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stusbunker · 6 months ago

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Spotless: Obbligato

Chapter Twenty Nine

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Tiny, Crowley, and Sera the venue lady, both bands in the background, faceless fans

Word Count: 3162

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, mention of past Dean/Annie, friends who do not have the whole picture and are therefore quicker to judge each other aka drama

Series Masterlist

You exhaled and put your phone in your back pocket. Donna was dancing on the side of the stage closest to you, swaying with her guitar, ruby red lips smiling bright. It was a stark difference to the mindset the two bands had been in only an hour ago. God, everyone had been so scared. You felt like you should be doing damage control, but with investors and who’s-who’s brushing elbows in the VIP you had to save face. No one could know Dean had been missing.

Not even Bela.

Naturally, she found that moment to reappear. “Everything alright?”

You shook your head to clear your thoughts and smiled. “‘Course. Find anything good?”

She smiled wickedly at you and handed you a proper martini from the bar. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Once you had a good handle on your cup, she held hers up and you clinked the glasses together. “Cheers.”

You took a big gulp and winced at the amount of olive juice, but the burn of the Gin more than made up for it. “Uh, yeah, cheers.”

Bela giggled and turned to watch as SPS finished their set. They were slowly wedging their ways into PT’s fans’ hearts and playlists. You had seen some chatter from the fan pages, plus Becky had posted a lot of supportive tweets about them once it was announced they would be along for the whole tour. It was easy to see them keeping in touch after this tour, they already felt like family.

It was only the second night and this tour was shaping up to be something memorable, something pivotal, maybe even historic.

“They’re killer,” Bela seemed to be reading your thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“You said they’re Canadian?”

“Well, mostly. They’re based in Vancouver, but Patience and Jody are from the U.S.”

“Huh. And it was Dean’s call to have them join on?” Bela played with her cocktail spear as she spoke, the stadium around you moved as a whole in the intermission.

“Well, he suggested ‘em. The suits make all the real calls.” You took another sip, feeling like she was going somewhere with this.

“Naturally. Well, that was— progressive of him.”

You felt your face drop in surprise.

“What?!” She asked like you were the one being rude.

“Why did you say that like that?” You felt oddly defensive of SPS all of the sudden.

“I didn’t mean anything bad— I wasn’t disparaging the other band, Y/N. I was just saying— that it was a good mark of his character. It was meant to be a compliment— I swear.”

You exhaled.

She reached over and squeezed your forearm. “You need to relax, love.”

You nodded, still a little dazed by the dred that had crept out of her best intentions. “I need a fucking nap, but this’ll do for now.”

Bela hummed in agreement.

The VIP attendees doubled the closer Phantom Traveler’s set loomed. You made sure to stay close to the edges and to keep Bela within Tiny’s range. The amount of gawkers that had needed to be escorted along were weighing at the back of your worries. But you trusted security to do their job, you had enough to monitor as it was.

You and Bela took a few selfies with the stage in the background while you waited, both of you falling into the trap of your phones until the lights signaled it was time for the show to start. From somewhere backstage Lee’s voice reached across the stadium and welcomed everybody for the night. The opening bars of ‘Black’ started, which meant Dean and Sam were starting this one off together and then everyone started to scream over the first verse and Dean’s husky opening. But between the love of the song and the dramatics of Charlie’s lighting you couldn’t blame them.

They were solid. Though Dean was ultra focused, less playful than the show the night before.

You weren’t the only one who noticed the change. “Looks a little pale up there, doesn’t he?”

You spun on your heels and smiled brightly at Crowley. “Hello! Sorry I didn’t see you come up. Bela, this is Mr. Crowley from the label.”

“Charmed,” Crowley replied, leaning down to kiss Bela’s outstretched knuckles. “Dick said you were lovely and you’d be sticking around, but I just had to see it for myself.”

“Did he? Well I’m glad to hear Mr. Roman is on Team Tal-chester,” Bela snarked back.

“Aren’t we all?” Crowley deadpanned.

Oh, this was going to give you a migraine. Dean’s voice spoke to the crowd, but you couldn’t spare the attention to hear the introduction to the next song. You had to be focused on what was happening in front of you.

Bela asked about Gavin, who she had met in passing the night before. Crowley was as smug as ever, and gave little besides slight jabs and open ended questions back.

“How are things looking now that the tour has started?” You jumped on the first business notion that came to mind.

Crowley’s dark eyes danced from you and back to Bela, almost chagrined to talk shop. “Pre-orders of the album are up twelve percent since last week. But, uh, let’s talk ticket sales and press junkets on Monday, shall we? Don’t want to miss the rest of the show that we’ve all been waiting so patiently for.”

You gave him the grace to step away, maybe too easily. “Of course, I’ll be on the call from the hotel in San Diego.”

“Right. Well, goodnight ladies, I hope it is— fruitful for you both.”

You and Bela both plastered on your best smiles and waved nervously until he was out of sight.

“What a git,” Bela muttered.

You couldn’t disagree, but suddenly you were hit with a burst of applause. Dean’s voice was crooning, holding a note from one of the new songs and then everyone stomped on the last note.

“‘Pushing Through’ everybody,” Dean said simply and pulled back to let Lee take the front of the stage.

Kicking yourself for missing the live premiere, you nodded Bela closer to the ledge to get a better view of the stage, while hopefully minimizing your distractions. Tiny followed four paces back, large and lurking, ever present and professional.

Lee chatted the crowd up and then they slid into ‘Breakdown’ from their third album which was about a tour bus’ flat tire and also about how they first started noticing Sam’s struggle with the harder stuff. Pam kept the drums going as they moved into ‘Lost and Found’, their first ever single. The song that got them noticed by Crossroads in the first place.

By the time they dove into ‘No Regerts’, a tongue-in-cheek song that only made it on the same album as ‘Breakdown’ as a hidden crack track, Dean was looking more alive on stage. That irresistible smile was noticeable even from two levels up. Pam and Kevin walked them out of that song with an almost marching fanfare, spirits were up.

You tried to breathe and forget about Crowley.

‘Twigs and Twine’ set up nicely into a cover of ‘Funk 49’ by the James Gang, which everyone really had fun with. Dean ended up practically jiving with Pamela as she rocked out with the blocks. Lee added his own little drawls to the familiar riffs, which you knew meant he was having a blast. You slowly let go of the panic Dean’s absence had caused, but the knowing glint in Crowley’s eyes was harder to shake. The energy on stage was even drawing in the uppity-ups in VIP.

You were so proud how the band had come together, yet again to give it their all.

For some reason, Bela continued to hit each of your raw nerves. Nothing she said or did was actually offensive, but somehow her very presence felt like a burden. When she gestured that she was going to go mingle during ‘Damned’ from their third album you just rolled your eyes, but nodded that you’d be okay where you were. Tiny was keeping her in his sights anyway, no reason you had to abandon the show to socialize with people you never fit in with in the first place.

Sam burst through the tail end of ‘Damned’ with a line both funky and familiar and the way Dean and Lee whipped their heads around you would have thought it was a shock. But you also knew that Sam knew better than to fuck with his brother’s setlists. They were just playing it up that Sam went from a song off the album that marked his darkest days to a feel good number from their first album. ‘So Co in So Cal’ was laid back and celebratory, a summer drinking song at its finest.

You raised your glass and danced in place, feeling the rhythm and loving the way the band slipped into the emotions of each song. Two songs later and before you realized it, they were welcoming Annie onto the stage for the last official number.

Bela returned as Annie was greeting the crowd, while effortlessly teasing Dean just like the night before.

“They’ve got quite the chemistry, don’t you think?” Bela’s voice appeared beside you.

“Yeah, but nobody can call your bullshit like family,” you agreed.

Bela smirked. “I know chemistry like that, Y/N, especially amongst performers. And those two have seen each other naked, nobody looks at each other with that kind of devilish mirth without having done the deed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, that was ridiculous. She was like their aunt! But then the conversation the teens at the animal shelter had way back when popped into your mind about Sam and Annie having a fling. And as pissy as Cas’ niece was, she wasn’t a liar. Something like dread washed down your back and settled traitorously in your stomach.

Bela just gave you a ‘I told you so’ look and turned to watch the duet.

You felt like you didn’t know Dean at all. Not that it mattered who he slept with, that really wasn’t your business. But Annie married Bobby. It was weird to set up your surrogate uncle with an old fling, wasn’t it?

Not to mention Sam. Wait which one went first? Did they share? Your brain spiraled into chaos scenarios and you needed air. You figured there was twenty minutes of encores to come, so you bowed out of the VIP and told Bela you were going to make sure the signing room was set up.

Smiling at the venue security as you went, the agenda for the rest of the night took over inside your mind. Autos and afterparty, the real private afterparty with the band’s inner circle. Making sure everyone knew when check out was and when to meet at the busses. Touring was like riding a bike, this time you just had to keep Bela on your radar and make sure her and Dean made nice with the fans. Everyone else you trusted. Not that you didn’t trust Bela, or Dean, for that matter, it was just the focal point. Their relationship’s success held your professional reputation in its grasp.

And Crowley knew it.

The venue had done a better job creating a flowing line for that night’s autographs. So you just carefully counted chairs and security guards to kill time. Sera burst in just as you heard the heavy thunder of stomping feet signal the true end of the show. You smiled at her and made small talk. She seemed ready to be rid of you, and the band, more than accommodating, but you didn’t take it personally. You knew how stressful it was coordinating these things. That she, too, had people she had to answer to.

