned back towards him – feeling his erection fold upwards against my back. Jax lowered his lips to my neck; and kissed the spot he had found those nights before; drawing the same moan from me he had gotten then. “I’m gonna use this against you, you know”, he chuckled against my skin, “Do whatever you want, just please don’t stop”, I breathed.

He ran his tongue in a trail down my neck; and turned me around by my waist – grabbing my lips in a kiss. I slid my arms around his neck, and pulled him closer – heat radiating from my core, through my body. I pulled my head back. “Let me wash you”, I said. He nodded, and handed me the soap.

I squirted some of it into my hand; and lathered it up: Running my hands over his chest; he smiled at me, and rested his hands on my hips. I worked the lather down his toned stomach, relishing in his firmness; and the stifled moans from his mouth. My hands slid around his waist, as I stroked his back; from his shoulder blades down to his ass – working them around the cheeks.

His cock twitched against my stomach. “Sorry”, he muttered with a grin. “No you’re not”, I smirked. “Yeah, you’re right”, he chuckled.

I slid my hands to his front; grabbing a hold of his hardness. He hissed in pleasure. “Stand still, Jackson”, I chided. “I’m trying to wash you”. “Yes ma’am”, he breathed; and moved his hands down to my ass. “Just gotta hold on to something”, he said. I giggled; and began stroking his length, slowly grabbing a firmer hold of it. “Shit, baby”, he rasped. “You think you can go twice?”, I breathed into his ear. “I’m up for a trial… oh!”, he gasped; as I let my other hand grasp his scrotum; massaging his testicles softly.

Jax had to put his hands to the wall to not topple over. I rubbed my breasts against his chest; and moved my hand faster. He looked down at his member in my hand; and furrowed his brow in pleasure. “Baby…”, he moaned. “Please…”. “Please, what?”, I said. He let out a long breath; and inhaled again; clenching his jaw and closing his eyes. “Don’t stop…”, he moaned. I moved my hand faster. “Look at me, Jax”. He opened his baby blues again. His pupils were blown; and his breath erratic. I felt his balls clench up; letting me know he was close. I bore my eyes into his; before with a final thrust with my hand; he came – spraying his seed up both our torsos. “Shit!”, he groaned. “Baby. How the hell… you’re… wow!”, he gasped and smiled at me.

I washed us both off with the water from the shower; and kissed him. “My turn”, he growled. “Get you ass in bed”.

He turned off the shower, and I stepped out of it; grabbing a towel to dry myself off. Suddenly I was lifted into the air; and with a firm hold around my waist; Jax transported me into the bedroom – laughing along with my shrieks of glee.

He threw me on the bed. “Jax; I’m dripping wet!”, I yelped. “Are you?”, he said; and crawled over me. “Let’s find out”. Two of his fingers sunk into me. “Oh, God!”, I yelped. “I thought we established it was just me”, he chuckled; and began rubbing his palm against my clit, as he massaged my front wall. “You’re right. You are wet”. I grinned at him; and he kissed me passionately; quickly drawing me towards my own extasy.

As I came on his fingers; he positioned himself between my legs. “I can go twice, as it turns out”, he breathed; and pulled out his fingers – replacing them with his penis. He sank into my still clenching warmth with a groan.

—

A good while and two orgasms later; I was resting against Jax’s chest. “Where the hell did you learn that?”, he chuckled. “I’m a mystery”, I smirked. He grinned, and kissed the top of my head. His fingers were drawing circles on my back.

“Actually, there’s something else I haven’t told you”, I said quietly. He raised a brow at me. “What? You a CIA plant now?”, he asked. “Nah, nothing like that”, I smiled. “It’s just, before I became a teacher… I used to dance”. Jax narrowed his eyes at me. “Dance?”. “Yeah”, I said. “I did burlesque”. Jax sat himself up a little; making me have to get off his chest. I sat up myself; pulling the covers over my chest.

“What, like stripping?”, Jax asked. He didn’t seem angry – more like amused. “No… it’s more a performance and an act, than just pulling off your clothes to get someone off”, I said. “So like that chick – what’s her name – Dita something?”. “Yeah”, I muttered. I bit my lip, not meeting his eyes.

Jax exhaled and took my hands. “Babe… I don’t know how to tell you this…”, he said. “But that’s probably the hottest thing I’ve heard you say. Ever”. I raised a brow at him. “What?”. “Please tell me you have pictures… Or video!”. I smiled crookedly. “I thought you’d be pissed when you found out”, I said. “Shit, no!”, he said. “Darlin’, the thought of you writhing around on a stage in nothing but a corset and panties, makes me hard as a rock! Seriously, feel it!”. He took my hand, and put it over his groin. He was right. I pulled back my hand, and laughed.

“I thought that would make you jealous; make you think I was a slut”, I said. “Oh, I would be jealous as hell”, he said. “But I would also know, that I’m the only one that has access to this gorgeous body”. He kissed my hand. “I’m the last person to slut-shame anyone. I’m lucky my dick hasn’t fallen off from the shit I’ve put it through”. I groaned. “Thanks, now I’m reconsidering our lack of condoms when we have sex”.

He pulled me to him again. I loved the feeling of his naked torso against mine. “Did you like it? Dancing?”, he asked. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Honestly?”. He nodded. “I loved it. Would have done it still, if it wasn’t for my teaching gig. Schoolboards tend to dislike it when you moonlight at a job that requires you to dance in your underwear”. He chuckled. “You can perform for me, any time”, he smiled. “Seriously… do you have video? And can I show the guys?”. I smirked. “Yes… and maybe”.

He smiled victoriously. “Show me!”. I did a naked run to the bathroom, and grabbed my phone from my pocket. I found a video from a few years back; where I was dancing with a folding chair as a prop. I pressed play, and handed Jax my phone.

Within seconds his jaw dropped. “How’s that… ok… now you’re upside down!…”. His eyes were ablaze with wonder. “So that’s where you got it from!”. Once the video was over; he put my phone on the nightstand.

“Ok”, he said. He grabbed my waist; and almost threw me down on the mattress; climbing on top of me. “Round three”.

My squeal of delight was stifled by his mouth on mine.

—

#jackson teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fic #jax teller #jackson teller fic #soa #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

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ok idk if u like harry potter (either way fuck jkr) but have u thought about sh characters and hp houses? for magnus i’m torn between hufflepuff and ravenclaw, alec hufflepuff ?? maybe?? and idk for anyone else

its a weird thing because i've always hated hp, even when i was a kid, but i'm kinda interested in discussing the whole houses thing? possibly because the choice between traits is so fucking random and absurd like idk it makes for funny character analysis. so in short let's go

but also, i'll warn u that my takes on this are usually considered kinda spicy. mostly because other ppl r wrong and interpret the characters terribly i go by the canon that the house ur sorted into represents what you value the most, not necessarily what you are (which is why hermione is gryffindor and not ravenclaw for example, and if i'm not mistaken so's neville? idk idc her worldbuilding is bad) so yeah

magnus is definitely hufflepuff for me, no argument about that. like yes he is very smart but i don't think that he values knowledge/intelligence above all else. wisdom maybe, but even then, magnus' character core is and has always been kindness and loyalty. he values kindness and mutual support and community and equality. it's indisputable that he's hufflepuff for me, not only in values but in personality and actions

i like slytherin alec, first because it fits his character arc. like big racist family who loves fascism and is very traditional sounds like slytherin, and at a very young age he'd be their golden boy tbh [EDIT: ive already gotten anon hate over this so please read these posts before freaking out over this part please and thank you] so like, makes sense. but even later alec i think fits slytherin, although in a different way. family above all else, tradition, and ambition? sounds like him. he's a political shark, he's very traditional, and he's loyal as fuck to his family. i'm not against hufflepuff alec per se but i wouldnt say, even by the end of the series, that alec values kindness/community/equality above all else, tbh

raphael is hufflepuff. again, loyalty, community, kindness. i could maybe kiiiiiindaaaaa see why ppl think he fits slytherin aesthetics with his power suits and shit but also raphael is the least ambitious person in like, this entire show lmao his happy ending is literally to become a priest (like i hate the whole mundane thing but u cant argue that that's an ambitious man lol). throughout the show his whole motivation was always protecting his people and his family, and he was shown to be kind and caring even to shadowhunters. and yes okay there was the heidi plotline but like a- it made no fucking sense anyway (both for his character and just plot-wise, like, she wasn't a daylighter, why would he be after her and not simon, what the fuck) so i simply ignore it, and b- even then it doesn't define him or his values. if ppl can see hufflepuff alec when he handed meliorn over to be tortured for basically no reason and was never shown to be particularly caring beyond the people closest to him, i can say hufflepuff raphael when he continuously extended his hand to people who literally betrayed, used and tortured him

maia is hufflepuff and look i know that this sounds like "all my faves are hufflepuffs" but really tho. endlessly loyal to her pack, wants to build a family, her whole thing was always about making the downworld better and making sure her family was okay, i don't see how community and equality aren't defining values for her. "oh muh muh muh she was willing to kill ppl" there was a war going on buddy. it doesn't mean that maia isn't kind and caring. also, again, she is fierce on her ideals, which happen to be family, equality, and community (both as in the pack and the downworld as a whole, see how hard she tried to mend vamp/wolf relationships). she's a hufflepuff

meliorn is a hard one. i think gryffindor or slytherin? tbh i don't think any of the houses really super fits them because again jk's worldbuilding makes no sense like the four personality traits are kind, smart, brave, and racist there are no other ones you sjw snowflake. and okay i know that i just called slytherin the racist house but that was a joke and i can see slytherin meliorn because loyalty and tradition. not really ambitious but not not ambitious either. tbh i could make points for meliorn in all houses, i think wisdom is definitely something they seek and care about, as is bravery (they're literally a knight), as is community, as is tradition. but also i could see them being like "hey sorting hat put me in slytherin i'm a 'mudblood' they're gonna be super pissed". and going there just to be defiant. but no actually i changed my mind completely, they're ravenclaw. i think wisdom and temperance are what they seek the most, because they want to be a good leader/asset for their people. which kinda circles back to hufflepuff but still.... wisdom. i think it suits them

simon is another hard one for opposite reasons like i don't think he truly fits any of the houses? like meliorn fits them all simon fits none. i know ppl always go with hufflepuff simon cuz they think hufflepuff is the dork house and simon is an anxious bean but fuck that noise, hufflepuff isn't the dork house, it's the house for those who believe in mutual aid and support and equality and that's literally canon, hufflepuff existed because it was the only hogwarts founder who believed that everyone had equal right to education. hufflepuff is a fierce house of sjws and people who want to change the world for the better and YES i am aware that for someone who thinks harry potter sucks i sure have strong opinions about it. but that's the thing like there are so many interesting places jk rowling could've gone and instead she chose to write the most superficial shit ever. anyway my point is that hufflepuff is not the dork house so i'm not gonna sort simon there just because he's a dork. but anyway i wouldnt say that he particularly values any of the house's traits. maybe ravenclaw for creativity? or gryffindor because clary is there and he's like "please sorting hat do me a solid" lol

which okay i guess leads me to clary. definitely gryffindor. bravery with a side of recklessness is definitely her thing. she is fierce and she is proud of it. no argument about that

j@ce is also gryffindor in the most annoying obnoxious way. he's just like man i sure like violence watch me prove how macho i am and the sorting hat is like oh no it's one of those gryffindors

izzy.... i can see gryffindor cuz again bravery and just again fits her character arc as she would go there specifically as a fuck you to the lightwood's traditional slytherin shit. but really tho, ravenclaw. she values knowledge, she is hungry for it, she wants to see the world and learn and invent and create you know?? so like yeah ravenclaw

cat.... either ravenclaw or hufflepuff? she just cares about people as a whole but also about wisdom and knowledge so could go either way imo

ragnor... man i really have no idea for ragnor. again aesthetic fits slytherin but is he actually proud, ambitious, cunning? i don't think so. fucking ravenclaw maybe? just like "yes i value knowledge very much now put me in the nerd house where people will leave me alone" lol. ok tho ravenclaw it is

madzie... gryffindor? idk she seems like she would want to have adventure. it's so hard to do this for sh minor characters when their personality was basically based on the shape of the writer's poop that day tbh

camille is slytherin because duh and if we really wanna do a h*gwarts au for some reason, it adds some angsty juices as magnus once again falls in love with a slytherin and doesn't know how to open up and trust (once he meets alec, i mean)

luke is ravenclaw methinks. i guess could have been slytherin because character arc as shadowhunter but like... he's just a wise and caring figure. i could see hufflepuff but i think his thing is less equality/community and more family, but post-sh luke doesn't exactly fit "proud, ambitious, cunning" either. so yeah methinks ravenclaw. same for alaric i guess

who else exists lmao. i feel like i'm forgetting somebody but idk who so i guess i'll reblog or edit if i think of someone elsIT WAS DOT okay so i think either hufflepuff or ravenclaw. kinda hard because her whole personality was "cares about clary" so idk but like loyalty and care seem like character traits that suit her? also she was knee deep in trauma and still cared about helping magnus so... yeah hufflepuff

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hocusposies · 5 years ago

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SCARED YET?

summary in which the reader takes her study partner on a ‘date’ in the hopes of him truly revealing his honest purpose

pairing nolan holloway x werewolf!reader

authors note the last time i wrote a nolan oneshot was in 2017.... yikes

warnings lol, angst, 2% fluff (not really)

Rightfully, he should have known better. To be alone... in the dark... with the very person he was afraid of. But you knew that he had some sort of preparation— all thanks to the spidey senses. He had to be ready for when things got bad, if things got bad. Considering the perdicament he was in, things going bad could’ve simply been you getting angry. Your face turning red and smoke coming out of your ears. Not even the glowing amber eyes or the sharp teeth that would erupt from your gums.

You and Nolan have been studdy buddies since he started going to Beacon Hills High. He was your partner in chemistry— which he was terrible at, so he asked if you could help him out. You, being the kind and friendly person you were, you obliged pleasantly. Until the fighting began. Nolan always tried to evade the fighting to not seem included, but you knew he was. It didn’t take a scientist to know that he was crazy. He stabbed Corey with a pen for crying out loud. After that, you just knew he was making his way to you. Nearly every person you hung around had some supernatural ability— wolf or chimera. Plain and simple: you were next.

Even with all the bullshit happening, you wanted to keep the tutoring sessions going. You needed all the proof you could get to make sure he was coming after you. And you got just that when your allergies began to flare up at a study session. He made his way to bathroom, and you started digging through his pockets to find a small ziplock of wolfsbane. It was open in his pocket. Not only did he get all the assurance he needed, so did you.

So you invited him to a private spot in the woods. Many of her friends had already been to it in their lifetime, but he’s never been. It had the perfect view of the moon almost every night. It was mostly rock than grass that led up to a cliff structure. The first time you shifted, this was the place the beast led you to. Therefore, it was the perfect spot to throw the truth in his face. So you picked him up in your obsidian Toyota Camry, and found a spot on the edge of the wood. Grabbing his delicate fingers, you dragged him into the tree line with a grin on your lips. He couldn’t tell if the toothy smile that was painted on your face was malicious or playful. In your grip, his hands trembled and the look on his adorable face explained why. He was nervous— his heart was thumping loud in your ears. It was almost annoying. You kept shooting looks over your shoulder with reassuring eyes.

As you neared the private location, you stopped in your tracks. “Close your eyes.” You sweetly ordered, swinging his side to side in front of you. His blue eyes darted around nervously. He though you were gonna try something. His lack of faith in you, kinda hurt— however, his assumptions were way too early. “Um, w-why?” He stuttered. A giggled erupted from your throat in a faint condescending manner. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped closer to the taller boy. “Because... what you’re about to see, I want it to be a surprise.” You moved your shoulder enthusiastically. His heart preformed an additional thump, that definitely caught your attention. “C’mon, Nolan. I don’t bite.” You shrugged. After a little coercion, he obliged covering his beautiful eyes. And for a moment, you missed the innocent glimmer inside of them. Biting your bottom lip, you pulled him with both of his hands.

“No peeking!” You laughed, as watched his eyes flutter under his lid. Even before the bite, you were always pretty sturdy on your feet, walking backwards over tree roots and rocks were too easy. A small smile creeped onto his thin lips. As you approached the open and windy space, the waxing gibbous moon shined brightly into your eyes. The pressures of the approaching full moon weighed heavy, but you were tame enough to resist— even in the situation you were in. “Are we there yet?” He asked, snapping you out of a daze. “Uh, yeah. Open up.” You plastered a smile onto your lips, plastically. He, of course, didn’t notice. His wide oceanic eyes blinked open, his eyes scanning the place. You had already pre-decorated— if what you did could even be counted as pre-decorated. You placed a quilted blanket on the stone floor, held down on the corners by rocks. Beside it was a cooler of drinks and snacks. You weren’t sure if he indulged in the irresponsible acts of underage drinking, so you brought soda as well. The fact that you out of a bit of effort into the whole plan, confused you but... whatever, right?

His lips fell agape, as you led him to the wide blanket. “Wow...” he muttered, his eyes barely leaving the horizon of the city and the glowing moon. “Right,” you muttered, launching your arms into the blue cooler. “You wanna beverage? We got orange Fanta, 7up, Coke, and if you want something a little stronger... beer and whiskey.” You offered with a persuasive smile. He anxiously nodded, folding hands in front of him. “Yeah.”

“Which one do you want?” You clairified for the overly nervous boy. “Oh,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll have the b-beer.” You nod, reaching into the ice, and threw him a can. He caught it fairly well, sitting onto the quilt. You grabbed a little bottle of whisky to, downing it in one sip. It’s not like you could get drunk. But you didn’t want him to drink alone. “So, Nolan Holloway, what’s your story?” You asked formally, leaning back on your arms. He shrugged taking a sip from the beer can. “I don’t really have much of a story...” his mousy hair, hung over his forehead in the attempt to mask his gleams blue eyes, but they were no match. Even though you knew there was some sort of ulterior motive, he was adorable. And whatever he was doing seemed out of his character. “Very funny. Everyone has a story,”

You’re eyes squinted at him playfully, before you spoke once more. “I’ll tell you mine,”

“I moved here when I was eight, my mom was just getting out of the military and was working on her nursing degree. Made a few good friends; Hayden, Mason— new them before they were all big and bad.” You laughed as nostalgia took over. “Fast forward a few years... my grandfather dies— creates this big divide in my family... really sucked. I would isolate myself to get away from the arguing, sometimes even rebelling.” Your eyebrows deepen. His eyes soften, as he puts down his beer. “Then my freshman year arrived, ugh! All the drama... it wasn’t tasteful. Then, something happened to me...” you were starting your path to confrontation, and it was gonna be hard for him to get out of it. It was about time for him to know it was all a trap. “Something that changed my life forever.” Your eyes bored deep into his. Fear began to echo throughout the pair, causing a smile to graze on your lips. “I was bitten by a stranger— or a stranger at the time.”

His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. His heart thumping in fear. You, still, just leaned comfortably on your back supported by your arms. A giggle fell from your lips. “Or did you already know that?” Your voice small, but menacing. He stood up abruptly, trying his hardest to not make eye contact. Following his actions, you stood to your feet slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. You could assume, he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. “Nolan, remember last week when we were studying kenetics? My allergies were beginning to flare up... and when you went to the restroom, I went through your jacket, and I found wolfsbane. Opened... and in a tiny little ziplock.” You slowly started to approach him, with a calm, attractive face, but you were radiating heat. His bottom lip fell between his teeth as you backed him into a tree. “What were you gonna do? Sprinkle it around my room?”

“I just needed to know!” He exclaimed.

“Why? Frankly, who I am is my business, is it not? I’m not gonna go around trying to find your weaknesses and use them against you!”

You lightly shoved him into the tree, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. You were only inches away from the boy. You could feel his nervous breaths on your nose. “I’m sorry... I just had to! She had to know for sure.” His eyes casted down to the ground, past you. Pure disappointment was painted on your face, and it seemed to break the boy down. “Who?” You demanded. “I can’t tell you, or she’ll kill me. They’ll kill me.” A sigh left your lips, as you backed away slowly, looking at the boy you kinda liked with distaste. “Well, its seems to me that you’ve chosen the wrong side.” His eyes began to water at your words. You started pacing while his back was stricken against the tree bark. He trembled, shutting his eyes tightly. “Tell me this... are you scared yet?” You chuckled.

“No, I-I’m guilty.”