The winners from the local radio station were escorted in first, followed by some of the higher ups in the fanclub, and people who paid through the nose for the opportunity. You smiled and nodded at the few who waved at you. Some of the fan club recognized you from a spotlight Becky did on you for her newsletter before the last tour.

It was odd to have such an active and loyal group of fans in the social media age, but somehow PT inspired it more than most.

Then a wave of cheering and clapping broke you out of your thoughtful appreciation. Kevin led the way as the band smiled and high fived their way behind the row of tables. Sam must have just put on a tank top, though sweat dampened even the fresh fabric where it clung to his abs and between his shoulder blades. Pamela rocked a pair of shades that she probably grabbed off one of the security guards. A signature move of hers that she adapted after the one tour when Cas almost blinded her with the old shaving cream prank.

God, you missed him and all his pierced glory.

Shaking your head, you waited as Lee posed for quick selfies with the group at the front of the line. That only left Dean. Spotting Bobby rounding the corner you made a beeline behind the band’s chairs.

“Where is he this time?” you demanded.

Bobby huffed. “Your bestie asked for a ‘quick mo’.”

You groaned. “Of course she did.”

But before you rifled up the nerve to go interrupt whatever they were up to, Dean appeared from the opposite direction of the dressing rooms with Donna and the rest of SPS behind him. He smiled at you like a petulant child and squeezed your shoulder as he slid past the fans and down to his seat at the far end of the row.

You exhaled and tried to keep your face optimistic as the opening band also gave you apologetic faces. The meet and greet passed in a blur. Just before the mingling portion was set to wrap up, Bela slinked in with a fresh wave of perfume and a killer’s glint in her eyes. You grabbed her by the elbow before she could interrupt Dean and Sam making nice with a set of four college-aged girls in matching PT swag.

“Hey, just give them a few more minutes and we can all head to the afterparty together.”

“It is so dull waiting around, can’t I just pop in for some photos, too?”

You tried not to make a face, but Bela knew you too well to hide your annoyance from her.

“Come on, Y/N. It’ll be alright. Guards at every exit, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about the fans, I’m worried you’ll make a scene. Dean’s not the only member of the band, they all like time with the fans.”

“Make a scene? You do not want to challenge me to cause a ruckus, dear.”

You closed your eyes and bowed your head, releasing your hold on her arm. “That’s not what I meant, just leave him be for a few more minutes. Okay?”

Bela seemed to weigh her options and conceded. “Fine, but we’re taking my driver to the hotel and not bothering with the hired muscle.”

“We or you two?” you clarified.

“The happy couple,” she said with all teeth.

You nodded and gestured for her to head back the way she came, probably the dressing room, since the VIP had probably been cleared out by the venue staff at that point. Once the fans were escorted out of the space, you reminded the band to clear out the dressing room. Benny had a platform dolly waiting for their concert baggage and gear.

You needed some air, so you decided to wait for everyone outside, which was better than trying to navigate the parking garage like a civilian. Naturally, Bela and Tiny spotted you as they stood on the curb beside a freshly detailed limo.

“Is he coming?” Bela bellowed, her words were surprisingly slightly foggy from the late night chill.

“Gotta clear out the dressing room,” you said as you approached, arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm.

Groups of people still littered the sidewalk and walked by, trying to decipher which car that was double parked was their ride.

“You know you baby him too much, he doesn’t need a nanny. He’s a grown man,” Bela said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“It’s kind of my job, so—.” You shrugged it off.

“No, it isn’t,” she said firmly.

Christ, you were so over tagging along and it was only the second show she was scheduled to make an appearance.

“Listen, you know what’s been going on, it’s better for me to be ahead of anything than to play clean up.”

“Or you just like to be in everybody’s pocket.”

Your head snapped up to glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, Y/N. I’ve been around awhile and it’s not with everybody, all the time.--- I don’t know if it’s leftover guilt or what, but you literally insert yourself into every minute of Dean’s life. Even when you’re not there, you’re there. And no matter what you do, how hard you work, or how much you care it’s not going to bring Jo back.”

You recoiled like she slapped you across the face.

There were no words for how far she had taken it, how much it hit every single one of your insecurities. You were a busybody, a hanger-on. Nothing could fix the past. You had taken away any chance for Dean to be happy. You had killed your best friend.

But she hadn’t said what the worst of it. The dirty little secret that you weren’t able to keep from the likes of Cas or Bobby, the people who truly knew Dean. And that was how you felt about him, how much you wanted him to look at you the way Bela claimed he looked at Annie.

You tried to dispute it, but the words caught in your throat as the tears burned in your eyes. Tiny approached and cleared his throat, warning you of an approaching crowd. The nearest exit burst open and a rush of photographers appeared around the corner, as the band and their crew made a beeline for their waiting vehicles. Dean had thrown on a jacket, collar popped high as he kept the paps at arm’s length.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t know what your problem is, but we put a lid on it for the rest of the night, got it?”

“Happily,” Bela replied, not looking at you but at the wave of reporters and flashing cameras as they followed Dean’s progress to the curb.

You watched dumbfounded as he kissed her hello, nodded over her shoulder at you, then held the door of the limo open for her to crawl inside. Tiny kept the vultures at bay and you followed him to a discreet SUV around the corner where Annie, Bobby, and Victor waited.

At least somebody cared that you had a ride.

Tagging:

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Chapter 30: Larghetto

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #rockstar au #fake dating #slow burn #dean angst #spn au #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #rockstar!Dean

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myshiningdesire · 2 years ago

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═══════ ≪ •❈• ≫ ═══════

➤ RECONSIDERED DECISIONS

chapter one, the settled plan.

onceler x fem reader

𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧: WHEN THE ONCELER IS ON HIS WAY TO CREATE THE THNEED, BUT REALIZES THAT THE TREES NEED TO BE REPLANTED IN ORDER FOR THE EARTH TO STAY ALIVE. SO WHO ELSE TO ASK BUT HIS WONDERFUL GIRLFRIEND, Y/N.

[☁️] / [🍋] the more mature bits are going to come much more later in the series.

lovers to enemies

═══════ ≪ •❈• ≫ ═══════

his hair was a mess, you’d think he had just woken up from a nap, but he didn’t. his guitar wasn’t anywhere visible, which you found suspicious, due to the fact that he brought it along with him. you had assume that had something to do with the people.

he moved forward, but instead of looking like walking it looked like jelly jiggling around. he had walked until he had come face to face with you. he tilted his head up so he could face you, but to be face to face to your back. “are you alright?” you asked, as you finished washing the last dish, finally turning to look at him.

“no.” his voice had sounded stressed, dry. like he hadn’t drank water in hours. “what’s the matter?” you asked. “the crowd.. I don’t think they liked my thneed.” he said, quietly but loud enough to be considered above a whisper. he had fell into your arms, so you had decided to rest on the bed, as he sulks in your arms.

“where is it?” you asked, curiously. if his thneed wasn’t here, you’d expect that somebody bought it, if he hadn’t looked so blue. “I threw it. there’s no point in trying to sell it if nobody’s going to want it.” he huffs in your arms, as you frown along with him, running your fingers through his black hair, hoping to comfort him.

the silence was tense, but still comforting, soon to be broke. “the lorax,” he says. “he thinks I’m ruining the earth.” he finishes, as you sighed. ‘he is technically ruining the earth,’ you thought to yourself. ‘he just cut down a truffula tree with no good purpose, besides for a little accessory called a thneed. lord knows when he’d start cutting them down left and right. one day we just might need to purchase bottled air due to this man.’

you grunted, adjusting your position. “you know, once.” you say, as he hums in response, still sounding dull. “If you are going to cut down the trees, you might need somebody to help replant them. who knows, maybe this’ll help your cause.” you say, leaving him to think.

“I won’t leave the decision to you. starting tomorrow I will start planting more of those pom pom trees.” you say, as you settle down in the bed, as he chuckles at what you called them.

he laid beside you, feeling warm. “I’ll always remember you when I become famous.” he says, smiling, as you laughed slightly. “don’t worry I’ll make sure you do.” you say, as the two of you slowly drift off to sleep, hoping for the best.

═══════ ≪ •❈• ≫ ═══════

part two is coming soon.

#onceler x reader #the lorax #onceler #barbaloots 🔛🔝⁉️🗣🗣🔥🔥

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yourlastbraincell-kiwi · 1 year ago

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Veiled Promises

A/N: My first Paul Atreides story! I think this’ll be a series, only cause I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger, we shall see. Also, not sure of any typos and spelling errors, but I hope it’s good! ❤️

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Fem!Reader

—————

‘(Y/N)?’

My mother called out to me, in very faint tone of voice. I squirmed a little in my sleep, refusing to open my eyes.

“(Y/N). Please.’

I waved away my mother dismissively, wanting nothing more than to get some rest.

‘Wake up!’

My eyes immediately opened, at my body shot up looking around for my mother. I have no idea, what that voice was, but it was not my mother.

I got up from the comfort of my bed. My silky, satin sheets, draping onto the cold floor, and looked out the window.

I stared at the horrifying sight just a few feet away from my bedroom window. The place was up in flames, crashed vehicles and aircraft’s, and people lying flat on the sandy floors.

I wanted to look away, turn my head move my body, but it was almost as if my mind wanted me to see this.

My eyes began watering due to my staring out the window.

I then watched as they brought a group of people brought a person out into the middle of the sand. They separated and spread out. And on person stood in-front of the captive.

Once the guy moved out of the way, I could see who the unfortunate person standing there..

That being my mother.

I knew for a fact it was her, no matter how crowded a place may be, or how far away she would be from me, I can always spot her no matter the situation.

I started tearing up even more, and tried hard to break free, from whatever hold was bestowed upon me.

I watched as the person raised something about their head and swiftly bring it down.

Not know what else to do, I screamed. I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs.

The person turned to look up at my bedroom window, and I stared back at him. Hoping maybe my stare would turn him into stone, like Medusa had done.

I felt helpless.. I feel helpless..

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” I heard, in my ears, and I felt someone touch my shoulder, “Wake up, honey.”

I jolted awake, and looked around the room, clutching the sheets in my hands. “You’re okay. It’s okay, you were having a nightmare again.”

Abigail had informed me and patted my face dry with a towel.

Abigail has been a servant of my House since I turned double digits. She was always there for me, when I needed a talk, or needed someone to solely listen. And she did no matter what, and I loved her for it.

I stared at the window from across the room, breathing heavily. And Abi noticed, getting up and shutting the window for me. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

I couldn’t find the words to say a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ so I just shook my head. And Abi nodded her head in acknowledgment, “You know where to find me if you do, okay?”

I nod, as Abigail put a calming hand atop of my shoulder, before leaning in and placing a kiss on my forehead, before standing up. “I left some water for you over there, and your father wishes for you to be up and ready for breakfast in 10.”

“I understand.” I said softly, my vocals feeling strained from probably yelling in my sleep. Abi gave me a small smile and left the room.

I move closer to the edge of the bed, reaching over to take sip of water. I let out a long sigh, before standing up to put on some clothes.

After finding an outfit suitable for breakfast, I walked into the dining hall, and sat down across from my father.

“Morning, (Y/N).” My father said, and I nodded my head, not wanting to hurt my vocal cords anymore than I already have. “So, I’ve been told that you were screaming in your sleep last night?” He asked and I replied with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Nightmares again?”

“I guess so..” I murmured under my breath, and slowly began to eat my food, but he quickly picked up on it.

“When are you going to get that treated?” He asked, seating his fork down. “It’s not going to treat itself, (Y/N).”

“I know it isn’t, and I-”

“So, what are you doing to do about it?”

“I don’t know, maybe visit the physician or something. Why are you so annoyed with me having nightmares?”

“I am your father, I’m concerned for you and those nightmares of yours.” He says, and I role my eyes.

“The only thing you’re concerned with is finding a possible suitor for me. And you think I can’t find one with having nightmares. They’re normal.”

“Yes, they are normal, but you’d been having one day and every night. That is not normal.” He replied standing up and walked over to my chair and put a hand on my shoulder. “And I do want to find a suitor for you, but I promise you, your health comes first. Understand?”

I nod and he rubs my shoulder, “Promise me, you’ll find some way to at least, bring the amount of nightmares down. I don’t wish to see or hear you suffer every night, my dear.”

“I’ll try, for you father.” He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “Now, I need you in full dress, we have people coming to see us today.” I roll my eyes, and finished my breakfast before going to find Abigail to help me out.

~~~~~

“How do you think this’ll go?” Abi asked as she helped me put on my dress.

“Not sure, same as all the other times, I presume. Bad.”

“Oh come now, they weren’t bad at all.” Abigail says and I give her a look.

“You must’ve been in the wrong place, cause everyone knows how badly it went.” I said, with a laugh, and she joins in.

“Do.. Do you think this suitor will be the one?”

“It’s definitely a possibility, but I know that if it doesn’t turn out the way, father wants it to go, he’ll definitely be at his wits end.” I reply and Abi nods, and fixes a couple strands of hair.

“Well, I hope the day goes well, and you find the one, m’lady.” She says, taking her things and left. I look at myself once more in the mirror before leaving my room to find my father.

~~~~~

“Father?” I call out softly, and find that they are all in the common room, waiting for me.

“Here she is. (Y/N), I’d like for you to meet, Leto Atreides, and Lady Jessica of House Atreides.” I smile and do a bit of a bow to the both of them.

“And this is our son, Paul.” Leto introduced, as I bowed to him as well, noticing his eyes following my every move.

“Pleasure to meet you all.”

“I’ll take Lady Jessica and Leto, out to the gardens, why don’t you and Paul get acquainted, hm?” I nod to my father, and direct Paul to another part of the house.

Oh, what a long day this’ll be..

#paul atreides x black!reader #paul atreides x reader #dune movie #wattpad #x reader #angst #crazy start

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worksby-d · 1 year ago

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A Great Mentor: Only If You Like It

A One Shot

Summary: You sit down with Andy to settle on a first and middle name for your daughter.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: None 🥰

Word count: ~800

a/n: Even though this is part of a series, it can def be read alone. I MISS THIS SERIES SO MUCH.

All you want to do is say hi and let him know you’re home, but he doesn’t give you the chance, pouting when you walk into his home office.

“No,” he groans–almost whines as if you ruined something–gently closing his laptop as he drags the word out. “You’re home already?”

You open your mouth to retort, but you just scoff, “Yeah.” And you raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“No, that’s not–” He shakes his head, laughing a little. He holds his arm out and waves you in to come closer to him and you roll your eyes as you push off the door frame to let him draw you in. “I’m just finishing up, sweetheart. But I wanted to have dinner ready before you got home for once.”

“Well, that’s okay,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”

He takes your hand once you get within reach of him, and you know where he wants you, but you just lean against his desk instead.

It’s his turn to give you a questioning look. He’s used to you sitting on his lap.

“C’mere…”

“I’m getting too heavy for that,” you mumble, resisting his gentle tug.

“No you’re not,” he laughs quietly, giving one more reassuring try. “I’m strong, I promise.”

You give in, letting him pull you down to sit with him. With one arm around your back and his other hand on your growing belly, he gets you to relax.

“See, you’re fine,” he winks.

You ignore his told you so, wanting to get back to the cooking thing.

“I’d rather cook anyway.” You never let an opportunity to tease him slip away. “Remember that time I got sick after eating your parmesan chicken?”

“Hey now,” he chuckles. “That was before we were even together.”

“I know, I had to lie to my parents and say I was hungover the next morning when I was lying on their bathroom floor,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Because telling them I was wasted was safer than telling them I was sneaking around with you the night before!”

“That was so long ago.” He shakes his head thinking back. “I’m sorry my cooking is subpar and maybe known for getting you sick once… or twice. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, giving him a quick consolation kiss.

“How was your day?”

“Good,” you sigh, leaning against him a little more. “Really long.”

“Mm,” he hums, just holding you a moment, enjoying the quiet after all day. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile. He reminds you every chance he gets, especially during the past few months. “I–We,” you correct yourself, placing your hand on top of his over your stomach. “–Want to talk about something.”

“Yeah?”

“About her name…” Your voice trails off as you wait for his reaction.

“Honey–” He chimes in immediately. “I’ve been thinking about it. I like Evren. I think it’s a beautiful name.”

You try to interrupt him. You don’t need to settle on her first name yet. But he doesn’t let you stop him.

“I can tell you really love it. And it’s growing on me… I think.”

You laugh a little at his rambling, running your fingers through his hair.

“You really like it?”

“Yeah, angel.”

“That was easy,” you tease, sitting up proudly as if you just won something. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about middle names…”

He gives you a look, clearly confused. He doesn’t see the need for that yet without having agreed on a first name thus far.

“I was just going to say that whatever we choose for her first name has to go with her middle name,” you explain. “And I have one that I want to run by you.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“Stop,” you laugh, swatting at his arm before getting more serious. “How do you feel about Marianne?”

“Mari–” He softly begins to repeat it, processing what you said. “Like my mom? Marianne?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you let out a small laugh. “It’s a beautiful name. But only if you like it.”

“I love it,” he quickly assures you. “Evren Marianne…”

It’s your turn to repeat him, mirroring his smile as you listen to how the names sound together out loud.

“I love you,” he whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re sure?”

“I’m so sure,” you promise. He lifts his head to look at you when you gently nudge him. “I love when you talk about your mom. I want Evren to know her.”

He nods, leaning to give you a soft kiss. “Me too.”

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #a great mentor series

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t0ast-ghost · 8 months ago

Text

Umm STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE THOUGHTS!!!!

You thought this series was dead and buried? Well maybe it is. This may stay in my drafts forever. But I suppose if you’re reading this it’s not.

Warnings for a flashing gif

and spoilers (obviously)

So enjoy and forward we go:

- They kinda just make you watch stars with nice background music for *checks time* two minutes and fifty seconds (no, there are no credits during this time)

- I’m so hyped for this, the credit music is so nostalgic and amazing

- Tron ass graphics <3

- Evolved Klingon design! Let’s go! Also they’re speaking Klingon which I think star trek is super proud of creating

- It’s so alien (as in the movie alien)

- Is that the lizard head rock from the Apple? No it’s Vulcan- damn what’d they do to Spock?

- It’s giving the dark crystal or labyrinth

- THEYVE GOT A VULCAN LANGUAGE?! I mean I knew they would but they created one for the first movie???

- When the Vulcan Master (it’s what imdb calls her) is reading Spock’s mind then the shot goes back to her face and she looks down and there’s a fucking vine boom and she smiles slightly at him like ‘THIS FUCKER IS HAVING GAY THOUGHTS’

- Jim is calling him <3

- It’s interesting how they pronounce Spock’s name differently

- Life is a Dream is my favourite song (It’s the one with the horns)

- Omg hi Kirk hi

- They gave him another Vulcan? Kirk must miss his husband so much

- imagine ten years after your favourite show ends, they make a movie and there are all your favourite guys again! I would have screamed

- Hiya Scotty

- Kirk looks so unhappy. Hmmm wonder why

- Aww this is such a cute conversation between Kirk and Scotty

- KIRK GETS TEARS IN HIS EYES SEEING THE NEW ENTERPRISE OMG. HE LOVES HER SM

- This is the slowest fucking shuttle ever

- I like how there’s just guys floating in spacesuits around

- ….Welp that’s over now. The ship has docked. Finally.