You looked at him with some-what soft eyes, but they quickly hardened. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone, but I still was following through with their plan.” He slowly stepped away from the tree. Alarmed, you glared at him, keeping up your defenses. “I’m in too deep, y/n, and I’m sorry.” You cocked your chin upwards, with deepened brows. “Is that supposed to help me forgive you? There’s always a choice, Nolan. And if you need that defense of protection... I know someone who can help.“ you rolled your eyes, referring to yourself. “But these are my people that are being violently conspired against, and I’m not about to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

“I do wanna be helped. I wanna be helped by you.”

“Then, show me.”

#nolan holloway #scott mccall #stiles stilinksi imagine #liam dunbar #dylan o brien #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf #mason hewitt #theo raeken #hayden romero #chimera #true alpha #hunters #allison argent #nolan holloway imagine #tyler posey #derek hale

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ellewritesathing · 5 years ago

Text

So Close - S.S. XIX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14 Part 15 - S3BE1 + S3BE2 Part 16 - S3BE3 + S3BE4 Part 17 - S3BE5 + S3BE6 Part 18 - S3BE7 + S3BE8 + S3BE9 Part 19 - S3BE10 + S3BE11

Word-count: 4.4k+

A/N: i’ve been working on season four the past few days and it’s genuinely funny how little i remember of anything post-season three. also should i just link to the masterlist instead of listing all the parts above?

You were still kneeling over Derek when Scott came in. Only, you didn’t know that it was him and Kira, so the moment you noticed the movement you threw one of the knives at his head. Kira caught it just in time.

“Woah,” Scott exhaled, still staring at the knife in Kira’s hand. “What happened?”

“They disappeared,” Allison answered. “They literally just vanished.”

“Yeah, and so did Stiles,” you said. You stood up and held a hand out to Derek. He winced as you helped him up and you noticed how bad the gash on his shoulder looked. “Hey, you okay?”

“It’ll heal,” he said briskly. “We need a new plan. Now.”

The five of you explained what happened to Scott and Kira, and they told you about Kira’s mom and the army medic, Rhys. She’d created the nogitsune. Her own mark for vendetta. You stayed with Derek after everyone else left and helped him set up his chessboard to mimic the one the nogitsune had left.

“And what are the two of you doing?” Peter asked. “More importantly, Derek, why aren’t you healing?”

“It’s from one of their swords. It’ll heal,” Derek said

“And we’re trying to set up a board like the one in Stiles’ room,” you said. “I used to play with him when we were younger so I know his moves but this is … different.”

“Of course it’s going to be different when he’s playing without rules,” Peter said, rolling his eyes as he did.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“You’re dealing with the kind of spirit that’s lived too long to play by human rules,” Peter explained. “It’s a fox spirit that chose to become human. And supposedly, that’s something they can do only after about a hundred years.”

You looked up at Derek. That would explain why the nogitsune in Stiles was such a piece of work; it had time to perfect the art of being an ass.

“Besides,” Peter continued as he put on his jacket, “Chess is Stiles’ game. It’s not the game of a Japanese fox.”

You stayed up with Derek a little while longer and helped him clean up his wound. When you were done, he told you to go home and get some sleep. You argued but eventually he got his way. You ran into Cora and Isaac when you were heading to the elevators.

“Isaac!” You beamed up at him before pulling him into a hug. “I didn’t know they released you. How are you feeling?”

“Like a whole new man,” he said. You laughed but there was a glint in his eye that you didn’t recognize.

“That’s great. I’m really happy for you,” you said, shoving your hesitance away. You were just being paranoid because of Stiles. “And now Cora can sleep on something that’s not a waiting room bench.”

Cora didn’t laugh at your joke, but she gave you a similar half-smile. Maybe they were just tired.

“Okay, well, see you around,” you said before stepping into the elevator.

Isaac waved at you slowly as the doors closed and Cora just kept giving you a blank stare.

---

“The couch. Put him on the couch,” Scott said as he and Aiden carried Stiles’ body in.

You’d been coming up with a plan in Scott’s room for most of the morning when Lydia called. She sounded crazed, but she swore that she and Aiden found Stiles’ body and he was freezing. They thought he was dead.

“Guys, this is crazy,” Melissa said. “He needs to be in the hospital.”

“Mom, do you remember what happened the last time he went to the hospital?” Scott asked.

Deaton pulled up Stiles’ shirt slightly. He had a new cut across his lower stomach, and for a second you thought it was still the one you gave him and that it just didn’t heal. Deaton raised the shirt a bit higher and you saw that yours had already scarred over.

“It doesn’t look like he’s bleeding,” he said. “I think he might ever be healing.”

“You mean healing like we heal?” Aiden asked.

“He’s got to,” you said. You pointed your scar. “He got that a few days ago when I stabbed him.”

“You stabbed him?” Scott asked.

“He attacked me, remember?” you said, very carefully leaving out the kiss. You got flustered and stepped back. “Besides, that’s not the point. What does it mean if he’s healing like them?”

“It’s good for him,” Deaton started, “I’m not so sure if it’s good for us.”

“I think we should kill him,” Aiden said. “He’s knocked out. We could end this.”

“No!” practically everyone in the room snapped at him.

“Well, if we’re not gonna kill him then why aren’t we at least tying him down with really big chains?” he asked.

“I might have something more effective,” Deaton said as he opened his medical bag.

He pulled out a very familiar glass bottle and motioned for Scott and Aiden to hold Stiles down and open his mouth. When they did, he moved closer and started pouring the clear liquid out of the dropper and down his throat.

Stiles started thrashing almost immediately. He grabbed Aiden’s hand before reaching for his neck. Your throat burned in response as you watched Aiden yell for someone to get Stiles off of him.

“Kanima venom,” Stiles said, his shaking hand lowering to his side. He looked over at you. “Nice touch.”

Aiden started growling and moving in on Stiles, partially shifting in the process.

“You know they say that twins get a feeling when the other one’s in pain?” Stiles asked. “You didn’t lose that talent, too, did you?”

Aiden stopped.

“Oh, I hope not. You’re going to need it,” Stiles continued. Aiden looked over at Scott. “Okay, I’ll give a little hint: Ethan’s at the school.”

“Go,” Scott told him.

That was all the encouragement Aiden needed. Stiles laughed as he left, rolling his back to rest on the couch.

“Oh, I hope he gets there in time,” Stiles said. “I like the twins.”

“Yeah, you might be the only one,” you mumbled, looking gown to gather yourself.

Stiles turned his back and looked at you. “But you like Isaac, right? Oh, and, uh, what’s her name again? Cora?”

“Scott-” you started cautiously. He nodded at you and you took off after Aiden, grabbing the car keys off the counter.

“Have fun!”

---

When you pulled into the school parking lot, Allison was running inside. You ran to catch up with her. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“Some of my equipment’s missing and the trackers say it’s here,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I think Isaac and Cora are going to kill the twins,” you said.

“Oh.” She stopped for a second and looked at you before nodding. “That’s probably more important than a missing stun gun, right?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

When you managed to find them, Cora and Isaac were closing in on Kira. What was she doing here? You didn’t have time to ask. Allison hit Isaac with the crossbow and he stumbled a few feet back. Cora growled and moved closer so you threw a knife at her to keep her at bay.

The twins started waking up as Isaac started getting back on his feet. As they stepped forwards, all three of them were shifting. It was almost menacing enough to distract from Cora circling around the back.

“This probably isn’t good for us,” you said as you, Allison, and Kira started taking steps backward. As soon as you could, you pushed them into Coach’s office and slammed the door behind you. They shoved the desk up against the door.

“Was that a good idea?” Kira asked, looking panicked.

“Probably not,” Allison answered.

You watched Cora and Isaac turn on the twins. For a moment it was roaring and heavy breathing but then they lashed out. It was going to be a bloodbath.

“They’re not gonna kill each other, are they?” Kira asked.

“Cora will rip them apart before she lets them get close to Isaac,” you said.

“Didn’t she end up hospitalized when she fought one of them?” Allison asked.

“That was when they were alphas,” you said, taking out the electricized nightstick and pulling it out to its full length. “But we need to stop this before it gets to that.”

The three of you left Coach’s office and into the hallway, getting ready to go into the locker room through the hallway doors. The plan was for you and Kira to go in through one, and for Allison to cover you from the other.

“And, guys, remember, try not to kill them,” Allison said before placing a hand on the door.

“I was just going to try to stay alive,” Kira said.

“That works, too,” you said, opening the door and rushing in.

Allison shot each of the twins and Kira started fighting with Cora. That left you with one very angry Isaac.

“Okay, buddy, I need you to know I’m sorry about this,” you said as he stepped closer. He threw his hand out to slash your face and you ducked, thrusting the nightstick up and listening to crackling noise as it made contact with him. He let out a yelping noise and you whacked him with it again, but it was enough for Cora to forgot all about Kira and start in on you.

“Allison, bow!” you yelled. She threw you the crossbow and you tossed Kira the nightstick. You shot arrow after arrow into Cora but she kept coming closer. Eventually, you, Kira, and Allison ended up back to back, all with weapons that weren’t your specialty.

But somehow you managed to subdue the wolves; Kira taking out Cora and you and Allison each taking out a twin. You called Deaton as soon as it was over and he told you about what happened to Stiles.

The nogitsune split them and took Lydia with him.

You dragged all of the werewolves into the shower and started running the water like he said, and when Deaton got there he started extracting the flies from them. It looked painful and made you sick. He shut off the water when he was done.

“Are they okay now?” you asked. You were holding Isaac close to your chest, arms around his shoulders. He used one hand to hold your arms and the other to hold onto Cora.

“I hope so,” Deaton answered. “The part that’s worrisome is that this was most likely just a distraction for what was happening to Stiles.”

“There’s really two of them now?” Kira asked, biting her lip.

“How is that even possible?” Allison asked. “And how did the other one just take Lydia?”

“We turned around and they were gone.” Deaton shook his head. “So was her car.”

“We can track her car,” you said. “It’s part of her insurance package.”

“They’ve most likely gotten rid of it by now,” Deaton said. “But I’m sure Sheriff Stilinski is handling it.”

“Hold on, how do you know which Stiles is which?” Kira asked.

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out now,” Deaton said.

You looked at Deaton for a second before figuring it out. When you did, you rushed out of there with Kira and sped back to your house. If they were really bringing the oni forth, they could kill him. They would kill him. And you knew it was irrational because that meant the real Stiles was safe somewhere else but … but what if he wasn’t? What if they killed him because some part of the nogitsune was left behind? Like a shadow?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked when you and Kira got into the house, glaring at anyone who was brave enough to make eye contact with you.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said gently, holding a hand out to get you to stop. “I’m the one who asked her to come.”

“You’re the one who’s going to get stabbed with swords,” Kira corrected. “Mom, don’t do this to him.”

“It is already done,” Mrs. Yukimura said. Stiles started walking towards her slowly.

“Stiles-” you caught his wrist. He was freezing. “Please don’t do this.”

“You of all people know that I’ve gotta do this,” he said. “If I’m me, I’ll be fine. Promise. Go stand with Scott.”

The oni appeared and your argument died on your lips. He stepped away from you and they grabbed him, making those horrible clicking noises. When they were done, Stiles fell to the floor and you dropped down to cradle him.

“Look behind his ear,” Kira’s mom said.

You did. A backward five, just like yours.

“It worked,” Scott said breathlessly.

“So, I’m actually me?” Stiles asked. You felt close to crying, but he looked like he was going to any minute now.

“More you than nogitsune,” Mrs. Yukimura answered.

“Can the Oni find him?”

“Tomorrow night. It’s too close to dawn now,” she said.

Stiles scrunched up his face before taking a shaky breath. “Can they kill him?”

“It depends on how strong he is,” she said. Her input was remarkably unhelpful.

“What about Lydia?” Scott asked. “Why would he take her?”

“He would only take her for an advantage,” Mrs. Yukimura said. “The power of a banshee.”

“That’s not really making me feel better,” you said with a sigh. Absentmindedly, you ran a hand through Stiles�� hair. He was still so close.

She smiled at you. “You can take comfort knowing that this will be over soon.”

---

You didn’t speak as Scott drove the three of you to the station. All you did was sit in the back and look at the side of Stiles’ face. It was really him. And he looked genuinely worried about going to meet his dad.

“Now, if only I could find my keys,” Noah mumbled to himself.

“In your coffee cup,” Stiles said from the door. You and Scott were just behind him, holding worried hands. “You always drop them in your empty cup.”

It took Noah a second to get over his shock before he ran out from behind his desk and wrapped his son in a hug. Stiles met him halfway. They spoke quietly for a few seconds and you watched Scott walk past them to get to Noah’s desk.

“Is it over?” Noah asked.

Scott picked up Noah’s keys from his coffee cup and closed his hand around them. “Not yet.”

Scott told Noah about what happened with Stiles and the nogitsune, and how he kidnapped Lydia after the split. You sat on the couch and fussed with the bottom of your sleeves. Noah put an APB out on Lydia’s car.

“Isn’t there anything else that we can do?” Scott asked.

“At this hour?” Noah asked before taking a breath. “No, not really.”

“He took her for a reason, Dad,” Stiles said. “Look, if we can figure out the why, maybe we can figure out the where.”

“Okay,” Noah said. He looked over his shoulder. “What would a nogitsune need with a banshee?”

“I don’t know. Lydia’s pretty good at finding dead bodies. Maybe he needs to find a body?” Stiles looked at Scott to see what he thought.

“Scott, you know more about this than all of us,” Noah said.

“Me?”

“You said you got the whole story from Noshiko,” Noah said.

“Yeah, but that happened during World War II,” Scott said, sounding confused. “Like seventy years ago.”

“Wait, what did you say?” Stiles asked. You looked up at him, recognizing the lilt in his voice.

“Noshiko told me about the internment camp-”

“No, no, no. Before that.” Stiles looked at his dad. “You said ‘the whole story?’”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, getting up to move closer to them. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a girl at Eichen House. Her name’s Meredith,” Stiles explained. “I think she might be able to help.”

Noah got Parrish to get Eichen House on the phone and ask about Meredith. When he came back with the news, he said that she’d been moved to the closed unit because of behavioral issues. She wouldn’t stop screaming.

Noah said that he’d go collect Meredith if the three of you promised to wait for him in his office. You did, and it was the most awkward time you’d ever spent with Scott and Stiles. You were all quiet until Scott got up to find something to drink. You immediately said that you’d go with him.

“Actually, uh, Y/N, would you mind staying?” Stiles asked. He was sitting on Noah’s desk.

You bit your lip and looked at Scott. He nodded at you. “I guess not.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He took a deep breath when Scott closed the door behind him. “Are we … ever going to talk about it?”

The kiss, before or after the MRI? The attack? You weren’t sure. “Talk about what?”

“Well, uh, before all this … you kissed me,” he said. Oh. “And I think you asked me out when your mom sedated me.”

“Stiles, I-”

He lifted up a hand and you fell silent, pulling away slightly. He dropped his hand.

“You’re afraid of me?” he whispered.

“Stiles, I know it wasn’t you,” you said, taking steps forward. “I- I don’t know why I’m still acting like this. You and me, we’re-”

“Different now,” he said, looking down. You’d reached your hands out for his face while you spoke, but stopped just short when he said it was different. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“You wanted to go get something to drink?” he asked. “There should be something in the fridge in the break room.”

You bit your lip as you got up and headed for the door. You stopped with your hand on the doorknob. “I meant what I said before,” you said softly. You looked him in the eyes. “When this is all over … you’re taking me out on a real date. Okay?”

Stiles nodded and looked down again. You didn’t wait to listen if he said anything else.

---

Stiles was asleep on the couch and you and Scott were taking turns watching over him. It was still your turn, but you needed to do something other than stare at his sleeping face, so you were making tea. You started listening carefully when they started talking. Stiles was in a lot of pain, having nightmares, and he was freezing.

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott called.

The sudden noise made you drop the teaspoon you were holding. “Yeah?”

“Meredith’s at the school,” he said. “Stiles and I are going to talk to her. You coming?”

You picked up your spoon and set it on the counter. “Yeah, of course.”

The people from Eichen House were already there when the three of you got to the school. You rushed inside to find Kira and look for Meredith, and when you did you also found Coach standing over a newly tazed nurse telling you to get Meredith out of there.

You and Stiles each took one of Meredith’s arms and the five of you ran out, piling back into the Jeep. Kira left somewhere between running out of the school and getting in the Jeep, but you tried not to focus on it as you sat in the back with Meredith.

“Okay-” Stiles took a breath “-Where’s Lydia?”

“Who’s Lydia?” Meredith asked.

You looked over at Scott and then to Stiles. “Lydia’s our friend. She- she went missing-”

“She was kidnapped.”

“-And we were hoping you knew how to find her,” you finished.

“I don’t know where Lydia is,” Meredith said.

“Okay.” Stiles turned around and started the Jeep. “Good talk.”

He drove kind of erratically back to the house and you rushed Meredith inside when he stopped. You came to a sudden stop when you saw your dad and Isaac together, and Stiles didn’t see in time so he stumbled into your back. Instinctively, you reached for each other’s hands to steady yourselves, but when you realized what you were doing, you pulled away.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked, not noticing that you were having an internal crisis.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rafael said.

“Actually, no. You see, we actually live here,” you said, waving your hand around as you did.

“And- and we’ve got a free period.” Stiles rushed out that part, covering your snark with an easily bought lie. “We’re doing a group study.”

“And who’s she?” Rafael asked, nodding to Meredith.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Stiles put an arm around Meredith, and you didn’t know if she was more shocked or if you were.

“You’re not my type,” Meredith said hesitantly.

You tried not to laugh. You didn’t look at Isaac because you knew you would lose what little composure you had left if you did.

“Well, obviously we have a lot to talk about,” Stiles said. He looked between her and you. “We should maybe take this upstairs?”

Meredith, however, was only looking at Isaac. She pointed to him. “He’s my type.”

“It’s the curls, right?” you asked. No one answered but Meredith nodded along solemnly, which was the only confirmation you needed.

“Okay. Isaac, you can come, too,” Stiles said eventually.

You slipped your hand in Isaac’s and followed them to the stairs. As you hoped, Scott mumbling about an explanation distracted Rafael enough for him to not ask you to stay. When you got to your room, you shut the door behind you. Stiles was trying to tell Meredith about Lydia again and Isaac was standing apprehensively near him.

“Lydia?” Meredith asked. “You mean the red-haired girl?”

“Yes! Yes! Good. Progress!” Stiles stopped hitting his fists together and concentrated on Meredith again. “Now, all you’ve got to do is tell us where she is.”

“Okay,” Meredith said with a small smile. You relaxed before she added, “If she tells me.”

“If she tells you?” Isaac repeated. Meredith nodded. “Well, can you ask her?”

Meredith seemed proud when she answered, “I already did.”

“Meredith, that’s great!” you smiled. You would have touched her shoulder if you didn’t think she’d freak at the unfamiliar affection. “What did she say?”

“She said she doesn’t want to be found,” Meredith said.

You looked behind Stiles to Isaac. Did she really just say that? Judging by his face, she did. What were you supposed to do now?

Stiles started hitting his fists together again. “Great.”

You pulled on his jacket slightly and nodded your head to the other side of the room. He and Isaac followed you and you started discussing a plan.

“I’m just saying-”

“Isaac, we’re not going to torture her,” Stiles said.

“I meant scare her,” Isaac argued.

“What if you kissed her?” you asked. They stared at you. “I’ve heard it’s great for panic attacks and you’re her type.”

“Did you forget that Cora would literally kill me if I kissed another girl?” he asked.

“We’re not going to psychologically torture her either!” Stiles whispered fiercely at you.

“Fine. How about this? You said she hears things, right?” Isaac asked. “Doesn’t that mean she’s like Lydia? A banshee?”

You looked at Meredith sitting on the bed. It was kind of hard to believe that she had anything in common with Lydia, but it made sense. You watched Isaac and Stiles try their new plan of attack, and it was going monumentally bad. Until Meredith asked about the phone.

When she pulled it away from her ear, she said, “They say ‘coup de foudre.’”

“Coup de what?” Stiles asked. “What is that - Spanish?”

“French.” You looked up at Scott in the doorway. “It’s French.”

---

As always, Scott and Stiles were in the front of the Jeep as you drove to Eichen House, but at least this time you were in the back with Isaac. He let you hold his hand and trace patterns over the top to calm down.

“Hey, you okay?” Scott asked Stiles.

“Yeah,” he said. It sounded like a lie. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Alright, I’ll say it.” Isaac leaned forward and sighed as he spoke. “You look like you’re dying.”

You smacked his arm. “Isaac!”

He ignored you and went on, “You’re pale, thin, and you look like you’re getting worse. And we’re all sitting here thinking it. So when we find the other you, is he gonna look like he’s getting better?”

“What happens if he gets hurt?” Scott asked.

“You mean if he dies, do I die?” Stiles asked. “I don’t care. Just so long as no else dies because of me. I remember everything I did, Scott. I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember strangling Y/N.”

“You didn’t strangle me,” you said. “That wasn’t you.”

“Yeah, but I remember it,” Stiles said. “So you guys have gotta promise me: You can’t let anyone get hurt because of me.”

You didn’t say anything. Isaac looked like he’d already made up his mind - he’d kill fake Stiles even if it meant killing real Stiles. Scott was more difficult to read. He didn’t want to hurt Stiles but you knew he wanted to end this.

Stiles killed the Jeep when you reached the gates and you climbed out to meet Kira, Allison, and Cora. They all seemed just as nervous as you felt. You looked over at Scott for some encouragement.

“We’ve done this before, guys,” he said. “A couple of weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember? That was a total stranger. This is Lydia.”

“I’m here to save my best friend,” Allison said. She’d made up her mind about rescuing Lydia.

“I came to save mine,” Scott agreed.

“I just didn’t feel like doing homework,” Isaac said as he started walking through the gates.

“Okay, see, this is why no one else likes you,” you said, following after him. He shot you a lazy smile over his shoulder, melting your annoyance slightly.

Scott and Stiles went to find Lydia; you and the others went to confront Noshiko and the Oni. It was hard to concentrate on what they were saying. You were trying to figure out how you were going to stop unkillable demons with throwing knives and an electrified baton. Turns out you didn’t have to worry, though, because they disappeared.

“Where did they go?” you asked. Noshiko looked pained. She unfurled her hand and revealed a firefly that had been turned to dust. “What does that mean?”

“It means there’s been a change in ownership,” Stiles said. “Now they belong to me.”

As horrifying as it was seeing him flanked by six oni, it was good to know that the fake Stiles looked as sickly and pale as your Stiles. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d pass out and this would all be over. What was that saying about wishful thinking, again?

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #mccall!reader #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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baby-brightmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Leading Man: Chapter 1

The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Just kidding no one asked for this. On with the show.

Laughter and smoke, filled the room as they expelled from her mouth like a dragon. Maya’s friends laughed and quipped along with her. Her closest friend, Bridget found the script on an end table.

“Oh shit you didn’t tell us you have a new job lined up,” she mentioned setting down the bong on the coffee table.

“I don’t,” she told her. “It’s just a reading, they want to hear me sing, I doubt I’ll get it,”

“Positive,” her other friend Skyla mentioned sardonically.

“No, they want me to play Lydia, of all things, I can’t play Lydia I’m too old, I’m 26 for God’s sake. There is no way I get that role,” Maya informed, not mad, not bitter at all, she just did not think she was right for it. “They even told me to just go in and read,”

“When do you go into read?”

“Like next week,”

“Who are you reading with, do you know?” Maya shook her head, and went for another hit.

“I heard it’s going to be the dude from School of Rock,” Skyla quipped looking at her phone, “How cool would that be? I mean, how many times did you see that show?”

“Literally only twice,” Maya said a little too defensively, with people the truth of the matter was that she had watched it another time by herself, she remembered him.

“Crap what was his name again?” Bridget mentioned in a tone that felt like baiting.

“Alex,” Maya and Skyla answered at the same time. Maya from memory, Skyla from her phone. She remembered him, he was magnetic, funny, wonderful voice. He was the perfect lead, she didn't stand a chance.

“...totally fucking gone! It was hilarious!” Skyla giggled while Bridget clapped and guffawed.

“Sorry, I zoned out, what happened?” Maya muttered.

“Yeah you zoned out,” Bridget quipped. “Dreaming about Alex, were you?”

“You’re so stoned right now,” Skyla commented. “I was telling Bridget about how when we see the show, you could not take your eyes off of him, the whole time, and he was on stage, the whole time.”

“Funny how that works with him being the lead.” Maya quipped. “And he was good,”

“Real good.” Skyla said lewdly. “She looked him up through the playbill,”

“Shut up,” Maya growled,

“Followed him on Twitter,”

“Shut up,”

“Wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he was sooo talented,”

“Fuck off Sky,”

“Downloaded the soundtrack,” Sky mentioned. “After that everything was Alex, so great, so talented, she was like a twelve year old girl around him,”

“Thank you Skyla,” Maya finalized. “Great, I’m totally not nervous, or anything?” They gently ribbed her a while, joking about how she would be doodling “I heart AB” in her algebra book, they continued to drink, and their night went on after they mercifully, moved on from the topics.

A week passed, and then it was time for the reading. Maya came in with her bag, with her sides, her heels clicking on the hard tile, In the mean time, she had signed up to dance in a music video, so despite her aching feet, she still dressed up a little. She liked to look nice wherever she went, blaming the Old Guinea mentality she had grown up with, always look good when you leave the house. Her black lace dress and heels were par for the course, the red lips were just a trademark. She looked more like Morticia Addams than Lydia Deetz. Plus one look at the wispy little teenagers that she walked past showed that she was just there for the reading to show some little girl how it was really done. Nevertheless, she liked the show she thought it was funny, and heartwarming she would have loved to have been a part of it.

“The idea that I want to do here, is I want to convey that it’s manipulative, but still kind of, charming you know?” The director tried to explain using hand gestures. “Think big bad wolf,”

“That’s a great idea yeah,” he responded bent over the script. The directors head perked up at the sound of her heels.

“There she is! Thanks so much for coming Maya,” Timbers greeted as he walked up to her and grinned, she shook his hand, not a hugger.

“Of course, happy to help,” she responded flashing a smile.

“You know, Alex?” Timbers asked good-naturedly, they made eye contact and her stomach did flips. His eyes looked like a glass of whiskey held up to the light, then he smiled at her, and she melted.

“No, I have never had the,” do not say it Maya, “pleasure,” oh god, Alex shook her hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he greeted, And when he said ‘hi’ I forgot my damn name…

“Likewise,” Maya replied brightly.”I’m Maya, I’m here to make you feel tall,” He chuckled, sending an army of butterflies all over Maya’s body.

Don’t look at her dress, or her lips, he chided himself. He did not want to be the asshole in this case, he did not know how old she was, that she was in a few shows, quite a few shoes, as he found out later. She had been on one stage or another since she was ten years old. She cut her teeth with dancing. As shown by her legs. Timbers had told him so, triple threat, and she wrote. The director had told Alex it was between the dancer, Maya, he corrected himself and Sophia who was admittedly younger. He and Sophia had sang together in the first test, and he was rooting for her, Maya sat around with her long, shapely, legs crossed gushing to Leslie about how she loved her in a film she saw a few years back. Stop looking at her legs, he reminded himself, keeping his eyes glued to his notes. Okay, okay, its fine, I’m married not blind, he rationalized. She’s a pretty girl, that’s it. Timbers told them to get started, having Maya go first.

“Look babes,” he said using this gruff voice that he wanted to do for the show. Maya tensed, he carried on. “we can help out each other, you don’t like your dad, I don’t like my mom, she doesn't get me,” she was so - taken with him. 'This is A problem' she decided, the other girl's faces were captivated. They could not wait to sing with him, the youngest was bouncing and joking along an endearing way, Mays smiled back, she reminded her of her own little Sister. If the role would not go to Maya, she hoped this kid got it. Maya tried her best not to laugh, it was just a reading.

“You could use a buddy,” he sang in the voice, at that cadence it was less funny, “don’t you want a pal?” He slid over to her, feeding off the laughter in the room. “Yes, I do, yes I do,” sneaking an arm around her. Oh, fuck he smells good, she thought with the utmost dread. She miraculously, got every cue, thanking God that the script was in front of her as she doubted she could remember anything right now.

“Okay, what’s your name?” Maya sang getting into it, Alex, then snapped his eyes up and down her body and walked closer to her.

“What’s my name?” He questioned, never breaking eye contact tilting her face towards him. “I’m the best you’ll ever get, girl,” she cleared her throat stepping away from him.

“B-be a doll and spare the lecture,” she sang back getting herself together.

I am so screwed, Maya thought. If I have to work with this guy it’s going to get real messy, the song went on, with Alex begging her to “free him” dropping to his knee in front of her and grabbing her hips, with a wink to show he was just messing with her. She hoped she was not as obvious as she felt, her hands were trembling and her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

“Beetlejuice,” she said, her hand without consulting her brain, ran itself through his hair. He got up to his feet, his hands still on her hips.

“Yes,” he husked, and that growl that he did, got her right where it counts. The heels put her at his eye level which made it easier for him to look at her, with a sneaky little smirk that knocked the wind right out of her.

“Beetlejuice,” she breathed. Great idea, she thought. I’ll play too, she snaked her hand up his neck to his face, brushing her fingertips behind his ear. He squeezed her arm, a cough from one of the girls brought Maya back to reality.

“Yes….” He cocked an eyebrow his smirk going to a grin.

“Beee,” she sang running her hands up his chest smoothing over his shoulders. She then comically, pushed him away. Along with the guilt she felt. He’s taken. “Cause! You’re so smart a stand up role, I’ll think about your offer let you know, but I should take my chances down below.” He straightened up and smiled at her, a genuine smile out of character, Maya fixed her gaze on the book in front of her, she would need a cold shower after this. Just in case he could not push it any further, the grunts he made in the next verse. “Okay, Beetlejuice,” moan, “Beetlejuice,” a whimper. “Being young and female doesn’t mean that I am an easy mark,” the petulant growl he gave her was enough to send her off the edge. As she sang her solo part, Alex stood back with his arms crossed over his chest smiling at her tapping his foot to the piano music. Mercifully, the song ended and Maya thought she would faint.

“Ok let’s take a small break,” Timbers mentioned. “Anyone need some water,”

“Maybe a cigarette,” Rob McClure joked, causing Alex to shoot him a look. “What?”

“Yeah, I, um,” Maya stammered. “Need to make a call.” She all but ran out of the room.

“Brightman, a word,” his agent said charging towards the door. He was about confront Rob about what the hell he meant by that cigarette comment but followed the other man anyway. The door shut and they sat in the hallway. “What the fuck was that?”

“What? She did great,” he argued. “Good voice, and they said they wanted someone who could dance, so,”

“‘What’ you know damn well ‘what’, half the people in there were expecting you to rip her dress off, when you called her ‘Baby’ I thought she was going to blow you,” he ranted.

“I’m supposed to be creepy,” Alex tried to defend, the truth of the matter is, he did not even know, she just drew him in, and maybe it was because she was older that he thought he could get a little raunchier with the song. Yeah, no one is going to buy that. He was an idiot, her manager had mentioned she was so excited to work with him and he acted like, well, a creepy old guy.

“That wasn’t creepy,” the other man argued. “That was you picking her up, which circles back to my original point - what the fuck dude?!”

“I,” he tried, just dropping any pretense. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Good talk her out of suing,”

“Were you there?” He barked. “She was into it, I felt how she grabbed my hair, how she touched my chest,”

“She’s an actress that’s her job dumb ass,” he bit back. “Look. I don't care who you do, frankly you can take her doggy style in the bathroom for all it matters to me, just don’t let anyone see you, you can’t get mixed up with that bitch,”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Don’t defend her honor,” he said sarcastically. “The next one is fifteen try not to grope her too,”

“Fuck off man,” Alex grumbled as he went to go find Maya. Sure enough she was on the phone, speaking rapidly in what sounded like Spanish? She was laughing, so that was a good sign. When she spoke slower he registered it as Italian. God, it sounded beautiful coming from her. She caught his gaze and smiled, hurrying whomever it was off the phone.

“Hey,” she said brightly. She put her phone away, in her dress as she folded her hands formally in front of him.

“Hi,” he replied. “Oh, your dress, has pockets?” She chuckled.

“Yes, it does,” she answered giving him a kind smile. Get it together, he scolded himself. He must have been silent for too long because she followed it up with, “I can give you the name where I go it,” he chuckled and shook his head.

“I just, I wanted to say sorry, I think I went pretty overboard in there,”

“Oh, no,” she told him, “That back there? Please! I once had to tango with a guy who actually cupped my peesh in front of a live audience, which included my parents,” Alex laughed, oh hell, he thought. she’s funny. “I would have done something if you had really crossed a line, you’re okay,”

#there's a lot to unpack here #alex exists and i am forever grateful #Alex Brightman #just strikes me as someone with foot in mouth disease

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trashmenofmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

Devil’s Backbone Chapter 11

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, mild dubcon)

Chapter Warnings: Blood, wound care

Word Count: 6.4k

0017 EST, January 12th, 2014

You guided the assassin to the couch after having felt along the wall for the light switch and flicking it on. You tried your best to lower him onto the cushions as gently as possible and not dump him like a sack of potatoes, no matter how tired your arms were. It was difficult; with his tactical suit and the metal arm you guessed he weighed at 250 pounds. Most likely more.

“Easy,” you said when he braced his metal fingers on the edge of the cushions and pain flashed across his face.

He met your eye, that same look of edgy wariness you had seen a few times was there very much still in place. You got the sense he was assessing you, taking your measure, but then his gaze quickly shifted away. His stare went blank and he seemed to sink within himself. Something was going on in there, something you couldn’t see or perhaps even guess at.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the luxury of keeping your distance, so all you could do was hope he didn’t do to you what he had done to his former allies.

Leaving him on the couch, you went to the hallway closet to raid it for what you would need. If memory served, it should be well-stocked with supplies and clothing. You found it was, cataloging what you needed: a large white medical kit, an armful of towels, a blanket, a flashlight, and a grey sweater jacket. That last one you pulled out and tugged on, zipping it up your chest. The heat had been set to fifty degrees to keep the pipes from freezing in the winter, and you turned the heat up on your way back to the living room.

You carefully pulled out the supplies you wanted and made your way back to the living room, placing the goods on the nearby glass coffee table. The assassin’s face was pale and sallow in the garish light of the ceiling fan lamp, his left side and leg almost black with blood.

When you sat on the edge of the coffee table and reached for his chest, he flinched away, his eyes wild but glassed over. His hands clenched and released in rapid succession, but he didn’t seem to know exactly how he wanted to react himself.

You backed away a few inches, palms up to show you meant him no harm. “I need to check your wounds. Unless you want me to take you to a hospital.”

His gaze flickered from your hands to your face. When he didn’t respond, you said, “Yeah, didn’t think so. I need to stop the bleeding. I’m going to be as gentle as I can, okay?”

His taut shoulders loosened and fell marginally, the tightness of his eyes softening just the tiniest bit and he gave a small, single nod.

It was the best you could hope for. Now all you had to do was figure out how to remove his clothing, a task that would be much more difficult than it seemed at first blush. His tac suit had a halter harness strapped across the chest, and the rest of it didn’t seem to have any discernible openings.

Well, gotta start somewhere.

You slowly reached forward and cautiously unsnapped the weapon harness, pulling it away from his chest. You realized the vest had buttons; you had thought they were simply decoration at first. A ridiculous conclusion, considering how practical the assassin was. You doubted he did much for the aesthetic.

As you unsnapped each button, you watched his face, looking for signs that he was going to lash out. Sweat beaded his forehead and his eyes were glassy with dark circles underneath, but he seemed calm enough. His breathing was uneven. You assumed it was from the pain.

When you finally got through the buttons—so goddamn many of them since they went the entire length of his torso—you very carefully peeled back his vest. The assassin winced but didn’t make a sound when the Kevlar fiber parted from the blood-tacky skin beneath.

There was a lot of it smeared across the left side of his chest and stomach, but most of it was dried and very little of it was fresh. The fact his wounds had clotted was a good sign, but you had no idea how much internal damage there was. He could just as easily bleed to death on the inside.

“All right,” you released a held breath as you eyed the cause of all that blood. “I count two gunshot wounds, one below your ribcage and the other above your hip. I can’t tell how deep they are. Um…”

The assassin moved and you drew your hands back quickly, but he only stripped off the rest of his vest and tossed it to the floor.

You stared. You couldn’t help it. Your eyes fastened onto the place where his artificial left shoulder joined his body, signified by a seam of jagged scars. It was brutal, looking as if the metal had been soldered to flesh without any care or consideration for the man.

Efficient and cruel.

Your eyes wandered over his chest, then. The large pectorals, the defining lines of his abs, the sheer power in his biceps and forearms. You had thought without his bulky gear he would look smaller, less intimidating. If anything, he looked larger and more primal.

You cleared your throat and forced your eyes back down to his bloodied and torn flesh. Methodically moving your focus downward over his clothed left leg, you saw two or three more possible wounds, but you wouldn’t know until…

“Don’t freak out,” you said with a slight wince, “but your pants need to come off.”

You chanced a glance at his face. He remained as immutable as ever, his heavy gaze bore into yours until you looked away. Christ, you could feel your cheeks heating up. You weren’t sure if it was from his glare or the fact you were trying to strip him naked.

“So… do you want me to do it or…?”

Without a word, the assassin reached down and unbuckled the gun holster across his waist. There was a zipper along each side, following the angles of his pelvis. He unzipped them, and without warning, pulled his pants down his hips.

He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Okay,” you remarked to no one in particular as you quickly looked away. Of course. Why would a deadly assassin bother to wear underwear?

Commandos go commando, you thought in a moment of fleeting, anxiety-induced, borderline-hysterical humor. Oh, God, this is really my life now. Mad scientists and sexy underwear-less assassins.

You managed to keep your face blank as you took deep steadying breaths. You weren’t even sure why you were freaking out. You had seen plenty of your teammates naked, an unavoidable occurrence when you went on overnight missions together, and you hadn’t given a shit then.

Of course, none of your teammates had fucked you with their tongues or fingers, either.

Seeing the towels on the coffee table, you grabbed one and held it out in his general direction.

“You can cover up with this.”

Per usual, he remained silent, but you did feel the towel being tugged from your grasp.

You needed to focus, get your shit together, patch up the maybe-friendly killer, figure out what the hell was going on, and plan your next move. The last thing you needed was to be thrown off and sent reeling just because of a little bit of exposed skin.

Or a lot of exposed skin, as the case was. When you turned back to look at him, his pants were around his calves, his torso entirely bare, and the only thing covering his crotch was a towel that was, in retrospect, much too small.

The fact he was mostly naked vanished from your thoughts when you saw the next two wounds. You winced, leaning closer to peer at them.

“One in the hip and another in the thigh. They’re not bleeding anymore, but… you’re going to want an actual surgeon to remove all of these. So for now, I’m just going to clean and cover them—“

“Take them out.”

Your eyes shot upward to his, finding he was prompted up on his elbows, staring down at you with a hard expression.

“What?” You swallowed as his intense stare stirred something between your thighs. Your body had the worst timing. “No. I’m not doing that.”

Somehow, his gaze became even harder. You could feel the tension in your pelvis increase likewise, and you became much more belligerent and irritated than you meant to be.

“Listen, buddy,” you snapped, “this isn’t like the movies. If I go digging in there I will definitely make it worse, and that’s if I don’t kill you on accident. The best thing to do is to leave them be and—”

He moved too fast for you to react. Grabbed by the neckline of your jacket, he hauled you off the coffee table and nearly onto his chest where he glared into your face, inches away.

You froze like a rabbit between the wolf’s teeth.

“Take… them out,” he growled. Actually growled. It should have been funny. Instead, it made you feel something close to fear and not far from arousal.

For a moment, you said nothing. Your limbs were taut with distress, your heart pounding in your ears. After a moment you swallowed and blinked to clear your vision. His blue eyes seemed to fill your whole world, but you forced your tumultuous thoughts into something more coherent and focused. There wasn’t time for this bullshit posturing. He might be some kind of super badass who can murder two dozen people and then take four bullets from a machine gun, but that didn’t mean you were wrong.

You took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t bring you here, with me, against all gut instinct and better judgement, just so I could watch you bleed out on the couch.”

He blinked. It was the only reaction to your words aside from the curious way his eyes flicked between yours, as if searching for something. After a long, drawn out moment… his expression lost its hard edge and his fingers loosened their grip.

“I won’t,” he mumbled, too softly, too vacantly, and then released you.

With a lingering look you hoped made your irritation clear, you returned to your place on the coffee table and pointedly ignored the way your heart was thrumming in your chest.

Oh, yeah. You were irritated. Even a little scared. You were also undeniably turned on.

Great.

“Okay.” You muttered, pulling out a pair of forceps and sanitizing them with rubbing alcohol. “I’m just going to make it worse, but if that’s what you want... I’m warning you now though, if I do worsen it, then I really will take you to a hospital.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but he did lean back against the cushions and tensed his jaw as he stared up at the ceiling. You knew that rigid position from experience: he was mentally preparing himself for overwhelming physical pain.