- oh the elevators are just voice controlled now. No handles.

- OMG HI UHURA!!! HI CHECKOV! HI SULU!!!

- Kirk’s about to go fire someone. This’ll be fun.

- Yeah Decker does not take this well. Kirk is just a petty bitch who loves his ship too much and definitely misses his husbands

- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Wha- who- no wonder people don’t like using transporters that’s horrifying

- OMG THATS JANICE RAND!!!

- Kirk has turned into the idiot admiral that he used to hate dealing with

- OMG HIIIII BONES HES GOT A BEARD. They drafted him???? Wait no. JIM BROUGHT HIM BACK hehe

- “Damn it, Bones. I need you. Badly!” He missed his husband so he made him come back to fight a war

- That was such a normal moment between Kirk and McCoy. Sooo normal. I’m normal about it. Sooo normal.

- THAT LITTLE DUDE IN SPACE JUST DID A FLIP

- hi bones hi

- “Jim. You’re pushing.”

- They gave McCoy a better perch, he’s got a railing that’s closer to Kirk now

- time to ask: what is happening

- “Tor-pe-do away!” The slow voice really added to that

- Why is McCoy just there on his knees?!?

- Bones is NOT happy to be here. This is why he divorced Kirk (he’s still married to Spock though)

- McCoy can see that Jim is being unreasonable. But what is that stance and why aren’t they looking into each others eyes? (Edit: not sure what stance I’m talking about but yeah, why aren’t they?)

- It’s been 50 minutes literally nothing has happened except reintroductions

- HI SPOCK HIII HES SO HOT WHATS HE DOING HERE?

- damn why’d Spock just ignore Chekov like that

- Jim is so desperate. He wants this man so bad. He’s like literally starry eyed

- For Chekov this is like the worst high school reunion ever

- HI CHAPEL HAIII

- damn why is Spock ignoring his husbands :(((

- Bones looks so sad. He missed Spock

- Kirk and McCoy are about to interrogate their long gone ex husband. “Will you please sit down.” This is pretty much exactly what it would be like if they got divorced and didn’t see each other for awhile. Spock is trying to separate his emotions from the situation, McCoy is trying to be playful but sneaks in a question about what he’s been doing, and Kirk just wants them back he’s so desperate

- Not gonna say what I’m thinking cause I think that would be disrespectful

- “I believe they may hold my answers.” “Well, isn’t it lucky for you that we just happened to be heading your way?” “Bones! We need him. I need him.” Jim if you say that while staring into Spock’s eyes it’s a bit queer (happy pride month)

- They got the new Apple watches

- Spock is pulling a Deanna Troi

- They brought back Spock to wear the finest eyeshadow and serve silent cunt

- Shapes and colours by the likes of which I’ve never seen!

- I like how Bones just came onto the bridge FOR NO REASON but to kinda look shocked when Kirk was about to do something silly

- Most of this movie feels like, ‘look at this cool set/effects thing for a very long time’ and they are cool

- I now truly understand what a ‘long shot’ is

- Uh oh Kirk. Your husband got zapped!

- huh? whuh? Why’d it take Ilia?

- Everyone that comes onto the bridge takes a second to go what the f-

- Wow that’s just a pussy- *gets schmacked*

- Did Spock just fucking blue screen?

- just noticed Kirk in short sleeves <3

- ILIA BURST THROUGH THE WALL

- Why did they replicate her into high heels

- I love Star Treks idea that love can bring anyone back. Like if anyone is dead and someone loves them enough there’s no way they’re staying dead. And if you bring up Tasha, technically she didn’t die right there and then. And if you bring up Jadzia, fuck you

- What is Spock doing, why’s he mutineering

- They successfully contacted Ilia. There’s something so sad about it being her but not her at all

- Omg. Spock why would you do that?

- “That’s Spock. Damn him! Bring him back here.” Gotta wrangle your husbands

- I was going to say something about pussy and then Spock said “penetrated” so-

- Pussy so good you get blasted backwards- I’ve got to stop

- Spock laughing omg omg

- jaw dropped. That was gay. That was so gay!

- I like how Kirk just has these two guys around to explain things to him

- “It knows only that it needs, commander, but like so many of us, it does not know what.” Do you need something, Spock? What are you trying to say? Do you need the love of your husbands?

- HES JUST GONNA BLOW UP THE SHIP???

- I got legitimately jumpscared by Spock’s tear

He’s really pretty tho and they’re observing him

- “Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?” This is the greatest moment in the whole movie thus far because it goes back to really what star trek is about. Talking about life through aliens.

- He’s bringing his husbands with him awwe

- woah how are they on top of the enterprise?!Okay I guess this is happening now

- VOYAGER??????????? Oh wait this is a real ship, isn’t it?

- So Decker is going to sacrifice himself to join with V’Ger, isn’t he?

- He rolls back to his husbands

- “As much as you wanted the Enterprise, I want this.” Jim did really want the enterprise, but he also just wanted love, same with Decker, they both just want their loves back.

- Shiny

- Kirk and McCoy staring, jaws dropped like, ‘What is this shit?’

- “And a lot of foolish human emotions, right, Mr. Spock?” “Quite true, Doctor. Unfortunately we will have to deal with them as well.” THEY’RE FLIRTING AGAIN YES!!!!

- It’s a little funny that Spock definitely arrived on the ship ready to stay. Like he cut his hair and everything just to see his husbands.

- “The human adventure is just beginning” what does THAT mean?

Well okay. Time to watch Wrath of Khan, I guess. I hear it’s better…

Masterpost

#star trek #star trek the motion picture #star trek tmp #james t kirk #spock #leonard bones mccoy #hikaru sulu #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #christine chapel #janice rand

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mischievouslittlecreature · 6 months ago

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Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Summary: New information arrives that could prove extremely useful, and Tommy is reminded of someone from his past.

Word Count: 6,091

Warnings: Past sexual assault, prior illness and death of minor character, references to prostitution, and very brief mention of suicide.

Notes: I know that these first couple chapters have been a little slow, so thank you for sticking with me so far. I promise that things are going to start picking up after this chapter!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 9: No One Came Back

Lucy winced at the way the door slammed behind Arthur, the relief that she’d felt initially at the sight of him alive and well in her and Tommy’s office had quickly drained when he started in on Tommy about the vote Ada had told him about. He was furious and hurt. Not to mention that he looked to be about to come down with the shakes after having just killed two Italians who’d tried to get him.

Great. So now they couldn’t trust the men in their own damn factories not to give them up. The Changrettas were gaining more allies within their territories. That was a problem.

Tommy stood there, staring at the door Arthur had stomped out of, a hand raising to wipe across his face.

“He’ll get over it,” Lucy said, rising from where she’d leaned against the desk, arms crossed over her chest while she silently watched the encounter. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll still be the one who gets to kill Luca and this’ll all be a mum point anyway.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, dropping his hand and turning to her. “He was upset.”

“He still blames himself.”

Tommy gave her a sad look. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Lucy cocked her head, eyes narrowing slightly at the tone in his voice, it clear who he actually blamed for John’s death. “It wasn’t yours, either.”

“Yes, love. It was.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “John died because he was an idiot and didn’t kill Audrey Changretta when he had the chance. The whole mess with them wouldn’t have even begun in the first place if he hadn’t lost his head over Lizzie dating someone else,” she cupped both sides of his face. “John’s death was his own fault. Not yours. Not Arthur’s.”

He closed his eyes, and she knew that he didn’t entirely believe her. It was in Tommy’s nature to blame himself for every little thing that went wrong. But still, she needed him to hear it. Maybe, someday, he would believe her.

She leaned her forehead against his for a second, his hands resting upon her forearms before letting him go. He moved to collapse exhaustedly into the chair behind his desk. Lucy followed him, hopping up to seat herself on the edge of his desk beside him. Had there not been men working in the betting shop just outside the office windows, she’d have climbed into his lap instead. But this would do for now.

“He’s going to be angry over this for a while,” Tommy huffed, rubbing at his brow as if fighting back a headache.

“Yeah,” Lucy acknowledged, sighing. “It’ll be alright. He’ll understand eventually that it’s for the best.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, fingers pressing to his lips, eyes growing unfocused slightly as he was lost in thought. Lucy nudged his knee with her toe to get his attention.

“Tea?”

“Hm? Oh; sure,” he nodded absentmindedly. Jumping off of the desk, she ducked out the door, dodging around men busy at work in the shop to get to the kitchen. She was just putting the kettle on and grabbing two teacups when the backdoor squealed open and Polly came in.

“What are you doing here?” Lucy asked curiously.

“Just came by to pick up a few things,” she set her hat down on the table. “Did you find Arthur?”

“Yeah, he just left. He’s not too happy about the whole thing.”

“He’ll get over it,” Polly said with a dismissive wave. Lucy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anymore, instead moving to grab the tea from the pantry. “Where’s Tommy?”

“His office.”

But Polly didn’t move, and Lucy found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, boring into her back, shifting from foot to foot while she tended to the kettle.

“I’ve set a time and place to meet Luca,” Polly said in a soft voice. Lucy swallowed, throat suddenly dry. It was a dangerous plan, for all of them. But at the moment, it was the best they had.

“That’s good.”