You stared at the wounds and then back up at his face as you said, “I don’t have anything to anesthetize you with—“

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut in, gruff. “No more stalling.”

You would have prickled at his words, but his tone wasn’t cruel or mean. It was unnerved. He knew it would hurt, further confirmed by the fact his normal arm was gripping the back of the couch tightly.

The grim gesture prodded at your thoughts, and it made you wonder what had happened to him to provoke such a reaction. Did he have previous experience with having bullets dug out of him while awake? God, you hoped not.

You took a deep breath and began to work. You dealt with the highest wound on his side first, wiping at it with iodine, being as gentle as possible as you smoothed the cloth over the damaged skin. You took a pair of forceps and paused when you realized you needed to shine some light into the wound itself to see what you were doing.

He held his metal arm away from his body, the silver forearm propped on the coffee table next to your hip. You were nearly touching him already but you scooted closer, trying to get a better angle of approach. You leaned down and placed your free hand on his flank, feeling the taut muscles under your fingers. You clicked on the flashlight and lightly tapped it against his arm, making a metallic clicking sound.

He peered down at you cautiously, and you indicated the flashlight in your hand.

“Hold this, please.” You aimed the light at his injuries. “Just like that.”

He wrapped his silver fingers around the black handle of the flashlight and pointed it where you had instructed. In doing so, he had to lean the artificial limb against your thigh. You could feel the cold metal through your pants and you struggled against any reaction.

Praying you didn’t pass out yourself, seeing as you weren’t exactly trained to be a field surgeon and go digging around inside someone’s body, you carefully moved the forceps into the illuminated, bloody opening. You could actually see the shiny metallic surface of the bullet. It should have been much deeper than it was, considering a goddamn machine gun had shot him. You set your jaw and tried to steady your hands as you dipped the forceps into the wound and very delicately grabbed the slug.

You heard the shift in his breathing that told you he felt it. You paused and searched for something comforting to say.

“Remember to breathe,” you told him. “Wiggle your toes.”

You glanced up at his face and saw the confusion there, settled in a severe crease between his brows. You shrugged and felt your cheeks heat. “That’s what my dentist tells me when something is gonna hurt. It’s silly but it works.”

His gaze became even more piercing if that was possible, so you cleared your throat and returned your attention to your task. You grabbed hold of the slug again and began to pull it out. It took a little bit of wiggling and you went slow, trying your hardest not to cause any additional damage.

The couch creaked ominously as the assassin dug his fingers into the woodwork underneath the fabric. You couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he was experiencing—your own gunshot wound had been nothing more than a deep graze—but he bore it in silence.

It was unnerving. You almost wished he would make some kind of noise, if only for his own benefit. He certainly didn’t need to hold back on your account, and it couldn’t be healthy to repress so damn much. After all, this wasn’t the first time you’d notice him do something like that before.

Pleasure or pain, he seemed to just… hold it back.

Finally, the slug came free. You stared down at the warped piece of bloody metal, almost fascinated, before you put it down on one of the towels nearby.

One down. Three to go.

You continued onward, freeing the second slug in his side with as much ease as the first. You tried to be more careful with the bullet in his hip, suspecting it was close to the bone. The one in his thigh was also difficult. The thick wall of muscle did not make it easy for the bullet to be extracted, and you were sure you had caused some additional tearing on its removal. You kept mumbling apologies, wincing whenever his leg twitched, but he remained quiet.

The assassin may have carried the pain with stoic silence but it was definitely affecting him. Sweat trickled down his forehead and dampened his hair, his cheekbones were so prominent he looked almost gaunt, and his pupils had contracted to dark pinpricks. His fingernails had ripped small tears into the couch. The pain you were inflicting must have been excruciating, yet the control he had over his own body in the face of it was impressive, and you had to admit, a little concerning. It didn’t seem normal.

You were able to extract all four bullets first and then patch the wounds after since there was so little blood to speak of. After washing them with iodine one last time, you pulled them closed and sealed them shut with a cutting-edge medical glue, one that would expedite the healing as well as protect the wound from infection. You finished them off by taping gauze over them, protecting the glue and skin until he could get more thorough medical treatment.

You were beginning to suspect he might not need it. The assassin’s injuries should have been much worse; deeper with much more damage. You didn’t understand it at first, but then realized it was surprisingly familiar.

You had seen Steve Rogers take a few nasty blows; wounds that should have put him in a hospital. Yet somehow, more often than not, he simply walked them off and returned the next day looking as if his wounds were several days old.

The idea that the assassin could be enhanced or even gifted should have crossed your mind before now, but to be fair, you had been a little preoccupied.

“It’s done,” you said, breathing out in a long exhale. Your fingers were coated with red and orange, and they trembled with fatigue. You began to clean up the mess when his voice caused you to halt.

“Thank you.”

You looked up and found his gaze already settled on your face. The sight of those pale blue eyes watching you so closely sent heat through your cheeks.

“You took them for me,” you said, trying to sound blasé and failing when your voice slightly cracked. “It’s the least I could do.”

Needing a moment to collect yourself, you stood and picked up the soiled towels. Walking around the couch, you went to the washing machine in the hallway and tossed them in before going to the kitchen and throwing out the bloodied wipes. You went back to the living room and returned to your perch on the coffee table, grabbing the medical kit and pulling it toward you. Digging through it for a moment, you found what you were looking for and pulled out a bottle of pills, ones you remembered from your field training.

Sensing a heated gaze on the back of your neck, you nervously twisted off the top and shook four pills into your hand. When you turned to where the assassin was still lying on the couch, you saw he was watching you closely. He seemed to do that a lot, and it made you feel self-conscious.

“What is that?” he asked, his tone matching the suspicion is his pale eyes.

“A drug created by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical doctors for injured agents in the field.”

His eyes narrowed. You already knew where this was going, but you pushed on, hoping you were wrong and he would act like a reasonable person.

“It suppresses bacterial growth and promotes healing. I donno, something they cooked up in the labs—“

“No.”

He stared at you. You glowered back.

“I don’t want it.”

“Do you want those wounds to become infected?” you snapped. “Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

He ignored you and actually tried to sit up, so you said, “Nu-uh,” and placed your palm against his bare chest. It was all too easy to push him back down, his strength sapped by his wounds. His skin was warm under your fingers and you quickly pulled back.

He looked up through his strands of sweat-darkened hair and you met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Why are you so hell-bent on suffering through this?”

You weren’t sure why you asked. Why you even cared whether he was in pain or not. He didn’t answer, and instead broke off eye contact, looking away.

Your anger vanished, leaving you feeling tired. All you wanted was to crawl under the covers of the only bed in the entire small house, but you couldn’t. Somehow, it had taken root in your mind that the assassin was your responsibility. Whatever happened to him, whatever he did, it was on you.

You got up and went into the kitchen, proceeding to rummage through the cupboards until you found what you were looking for. Most of the shelves were filled with MRE and canned foods, but you found the bottles of supplemented water without much difficulty. You knew you were dehydrated and probably malnourished, so you took two from the cupboard instead of just one.

“At least drink this,” you muttered as you returned. You held one out to him, the blue liquid sloshing mutedly inside the bottle. He eyed it as if it were an IED. When he neglected to move, you squared your jaw. “You need to replace your electrolytes.”

He studied your face for a moment, and then carefully took the bottle from your hand. You stared at the metal fingers wrapped around the curved plastic, so lightly it didn’t even bend the material. You were curious as to how sensitive those fingers were.

Nope. Don’t go there.

“What you probably need is a blood transfusion, but this particular safe house doesn’t come with its own blood bank,” you remarked as you sat back on the coffee table, facing him as you unscrewed the top of your bottle.

You were relieved to see he had pulled his pants back up around his hips while you’d been in the kitchen. You weren’t so happy he was up in a sitting position. At least he was leaning back against the cushions. In the event that he did pass out, you wouldn’t have to carry him anywhere else. Or deal with him cracking his skull open.

The assassin made no remark to your dry comment and instead downed the bottle in one go. You were pulled from your sour thoughts at the sight of his large Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp.

Oh, for fuck’s sake—

Needing a distraction, you pulled out the bottle of pills he’d rejected. You opened it, tapped out two pills into your palm, and popped them into your mouth, swallowing with the supplemented water. After the torture, dehydration, exposure to the elements, and the incredible psychological stress, you hoped they could tide you over until you sought actual medical help. The beating your immune system had taken, not to mention the actual beating at the hands of the soldiers, was going to take a nasty toll. Already the fatigue and pain was settling into your bones and muscles like a dusting of broken glass.

You realized the assassin was staring at you again.

“So,” you prompted suddenly, “Do you have a name?”

He blinked and slightly tilted his head, mouth forming into a frown.

“I… I don’t know.” He paused, chewed on his lip, and added. “I think it’s… Bucky.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Bucky? That’s a… unique name.” You had almost said it was a weird name, but you decided to try the diplomatic approach rather than the dick-ish one.

The assassin remained quiet, his eyes staring somewhere near your knees. He looked almost lost in thought.

It didn’t seem as if he would say anything else, so you cleared your throat and said, “Well… my name is—“

“I know who you are.”

You snapped your mouth shut, feeling the corners of your mouth tug into a tight frown.

“Okay. Then maybe you can tell me why you killed the people you worked for and opened my cell door.” You hadn’t meant to sound so scathing and annoyed, but now that the danger of him bleeding out had passed, a restless urgency for answers was taking hold of you.

The assassin met your eyes only briefly before they slid away again.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much, do you.”

You could have winced at the ice in your cold words, but it was the effect they had on him that made you feel like a real piece of shit.

He looked downright miserable as he stared at his hands and said in a faint voice, “I’m sorry.”

His odd change in behavior and personality made you remember this wasn’t the first time he had acted this way. There was something very wrong with him.

Guilt needled at you. When you spoke again, it was with a gentler tone. “What can you tell me?”

A blank look passed over his face, followed by furrowing brows.

“It’s… hard. There’s fragments. Bits and pieces, but I can’t… focus on them. I try, and… they slip away.”

It was the most words you had ever heard him speak at once. But the next ones made your breath catch in your throat.

“I think… they did this to me?”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, a pained expression that was disturbing to see. He looked like a soul lost in the wilderness. “I can’t remember,” he added, his eyes trailing down to stare near your shoulder again.

Perhaps you should have been afraid. Or at least alarmed that you were stuck with a killer assassin with retrograde amnesia, but his words, his behavior, everything about him prodded at something vulnerable within you. A chink in your well-hewn armor.

You had maimed. You had killed. You had done truly despicable things in the line of duty, but at the end of the day, you could put all of that away in nice, tidy little boxes. But this man refused to go into a box quietly. Every time you tried to pack him away, to forget what you had done with him in the loneliness of your isolation and treat him like an enemy at worst and a hostile ally at best, you just… couldn’t.

He had dug himself under your skin and seemed intent on staying there.

“Who were those men?” you asked, making an effort to get him to keep talking. “The ones who kept and tortured me?”

“HYDRA,” he replied simply.

You sighed heavily. No matter how many times you heard that name, it was still difficult to swallow. You made one last-ditch effort at denial.

“The last time I checked, HYDRA doesn’t exist anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D. wiped them out in Nazi Germany.”

He shrugged. “They didn’t.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and instead rubbed your tongue across the front of your teeth. To say this man was taciturn was putting it mildly.

“Okay. For the sake of argument, let’s say they are HYDRA. Why would they go after Mister Kartal? And why take me?”

The assassin set his jaw into a grim line, but this time when he spoke, he met your eyes.

“Because there is no S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA has been within them from the beginning.”

You could only blink at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kartal was a HYDRA agent stationed within S.H.I.E.L.D. He took steps to go to the FBI and expose HYDRA in exchange for protection. I was ordered to kill him, his family, and all of the agents involved.”

His pale eyes drifted over your face.

“Except you.”

You felt like you couldn’t draw a full breath of air.

“I don’t understand,” was all you could say.

“I was ordered to bring you in. Alive.”

“But… why?”

He looked away.

“They didn’t tell me.”

You sensed he wasn’t being entirely truthful, but then he was talking again before you could follow-up.

“What I can tell you is that the man who gave me my orders is S.H.I.EL.D. I don’t know his name, only that he has a lot of power in your organization. And he’s implementing his plan in a few hours.”

You frowned, remembering the conversation that had taken place in your cell.

“The man who asked you all those questions? Was that him?”

The assassin studied you before nodding once.

“Do you know what he’s planning?” you asked, dread sitting in the pit of your stomach.

The assassin pressed his lips firmly together. “He has been working towards this for a long time. The ability to assassinate millions of people in an instant. And at your headquarters, using three Helicarriers, he’ll be able to achieve that.” He swallowed once before adding, “The launch is in less than twelve hours.”

You were glad you were sitting down already, because you were fairly sure you would have planted ass-first into the carpet. Everything he was saying was unreal, unbelievable. And yet… you couldn’t deny things had gone horribly wrong from the moment the first vehicle of the convoy had flipped in a plume of fire and smoke. That mission, not to mention the escort route itself, had been kept secret; from the feds, from the state department, even from S.H.I.E.L.D. besides the members of STRIKE who had been there.

Yes, you had sensed something was wrong from the start. But still, you hadn’t realized the situation was so fucking dire. Like, world-ending, apocalyptic dire.

“I have to do something,” you said flatly. It was your responsibility. Especially if you and this man were the only ones aware of what was really going on inside S.H.I.E.L.D.

The assassin’s expression changed, and at first you couldn’t understand what it was. But then you realized he was… almost smiling. But God, you had never seen such a sad, hollow smile in your entire life.

“The last mission directive he gave me was to wait for… for Steve Rogers to arrive at the Triskelion. I had orders to kill him.”

His words should have disturbed you; instead, they filled you with sudden hope. You got to your feet and exclaimed, “That’s it!”

The assassin looked up at you, wide-eyed.

“Captain Rogers!” you explained with a wave of your hand. “He can help! I mean, if you were sent to kill him, he’s definitely not HYDRA, right? He’s not compromised. We have to contact him, tell him what’s going on. And then help him stop the launch, and…”

Your words trailed off, dying as you caught sight of the expression on his face. You had thought he would have been glad to hear your idea. Apparently, were wrong.

He looked down and sighed through his nostrils.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, scrunching your face. You were completely confused over his reaction.

“He won’t trust me.” He curled the metal fingers of his left hand. “Not after… what I’ve done. And I don’t trust me either.”

You sat down slowly on the coffee table again. The ease with which he had spoken earlier was gone, and he had returned to sounding unsure, his speech halting and hesitant. There was no mistaking the shame there; you of all people would recognize it.

“I don’t even know who I am, or… what kind of person I was.”

“Hey.”

He looked up, dragging his eyes as if with great reluctance. You met his blue eyes steadily. He might be unsure, but you weren’t.

“By the sound of it, none of that was your fault. Those men, those people did something to you. Brainwashing, maybe.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, recalling just what they had done to you by the aching points along your scalp. “Psychological torture and manipulation falls under the purview of HYDRA if I remember my history lessons correctly.”

At the mention of HYDRA in a historical context, something tugged at the back of your head. History. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s history. There was something there you needed to remember. It was too bad history had been your worse subject at the Academy.

Your mind tried to grab the loose thread to pull it, but it was just out of reach—

“But…”

You blinked, focusing your attention on the assassin. He was staring at you again, and you were alarmed to see he looked on the verge of tears.

His voice was soft and edged in horror as he stammered, “You… how can you try to defend my actions? After… after what I did to you?”

A heavy stone dropped in your stomach, splashing with a ripple of dread. This was the closest either of you had gotten to acknowledging what had happened aloud. You pressed your lips together and looked away. You couldn’t think about that right now. There were bigger issues to deal with.

“You may not know what kind of person you are,” you said quietly, “but I can tell you this much. You’re the kind that saves someone from being tortured to death. And you’re the kind that wants to prevent more lives from being lost.”

When you looked back at him, his eyes were no longer as glassy but his expression was so sad it was almost sweet. And in that moment, all you wanted to do was run your fingers through his soft hair and tell him it was going to be okay. The urge was so strong your hand actually moved across your thigh.

You halted the movement and rose to your feet so quickly you saw spots in your vision.

“You need sleep and so do I,” you announced, not quite meeting his eye. “Even a couple hours will help clear our heads so we can come up with a better solution for the… HYDRA threat.”

And then you hesitated and looked at him. In fact, you eyed him for so long that he tilted his head and asked in a curious tone, “What?”

You chewed on your lip. This was a bad idea, but what were you going to do? Handcuff him to the couch?

“Can I trust you?”

He searched your eyes, his jaw tensing into a grim expression.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You took a breath. “Can I trust you not to kill me in my sleep?”

His expression fell; you immediately regretted asking. Or at least, being so cruel about it. Why couldn’t you use your damn head before you opened your mouth? You had just told the guy he had saved your life, and then you go and say something like that. Goddamn typical.

Before you could continue berating yourself, his face smoothed into that unreadable look you were becoming familiar with.

“I won’t hurt you.”

You hugged your arms in front of you, knowing it made you look defensive but really you were doing it for self-assurance.

“How do you know that? If you’re still under someone’s control, I mean, how do you know you won’t hurt me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

It was circular logical. A nonsensical appeal. But his tone was open and he managed to hold your gaze without looking away again. You trusted he believed what he was saying, and that would have to be enough for now.

“All right,” you said slowly. “Can I trust that when I come back out of that bedroom in the morning you’ll still be here?”

His eyes softened in that sorrowful way again.

“Where would I go?”

I really do have a way of making myself into an asshole every time I open my mouth, don’t I? But he did have a point, as sad as it was. Even if he had a safe place to hide, safer than here, he was being hunted just as much as you were. And while you had no doubt he was still dangerous, he was also vulnerable until he was fully healed.

It occurred to you that he needed you. Maybe as much as you needed him.

Realizing he was still staring at you, you cleared your throat and said, “There’s only one bed, so… the couch is all yours.”

The assassin didn’t speak but he nodded once, his eyes dropping to focus on his hands with hard scrutiny. You could almost feel the waves of guilt radiating off of him, and you sighed. Grabbing the blanket you had fetched earlier from off the table, you held it out for him.

“There’s food in the kitchen if you get hungry, and the shower is down the hall. Help yourself to it. I’ll be… in the bedroom. If you need me.”

Not that he would. But you wanted him to understand that whatever this weird thing between you was, you weren’t afraid he would hurt you. Maybe you should have been, but you weren’t.

He stared at you for a moment before taking the blanket. You turned around, your cheeks heating up again, and you prepared to make a quick exit.

“I know you… saved my life.”

You paused, his soft voice halting you in your tracks.

“You didn’t have to. You could have just left me there, but… you didn’t.”

His speech was awkward but heartfelt. You glanced over your shoulder but he wasn’t staring at you; he was looking down at the blanket in his hands.

“I… appreciate what you’re doing. Trusting me. And… believing me. About HYDRA.” He paused and clenched the blankets tighter. “I’m not used to... all of this.” He said it as if he meant more than the immediate situation. It felt like he was saying he wasn’t used to being treated as a person. As human.

Something churned within your stomach. A sensation.

Guilt. Shame. You had endured so much over the past few days and you weren’t sure when the full realization of everything was going to hit you. You knew when it did, it would be ugly.

You wanted to help him. But you didn’t even know how to help yourself. So you did what you always do in uncomfortable situations. You pushed it away.

“It’s nothing,” you responded flatly, turning back towards the bedroom so you wouldn’t look at him. “You saved my life. I saved yours. We’re even now.”

You tried to make it sound like it didn’t mean anything. It was just an exchanging of debts. A life for a life. And now he would help you stop HYDRA. He was a means to an end. That was all.

The effect was lost by the slight waver in your voice. You ducked your head and left the room, feeling his gaze on the back of your neck every step of the way.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier fanfiction #reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #devil's backbone #my fanfiction #my writing

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willow-salix · 5 years ago

Text

My contribution to the random writing prompt with @soniabigcheese I present the tag team that is Scott and WereVirgil.

It was always nice to spend some time together, especially after a long day. After a warm up they had hit the paths hard. Scott's arms pumped out a regular rhythm, matching his legs as his feet pounded the ground. The faster and longer they run the clearer his head became.

They began to slow, having done three laps of the park. They geared down to a jog for their last lap and that was when he saw her.

A pretty redhead, curvy enough to want to map out all those bends with your hands and from the animated way she was talking into her phone, she seemed like fun.

He slowed to a stop, pausing by a bench to stretch. Partly good cool down, partly because he'd been told his ass looked good in these pants…

And she walked right on by. How was that even possible? His eyes followed her in disbelief as she veered around them as if they weren't even there and continued on her way.

Scott looked at Virgil, who had the biggest grin on his face, tongue hanging out as he panted.

Huh, he could use that.

"Virg…"

The massive wolf shook its head. No way, no how, not again, it was degrading.

"It's not like I ask you to do this all the time, besides, you owe me one for not telling Alan that you were the one that broke his games tablet by sitting on it."

Virgil gave him a look that said he was planning to cock his leg in his cockpit very soon. If they weren't in public and he hadn't had to stay silent, acting the part of the huge friendly dog, he would have sworn a blue streak.

"Come on, it worked so well last time, just this once, I promise. I'll never ask you again."

Virgil snorted, clearly not believing his brother for a second but turned tail and took off at a run.

Scott grinned. Honestly, he had the best brothers in the world.

Virgil lifted his head, scenting the air… Huh, she smelt interesting. Like bacon. Bacon was always a good indication as to the quality of a person.

She was easy on the eyes too, a buxom redhead of middle height with an easy smile on her face. She looked like she'd know how to give a good belly scratch.

He glanced at Scott, who nodded from his hiding spot behind the trunk of a large tree, making a shooing motion with his hands.

Virgil snorted, honestly, he was a highly skilled pilot and engineer and this was how he spent his evenings. He padded after the woman, who was just putting her phone away, and started to woof.

She turned to look at him, watching as he trotted over and shoved his snout into her hand.

She automatically began to stroke his head, fondling his ears when he sat down on her foot.

"Wow, you're a big boy aren't you?"

His tongue lolled proudly out of his mouth. Yeah, he heard that a lot. In both forms.

"Soft though." She eased her foot out from under his bulk and sat down on a nearby bench. Virgil didn't let up for a second, following her and laying his head on her lap.

Smiling, she kept petting him. She had long nails that managed to dig into his fur the way that his brothers just couldn't manage and hit just the right spot that had him sighing in ecstasy, one leg twitching its approval.

"Where's your owner, huh?"

Owner? What was she… Shit, Scott! He was on a mission and he'd completely forgotten. He lifted his head and barked loudly, giving the signal.

The woman cupped his head in her hands. "You have such pretty eyes, such intelligence, almost human."

Lady, you have no idea. He gently butted against her chin, making her laugh.

"Virgil?" Scott's voice was distant but getting closer.

"Virgil, is that you, boy?" He swiped his tongue across her cheek in answer. "Ewww."

His brother rounded the corner at a fast jog, slowing down when he saw them.

"Virgil, there you are. I thought I'd lost you." He bent to pet his brother's head, whispering in his ear. "Good job, buddy."

He straightened, giving the woman his most devastating smile, ruthlessly deploying his high impact dimples. Target is acquired. She smiled back. Direct hit.

"Thank you so much for finding my dog, this isn't our usual haunt and I think he got distracted."

She laughed. "Well, I didn't exactly find him, he found me."

"Either way I'm very grateful. I'm Scott," he offered his hand.

"Rachel," she stopped stroking Virgil's head to shake his hand. "And this fellow is named Virgil?" Bit of a strange name for a dog if you asked her.

"Yeah, that's him."

"Named after the poet?"

"Oh, sure, yeah, the poet." He could be deep, he could be an intellectual.

She didn't look like she believed him and Virgil wanted to laugh. His brother always thought he was so smooth.

A cold gust of wind whipped past and Rachel shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her. She'd had a long day and just wanted to get home.

"It's chilly out here," Scott announced as if they were all too stupid to realise. He glanced across the street for inspiration. Ah ha. "I was just about to grab a coffee to warm up, can I treat you to one, just to say thank you for keeping him company?"

Rachel glanced at the dog, all big brown eyes and cute floppy tongued grin. How could anyone have let such a precious thing run around the park like that and risk him getting hurt?

She looked over at the coffee stand, it wasn't that far and it was pretty cold. She could do with a hot drink right now.

"Sure, coffee would be good."

Scott grinned, pulling out a leash which he clipped to the collar his brother was forced to wear any time they were in public after an unfortunate incident with a dog warden.

This was humiliating, being towed around like a common mutt, and by his brother no less. The things he put up with for his family. Scott had better be extra grateful and do his chores for the next month to make up for this.

They crossed the street where Scott ordered their coffees. A no nonsense black one sugar for him, a frothy hazelnut latte for her and a hotdog for Virgil who had begun to whine the second he'd seen the meaty goodness.

The grumpy looking man behind the counter slapped the lids on their drinks and deposited them on the counter without a word.

Pleasant guy, that one. Scott thanked him anyway and passed Rachel her drink.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

She took an experimental sip, slightly worried that the man behind the counter had infected it with his bad mood, but found it very pleasant. This was just what she needed to make it home.

"Thanks again, make sure you keep that guy on his leash, you wouldn't want to lose him for real." She settled her bag on her shoulder and riffled through for her subway pass. She bent to pet Virgil again, unable to resist the lure of his soft fur. "It was nice meeting you, puppy."

"Wait? You're going?"

She frowned. "Yeah."

Scott blinked. She was going, just like that? "Can I get your number, you know, in case we're ever in town again?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I don't date people that can't look after their pets."

She left him spluttering a denial, sipping her coffee as she walked.

Virgil howled with laughter, unable to look at his brother's shocked face. It was so funny to see his overly confident brother strike out in such a big way. Scott, the heroic guy who was always first on the scene and a hit with the ladies had been shot down in a ball of flames.

Smooth, bro. Real smooth. Just wait until he told Gordon about this.

Scott swiped at Virgil's nose, which just made him laugh harder, falling sideways to roll around on his back, all four paws in the air.

"You know, I'm beginning to think I'm more of a cat person, next time I'll get John to be stuck up a tree."

#thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #scott tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing #fan fic stuff

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 6 years ago

Text

Imagine Samuel being a father

A/N: So, in my opinion... Samuel Drake as a father would a killer. I think that he would be somewhere between Ryan Reynolds (find his parenthood tweets, oh lord) and Josh Wolf (such a good stand up comedian).

He would love his children endlessly, he isn't his own father, after all, but he'll maybe terrorize them a bit. Like in a funny way.

Also, I might start a series of one-shots, because I have a ton of ideas for this one.

Warnings: Samuel being a kickass father. There's some weed mentioned in here, but it is meant to be fun.

You and Samuel were together for some time.

Let me say, you were that badass Californian couple - partying, drinking your ass off, smoking weed and doing a lot of fucking things.

Like, you were practically animals. Party animals.

And of course, you were on your pills. We don't want any accidents here, right?

But, if ya know and are aware of - antibiotics and hormonal pills kinda don't do a single shit when mixed.

You should let him know that when you were finishing your antibiotics after a looong illness.

But you somehow magically forgot when he started to nuzzle you on the sofa. You know the drill really well. But why not, you were horny as hell, you missed his weenie and his body. Boy, it shouldn't be a sin to make love with your boyfriend, right?

Ya know how this goes, don't you? You don't? But I do and let me tell you.

Nuzzling > nude dudes > just the tip > oops, I cum in you.

It wasn't a sin to make love with your boyfriend. But you didn't count on that you actually get pregnant.

Yet there you were, holding that goddamn stick in front of his hazel brown eyes.

"Alright, young man." - You went. - "You wanna tell me something about dat? Because I'm pregnant and I don't certainly didn't impregnated on my own." - You asked, looking at him with that you know what you have done. But he just slapped you in the face with his answer.

"Maybe it's God's will?" - Samuel asked and you didn't know if you were about to cry or laugh actually. There was a fucking baby on the way and you two weren't that couple who would get rid of it. Maybe it hadn't the most perfect timing, yet you two have done it, so it was your responsibility now.

"Are you joking me?"

"Babe, I have one question and I am scared of the answer." - He whispered and you waved your fingers as sing for him to go on. - "I've heard some... Rumors? Like... Will your vanana be the same when he or she gets out of your body? I kinda like your tight little girl."

So yeah. There were no fights, no yelling or tears. The only two things Samuel was concerned about was the health of the baby and how actually make your vanana tight again after that.

He's an idiot. Don't mind him. At least he was looking forward to being a father. He looked like the type who runs away directly after telling him - but he was fucking pumped for your child.

That didn't mean he would be a good father. Not at all. You could tell, you could fucking tell, that he'll be that prankster, pretty tough dad with some terrible fucking jokes and you were sure that when your child will be an adult, they'll have some freaking funny memories to share.

Let me say one thing - he read as many books about labor and pregnancy as he read on the topic of vanana. He has his priorities straight. And you couldn't tell otherwise.

But no one else could believe.

"I'm with a baby." - You told Elena and Nathan who has their daughter just a few months ago. She was gorgeous after her mother and you were all scared that she'll catch Nathan's attributes.

Nathan started to laugh hysterically, but you guys were looking at him with a frown. Elena slapped his back and her stare was like can you calm the fuck down, man?

"I meant that they were joking."

Nobody could believe that Samuel Drake is about to be a father.

But when your belly got bigger and bigger, they figured out you might not be joking at all.

Samuel loved when he could speak with your belly, whispering to it when the evening came and you two lazily lied on the sofa, watching some dumb movies with Bruce Willis.

"Hi there, little one." - He carefully descended between your legs, nuzzling your belly with his lips and nose. You unconsciously messed his hair with your hand.

"Had a crazy day, I tell ya, buddy. My head is blowing up with one thought at the moment." - Samuel sighed dramatically.

"What thought, daddy?" - You messed with him with a quiet laugh. You were all in about calling him daddy in the family way and in a naughty way as well.

"I was thinking about marrying mommy, little fellow."

It wasn't history's greatest proposal, but it was something, right? It was romantic in its own way and it made you really happy.

And when the baby moved under his palms for the first time ever, it made him legit cry like a little boy.

At the moment he officially started the age of Sam, the sensitive and loving father™ (even tho it was insanely lovely, it didn't stop you from making fun of him).

He acted around you as if he was walking around some porcelain which he could break easily. He made sure you don't drink, you don't even get close to some weed, he was cooking you the healthiest recipes and even bought you some pregnancy clothes.

You wanted to know the gender, of course, but Samuel was strictly against it. So you knew it would be a boy from the start, right?

But his curiosity almost killed him. He asked you many times during different events.

Once you made dishes? He asked. You were cooking? He crept being you and almost killed you because of freaking out. You were washing clothes? Dear, that man just magically stood next to the washing machine.

But in the end, you finally told him.

And he cried again - he was about to have a baby boyo. His own son. Someone to pass the legacy on.

That made him the happiest man under the sun.

When that day came and Thomas finally saw the light of the world, Samuel was under serious pressure, shaking and crying a big time, white as a fucking wall - and you were screaming that you'll kill him if he ever tried to have another child with you.

And yes, your firstborn son was named after a pirate - Thomas Tew.

It was a long and let's be honest, painful a fucking lot in the end, labor but there was a small little bean in your arms, both of you were crying like little fucking girls and you almost immediately fell asleep after breastfeeding the baby and having all of those pregnancy things out of your body.

"You can breastfeed me as well." - Samuel whispered wickedly, thinking about sexual stuff again, and you were so disgusted by it after baby just fucking crawled from your vanana that you smacked his cheek hard. He was mesmerized, shocked and partially amused.

"If you ever put your lips close to my boobs or your penis somewhere near my vagina, you better be sure that I'll cut your weenie off, you motherfucker." - You sighed painfully with your eyes closed. He chuckled.

"From today on I'll be a motherfucker, I solemnly swear." - Samuel said in a loving tone.

He called Nathan as soon as he left you when you fell asleep. Both of them cried and they decided to have a shot for the welfare of his son - which meant that Nathan vomited in the park at three am and Samuel tried to kick hydrant because that hydrant insulted him.

They were fucking high, having the biggest hungover of their lives, waking up on the beach and neither of them knew how the fuck they got there.

You came home after a few days with a baby in a safety cradle and you couldn't believe your eyes. Those little things which made baby safe about sharp edges and some fuses.

The funniest was when Samuel forgot how to open the one on your toilet. And he needed to pee desperately.

He always thought that babies are more fun than just crying, eating and pooping - why would everyone want them then?

He kinda didn't understand Nathans feelings about Cassie. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love his little baby boy, alright? He was just that kind of a man who thought that babies crawl out of the woman and they immediately do everything. He needed to learn that it takes some time before they walk and talk.

So when he was holding Thomas in his armchair, he whispered him his pirate stories and fact and that little one didn't understand a single word, but it calmed him down.

So be sure that Samuel was PUMPED when the boyo started to crawl around and saying those sweet nonsenses. Samuel also almost threw a huge celebration when Thomas said mama for the first time or when he did his first step.

“He's a genius! Have you heard the pronunciation? Our little boy is exactly like his dad - fast, charming and extremely good with ladies. Have you seen him with Cassie?”

“Samuel, I think that you're freaking out and overthinking it a lot.”

He was basically pumped every everything Thomas did.

And when his boy started to draw? Jesus, Samuel was ready to call him Picasso. In his eyes, he was extremely talented (and you didn't ruin it by saying him that Thomas is completely normal, little boy).

You were pretty lit parents, to be honest.

When you had a long day at work and Samuel was too sick from Thomas making him angry (like when he fucked up your beautiful white wall with Nutella and fucking ketchup), you just waited until your son fell asleep.

“Are you ready for it?”

“You bet your ass, Samuel. I just need to turn off my brain.”

And you two smoked some tree (weed, who doesn't know). You were high as a kite. You didn't smoke weed much, just sometimes and it wasn't even a lot of it. Just to make you feel ok, restart your brain.

But one day you came to the bedroom and Samuel was pale and looking into your closet.

“What is up, baby? You look scared.” - You said and stood next to him, looking into that closet next to him. - “Babe?”

“You were... You know, eating our happy brownies what you've baked for today's evening?” - Samuel asked and you shook your head and his eyes and expression went to “What?” to “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Thomas ate your weed baked in brownies. There was not a lot of it, thank god, so he was mostly okay. He was totally fine the next day - but the evening, man, that was a wild one. You both didn't leave his side all night, watching him and you didn't even fall asleep. Nothing happened, thanks to god.

Even tho, years later you burst out of laugh when Samuel was talking about his baby boy getting high on accident.

Yet, from that day on, you started to hide your edibles and weed more carefully.

From that day on, Samuel sometimes didn't leave his side all day - he woke him up, prepared breakfast, took him to kindergarten, took him out, went out with him and so on - sometimes he even fell asleep during telling him a proper pirate story.

Especially when you somehow got pregnant, again. What should I say? This man just has good genes and really good sperms.

Nobody knew how it happened again.

But Thomas was just about to have a sibling when he was four years old.

So Samuel took the role of father for 24/7 when you got really pregnant. It was nice and Samuel was a lot calmer this time.

He was a self-proclaimed pregnancy expert since Thomas was born and he was pretty sure your vanana can be tight once again after labor because you were successful the first time.

Especially he loved to take Thomas out to the park.

He was sure that his son will be like him. When he was five years old, he was pretty good with the girls his age and because he took after your beautiful face and he took after Samuels' eyes, he was good even with women. Thomas was an adorable boy.

But that's what made Samuel worried - if he would be like Samuel as a teenager, you will through some tough shit.

But hey - for that moment, he was only five and he had a little sister named Anne after a pirate woman Anne Bonny. Sam did his puppy eyes for that one and he promised you endless nights of eating out if you name her Anne.

And Thomas was like “Why the fuck should dad eat mommy?”. He was pretty scared at that moment.

When Anne was actually born, you had already learned from the mistakes you have done with Thomas.

Your life went on - you got a house, Sam was still in the business with Sully and yet Sam wasn't exactly the youngest, he had a hella energy for his children and job. And he got a hella money from that. Sully knew really well what he was doing. Tom started to go to elementary school and it wasn't a much of time before Annie went to kindergarten.

You stopped smoking tree at home; Elena and Nate were looking after Tom and Annie and you just got off to the woods or you want on to some mountain cottage. But you have still done that only when life was too hard on you and you needed to relax really badly.

Sometimes you took Cassie to your house, planning the evenings of their life to them.

Samuel and Nathan even started a competition who will do it better - but let's say that Samuel wasn't as much pussy as Nathan. That prison made him crazy a bit.

But oh man, then it started.

Thomas was twelve years old and he was a high-school boy. So watch out. Obviously, you are old as fuck and you don't know shit about his cruel, tough life.

He stopped telling you everything, but you know it was only a natural thing that you had to accept. Annie was seven at the time and she was Samuels little sunshine and princess and you were her best friends.

But Tom had a strong relationship with Sully and Nathan and Sam. And the older he was, the stronger it was.

He wasn't that little boy anymore. He slowly started to be a man. And you couldn't be prouder.

He had his moods, yeah, but he helped you at the home, he cared about his grades, he even hadn't that much of a mess in his room and he was really well brought up. And he loved you more than anything else in the world - you were his mommy.

But just as Sam, Nate, Sully, and Tom had their club, you, Elena, Cassie and little Annie got you a one.

But oh my fucking Lord, you loved the stories what Sam was telling you when you got to bed. He didn't tell you Tom's problems in from of him, but you two were still his parents and you know how the drill goes: what does your dad know, your mom knows too.

"Dad?" - Tom came to Samuel one evening and he was looking like a piece of shit. Samuel frowned immediately and put his newspaper on the table. He was still worried about Tom even tho he was really smart, pretty non-problem thirteen-year-old boy. He knew how to take care of himself.

"What's up, kid?" - Samuel smiled and massaged his son's shoulder with his palm, trying to calm him down.

"I, uh, oh damn I don't know how the hell I should start." - Tom said quietly and if you were there, you would look at your son and mouth language, but there was only the two of them, so it was cool. - "Okay, okay, okay, I have a problem. It's a huge problem. I think that there's something wrong about me." - Tom whispered.

"Why would you think that? Look at you, you're a handsome young lad, just as I was back in my days." - Sam chuckled and gulped a sip of beer.

"I just gonna tell it, okay?" - Thomas took his face into his palms and started to mumble. - "So my classmate Lindsay had a really nice, tight shirt on today and I saw her boobs in a coincidence and something happened in my pants, you know, with my weenie. And then it happened again when I was a math class and I don't know what to do, because it never happened before and I'm so scared." - He finished and Sam just smiled and patted his shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with that. Your body just tells you that you're ready to have a woman. But try something when you're underage and I'll kill you, understood?" - Samuel told him with a proud smile. - "And I don't know if this happens, but if you get hard for a man, I don't tell you it has to happen, it's just as good. I don't care whom you bang when you'll be an adult, understood? But you are still young for doing that, so try anything and I'll tell your mother."

He was so proud at that moment. His boy became an official man in his eyes. He wasn't little anymore. But still fairly young.

And you also worked as the biggest threat to Tom, so he was almost shitted because of fear at the moment. You were worse than a hurricane when he did something really bad, like throwing up on your mom's dog or when he broke a toilet at his school.

And you giggled when Sam told you that your son is a man.

He talked with Sam about everything as he grew up - he had told him about his first making out with a girl, about his first boob-touching session which he was really excited about (Tom hummed songs all evening, which wasn't a thing he would normally do) and he even asked for advice when he was about to touch his girlfriend's, her name was Carmen and she was a lovely girl, vanana for the first time ever. They had a big group meeting with uncle Nathan and pa Sully about that - it was huge for Tom and they just quietly remembered how it was for them.

But let me say - Samuel and Nathan aged like a fucking good wine. They maybe weren't the youngest around, but hell, they still did something to the women around and they had plenty of experience.

And it was three times more for Sully. Even he got married to a woman named Florence (@missdictatorme I had to) and when he was twenty years younger, he knew how to do her good.

"Alright, old man." - Eighteen-year-old Tom sat next to his father and grinned at him in the Drake-typical way with his corner-turning upwards and his eyebrows risen a little. - "Might I ask you for some tips and tricks? I think I really love her and I need to be gentle with her so she would enjoy as well."

"I might be an old man," - Sam grinned and looked at his younger brother. - "But I think your mom doesn't think so at times. Am I right, boys?" - He looked at Sully and Nathan, and every one of them laughed a bit. Sully was a really old man; each one of them was considered old, and he was now sitting on a wheelchair. He could walk, but those years of treasure hunting hadn't done any good to his poor knees.

"Ew, Jesus. That's gross. I don't wanna think about that at all."