“Tommy doesn’t want you to be there when Luca comes for him,” Polly stated simply. Lucy felt her shoulders tense, turning to face her.

“He’s protective. Especially after…” she choked briefly on the name. It was still hard to say it without opening up the well of grief inside of herself. “Especially after Grace.”

Polly nodded, pulling out a clove cigarette and lighting it.

Lucy smiled tightly. “Too bad for him that I’m protective too. I’m not letting him deal with Luca alone.”

“Good. I don’t like the idea of him getting into a shootout all by himself. Even if he knows that they’re coming for him. I’m assuming your presence is to be kept a surprise?”

Lucy nodded, pouring the tea, letting it steep while she cleaned the kettle.

“You’ll tell Tommy? That I’ve made contact with Luca? I need to be getting back.”

“Sure,” she didn’t ask where Polly needed to be getting back to, probably home or the hospital. She wondered if Michael might be getting tired of her constantly hovering over him.

At the thought of Michael, something else occurred to her. “Polly.”

She turned at the doors, cigarette between her lips and hat clutched in her hands, brow raised.

“Yes?”

“Have you told Michael about the thing with Luca?”

Her brows pulled together. “No.”

Lucy nodded, thinking. There had been something in Michael’s eyes for the past year…she couldn’t quite place it. But it had been there since he’d killed Hughes. Lucy had thought at the time that murdering his rapist would help him, similarly to the way it had helped her. But she was beginning to think that might’ve been a miscalculation on her part.

The way he looked at Tommy, in particular, as if sizing him up, made her particularly nervous.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think it best we keep it that way. I don’t know what Michael’s…acting skills are like, and the fewer people that know, the better.”

Polly thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Lucy cracked a humorless grin. “Look at us, agreeing on things for a change.”

Polly snorted. “Don’t get used to it,” but there was half a touch of humor in her voice, before she turned and wandered her way into the shop. Lucy picked up the two cups of tea, steaming rising steadily and the delicate China warm against her fingers, and carried them back to Tommy’s office.

∗ ∗ ∗

It was dark, when Isiah brought Devlin to them. They were in the kitchen eating a quick dinner when they arrived, and Isiah silently took him to an office, leaving him seated at a table with one of their other men keeping watch. They’d let him sweat a little before actually speaking with him.

In the kitchen, Isiah spoke in a quiet voice. Everyone else had gone home for the day, and the betting shop was dark and eerily quiet.

“He had a one-way ticket to Glasgow in his pocket when we searched him, like you said he would.”

Lucy nodded. That was to be expected. Tommy had asked her to do some digging into Devlin after Arthur was given up by someone in their own factory. Devlin had keys to all the doors, and he’d been frustrated with them as of late. He was the obvious candidate for a traitor.

Whether it was fear of the Changrettas, or hatred for them, it was hard to say. To Lucy, it didn’t particularly matter. The outcome was the same.

“His wife and kids had already left for there three days ago,” she told Tommy, leaning back in her chair and puffing at her cigarette. “According to the woman selling tickets at the train station.”

“You find the address they’re staying at?” Tommy asked. She nodded, digging around in her pocket and pulling out the little slip of paper she’d scrawled it down on, handing it to him. He looked at it for a moment, committing it to memory, before tucking it away.

“I already called some of our men we have allegences with in the gangs in the city. They’re prepared to do what we ask if Devlin doesn’t cooperate.”

“Good,” Tommy started fumbling with his briefcase, clasping it shut. Isiah shifted from foot to foot nervously. Lucy raised an eyebrow at him curiously, his eyes lifting to meet hers.

“There’s a woman who I think you should speak to, Lucy,” he said. “She’s just outside, with Skudboat. I can have him take her home, if you’d prefer, but…”

“What is it?” Lucy asked, head cocking curiously.

“She has information about where Alessio Changretta is hiding.”

Lucy’s eyes snapped over to share a look with Tommy. Her breath caught in her throat with excitement. Finally, they might have something they could use.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, being cautious in his optimism.

“She’s a girl who works at the Midland. She says that one of the other girls there has been bragging about getting some extra work on the side of what she does at the hotel. Serving some Italian men living in a flat nearby.”

Lucy looked back to Tommy. That certainly sounded promising. Could be a trap, too. So they would have to be cautious.

“You and Scudboat searched her?” Tommy asked Isiah. The boy nodded. Tommy looked back at Lucy. “See what she has to say. I’ll deal with Devlin,” he turned to Isiah. “Go wait with him. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Isiah nodded, and scurried away.

“Watch for if she’s lying about anything,” Tommy said, clearly thinking the same thing that she’d been about a potential trap.

“Right.”

He finished clasping his briefcase, standing and making her smile when he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before striding towards where Devlin was waiting for him with steps she suspected his overdramatic ass was purposefully ensuring sounded booming and intimidating. Standing, Lucy scooped up both of their plates, setting them down in the sink to be washed later. Once the table was cleared, she went to the backdoor. Outside, Skudboat was standing with a young woman Lucy instantly recognized from nights spent with Tommy at the Midland.

“Clara,” she said in soft greeting. The woman was pretty; almost as short as Lucy, with soft, golden colored hair, and wide, sea-green eyes. Lucy held the door open to her. “Come in,” she let Clara step past her into the dimly lit kitchen. “Wait out here,” she ordered Skudboat, who nodded, leaning against the wall and pulling out his cigarettes.

When she closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen, it was to find Clara with one hand held out, smiling while Asher sniffed at it. Lucy watched the encounter curiously, taking note of Asher’s reaction. A moment later, his tail wagged, tongue darting out to lick Clara’s hand in approval. Clara giggled, and gave him a scratch behind the ears that left the dog practically overjoyed.

“Ash, come here,” Lucy chuckled, and he trotted to her side dutifully. “Have a seat,” she said to Clara, nodding to the table. She sank down into the seat next to her, Asher plopping down at her feet.

“Isiah says you have some information for us?” Lucy prompted, opening her cigarette case and offering Clara one, which she politely declined, fiddling nervously with the buttons on her coat while Lucy took a cigarette out and lit it.

“Yes, um…you know Elizabeth,” Clara started. Lucy nodded. Elizabeth was another prostitute that worked at the Midland who sometimes served her and Tommy. Though not as much as Clara. “Well, shortly after Christmas, she came in wearing this expensive necklace. I thought, maybe her mum or some guy she’d been seeing, or maybe even a client had given it to her for Christmas. They do that, sometimes. But then she started coming in wearing more expensive things, and cutting down on her hours at the hotel. Billy wasn’t happy about it,” she looked down.

“So, eventually, one day, while we were all in the powder room getting ready for the evening, Maria asked her about it. Elizabeth said that she’s been seeing some new man who’s staying in a flat nearby. She says that he and his friends are rich. He and another man work as a…a…I don’t know, I guess as security guards of some kind, for another man. She’s always taken work on the side, you know. Even though Billy doesn’t like it when we do, he doesn’t stop us either. Apparently they called on her and she serviced all three of them one night, and then one man out of the three took a shine to her. He’s been buying her things, taking her around town with him to fancy restaurants. All that sort of stuff. I didn’t think much of it, at first. You know, it happens, sometimes, that a client takes a real shine to one of the girls and decides to play Prince Charming. If you ask me, I think he’s just trying to get free services out of her for him and his friends, but that’s not any of my business. But then…” Clara stuttered, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Lucy held out her cigarette to her, and this time, she took it gratefully.

“She mentioned that they were all Italian. And I’d…I’d heard rumors that there was trouble between you and Tommy and some Italians that had come to town. And then Elizabeth–she’s got a big mouth, you remember? She mentioned something about how they’d been asking all sorts of questions. Mostly just about the city. But also about you and Tommy. And it just…it didn’t seem right, so I poked around the Garrison until I found the preacher’s son who works with you and told him what I’d heard.”

Lucy leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her rings while she considered Clara’s words. “Did they tell Elizabeth what they’re doing in Birmingham?”

“Just that they’re in town on business.”

“You get any of the names of the men from her?”

“No,” Clara shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy assured her gently. “Do you know where they are staying?”

“Yes, I made her write it down,” she fumbled with her handbag. “It’s a flat just down the road from the hotel. I told her to give us the address in case something happened to her while she was with them. I think she thought it was silly, but she did it anyway. We have to look after each other, you know?” she handed Lucy the paper. Lucy took it, looking over the address and quickly drawing out her notebook from the inner pocket of her suit jacket and copying it down, handing the paper back to Clara. “I think that they hurt her.”

Lucy looked up sharply. “What makes you say that?”

Clara shrugged. “Just noticed some bruising on her arms that wasn’t there before, and she sometimes gets this look on her face…but she keeps going back. I think because she really likes the one guy, and because they pay her so well.”

Lucy nodded in quiet understanding, sympathy building in her for the girl. “Clara, thank you,” she said genuinely. “Really. You’ve no idea just how big of a help this has been.”

She nodded. “Of course. I…you and Tommy were always nice to me. And since you’ve been around, the men…some of them used to be really bad, sometimes. But since you came around with the whole…punishments for hurting women, things have been a bit better. There are still some arseholes every once in a while, but not so many as there used to be,” she shrugged, looking away and blushing when she realized that she’d been rambling. “So, anything that I can do to help…as a way to say thank you…”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Lucy said gently. “But if you hear or see anything more about Italians in the area, you call my office,” she wrote down the number and handed it to her. “Especially if you get anything more out of Elizabeth.”

“Of course.”

“There may be a day, soon, when I’ll need you to keep Elizabeth away from that flat for a few hours. Do you think you could do that?”