But they got him some useful tips. Like: don't try to find her vanana on her stomach or when you stick a finger inside, make sure it's wet and don't your hand just, you know, stuck out there. Move it.

They had a great bond. Otherwise, he and Samuel would never talk about it this openly.

You two as parents got a lot of fun with your son, especially when he was nineteen and he was ready to try some new stuff. You knew he will get drunk - but when he vomited all over your terrace and when you heard him speak and say I love you for a million times while you recorded him, you had the fucking time of your whole life. Don't worry, you made it clean up after himself.

Samuel recorded all of his son's bullshit - how he spoke when he had eaten those weed-brownies when you were camping in the wood while he was eight and somehow he got his shit on his earlobe when he totally burned your Christmas sweets... Baby, there is a lot of your son's mistakes you had a proof for.

But the biggest fun actually came when he wanted to try weed. You and Sam acted a bit mad, but you knew it had to come at one point.

So, in the end, you told him "Okay, you're eighteen, so you're in law, but we'll do it together so when something happens, we are with you". And of course, he went like "Wtf no".

But you have all of that shit recorded, and when you have your bad day, you just play the speech of your stoned son. It's embarrassing and he wanted you to delete it immediately - so you knew you'll play it at his wedding.

But when it came to Annie, his baby princess and a flawless small girl being in the same age his son were when he started his sexual life, oh dear lord.

A boy looked into her direction? Sam was there, looking at him like "touch her and I would fucking break your hands, hands and penis, punk".

But you knew it is going to happen someday, so you went all in about hormonal pills, condoms, other sources of protection, you told her a hundred times that she shouldn't do it because every girl has done it but because she loves somebody... And she was like "mom, you've told me a million times and I'm not an idiot."

But you know - Tom, now a twenty-two-year-old adult, and his fiancée moved into a flat together, so you took care of Annie even more intensely.

Annie accepted your opinions if they were useful and not too idiot-sounding like. But you know girls her age - she was sure that Samuel is a huge dick who just wants to make her life harder.

And he almost fainted when she came home with a boyfriend. His name was David.

In your opinion, he was a nice boy, he was really nice to you and your daughter and polite to Samuel as well. They got through everything together - first kiss, boob-touching, making out, even first sex.

Annie even married him five years after that evening. And they moved out as well.

At the end of the day, besides for your son getting high as a kite when he was just five years old, your daughter accidentally drinking aid alcohol, losing your children in the mall a few times, a heck of bruises and a load of embarrassing, childhood stories... You were good parents.

And your son and your daughter knew that they were very lucky to have you because you taught them how to love and enjoy life and every time they need you for anything...

You were there for them.

#samuel drake #samuel drake headcanons #uncharted #daddy sammy #he would be great #i love this #had a ton of fun #hope you’ll enjoy it as well #have a nice day

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softlysheith · 6 years ago

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traveling with my heart

Summary: Kosmo thinks fetch is about bringing Keith what he loves. He ends up bringing him to Shiro.

(for @belovedsheith!! a bday gift a month n a half late lol)

(fluff and humor, emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, happy ending, basically wingman cosmo, word count: 3005. ao3 link)

He doesn’t realize his prosthetic was taken from him until he hears the wolf teleporting away.

He wasn’t even interacting with the wolf in any way – he decided to accompany Keith outside the hospital after a month of being bedridden, and the wolf wanted to tag along. For a solid ten minutes they were playing fetch with his knife while Shiro went through documents on his tablet before the wolf took his prosthetic by the fingers and teleported away with it.

He watched the duo at the corner of his eye. They’re on the other side of the field, wolf nudging the prosthetic into Keith’s hands, tail wagging. Keith is sputtering, unsure what to do with the metal hand suddenly in his hands. “Hey - This is not what I asked you to fetch! We’re bringing this back to Shiro and apologizing!”

“I don’t mind!” He ends up shouting, and Keith snaps his head up so quickly that Shiro’s a bit worried for his neck. He waves at the duo with his left hand and wills his prosthetic to scratch space wolf’s ears. His tail is wagging violently, thumping against the ground. Keith is beet red.

Seems the wolf does listen to Keith when he asks him to teleport them, at least, because in the next second Keith is in front of him, stuttering out an apology.

“I’m so sorry Shiro, I don’t know what came over him - ”

“Keith. It’s fine.” Now that the wolf is within reach, he can pet him with both hands. He paws at his chest, and he happily indulges the wolf with some pats. “Maybe he’s trying to tell me something. Take a break for once.”

“Oh, so if I tell you to take a break you say no, but a space wolf takes your prosthetic and suddenly it’s a great idea.”

“Exactly,” Shiro teases.

He’s rewarded with a cute little pout. He wishes he could take Keith’s face between his hands and kiss it away. He digs his fingers into the wolf’s fur instead.

“Well,” Keith sighs. “If it’ll get you away from those papers, fine. But,” he glares at space wolf as he gets off of Shiro and faces him, head tilted and tongue lolling from the side, “No more prosthetic stealing without permission.”

The wolf barks, takes Shiro’s tablet, and disappears.

“Well,” Shiro says, after a long minute, “it wasn’t my prosthetic.”

Keith closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath, and slowly lets it out. He opens his eyes to glance at Shiro. “Sorry.” “You don’t have to apologize. It’s funny.”

“Funny,” Keith repeats, as if the word was Altean and he’s trying to pronounce it for the first time. With a shake of his head, he extends his hand out. “Well. Guess we have to go wolf hunting. Shall we go, Captain?”

Shiro’s traitorous heart skips a beat once he takes Keith’s hand. Even through the glove, it’s warm. “Lead the way, sir.”

—-

That should have been the end of it. Really, neither of them knew what they were in for.

Maybe Shiro should have been a bit more stern the first time the wolf took his arm. If he had just given one less pat, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

When he wakes and he feels the slobber on his arm, yet no arm is to be seen anywhere, he already knows.

Before he can call Keith about the situation, his door is already opening. Keith stands at the entrance, a very proud looking space wolf by his side. In between his teeth is, predictably, Shiro’s arm.

“I need a hand over here,” Shiro says before he can stop himself. Keith turns to the opposite direction, already a foot out the entrance. “No, wait, come back!”

In the blink of an eye, the wolf teleports both of them into Shiro’s room and by his bedside.

Well, the wolf is by his bedside.

Keith ends up beside him, in bed.

And – that shouldn’t make his heart start beating twice as fast as it was. But the thought of Keith sharing a bed with him, waking up beside him, wearing his pajamas like he was meant to be there –

He doesn’t get to enjoy the fantasy, because Keith realizes the predicament faster than Shiro does and is out of his bed in the next second.

Shiro tries to mend his heart as discreetly as possible. It was nice while it lasted.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith begins, because of course he does, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Maybe he just likes me more than he used to now,” Shiro reasons. The wolf props his front legs up on the bed, asking for pats. He’s too weak not to give them to him. “Well, yeah, who wouldn’t like you?” Keith mutters, as if it wasn’t meant for Shiro to hear. It seems it really wasn’t, from the way Keith’s face suddenly heats up. “I mean – never mind. Hey,” he rests his hand on the wolf’s head, “just let go of the arm.”

And instead of him simply letting the arm fall from his mouth and onto the bed, the wolf gets off the bed entirely and shoves the arm into Keith’s hands instead. Then he’s gone.

“How is it? Not broken from being his chew toy, I hope?” Shiro jokes.

“It’s covered in dog spit.”

Shiro snorts. “Just how I like it.” He wills the arm out of Keith’s hold and back to his side, using the blanket to wipe off the slobber. “Since you’re already here, wanna go get breakfast together? They’re opening some kind of alien farmer’s market for the Coalition.”

“I – sure, okay. But I’m paying,” Keith insists as Shiro stands up and stretches.

(He notices Keith’s eyes drifting down when his stretching causes his tank top to ride up. He desperately tries not to get his hopes up.)

“You don’t have to.”

“Least I can do for all the crimes my wolf committed against you.” He takes a couple steps back, smiling at Shiro softly. “I’ll give you some time to get ready.”

“Meet you in the garage in ten?”

“You got it, Captain.”

—-

The third time, he’s expecting it. He just doesn’t expect it to happen so late at night.

On nights when he can’t sleep (which is… more nights than he would prefer), he ends up working. It’s a bad habit he’s trying to break, considering the consequences he gets the next morning, but it’s something that keeps his thoughts distracted.

He’s in the middle of typing up some documents for the Coalition when he hears the familiar sound of the wolf’s teleportation. He’s already clutching at his prosthetic when he turns to greet the wolf, but as soon as he lands his eyes on him, he knows something is wrong.

The wolf whimpers, standing on his hind legs to paw at Shiro’s lap. His tail is tucked between his legs.

“Shh, hey buddy,” Shiro soothes, scratching at his ears. “What’s wrong?” Instead of taking just his prosthetic, the wolf hangs on to Shiro and zips away with him in tow.

He lands unsteadily on his feet. The room they’re in now is dark, but he immediately knows where is he is as soon as he hears the voice.

“Shiro…”

Shiro turns towards the voice, to Keith. He is still asleep, but he’s thrashing underneath the covers. Shiro rushes to him with the wolf in tow.

“Keith,” he whispers, sits by his bedside. “Keith, I’m here, I’m here-”

“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbles in his sleep, his eyes shut tightly as if in pain. Shiro’s heart tears at the seams. “Don’t leave me, please-”

“I’d never,” Shiro says, but Keith needs to hear it himself. As soon as Shiro’s hands rest on his shoulders, Keith’s eyes snap open. He bolts up, clutching at Shiro’s hands in an instant.

“Shiro,” Keith whimpers. Even in the dark, Shiro can see the tears threatening to spill over his eyes.

He doesn’t hesitate. He gathers Keith in his arms, and Keith falls into them, pressing his face into the crook of his shoulder. His hands clutch tightly at Shiro’s back. Shiro keeps him as close as possible, his flesh arm wound tightly around him and his prosthetic running through his hair in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

“I’m here,” he promises. “I’ll always be here. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you, Keith. You’ll always have me, I swear.”

Keith whimpers his name again, moving closer until he’s practically in Shiro’s lap. Shiro lets him in easily. He wouldn’t dream of putting any more space between them now. Keith sniffs. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Space wolf probably woke you up, I shouldn’t interrupt your rest-”

“I was awake when he came by. Even if I wasn’t, I would’ve gone anyway.”

Keith sighs shakily. “They’re just nightmares. I-I have them often enough. I can handle them myself.”

“I know you can. But you don’t have to. I don’t… want you to feel like you’re all alone, Keith.”

I love you, he wishes to say. I can’t bear to see you in pain. I hate seeing you in pain because of me. I’ll always be here for you. I love you. I love you.

Keith doesn’t reply. Shiro feels his eyelashes flutter against his skin, leaving tears in its wake. He barely registers the wolf hopping onto the bed and curling up beside Keith protectively, giving Shiro a lick on his knee as he settles down.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, wrapped in each others arms, basking in the knowledge that they’re here, together. But eventually, Keith lifts his head up from Shiro’s shoulder to look at him. The area around his eyes is tearstained, but he’s smiling weakly at him, and Shiro can’t help smiling back.

“Thanks, Shiro.”

“No need to thank me,” he says. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Keith actually laughs at that, sheepish, and Shiro gladly takes it as a victory. “Well. Yeah. I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I know.” He does, because Keith has done it before, way back during the first few weeks of Voltron and the memories of the arena were blurry, but devastating. A single strangled yell would have Keith bursting into his room and waking him up, calming him down from panic attacks and staying with him until his heartbeat returned to normal. “So let me return the favor.”

“Stay with me,” Keith blurts. “Please. I don’t know if I can be alone right now.”

He would stay by Keith’s side for the rest of his life, if he would only ask. “Of course.”

Shiro maneuvers them into lying side by side, face to face. The wolf pops in between them, takes Shiro’s flesh hand, drags it over to Keith’s, and teleports to the foot of the bed.

And – suddenly he’s all too aware of the situation he’s in. He’s lying beside Keith like they’ve done this thousands of times before, with barely any space between them.

And Keith… laces their fingers together. As if they’ve done that thousands of time before, too. Shiro squeezes his hand in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture; Keith runs his thumb over Shiro’s knuckles and squeezes back.

Shiro doesn’t know if he can recover from this night, much less fall asleep now, but Keith’s eyes are starting to droop. He might as well try to get a couple hours of sleep, now that he’s got good company.

“G’night, Shiro,” Keith manages to say before he’s out like a light. Their entwined hands are still in between them. Shiro doesn’t dare pull away,

He scoots closer until Keith can comfortably slot his head on Shiro’s chest. And- this is good, he thinks. Even if Keith said he only loves him like a brother, if this is what he’s willing to give Shiro, he’s gladly take it all.

He’s got to thank the wolf properly tomorrow. Go out and get him the biggest bag of treats he can find. Give him all the belly rubs he wants.

“Good night, Keith,” he whispers, letting his eyes droop closed.

It’s the best sleep both of them have had in years.

—-

It’s a rare off day for the both of them, where Shiro’s all done with meetings and Keith is giving his paladins some time to spend with their families.

Shiro, of course, wants to spend the day with Keith. He tells Keith so and watches giddily as the redness of Keith’s cheeks spreads all the way to his ears.

“What were you planning on doing today?”

“Was just gonna hang out with space wolf.” The corners of Keith’s lips tug down. “Maybe he’ll understand how fetch works this time.”

He laughs. “Well, maybe I can help.”

Keith snorts. “It’s a daunting task. I hope you’re ready for it, Captain.”

“I was born ready, sir.”

They end up in an open field near the Garrison, far enough for some privacy but close enough that they can return if they’re needed. Keith directs Shiro to stand around ten feet away from him, so that they can pass Keith’s blade back and forth and let the wolf run from one of them to the other (assuming he understands the game this time around, which, if Shiro’s being honest, is not likely).

“C’mon, boy. You see this?” Keith waves the knife above the wolf’s head, and he obediently follows the knife with his eyes. “Go on, fetch!”

He throws the knife, and it lands right at Shiro’s feet. He’s pretty sure the wolf will do what he always does – stare at Keith, head tilted, tail wagging slowly. At least it’s cute.

So he’s surprised when the wolf books it towards him.

He probably should be more surprised that he takes Shiro’s prosthetic instead of the knife, but, well.

The wolf doesn’t even stop to let Shiro pet him – he’s by Keith’s side in a flash, once again pushing the metal arm in Keith’s hands.

Keith doesn’t bother apologizing to Shiro at this point. He can see him sigh heavily before taking the arm and grudgingly giving the wolf a pat.

“Maybe he’ll listen to me instead,” Shiro teases, before picking up the knife and whistling to get the wolf’s attention. “I’ve been told I’m quite the dog treat connoisseur.”

Keith rolls his eyes at him, and he laughs as the wolf bounds towards him. He swings the knife back and forth, watching how the wolf follows its movements with his eyes, and tosses it to Keith’s feet.

For a long moment, the wolf doesn’t move.

Then, he snatches the prosthetic away from Shiro’s side and teleports back to Keith.

“Jeez, what is going on with him?” Keith demands. Still, he takes the arm and gives the wolf a chin scratch. “Is there some kind of a metal in the arm that he likes, or something? Maybe he can sense the quintessence in it? But then why would he give it to me…?”

“Maybe he thinks you like having a part of me with you,” Shiro jokes.

Keith’s face turns red. Beside him, the wolf barks happily, then nudges the arm even closer to Keith’s chest.

Oh.

“Is… is that what he thinks?” Shiro asks, voice weak.

Another bark, a flash, and a giant space wolf appears in front of him. In the blink of an eye he’s teleported Shiro right in front of Keith, only a couple inches away from his face.

“Oh,” Shiro says, dumbly.

“Oh.” Keith’s voice is quiet, eyes darting everywhere except Shiro’s face.

And – fuck it. He’s gone through too much to lose his chance now. He’s survived too much, too many times, and he’ll never know when he’ll get unlucky and leave this realm for good.

If he doesn’t go after his happiness now, he might never get the chance again. So he takes the leap.

“Keith.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You know you already do have a part of me with you, right?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow, and the corners of his lips twitch downward. “What? I do?”

“Mhm.” And, before he loses his nerve, “My heart.”

There’s a long moment, which probably only lasts a few seconds but feels like hours, where Keith just stares at him, dumbfounded.

Then before Shiro can start overthinking every decision he’s ever made, Keith snorts, takes Shiro’s face between his hands, and tugs him down to his lips.

He doesn’t hesitate. Curls his fingers around the back of Keith’s neck, just like he always wanted to, and pulls him even closer as he kisses back. He can taste the smile on Keith’s lips, the little sigh he lets out when Shiro presses his lips a little deeper. Maybe Keith can hear his heart pounding out of his chest, can feel the heat from his cheeks under his palms.

Keith pulls away too soon, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. Shiro gets cross-eyed trying to stare into his eyes. They’ve always been a little mesmerizing.

“Can’t believe my space wolf ended up matchmaking us,” Keith says, and Shiro laughs. The wolf is suddenly pawing at Keith’s legs, as if understanding that he’s being talked about.

“He’s a good boy,” Shiro tells him, very seriously, as Keith crouches down to let the wolf lick him. “We should get him some treats. And actual proper toys so he can learn how to play fetch.”

“You asking me out on a date?”

A date. God. Shiro feels giddy. “Think I’d rather take you out on a proper dinner than go pet supply shopping.”

“Two dates, then.” Keith smirks at him, all sharp and extremely dangerous for Shiro’s heart.

“Okay, two dates. But I’ll start with that dinner. Tonight? I’ll pick you up from your quarters at six?” Keith’s smile softens. It is just as bad, if not worse for Shiro’s poor heart. “Yeah, sounds perfect.”

He’s getting that wolf the best damn bag of treats in the world.

#sheith #vld #voltron #mine #for mei whomst i wuv

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globrights · 6 years ago

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iasip s12 rated by macdennis content

The Gang Turns Black: Mac and Dennis spend the entire episode together, getting arrested and put in an interrogation room with each other, and get to sing a DUET together. Charlie even ditches them at some point to go get their VCR from Dee’s place and they don’t care one bit because all they need is each other. Also features a cute bit where Mac leans back into Dennis and sings “I think we’re in The Wiz...” it’s all a dream but if you watch the episode you’ll be glad it was a dream. 7/10

The Gang Goes to a Water Park: They don’t have a plot together in this, but in the cold open Dennis brags about how he can enjoy his time at the water park for free, and is very impressed (”Nice!!!!!!”) when Mac reveals he laminated his admission bracelet and hasn’t even paid to get IN the water park since he was 14... also Dennis bonds with a little girl the whole episode by passing on his swindling ways which proves that he could definitely raise kids with Mac one day, albeit ones just as horrible as the both of them combined. 5.5/10

Old Lady House A Situation Comedy: While Mac and Dennis do interact in this episode, it’s never a one-on-one situation. Dennis does spend the whole episode trying to help Mac (and Charlie) with their moms supposedly being at loggerheads though (and makes a fake tv show out of it, in which he edits in some laughs for Mac when he says some classic, funny catchphrases), and is “outsmarted” by Mac when Dennis claims that he wants to cut Mrs Mac out of the show, and that there’s nothing Mac can do about it because Dennis is, as he so claims, a genius. Dennis then proceeds to eat his words when Mac places his mom in every shot, maneuvering her around so that her face can be seen in all the cameras. Oh, and also, Mac touches Dennis on the shoulder at one point, which is pretty sweet. 4/10

Wolf Cola A Public Relations Nightmare: This episode had its moments, but not macdennis moments. Boo. At no point were they sitting next to each other, which is a huge bummer. That being said, Mac does say the words “Now I’ve always been very passionate about dominating other men. There’s nothing like the feeling of another man submitting to your will. Now that’s power. In a lot of ways, that’s love.” Make of that what you will. 1/10

Making Dennis Reynolds a Murderer: There was a surprising amount of macdennis stuff going on in this episode, considering how it was a crime documentary accusing Dennis of murder. The first picture shown of Dennis in the episode is a picture of him and Mac, which Mac probably submitted because he looks happy in the picture whereas Dennis is a mixture of unprepared and irked—based on the picture it’s also fair to assume Mac put his arm around Dennis when he took the photo. Cute shit. Dennis also recounts how an average Friday night for him is spent watching a movie with Mac. In a later interview, Mac is introduced as Dennis’s best friend, and we proceed to find out that when they watch movies (or just Operation Dumbo Drop, at the very least) Mac likes to turn the volume down so that he and Dennis can make wiseacre remarks. They get into a squabble on camera about whether Mac stole this concept from Mystery Science Theatre 3000 or not, and about how funny Mac’s jokes are. Dennis gets annoyed and leaves, prompting Mac to whine “Wait, w-hold on, Dennis, D-don’t leave without me... Are you mad at me?” Cue sad music. Actual, sad instrumental music that the documentary plays. But sad music aside, it’s funny how Dennis complains about Mac and his supposedly unfunny played out unoriginal jokes yet still spends most average Friday nights at home watching movies with Mac. I see you Dennis, I fucking see you. 7.5/10

Hero or Hate Crime?: Mac comes out for real in this episode! Which is amazing in and of itself making this episode groundbreaking and perfect, but how does that play in terms of macdennis? Well, first off, through gay Mac macdennis is more possible, so jot that down. Second of all, Dennis looks INCREDIBLY offended when Mac tries to claim that he’s not gay, and then is the first one to start gently coaxing Mac to come out of the closet, by telling him they support him and that it’ll make him feel better. He’s also the first one to bring up Mac’s dildo bike, the renowned Ass Pounder 4000, and he also voluntarily brings it from the basement of Paddy’s all the way to where the arbitration is being held. Aside from all the touching of the dildo bike Dennis commits in transporting it, he also touches the bike a ton when Mac is explaining the “workout bike” to everyone. This includes leaning his hand, wrist, even his entire forearm on the bike handles, and wrapping his fingers around it, odd behavior for him to display seeing how Mac presumably fucks himself with the bike, and is reinforced as even weirder in a future episode where Frank and Charlie refuse to even so much as go near the bike. Dennis then proceeds to suggest that Mac penetrating his ass with a dildo bike is just a sexually devious thing to do, and has nothing to do with being gay (Dennis, what are you trying to tell us buddy? Just come on out and say it, we’re all in support). Yeah. Okay, and then when Mac comes out and leaves, and the gang decides to make Mac pay the arbitration fee, Dennis speaks up for Mac and convinces the gang to delay telling Mac where $9,986 of his lottery winnings are going, just so that he can have one triumphant, happy day of being out and gay. 6/10

PTSDee: “Is he blowing someone?” Right off the bat we have Dennis staring at Mac playing a game in Virtual Reality. Why do you care if Mac’s fake blowing someone, huh, Dennis? Anyway, Dennis decides to become a stripper in this episode, which clearly has an effect on Mac, who’s suffering from fake war flashbacks from the game he was playing with Frank. After a traumatic dream about his father, he dreams of himself waking up and immediately looking for Dennis so he can tell him (and possibly seek consolation from Dennis) about his awful dream, only to see a half-naked Dennis dancing. Upon seeing Mac, Dennis walks up to him and kisses him, prompting Mac to wake up for real, and walk out to see the same half-nude, red-capped Dennis from his dream, actually dancing half naked. Dennis spots Mac and starts amping it up—he pulls off a few different moves—including one where he dances all the way up to Mac, slamming his hands on either side of the doorway Mac stands in, causing his eyebrows to rise in extreme interest, right before Dennis shuts the door because he’s a huge tease. This is definitely the most aroused/interested in something sexual that’s about to happen that Mac has ever been in the series, possibly his entire life. We thank Rob McElhenney for his service, and every single facial expression he produced in those scenes. This is the first explicit interest Mac has taken in Dennis ever since he came out, and it further confirms that Mac really wants to make out with Dennis (amongst other things). Later, Mac wakes up from a 35-second long dream five minutes after arriving at Frank and Charlie’s place, where Dennis is, so it’s easy to presume that he was looking for Dennis. And when Dennis talks about how he, Charlie, and Mike would be an elite stripping force capable of winning the “war against women” he so declared, he tries to invite Mac—who is asleep, sadly—to join them in stripping too. But who cares about all that, because really, all we think about for this episode is the kissing dream and the Dennis dancing for Mac scene, right? 9/10

The Gang Tends Bar: What a wonderful fucking episode. All ‘round beautiful, Megan Ganz truly is a treasure. Mac spends most of the episode trying to get Dennis to open this crate he has supposedly ‘found’. However, because Dennis spends most of the episode trying to get the gang to do their jobs for once on Valentine’s Day, a day he claims he does not want to celebrate or include as a theme in the bar the whole day, he refuses to play along with it, stubbornly bartending for most of the day, no matter what Mac says. This causes Mac, and the rest of the gang, to speculate over why Dennis is being like this. After Dennis orders Mac and Charlie to clean up the yuck puddle in the bathroom, Mac confides in Charlie, saying that he feels like Dennis has been acting distant towards him, he believes that Dennis is uncomfortable with him being gay and is trying to punish him for it, which Charlie disagrees with, because, duh, and says that it must be something else. Mac then theorizes that Dennis actually wants them to talk through their feelings because it’s Valentine’s Day, and that he’s entrusted Mac to do that because he’s a gay man, proceeding to reveal that he has a huge surprise for Dennis, which he feels Dennis is not emotionally available enough to receive at the moment. Later on, Mac brings the crate into the bar, and Dennis opens it to find that Mac’s gifted him an RPG for Valentine’s Day. This entire scene is a clear romantic gesture on Mac’s part, who gives Dennis the one thing he’s always wanted, despite also thinking (like the rest of the gang) that Dennis has no feelings and hates Valentine’s Day (he has also never given Dennis a Valentine’s Day gift prior to this moment). But as Dennis reveals in his most vulnerable moment on television, he does have feelings. Big feelings, at that. 10/10

A Cricket’s Tale: No. Nope. Nothing. Fuck this entire episode, actually, because not only does it completely drag down the quality of the whole season, it has no macdennis! Nothing! Can’t pull anything out of my ass, since this is technically set over the events of PTSDee and The Gang Tends Bar. The gang is barely in this too, and as I’ve implied, it just plain sucks. It’s the worst episode, and I might even go as far as to say that it’s the worst episode of the series. So Cricket, I love you, but fuck this episode for existing, and for creating a big drop in the macdennis momentum this season had going on. -4657348924385738492/10

Dennis’ Double Life: Apparently, Dennis and Mac had some bet to decide who got to redesign their old apartment, which Mac won. Very cute stuff, makes you trust, makes you think that this episode has got your back and isn’t going to stab you in the face, makes you think it makes up for the previous episode which will go unnamed. Cue Dennis having a son with Mandy, a girl he picked up under a fake identity back in North Dakota, and now he wants to get rid of her in case she tries to come after the bar for money. Mac and Dennis pretend to be a couple—or well, according to Dennis—two people who don’t have sex but are emotionally involved. Watching Mac be completely into pretending to be a couple with Dennis, claiming that they make love, bringing back lines from when they pretended to be a couple in season 5 (oh, those days), is equally heart breaking as it is heart wrenching. So it’s good, but also horrible, but also bad. After Mac enthusiastically volunteers to raise Mandy’s son as his other dad with Dennis, he wraps his arm around Dennis’ arm which is so sad because it all comes crashing down later. Mac tries to offer to sleep with Frank for $5,000 which Dennis stops because “you’re emotionally involved with me”, a strange thing to bring up because if Dennis can sleep with women whilst being in an emotional relationship with Mac, what’s stopping Mac from banging Frank for five grand? Jealousy (and some discomfort), that’s what. Also Mac claims that Dennis is his gimp. But at the end of the day, none of that matters, because Dennis up and leaves! He leaves Paddy’s, he leaves Mac, breaking his heart, my heart, and the entire state of Pennsylvania, probably. fuck u/10

#text #macdennis #iasip #its always sunny in philadelphia #THIS TOOK ME HOURS #ik it got real long for many of these episodes but uh #i hope yall like this? lmao #rated

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mojoflower · 7 years ago

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Genderswap (&/or Rule 63) in my Various Fandoms: fic recs

Teen Wolf

turn the tires toward the street by leahalexis E, 7k.

He’s got it really bad for Dara Hale. He knows this, okay?He wishes he could protect her, which is stupid, because she’s got an inch of height and twenty-five pounds of sheer muscle on him, not to mention the supernatural strength and speed and healing.“What do you want, Stiles?” she says, voice breaking. She finally opens her eyes, and they’re bright and wet, eyelashes spiky with tears.--Dara Hale, Stiles Stilinski, a dark alley, and a question of trust.

Huh, interesting. Usually I have trouble with Derek as a girl (and in this case, it was doubly weird, because my little sister's name is Dara, and while she's nearly 6-feet tall, she's also very skinny and pale and red-headed and so very not-sexy, eww) but I really enjoyed the dynamic of Stiles being - while still male - shorter, slighter, completely virginial, and looking to Derek (Dara) for experience and guidance. Author described it really well. (Also, when she was rimming Stiles, whew, holy wow.)

Switching Goals by betp E, 4k.

“You’re kind of cute,” Lydia says, changing the subject, “in a sort of… lost baby squirrel in a pixie cut sort of way.” // “Great,” he says, fumbling ineptly with the clasp on the bra. “Th… thanks, Lydia, that’s… quite the endorsement. I’m vermin.” // Lydia and Erica peaceably watch him fuck around with the hooks for a full five minutes, this look on their faces like justice is finally being delivered. Stiles refuses to lose his temper with the thing in front of them, so he just doggedly keeps at it. Eventually, Lydia says, “We might have to invest in a frontal clasp for you.”

Lol.

Stiles can’t argue with him, because Derek is touching him and it’s distracting. “Have you touched yourself?”

“A little,” admits Stiles. He swallows, watches Derek’s wrist intently. “I mean, it was mostly exploratory—for science. It wasn’t really, uh. Sensual. I tried, but I haven’t, um.” He stops. Derek’s fingers glide right in, and Stiles’ mouth drops open. “God, that’s wet,” he exclaims, pinched. “Oh, jesus. Can you—put your dick in there, just—”

“Let’s not rush it,” says Derek absently. Pulls his fingers out and they’re soaked.

“B-but I wa, I want… Don’t put those in your mouth, oh my god.” He stares, outraged, as Derek deliberately disobeys him, eyes shut. Stiles darts a hand down where Derek’s fingers were, just to feel. He’s never produced his own lube before; he’s definitely gonna miss that. “What, um. What does it taste like.”

Derek smirks. “Like you,” he says, and then before Stiles can react, Derek’s mouth is on him.

don't carry it all by grimm E, 7k.

There had been, Stiles tells his father carefully, a mix-up at Deaton's. 'A mix-up,' his father says flatly, and Stiles says, 'yeah.'

Maybe 'mix-up' was the wrong word to use. 'A flub of extraordinary proportions,' maybe, or, 'a fuck-up the likes of which you've never seen,' or maybe even, 'a crazy stupid amount of magic that ricocheted off Deaton's ward, mutated, and turned me into a girl.' Scott hadn't stopped laughing until Stiles kneed him in the balls, which had been oddly satisfying. Allison had given him a high-five.

Very nice, and surprisingly angsty: Stiles was really breaking my heart for the first half, so worried about Derek being mad at him and upset because his dad can't look at him since he looks just like his mama. Emotional hurt/comfort and gorgeous sex.

They Say It Should Be Someone You Really Love by winter_rogue E, 2.3k.

"Derek, tell me you’re the frog who’s going to get us out of the frying pan"

Well, well. Genderswap AND sex pollen. This is more a little slice of time than a complete story, but it's hot!

Girl Trouble by sffan E, 9k.

“Dude. You have boobs,” Scott replies, staring at Stiles’ chest. // “What?” Stiles puts hands on his chest, pauses a moment, and then cups his breasts. He pulls the neck of shirt out, and looks inside. “What the fuck, I have boobs! And what the hell has happened to my voice?” // “It’s an octave lower?” Derek deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

Exactly what you want from a Stiles-is-suddenly-a-girl fic. Delicious.

wax all the floors and open the trap doors by leahalexis T, 25k.

“We had a good thing going here, Derek!" Stiles said, her voice high and a little hysterical. "Like a buddy cop movie! With the sniping, and the—no kissing! There is no kissing in buddy cop movies!” // Jackson’s no longer a kamina, but Erica and Boyd are still missing. There’s a whole month left of school. Scott and Allison aren’t talking. And Stiles is pretty positive that Derek is gay. // Or she was, anyway. Pre-kissing.

This Stiles is hilarious: oblivious and chirpy and socially inept and dangerously curious and independant. Her friendship with Scott and Lydia are perfect, and not-gay Derek is kind of hilarious in his understated way. No sex yet, but I'm looking forward to the sequel....

Nothing Like Real Life by nightanddaze E, 14k.

Derek fucks the fairies up, but they fuck him up too. Stiles tries pretty unsuccessfully to keep his eyes and hands to himself.  

Interesting. Kind of sharp and hard-edged. Derek becomes a girl, but he's still a dick, and he lets Stiles fuck him, but it's pretty cold. And yet. Stiles keeps hand-washing his bras, though.

Air on a G String by rufflefeather E, 21k.

A Maenad is after Lydia, and when she doesn't get what she wants, she takes it out on Stiles. // Or the one where Stiles suddenly has lady bits and he's not quite sure what to do with them.

Het!sex is hot. Who knew?

Sink Us to Swim by mklutz T, 37k.

“Stiles,” Laura says, gently, “When all of this is over, when the rogue is taken care of, I think – I hope that your dad will join our pack. He’s always treated Derek and me almost like family, and I’d like to return the favor if I can. It’s fine,” she asserts, then corrects, “I’m going to make sure it’s fine.”

Heh, girl Stiles is a cutie.

Merlin

More Lovely and More Temperate by Saucery E, 10k.

Really, it was ridiculous to think that he couldn't handle a bit of drink, just because he was a woman. Arthur was getting sick and tired of attentive and semi-petrified knights trying to pry him away from his ale. He was Crown Prince, damn it - or Princess, for now - and he could celebrate his twenty-first birthday as he sodding well pleased.

"You're embarrassing yourself," hissed Merlin, after the good Sir Gawain caught himself staring down Arthur's bodice, went red in the face, and staggered away from the table like a man in fear for his sanity. // "I'm enjoying myself." Poor Gawain. He was such easy prey. // "You're flaunting your breasts." // "Isn't that what they're for? Morgana flaunts hers an awful lot." // Merlin's face contorted in an interesting way, and he glanced around the hall as if to check for Morgana's presence. "I can't believe you just said that," he whispered fiercely, "and also, I can't believe you're competing with Morgana over... over this!" // We've always competed, ever since we were children. Drove Father quite mad." // "I can imagine," Merlin muttered. // "And mine are bigger, anyway. They are, aren't they?"

Fuck. Me. That was so hot. Favorite.

Melinna by doomcanary M, 26k

Merlin learns the hard way that magic has a mind of its own. And sometimes, a body too...

Fun romp: Merlin gets stuck as a girl for a while, hijinks ensue (including a steamy one-off with Morgana). In the third one, Gwen is accidentally turned into a boy (which Lancelot finds very hot). In the fourth one, everyone is inexplicably in a sultan's palace (and harem) and Merlin keeps involuntarily switching between Merlin and Melinna. Melinna's funny, just like Merlin, really, irreverent and utterly unconcerned with how a woman is SUPPOSED to act.

Who Ever Desired by novemberlite E, 3k.

It was always meant to happen, but never this way. // or // Basic girl!Merlin/Arthur porn, really.

Whoa, Nellie. Hot!

Dewiniaeth by claire_debonair E, 31k.

Nimueh is set on destroying the Pendragons, yet again. They do say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all, and this time it's Merlin who bears the brunt of her scheming. Fairy tale princess he is not.

So.... Nimeuh turns Merlin into a girl and says he has to fuck Arthur to turn back... but it'll kill Arthur. Be warned that Merlin tries it first with a sweet OC, Garath, but that doesn't work. Arthur doesn't really make it into the story until the second third, and the sexual tension between them is pretty hot. Story loses a little coherency after they do the deed, but that's alright.

Walks In Beauty by burkesl17 E, 9.7k.

They all stared at Arthur's chest and that was when Merlin's brain really registered the thinner face, the smooth throat and he said feelingly, “Oh shit.” Gender switch, crack, true love, duels of honour and someone who really, really doesn't want to wear a dress.

Great genderswitch story. Arthur really, REALLY doesn't like it, and poor Merlin is going crazy, since they've only been lovers for a couple of months, and although he prefers men, female Arthur is hot.

In Turning We Come Around Right by janne_d M, 13k.

Arthur wakes up changed - and that changes everything else.

Poor Arthur is mortified by his new female body, and not only that, if anyone finds out, he'll lose his position as heir, which is far more serious. So Merlin takes care of him while he's locked in his room, and desperately searches for a cure, and meanwhile, UST and the ST, and mixed signals and serious hotness. Lovely.

The Course of True Love by Puckling E, 44k.

After Nimueh's death Albion needs a High Priestess, but what it's got is Merlin. Fortunately he'll serve after a few...modifications. Unfortunately for Merlin, being turned into a woman would be enough of a shock even without becoming the High Priestess. As is, it's his duty to sleep with the king or doom all of Albion.

44k words. Great story: Merlin becomes female after killing Nemueh, and it turns it it's because the Old Religion needs a new High Priestess now that he killed the old one. Simple solution, huh? Arthur finds out at an awkward time, Merlin is freaked 'cause he thinks he's going to have to have sex with Uther (so much nope, you don't even). His magic likes Arthur, surrounds him in a misty golden cloud and connects the two with a purring golden bond. His magic feels rather differently about Uther, who's surrounded in a pulsing black hole of yuck. Story might have started a little slow (or I could just have been tired and distracted), but soon picks up speed. Funny, sexy and interesting. What's not to love? *** Puckling is actually here on AO3, but doesn't have this particular story up, sadly. Keep checking: maybe it'll happen. Meanwhile, the site linked is an easy format to read.

The Prince's Mistress by thegirl M, 98k.

When Uther declared war on the Old Religion after the death of his wife in childbirth, he was warned that there would be consequences to his crusade beyond his worst nightmares. But Uther ignored these warnings, and the purge continued. If he'd known the price his people would pay for his vendetta, perhaps he would have been more wary. // Twenty years have passed since the great purge began, and Uther's subjects have grown barren. Fewer children are born with each passing year, until the very future of the Kingdom was endangered. In a final attempt to save Camelot, Uther decreed that men of the noble class were allowed to take mistresses without fear of condemnation. The social class from which the mistress originated didn't matter, as long as she was able to bear an heir - an heir that would be recognised and legitimised by the court. // Merlin, having been raised outside Camelot, knew little of these problems. If she had, she'd have thought twice before she saved the prat of a prince's life and was made his mistress as a 'reward' by Uther.

A fill from a kinkmeme prompt, which focuses on an canon AU where Merlin is a girl, Arthur's mistress, and the only hope for a waning Camelot.

Interesting premise. Merlin is a little frustrating, the way she just accepts, without angst, being a broodmare right away (there's no smexy times, really, this could easily be T), but other then that it's fast-paced and engaging. I'll keep an eye out for the series.

a tree and a bee and a flea, fiddle-dee-dee by Signe (oxoniensis) M, 8k.

Arthur is a princess. And other things he doesn't appreciate.

Love it. Hee, hee.

Just The Tip by Kateri E, 4k.

"Just the tip" Arthur asks of his now female manservant. "Please, just the tip"

Marvel

Charlotte Francine Xavier by Blind_Author E, 72k.

Written for a prompt. A look at how the events of the movie would have changed if Charles was a woman. Very dark subject matter - past child abuse, past rape, mentions of the Holocaust.

Wow, this was very intense and very good. I LOVE how incredibly powerful Charlotte is, and how Erik slowly learns and accepts that, and how peaceful it makes HIM, to know that.

Dust on a Butterfly's Wings by cakeisnotpie M, 37k.

Miss Claire Francis Clinton Barton has a problem; calling in a favor from an old family friend seems like the best answer. Little does she know the events set in motion by one simple visit to the Coulson town home will lead her into a dangerous world. Lord Phillip Coulson, the Duke of Argyll is in need of a wife; all of his careful planning doesn't foresee Claire showing up on his doorstep and turning his life upside down. A steampunk Victorian alternate world with vampires, werewolves, magic, and mysticism and right in the middle of it all, Phil Coulson and a female Clint Barton. Oh, and a female Tony Stark, but that makes infinite sense, all things considered.

This was interesting: it took me a while to put all the strands together, but things moved fast once I did. I really love the ending.

Heart of Iron & Ice by darkseraphina E, 20k.

Antonia Stark was born a girl...and changed the world by not having a dick. Who knew? Also, she's a Guide. Tony still ends up in a cave in Afghanistan with iron in her heart and a box of scraps, and she still escapes. With style. And explosions - lots of explosions. Meeting a viking god from another realm - who's also a Sentinel - in the desert? Not part of her life plan. Good thing she's an engineer - and that he's very pretty. Tony likes pretty things.