Clara thought about it. “I think so. If I could get Maria to help. Elizabeth is more likely to listen to her rather than me.”

“Okay. Good,” Lucy thought a moment more, then rose to her feet. Clara followed her lead. “Skudboat can walk you home.”

“Alright,” Clara gave Asher a parting little pet to the head. She seemed only then to realize that she was still holding Lucy’s cigarette between her fingers. “Oh,” she offered it back to her, but Lucy shook her head with a kind smile.

“Keep it,” she led the way to the door, opening it and allowing the chill of evening air to enter the kitchen. “Thank you again, Clara. Really.”

Clara nodded once, with a bashful smile, and stepped out the door.

“See to it that she gets home safe, Skudboat,” Lucy told him.

“Sure thing, Luce.”

She watched them begin to walk away, not closing the door until they were out of her sight. Returning to the table, she sank back down into her chair, hands clasped in front of her, fingers fiddling idly with her rings while she stared at nothing, just thinking silently in the dark.

She barely registered it as Tommy came back into the kitchen, softly closing the double doors that led to the betting shop behind him. It wasn’t until he dropped a large hand onto her shoulder that she roused, head raising to peer up at him.

“We have to go,” he said in a soft voice, expression apologetic. Her brows drew together.

“We do?”

“Mhm,” he gave her a gentle tug on the arm. “We can talk on the way.”

“Okay,” she stood, still a little baffled, taking her coat that he’d pulled from the peg it was hanging on from him and tugging it over her shoulders, securing her cap atop her head. Tommy shepherded her out the door.

“Stay, Asher,” he told the dog when he moved to follow them. Lucy felt a little bad at the sight of his wagging tail and the eager perking of his ears. But he sat down obediently at Tommy’s command, taking up position quietly guarding the door until they got back.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they began to walk. Tommy took her hand in his and she was grateful for it, his warm fingers helping to shield hers from the cold of the night air.

“To see Jessie Eden.”

“At this hour? She won’t like that.”

“She might when she hears my improved offer.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Lucy chuckled with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow. Tommy huffed out a small laugh.

“No,” he gave her a mildly mischievous look. “Not yet, anyway.”

She pressed her smile into his arm, moving to press closer to his side as they walked. He was warm and it was chilly.

“How did it go with Devlin?”

“It wasn’t him who gave Arthur up,” Tommy sighed, sounding simultaneously relieved and dejected.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. He’s just afraid of the communists.” Tommy’s gaze was focused on some faraway point in front of them. It was late enough that the streets were mostly quiet, a light drizzle of rain slickening the cobblestones. “He said that he heard that there were two Italians who attended a communist meeting in Stechford.”

“Ah. I see now why we’re on our way to speak with Miss. Eden.”

“Mm,” he nodded conspiratorially. “I’m keeping Devlin here in Birmingham. Isiah will get some of our men to watch his house. Tell our friends in Glasgow to look after his family.”

“Will do.”

“Did you get anything useful out of the girl from the Midland?”

“It was Clara. And actually yeah, very useful. She said that Elizabeth has been running around with some Italians that are living near the hotel. Apparently one of them’s taken a shine to her and has been buying her all sorts of expensive jewelry and taking her around town. Clara said that there’s three of them that Elizabeth has talked about. I got the address they’re staying at from her,” she pulled out her notebook and passed it to Tommy. He took it, examining the address carefully before handing it back.

“Do you trust her?”

“I do,” Lucy affirmed, tucking her notebook back into one of her inner pockets. “She seemed genuine. I don’t think it’s a trap. I think it’s just some of Luca’s men getting sloppy with the whore they’ve taken a liking to. But I’ll have Isiah and the boys case the place for a few days to make sure it’s not a trap and to work out a schedule of when they come and go.”

Tommy nodded. “Do you think Elizabeth knows what they’re actually here for?”

“I doubt it. You remember how she is: sweet, but a little ditzy and naive. Clara said that they told her they’re just in town on business.”

“Right. Well, just have the boys look into it and gather up information on the location and the men holed up there for now. Before we decide what to do about it.”

She raised an eyebrow, noting how he clearly was trying to avoid a discussion about her being the one to go after the Italians. But they were approaching Jessie’s building, so she decided not to push it. “Right.”

Tommy paused for a moment before heading inside the building, head craning up to look at the windows, most covered by the material of curtains, some more sheer than others, light only filtering out through them dully. Tommy squinted, as if trying to make out any of the silhouettes that passed across the windows, before moving to the door. He held it open for her, and she ducked in quickly, thankful to be out of the cold. Inside, she could hear a baby crying in one of the rooms, and the hum of music from another one upstairs. She climbed the narrow stairs after Tommy, looking around at the somewhat dingy, cramped lodgings.

He came to a stop at the door that the music was filtering in from, smoothing down his fringe after he removed his hat, switching the briefcase to his other hand, then knocking softly at the door. The music came to an abrupt stop, and then Jessie’s voice was calling through the door, asking who it was.

The meeting was going…well, not well, necessarily, but decent enough, considering their past dealings with Jessie. Lucy kept quiet, making herself comfortable in a chair at the little table in the center of the room, sipping at the beer Jessie offered them and observing her carefully.

Jessie wasn’t particularly helpful, but that wasn’t actually a surprise. Nor was it cause for Lucy to bristle at her.

But, oh, did she bristle at the name that suddenly and entirely unexpectedly fell from Jessie’s lips.

Greta Jurossi

“Did he ever mention her to you?” Jessie asked, suddenly turning to Lucy, her voice raising ever so slightly in pitch, expression smug.

“Yes,” Lucy said, softly. Many times. He had always been forthcoming and honest, when it came to her questions about Greta. She knew that it was hard for him to talk about, and she appreciated how eager he was to answer her queries despite that.

Under the table, she moved her leg to press against his. The softness in his voice when he responded to Jessie caused her to press it a little harder against him. The mention of Greta had not been something he was prepared for, and it had knocked him off kilter.

“After she died, you went away to war. Kitty said that the sweet boy who left never came back,” Jessie continued, recounting the sad story that both Tommy and Lucy already knew.

“No one came back,” Tommy’s voice was hoarse. Lucy cocked her head, looking at him sadly.

Because the way Jessie recalled Kitty Jurossi’s description of Tommy: charming, sweet, loving, sitting at Greta’s side every day when she was sick, holding her hand, tending to her for months until she died, did not sound all that far off from the Tommy she knew. Perhaps he was a little rougher around the edges, a little more worn down from so much pain and hardship. But the sweet boy she spoke of was not nearly so lost as both she or Tommy seemed to think.

“Jessie, that’s enough,” she said harshly, not wanting to see the pain that had sprung up at the mention of Greta in Tommy’s eyes anymore, but Jessie just smiled in mock sweetness and continued on as if she hadn’t even heard her. Lucy would have snapped at her again had it not been for the sudden admiration in her voice as she recounted the stories Kitty had told her about Tommy. Lucy could see it so plainly: Tommy, young, barely a man grown, wrestling furiously with a brute he’d caught beating a horse, striking him savagely and goadingly on the arse with his own whip as the man scrambled away.

The mental image made her smile a little.

But as Jessie went on, Tommy grew more agitated, suddenly rising from his seat. Lucy kept her eyes on Jessie’s face. She couldn’t quite figure out how she felt about her. On one hand, she could appreciate some of what Jessie was trying to do. Particularly the push for advancing women’s standings in the workforce. But on the other, her smugness and attitude of moral superiority bothered her. And this…this action of digging up all these things about Greta, then throwing them in his face…they had been calculated. Lucy couldn’t tell if Jessie was simply trying to draw out his past sympathies with the communist cause, or if she was just trying to hurt him.

Tommy put back on the music Jessie had been listening and dancing to prior to their arrival.

All smugness left Jessie’s face when Tommy started to relay the information Lucy had gathered previously on her: how her sweetheart had gone off to war, and returned with shell shock so severe that he killed himself.

Jessie’s face grew haunted, big dark eyes filling with tears, before hastily looking away. And finally, she was serious, answering Tommy’s previous question with only a minimal grumble. But Lucy was still on edge, her protectiveness of Tommy flaring.

It blazed back into full-force when Jessie pulled out a picture Kitty had given her of Greta and Tommy in Blackpool.

“We’re done here,” Lucy announced, the legs of her chair screaming against the floor as she stood up hastily. She looked at Jessie with quiet rage, and she must have let a little more darkness filter into her eyes than she’d intended, because for a very brief moment, Jessie looked genuinely unnerved by her.

Tommy did not protest her suggestion that they leave, simply gathering up his things, tucking the photograph Jessie had given him into the inner pocket of his coat.

Lucy, in what was perhaps a somewhat petty display, did not say a word to her as she went to the door and yanked it open, holding it ajar so that Tommy could follow her outside. And she put perhaps a little more force than necessary into her stomps down the stairs, to really telegraph just how she felt about the whole thing.

“Are you okay?” she asked once they were back out on the street.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, in a voice that was very much not fine.

“Tommy…”

“Let’s just go home,” he sighed, swiping a hand through his fringe before replacing his cap back on his head. She hovered in close to him as they started to walk, this time not just for the warmth that his body provided. She didn’t say much, knowing better than to try to push him to talk when he was like this.

When they got home, he went upstairs without a word. Asher greeted them at the door, tail wagging, following eagerly at Lucy’s heels when she ascended that stairs after flicking off all the remaining lights that were on in the kitchen.

Tommy was in the process of taking off both his coat and waistcoat, brows creasing in mild frustration when one of the buttons momentarily caught. Lucy swallowed hard at the sorrow in his eyes, her heart aching for him.