Delightful little romp.

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup T, 27k.

In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Clint makes the absolute best Loki Daddy-uncle-brother-guardian-whatever. And kid!Loki is sweet as a pie. More or less. [The genderswap here, Tony turns female, is brief and incidental.]

The Hobbit (always a girl!bilbo is very popular for some reason)

Durin's League by hobbitgrl E, 73k.

When the mysterious Durin's League takes the national spotlight in the battle against the super-powered villains of the Smaug Corporation Bilbo Baggins doesn't think much of it. At least not until Thorin Oakenshield crashes through her living room wall and Gandalf tells her she's their only hope.

Oh, good story. Much more intense than I'd expected, things are BAD, and there is violence and misunderstandings and hot het sex. Original! ***** But now she stood before an army, each hand coated in a glowing blue light that reflected and sparkled off the silvery material of her shirt. Perhaps, if she could have seen herself, she would have felt better knowing she stood tall—a warrior who gave hope to everyone around her, a beacon of courage and power that outshone even Kili. She was Bilbo Baggins: the dragonslayer.But Bilbo couldn’t see herself and she only knew she was choking on her heart, adrenaline making the world sharp and slow as she faced down overwhelming odds. So Bilbo did what she always did—she took a deep breath, braced herself, and met it head on.

Distances Both Physical and Emotional by The Feels Whale (miscellea) T, 32k.

There are no words adequate to describe the Last Homely House or the wonders of Lord Elrond’s hospitality, which seems impossible to strain even under the burden of thirteen empty dwarfish stomachs and their even more trying attitudes. // Having played hostess to those same stomachs in her time, Briar is duly impressed and endeavors to add to the burden as little as possible. This is made somewhat more difficult by the fact that elves, apparently, are better able to differentiate between hobbit gentlemen and hobbit ladies that dwarves seem to be. A fact Briar learned when Lord Elrond pulled her to one side after their meal and put her into the hands of his daughter and her women with a gentle smile. // Briar feels that she probably owes him a swift kick in the shins for that.

Huh, this is my first fem!Bilbo (Briar) story, and I really enjoyed it. The dwarves mistaking her for a him is pretty funny, and it's easy to see how it snowballs until it's easier for her to just let it go. Part 1 is Briar's POV (includes a little snogging etc.... might be a gentle T). Part 2 is Thorin's of the same events, but none of the same details, so it's not like reading the whole thing twice. Thorin notes that Hobbits as a species have a native magic to remain hidden, which explains the success of their burglar as well as the fact that when in Hobbiton, you can only go in circles going nowhere until guided by a Hobbit. And there are some cultural things during the visit with the elves that are very interesting. (I'd call Part 2 a G.)

The Tale of the Birds by pagination G, 75k, WIP.

Four little hobbits went Adventuring. Bilba Baggins, sent to bring them back, found four little hobbit birds instead. Transformed along with a pair of dwarves by a batty wizard, their only hope is a spell that hasn't been performed in an Age. Bilba is a Baggins, which means Responsibility--and if traveling across Middle-Earth, dealing with ridiculously overprotective elves, and outsmarting a nutty king is what it takes, then that is simply what she'll have to do. // But goodness, she really could have done without this irritating dwarf prince!

This. Was SO DELIGHTFUL. Even if it ends before Thorin and Bilba ever meet face to face. Bilba is a HOOT, arching her way across half of Middle Earth to help her little hobbit (and dwarf) bird-friends. Everyone she meets along the way falls in love, she's such a unique, fiery, precious little thing. I dearly hope the author continues [19/?] someday, 'cause I can't wait to see what she and Thorin think of each other. (Even though everyone but Gandalf, Beorn and the hobbit-birds thinks she's a he.) Delightful.

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves by ISeeFire T, 322k.

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of a place called the Shire where her mother once lived and a placed called Erebor where, as far as she knows, her father still lives. Stories of dragons a thousand times larger, and more intelligent, than the beasts the orcs rode and of a strange concept called freedom where one was allowed to live as they wished with no one to tell them what they could, or could not do. // The stories meant little to Bilba. The only future she had was to live, and die, as a slave as countless number had before her. // And then the orcs dragged an injured female firedrake through the gates, her rider screaming obscenities behind her as he fought to reach her side...and everything changed.

OH. Fuck. Me.

This was intense... and lovely, and dense and fast-paced and never ever lagged. I very nearly didn't read it, because it's not a pairing I follow, but dragons.... I thought it'd wallow in the slave thing, but it didn't at all, and Bilba, in spite of what's happened to her (and terrible terrible things have happened, don't doubt it -- although none of them were sexual, which was a relief) is STRONG, in spite of (and because of) being fucked up.

Each race of Middle Earth has an associated species of dragon, and certain people can form bonds with them, able to communicate telepathically w/the dragon and also with other riders. This is important, since Bilba's tongue was cut out some indeterminate time ago (she was born into slavery in the mines of Moria). When she finally stumbles free with the infant dragon, she winds up in the Shire for a couple of years... it's a loooong time, many years, before she meets Fili. She spends the interim being fucking badass and slaughtering Orcs left and right and basically being a thorn in the side of Azog, who used to own her.

But when you think that arc is done, there's another, and then another, and holy hell it gets intense, and shit keeps raining down. POV skips around a lot, and everyone is involved, all the races, and the author has their own plot, only borrowing loosely from canon. This was amazing, and is less about the pairing than it is about Bilba learning that there's another world out there, aside from rage and pain, and learns what's worth fighting for, and is able to direct and use her anger.

I loved this. (Dragon AU.)

Hurricanes in Hertford, Hereford, and Hampshire by 61Below M, 126k.

Bilbo was banished. That's it, the end. She wants nothing more to do with dwarves. Now all she needs to do is get back home, but there may be some complications along the way.

Oh, fuck ME, this was fantastic, and moved so quickly, I just devoured it today, and I'm still kind of gasping. You think it's just going to be pregnant Bilbo going home and misunderstanding and resolution with a cute baby, but no, nope, that's just the beginning, and then the real journey starts. Author melds this with LOTR, so that it's Bilbo making the journey to Mordor, Thorin by her side, and the cast is so RICH and nuanced and the interactions between dwarves, elves, hobbits, men and wizards is lovely with a lot of background (and also RADAGAST, can I just say RADAGAST, he's such a fucking spacey cutie and he takes Gandalf's place in some ways that make a lot of sense, although Gandalf is around, too). Just, this is a great story, read it, author has definitely done her reading. (Also, I love the way author writes sex, it's an interesting style to choose, but it definitely works.)

Dear Mr. Oakenshield by Ridel No Rating, 1.2k.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is exactly the sort of person who thinks all problems can be solved with a good scolding and a clip around the ear hole. // But the Dwarf who'd taken advantage of her cousins affections and sent her home in disgrace is hundreds of miles away. Oh well, an angry letter will have to suffice.

Omg, I want to see Thorin's reaction to this letter SO BADLY!!! (I don't think I've ever liked Lobelia Sackville-Baggins quite this much ever before.)

Harry Potter

Take These Lies by white_serpent M, 34k.

Repeatedly rejected by the Auror training programme, Draco Malfoy attempts an unorthodox method of gaining admission. Written for 2010 hd_fan_fair (travel), following scarlet_malfoy's prompt. Note: contains genderswap and dubious consent, both of which were requested in the prompt.

Omg, I LOVED this. Draco is sharp as a tack, and determined to find a way to get into the Aurors despite the rampant prejudice against purebloods and Slytherins. He thinks his disguise as Aquila (really, Draco, another constellation name?) is foolproof, but a number of people see through it. (All girls: Hermione, Luna and Ginny), but Ron and Harry are oblivious. And Harry starts crushing. Then it all culminates in a final project in Training: acting as honeymooners while on an Alaskan cruise (which makes cruises sound as uncomfortable, boring and crowded as I've always imagined them to be) trying to solve a pretend crime. All the awkwardness you'd expect, what with Draco not ACTUALLY BEING HIMSELF. However, a real crime comes along, and the disguise is ruined.... Altogether a fast-paced, original, entertaining story with well-developed characters and a soupcon of ust and rst (although not quite as much as I'd like).

I've been on a Draco turned into a girl kick, and there's a huge dearth in this trope. But this one story (even if it's self-inflicted) purely satisfied a need.

The Changing Lights by lazywonderland E, 130k, WIP

Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and soon realizes that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

Read through Ch. 4 (dying of UST) and hit subscribe so fast: this is gonna be awesome!

Star Trek

Girl, You're Like a Weird Vacation by leupagus T, 8k.

It takes a lot of persuading to get "Spock" and "shore leave" to interact on any meaningful level. // "I am unclear as to why you wish me to participate in your, as Dr. McCoy puts it, 'whoremongering' while on Risa," she says, not even doing Jim the favor of looking away from her console. // Jim makes a kind of strangled noise. Bones is such an asshole. "First of all, it's not whoremongering, it's more like--" // "Also, it is irresponsible to have the commanding officer, the second in command, the chief medical officer, and the chief communications officer all absent from the ship simultaneously," she says smoothly. "There are numerous regulations, in fact, that prohibit such action."

Awwww.

Spock's Vagina by bigmamag E, 18k.

Spock exhibits increasingly strange behavior after a transporter malfunction and Jim wants to know why. Good thing nature has a flair for revealing the most asinine of secrets...

Lovely! Not as cracky as it sounds, Spock's actually in DANGER b/c of his new vagina, and Jim is worried sick. Angst, HOT sex... made of yum. Favorite.

Supernatural

Fade to Black by bbelle E, 39k.

Dean always told himself that his feelings for Cas were brotherly. But now that Cas was temporarily parked in a hot female body, he couldn't deny it any longer. Which raised all sorts of issues, not the least of which was what would happen when Cas returned to his old form.

Wow, amazing story from a first-time writer. Dean and Castiel are hot and heavy while he's a chick, but when he switches back, Dean is swamped in a lifetime of being afraid and in the closet. There's a good bit of angst before they finally succumb (which is very hot, whoa).

A Blessing by Valinde (Valyria) E, 132k, WIP.

In which Dean and Sam are turned into women by a witch's curse and even though he's kind of distracted what with the Apocalypse and all, Dean comes to a few awkward realizations about his feelings for Castiel. // Set in Season 5. Temporary Genderbend fic. Apoc fic. Slow build destiel, not a pwp.

Oh, fuck this is amazing and intense and hot and just utterly gripping, and I hope to god the author is serious about being contacted if you want the rest of the story.... Favorite. Worth reading even though it’s unfinished.

Attack On Titan

A Choice With No Regrets by Blue Sonnet (Nana_41175) E, 45k.

Bedding the Commander will not be easy... // How will a thug from the royal capital be able to walk forward alongside Humanity's Strongest, especially when the thug is a woman in disguise and in love with the Commander?

Fem Levi is lovely... still rather reacting to everything like a "scalded cat": slow to trust, sharply sarcastic, utterly shameless (which translates to loads of fantastic sex). But that's fine, because Erwin is getting exactly what he wanted... now he just has to make sure he doesn't lose it.

#genderswap fic recs #genderbend fic recs #genderswitch fic recs #rule 63 fic recs #sterek fic recs #merthur fic recs #bagginshield fic recs #drarry fic recs #destiel fic recs #spirk fic recs #marvel fic recs #eruri fic recs

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honeylikewords · 7 years ago

Text

things in pairs; (griff)

anonymous requested: hello, if you are still taking requests, would it be possible for you to write one about Griff (with he/him for the reader). After a heist, the crew unwinds at the warehouse. Buddy is still on edge and wants to spar with the reader (maybe he boxed in his spare time?) but Griff steps in to take his place.

this was such a cute and fun idea that i just had to get it out of my system right away! i love it, and i hope i did you justice, anon!

things that come in pairs;

gloves, eyes, sun rises and sets;

you and i.

The ride back after the heist is always the most exciting part. Baby whips the steering wheel, throttling the passengers together into one huddle. Griff’s broad shoulder pushes against his “co-worker’s”, their sides pressing together. Griff looks over, meeting the man’s eyes, and smiles with that excited, fox-on-the-run grin that he makes look so damn good.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Wolfie,” Griff offers, putting his hand behind the other man’s head as he grabs onto a handle above the window on “Wolfie’s” side of the car.

He hadn’t picked the name himself. He glowers at Griff a little, rolling his eyes. He still remembers Griff laughing at him because he had been the one assigned to play the touristy civilian in a heist, and the tourist costume had featured one of those godawful wolf t-shirts and khaki shorts. Griff had laughed so hard he’d started crying, wiping at his brown eyes with tattooed knuckles.

“Shi-it,” he’d rasped, gripping the ledge of the table for support as he had wheezed, “That’s it. That’s gotta be his name, it’s got to be! Wolfie!” “Oh, fuck you.” “You wish!”

But now that they’re in the car, high on the adrenaline of a clean getaway and a really, really great payoff, he just sighs and starts laughing. Griff watches him, his smile spreading, making those too handsome crinkles show up around his eyes.

Buddy and Darling are already tongue-kissing in the seat next to Griff, on the opposite side of the car from himself. He looks at them and wrinkles his nose a little—they’re so… so… extraneously sexual, sometimes. Good Christ. He just leans back and ignores them, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders to stop himself from imagining if Griff would be at all like those two if he had a little someone of his own to celebrate with.

When they arrive back at the warehouse, Buddy leaps out of the car, clearly still charged and rearing to go. He’s hopping from foot to foot, whooping and punching at the air.

“Can you even believe how fuckin’ neat that job was? So fuckin’ clean! I clocked that cop right in the ugly mug, didn’t I, baby?” He smirks over at his wife, who pops her gum and nods, winking. “Yeah!”

Buddy sidles over to his fellow robber and bares his teeth, shark-like. His eyes are blown wide and he snarls with something caught between excitement and bloodlust.

“It was fuckin’ dope, wasn’t it, Wolfie?”

“It was fine,” he says, broadening his shoulders to try and keep Buddy from getting any funny ideas.

Buddy’s a wild card, and he’s not sure if Buddy’s going to burst into laughter or into screams. He’s not strong enough to beat Buddy hand-to-hand if it came down to it; his arms are too reedy to match against Buddy’s thicker ones, and he doesn’t have the sheer force of will to decimate that Buddy does.

Looking closer, he can see that Buddy’s pupils are unnaturally wide. Shockingly wide. Oh, goddamnit. He’s high.

“Let’s dance, little man,” Buddy hisses, grinning. “Let’s rattle, snake.”

Buddy raises his fists like a boxer, leaping from foot to foot. He throws a punch at the air near his co-worker’s head, narrowly missing him.

“C’mon, Wolfie, I gotta get this outta my system. Let’s fuckin’ two-step it.”

He can feel his heartbeat accelerating with fear. Oh, fuck, oh shit.

When Buddy’s like this, no one’s safe. He’s unpredictable, a loose cannon. He can fire off at anyone at any time. Buddy hurls another fist, which is when a large, scarred, and tattooed palm closes around it before it can strike its intended target.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” Griff stands physically between Buddy and his prospective punching bag. “You don’t just start swingin’ like that, dipshit.”

“Okay then, Prince Valiant,” scoffs Buddy, “How’s about you and me go a couple rounds?”

“If that’s what it’ll take for you to shut your big, dumb, coke-snortin’ hole,” Griff grumbles.

Buddy flashes his teeth in what is supposed to be a predatory gesture, but what instead ends up looking like a chihuahua trying to snarl at a malamute. He’s not gonna get far. When Buddy turns and stalks off to get some of the boxing gloves that the crew has stored around there somewhere, Griff lets out a sigh.

Griff looks over his shoulder at his friend, the tosses him a sheepish smile before reaching out with his large, calloused hands, taking the other man’s cheeks into his palms. Griff turns his face this way and that, inspecting him carefully.

“He didn’t getcha, right? Didn’t scratch you up?”

“N-no, I’m good.” He doesn’t know why he stumbled, but his heart is clenching as Griff’s rough fingertips hold his cheeks.

Griff’s deep eyes skate over all of his friend’s features, lingering for a moment on his lips before flickering back up to his eyes, looking straight at him as if daring him to speak. He doesn’t—his voice is suddenly stopped in his throat by an unexpected lump, a tightening of his airways. Griff chuckles and shakes his head, his bearded jaw looking uncannily strong in the stark lighting offered by the hideout.

“Yeah, I’m glad. What that fucker’s hopped up, there’s no tellin’ what he’ll do. I’m glad he didn’t, ya know, leave any damage on that pretty face of yours.”

“I’m not pretty,” growls the other man, suddenly defensive.

“Yeah, ya are.” Griff’s eyes sparkle with mirth, and he flicks one of his big, lean fingers at the other man’s nose. “Pretty as a Georgia peach.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, why don’tcha?”

He’s about to give a biting comeback when Buddy enters the room, a pair of dingy red boxing gloves strapped to his hands. He throws Griff the black pair, then lets out a booming, howling laugh.

“AAAARE YOU READYYYYYY,” he yells in his best announcer voice, “TO RUMBLEEEEE?”

“Ugh, Jesus, quit yappin’. You sound like a foghorn.” Griff tosses his friend one last, lingering look, then smiles and squares up to Buddy.

The two box for a few rounds, Griff managing to dodge away from Buddy every single time. Griff has a boxer’s stance, footing, and posture, and something about that broken nose of his suggests that he may have been in the ring more than once in days gone by. It’s astounding to watch him move; he’s more nimble than one would think, looking at such a strong-set, tall man. It’s like watching a brick wall perform a Viennese waltz.

His friend stands near the sidelines, entranced by the fluidity of Griff’s movements. He’s so lithe, swirling around Buddy’s ragged, jagged movements. Buddy’s fists fly wildly, guided by rage and passion, but Griff is more precise, more intent. His punches are measured, and even just by watching the other man can tell that Griff isn’t hitting at anything close to full force. He might as well be giving Buddy love taps.

He idly wishes that he was at the receiving end of that kind of affection from Griff. He then quickly dismisses the thought, warmth rising over his face and ears. Griff spins out of the way of a particularly rough throw from Buddy, and meets his friend’s eyes, beaming when he sees that he’s being watched.

Cheeseball. Hamming it up for the audience.

But it’s cute, in its own, odd, inarticulable way. Griff’s smiles brighten the room, bringing an atmosphere of safety and thrill with them.

When Buddy finally runs out of steam and Griff gives him a knock on the shoulder that sends him down, Griff takes off his gloves, congratulates Buddy on “putting up a good fight”, then goes to sit beside his friend, who is now pointedly counting dollar bills in his hands.

“We already counted the money,” Griff says, thumping his big finger on the stack of Benjamins in the other man’s hands. “Don’t be such a fusspot.”

“I’m not a fusspot. I’m making sure I get my fair fuckin’ cut.”

“Hey, hey, I’m all for that.” He grins, leaning into his friend’s field of vision. “But I’d be more for you bein’ in the moment than bein’ in your head where I can’t hear you.”

There’s something loaded into those words. The man looks at Griff, eyes skating over his features as he seeks the unspoken answer, the hidden layer to the riddle. What’s he getting at?

“Monty,” Griff finally says.

“What?”

“My name’s not Griff. It’s Monty. Short of Montague. My mom named me that.” His gaze is intense, probing, unfaltering. “I wanted you to know. My name’s Monty, and before I lived here, I lived in Canada.”

A pause splits the air. Griff—no, Monty—smiles.

“And, I’m guessing that your real name’s not “Wolfie”, seeing as how I came up with that all on my clever own. It’s cute, but it’s not... you.” Griff looks at him closely, his smile disguising something undetectable yet overpoweringly present.

“So, whenever you’re ready, you can tell me about you. Doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or even this year. Whenever it is you that wanna, you can.” He pulls a gum wrapper out of his pocket and snags a pen from the table, then scrawls something inside the wrapper.

“Here.” Griff drops it into his friend’s hand, prompting him to look down at it.

“866-705-2134, x Monty”, it reads.

“Call me up,” he says as he stands from the table, cracks his knuckles and neck, then grabs his money and moves to leave the hideout. “I’ll be waitin’.”

He heads for the door, but not before flashing one more of his signature smiles at the now dumbfounded man holding his telephone number.

“Monty,” he mumbles, feeling how the name fits in his mouth. “Monty.”

He finds that he likes how it feels.

#and there ya have it!#gif warning #original #request #griff #baby driver #this was quick but i just wanted to make a foray into writing again and i just really clicked with this request so !!#just a little quick one to try and recalibrate!

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