She did not think about Greta all that much. A part of her didn’t particularly like to, because there was always the question, if Greta had not died, if she and Tommy would have even ever gotten together. It made her feel so incredibly guilty, that her happiness with him might have come at the price of the sweet Italian girl’s life.

Taking a step forward, she took the coat and waistcoat from him.

“Thank you,” he said softly. She just nodded, hanging the coat up on a peg and folding the waistcoat to tuck away in the chest of drawers. He lit a cigarette, then picked back up the photo he’d pulled from his pocket before taking off his coat, looking down at it longingly. Lucy felt something inside her twist.

It was not right to wonder if he loved her as much as he had Greta. There was no competition between them, and it wasn’t logical, or productive, to even consider such things.

And yet, a tiny part of her brain, the part that she was pretty sure only existed to cause her pain, still mulled it over.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, tucking the photograph into his trousers pocket.

“Okay,” Lucy said softly. She watched him go, fingers fiddling with her rings long after his figure had disappeared out the door. In his dog bed, Asher whined. “I know, boy,” she soothed, reaching down to stroke his big head, then setting to work changing into one of her nightgowns, folding her clothes with slow, methodical movements and tucking them away beside Tommy’s in the drawers.

He wasn’t back yet when she went to the washroom to remove her makeup and finish getting ready for bed. She figured he just needed a moment to himself. He’d come back to her. He always did.

Wiping off the remains of dark eyeliner, she looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.

She’d never thought of herself as particularly pretty. Not with her face full of freckles, eyes that were a few sizes too big to be in proper proportion to the rest of her face, and messy red hair that never seemed to want to cooperate.

Her lips pursed as she took in the dark circles under her eyes–neither she or Tommy had been sleeping very much since this whole thing started–and a hand raised to brush across one of her cheeks. She might’ve been imagining it, but she swore that she’d lost some weight. Not that she couldn’t stand to probably lose a few pounds, but she was starting to look a little gaunt in the face.

Shaking her head, she poked and pulled a little at her skin for a moment more before stepping out of the washroom and heading back to bed.

Tommy was there when she entered, scratching Asher absentmindedly behind one ear and undoing the laces on his shoes with the other. Lucy approached him slowly, making sure that her footsteps were loud enough so that he would hear her coming up behind him and not be startled. When he kicked off his shoes and straightened, he turned partially, and looped an arm around her shoulders at the same time that she wrapped her own around his waist, hugging his middle with her head on his chest. Tommy’s face dropped down, burying in her hair with a deep sigh. She felt him inhale, breathing in the scent of her soap and perfume, and relaxing a little in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. There wasn’t much more that she could say. He rubbed her shoulder, giving a small shake of his head.

“I love you,” he murmured, and she let out a small breath, squeezing him tighter.

“I love you too,” adjusting her head on him, she considered her next question for a moment before verbalizing it. “Can I see it?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the photograph and holding it out to her. Taking it carefully by the edges, she eyed the faded, grainy image, smiling softly at the serious look on the younger Tommy’s face. Good to know that it had always been a chore to get him to smile when having his picture taken.

Greta was beautiful, with dark hair that was carefully done up and slightly stern features. Her dark eyes fixed upon the camera steadily, but despite the seriousness in her face, there was a spark of levity there too.

“She was pretty,” Lucy commented. Tommy hummed in quiet agreement, hand smoothing down her back, shifting them so that his head was hooked over her shoulder to look at the photograph with her.

“I think you would have liked her. I know she would have liked you.”

She craned her head back to look at him. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, and closed his eyes, turning his face to press a few kisses to her neck. Lucy raised an eyebrow, even as her head tilted to give him better access.

“I doubt she would have approved of the part where I’ve fucked her lover.”

“I don’t know…she could be pretty open minded too, you know…” Tommy mumbled, and Lucy chuckled.

“Building quite the harem for yourself there in your head, aren’t you?”

He snorted, pinching at her hip playfully. “You know what I mean.”

Angling her head back, she looked deep into his eyes, taking in the sincerity in them, understanding what he was trying to get at.

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” she said, more serious. He was right, after all. Everything he’d told her about Greta indicated that she and Lucy would have gotten along very well together.

“Yeah,” Tommy gave her a sad smile, and she stretched up on her toes to press her forehead against his. His eyes lowered. “Who knows if we would have even stayed together, after I got back from the war.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know,” he sounded so lost and sad. She wanted to cry for him. It was so unfair, that he’d had to experience the loss of not just one, but two women who he’d loved so deeply.

“Everything that you’ve told me about her indicates to me that she loved you very much.”

Tommy blinked hard, eyes a little glassy, throat working as he swallowed hard. “She loved the person I was before I went away to war,” his thumb circled mindlessly around Lucy’s hip. “I don’t know what she would think of the man who came back.”

Lucy stroked his face, brows pulling together. She could not say whether or not Greta still would have loved him after he returned to war. She would like to think that she would, and nothing that Tommy had told her indicated that Greta would have rejected him after he returned home. But ultimately, she could never say for sure.

Unsure what she could possibly say to make it any better, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. Tommy’s arms tightened around her, leaning into the kiss gratefully.

“We should get some sleep,” she murmured once they’d parted, still caressing one chiseled cheek.

He hummed, nodding, and took her hand, leading her over to the bed. She climbed in first, and he immediately snuggled against her, their arms wrapping around each other under the blankets, her head on his chest and his face tucked against her hair.

“I love you,” she repeated, hand trailing along his strong back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the material of his shirt, tracing delicately over the scar on one of his shoulders. Tommy kissed up her neck to her cheek, nuzzling at her like an affectionate cat.

“I love you too.”

And with her hands tenderly petting his back, she felt him slowly sink into sleep against her.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #my ocs #my fanfiction #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #love me where i'm most ruined

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oscconfessions · 4 months ago

Note

This’ll turn into a long rant so I’m sorry in advance but the way some of the AIB fandom (not all of it, and hopefully not the majority) treats some of the female characters — Nabla and Pitchfork in specific — in comparison to some of the male characters — Alef and Glowstick in specific — is actually insane to me.

As a preface, I don’t support GatlingGroink, I just like AIB as a series and wish that it could be picked up and continued by a different creator.

There’s such a wild double standard.

Pitchfork will get harassed, catcalled, and perused for who knows how long by Glowstick, even after telling him multiple times that she doesn’t like him. When she’s at her limit, she lashes out at him, she yells and breaks something, because he literally would not listen to her otherwise.

But Glowstick is the victim here? Glowstick is seen by some people as the poor little guy who got his heart broken and “really Pitchfork didn’t have to yell at him!!! She could’ve gently declined, he didn’t deserve it 🥺🥺” she did! She tried to! He didn’t listen! She had a right to be upset, being constantly flirted with and harassed is so frustrating! And if yelling is the only way to get it through his head that she doesn’t want to date him, so be it!

Don’t even talk to me about how that mindset feeds into the societal standard of how women need to protect a man’s feelings even though the man does not show any regard to how she feels. (Which is also persistent through this next ramble.)

And then there’s Nabla and Alef. Maybe people missed it, because of how far apart episode 4 was from the rest of the series, but Alef bullies Nabla. Often. They’re related, and he’s been bullying her for years, and you can’t say it’s just familial riffing because no! Familial riffing doesn’t have one person completely belittling the other at every turn, as Alef belittles Nabla. Alef insults her, he could’ve destroyed her belongings and doesn’t care, and he treats her like garbage multiple times throughout the series.

That’s like, textbook bullying.

But the moment Nabla tries to fight back, it results in an accident (Alef getting stuck literally. Was not purposeful. Nabla and Glue just laughed at it because Alef was finally making a fool of himself after making Nabla look foolish and stupid and lesser for who knows how long. He was getting a taste of his own medicine and they found it funny), and suddenly Nabla is a horrible monster and Alef is just an innocent little guy who didn’t deserve any of what happened.

Are you? Serious?

Alef experiencing the same humiliation he inflicted upon Nabla for the first time doesn’t make him a good person, and it doesn’t invalidate the harm he caused. Nabla laughing at him because her bully isn’t the one in power anymore doesn’t suddenly make her a terrible person.

Like. I get that Nabla’s issue is far less black and white than Pitchfork’s (I 100% believe Pitchfork is in the right in that situation, and no one can change my mind). But at the same time, Nabla is a victim of bullying who finally fights back and is villainized for it, while her bully’s behavior is excused because she did one mean thing to him.

Again, this is not talking about the entire AIB fandom, just a loud minority of people I have seen within it. Also sorry for this rant being so long, I have Feelings about it.

#confession #/aib

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purrgilpawkins · 1 year ago

Text

Needle + Thread

Summary: Mac needs his wounds stitched up. Unfortunately for him, he and the team are in the middle of nowhere without painkillers. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Comfortember 2020 series Prompt: Campfire

Warnings: non detailed wound stitching

Notable tags: H/C, stab wound, field medicine, hurt Mac, caring Jack, caring Riley, Mac whump

The sound of the crackling fire was the only thing heard amongst the chirping crickets, the chattering of Riley’s teeth, and Mac’s ragged breathing. At least, it was all Jack could hear, which was a good thing for the most part.

They had to set up camp in the woods to lay low and wait for exfil. Unfortunately none of them were wearing appropriate attire to be camping during November, which left them all a little on the chilly side. Jack and Riley could handle it but they were both worried about Mac, who was currently bleeding out thanks to a gash on his belly when he decided it’d be a good idea to get into a knife fight with someone.

They’d started on building a small fire immediately and Jack was on a constant lookout in case anyone decided to bother checking out the smoke. Riley was doing her best to make sure Mac was warm and comfortable.

After doing another sweep of their makeshift campsite, Jack walked over to them and sat on the other side of Mac, “How you holdin’ up?”

Mac lifted his bloody hand from his wound and shook it, giving Jack a glare.

“Right. I guess you’re doin’ a little bad.”

Mac replaced his hand and groaned, “Understatement.”

“Well, good news,” Jack rummaged around in his jacket pocket, “I have a needle and thread here, so we could stitch you up real quick, if you want.”

“Why’d you pick up a needle and thread?” Riley piped up.

“You never know what weird shit Mac’s plans may call for. Good thing those terrorists were hiding out in an abandoned crafting supply store, huh?”

Mac groaned as he sat up to inspect the needle, “Yeah, I think I can do without the tetanus. Or the pain that comes with sewing up a wound with cotton.”

“Oh, I know not to use cotton, hoss. That’s why this thread is actually silk.” Jack showed Mac the end of the thread, a sticker that was labeled 99¢ with “SILK” just under the price.

“Whatever. Don’t want to do it.”

Jack frowned and turned to Riley, “What’s the ETA on exfil, Riles?”

Riley grabbed Jack’s wrist to look at his watch, “Two, maybe three hours.”

“Alright so it’s either extinguishing or risking tetanus and I’d rather take a risk than watch you bleed to death, hoss.”

“Okay, first,” Mac grunted, “it’s ‘exsanguination’, second, tetanus could just as easily kill me.”

“Yeah, but by the time you get it we’ll be back home and not in the middle of nowhere.”

“And that’s still if you get it,” Riley added.

Mac let out a long and pitiful groan, “Fine.”

“Besides, you’re more likely to get an infection.”

“Riley,” Jack whispered harshly, “why would say that after he just agreed to gettin’ patched up?”

“Come on, Jack, he already knows the dangers this might bring, right Mac?”

“Yep.”

“See.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jack started to stick the thread through the needle while Riley helped Mac lay back down. After much trial and error, Riley eventually took the needle from Jack and stuck the thread in the first try.

“Need to bring your reading glasses next time?”

Jack fake laughed and took the needle back from her. He moved to Mac and started to lift up his shirt, “Now, you know this is gonna hurt like hell.”

Mac gave Jack a pleading look, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jack sighed, having zero desire to hurt his kid, but knowing this’ll help in the long run, “Okay.” He positioned the needle under the gash and Mac squeezed his eyes shut before Jack pulled back, “Wait, hang on a sec. Hold this.” Jack handed the needle to Riley and started to unbuckle his pants.

“Um.”

“Don’t make it weird, dude. It’s just something for you to put in your mouth.” Jack stopped, Riley groaned, and Mac face-palmed.

“Way to make it weird, Jack.”

“Shut up! You know what I’m talkin’ about!” Jack angrily wrangled with his belt then handed it to Mac. He waited for Mac to fit it in his mouth and got the needle back in position when Mac gave him a thumbs up.

The needle pierced Mac’s skin and he inhaled sharply. Were the needle bigger than a sewing needle, the pain likely would’ve been worse. He briefly thought that this was nothing, it was something he could handle, but it pierced again and he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

He flinched at the next poke and Jack brought his free hand up to rest on the blond’s stomach. The delta gently brushed his thumb on Mac’s skin, hoping that his touch offered some kind of comfort when Mac flinched again. Riley took Mac’s hand in hers and didn’t protest when he squeezed it a little roughly. They both do their best to help Mac ride out the pain as Jack finished stitching him up.

The second Jack said “done”, Mac spat out the belt and goes to sit up but the hand still on his stomach prevented him from doing so.

“Whoa, hey, slow down there, hoss. This thread was designed to keep clothes together, not human skin.”

“As opposed to other kinds of skin?” Riley said. Jack gave her a look and she raised her hands in a shrug as Mac let out a quiet laugh.

“What I’m saying is, take it slow cause it’ll probably come apart real easy.” Jack removed his hand but Mac remained flat on his back.

“In that case,” Mac huffed, “I think I’m gonna sit here for a while.”

“Hey, you do what you gotta do, man. We gotcha.”

Riley moved to lay down beside Mac, hand still in his and Jack started to take off his jacket. The oldest agent placed it on the youngest, despite his protests, and laid down on the other side of him. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold to go along with that possible infection.”

“It’s not even that cold.”

“Then why’re you shaking, Mac?” Riley asked.

Mac sighed and accepted his fate before leaning into Jack’s warmth and squeezing Riley’s hand.

The three basked in the comfort of each other’s presence as the fire continues to snap and pop. The woods are cold and uncomfortable and the youngest of them is suffering through a stinging pain in his side but there was no place he’d rather be than next to his family.

#chai writes #1k words #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #gen #mac & jack #mac & riley #angus macgyver #jack dalton #riley davis #hurt/comfort #stab wound #field medicine #hurt mac #caring jack #caring riley #mac whump #comfortember 2020

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year ago

Text

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 4)

Draco Malfoy x Fem!OC

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

1 | 2 | 3

Rosanna wakes alone, it’s not yet morning. The clock on the bedside table reading 3:15 AM. She forces her body from the warmth of their bed, following the sound of tinkling piano keys down to the parlor.

She finds Draco there, sat at the piano, in dim candlelight.

He feels her presence before he sees her. Shoulders tensing a bit before he turns to the intruder. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Rosanna hesitates before admitting, “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“That makes two of us.” Draco pats the piano bench beside him.

Rosanna closes the distance between them, making herself comfortable on the oak bench that matches the glossy, black, finish of the grand piano.

Draco places a hand on her belly, his palm swiftly greeted by a kick. “That makes three of us,” he amends his previous statement. “Rambunctious little thing. Gets that from you.” Draco traces what he can only assume to be the babe's foot, across Rosanna's skin.

“They’re having a party in there.”

Draco smiles, pressing kisses to her bump. "I know, first hand, how lonely it can be growing up a Malfoy. Forced to conform to my parent's ideals. I never had many friends, just people who hung around for my name.

I think their reputation may proceed them, at school. Others might shy away, or worse, they’ll attract the wrong sort.” In truth, that’s why he’s asked for more children; more than he wants to hold them in his arms, more than he wants to see her in their tiny faces, he doesn’t want their child to be alone.

Rosanna feels the tears welling in her eyes. "People might treat them differently, we can't protect them from that. All we can do is teach them to be kind and true to themself, that they’re always loved."

"I've been thinking- it's about time they had a proper name. If there's one you have in mind, we should use it. But if not... I quite like Leo. It means-"

"Lion." She finishes for him.

"Brave and true. Any child of yours will be just that." Draco explains, fondly.

"Leo," Rosanna tests it out. The name feels right, their baby feels like a, "Leo." She says again, with finality. "So you do want to stick to constellations?"

"We don't have to." Whatever she wants.

Rosanna nods, turning her attention back to the abandoned keys.

“Do you play?” Draco wonders.

“I can play chopsticks.”

“I could teach you.”

“Sometime when I’m not half asleep.” She has nothing better to do. “Maybe you could play for me.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve learned this one just for you.” Draco wastes no time, repositioning his hands, “feel free to sing along.”

Rosanna wonders what it’ll be, a love ballad, surely. Something deep and meaningful, destined to make her cry…but no. Not at all.

Draco plays the melody with a cheeky smirk, looking to Rosanna expectantly as he plunks out the first note of the chorus.

“So, bye, bye, Miss American Pie,” Rosanna can’t help but return his playful smile. “Drove my Chevy to The Levee, but The Levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey in Rye, singin', this’ll be the day that I die.” She knocks his shoulder with her own. “Enough.”

“Very well,” Draco lets his hands fall back into his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want to be?”

“What do I want to be?” Rosanna’s brows furrow.

“Do you want to be a housewife? Would you rather work for the ministry? Or perhaps become a potions master? A writer? Journalist? Professor?” He pauses, “I’ve told you what I want, but those are my dreams, not yours.” Draco searches her eyes with his own. “What do you want to be?”

“Well,” Rosanna stammers, “I want to be a good mother and a good wife. I want to be close to my friends and…” She pauses, feeling a bit guilty for saying it, when she knows how hard he’s trying to make her happy. “I want to finish school and see the world. Maybe I could try out for the Holyhead Harpies, I miss quidditch.” Rosanna breathes, “more than anything, I want to be free.”

“You will be free, Ro.”

Something catches her eye, down near the place where his hands are resting. He follows her gaze…the mark.

"I'm the one who has to live with it, not you." Draco explains, clearing his throat. He never considered that it mark might bother her to look at.

"No, I wasn't-" Rosanna breaks off, seeing the exasperated look on Draco's face. "Ok, well I was looking, but it's not what you think." She explains.

"What then?" He sighs.

"It looks different, lighter." The girl explains.

"Trick of the light." He doesn't need to see it, to know it can't fade.

"Will you just look?" Rosanna insists.

"I’d rather look at you.”

“Very smooth, Malfoy," Rosanna purses her lips. "But, you're not getting off the hook that easily."

He rolls his blue eyes at her. “That’s Draco to you.”

"Or what?" Rosanna challenges. "Your father will hear about this?" She laughs, lightly, at her own joke.

"Piss off," he snorts, moving his forearm toward the light. Blinking at it in disbelief; because she's right, it's not half as dark as it was a week ago, or even a day ago.

Rosanna traces it with her finger, "am I right? Or am I right?"

"Dunno." He swallows, unsure if he's imagined it.

"Maybe you should show your Dad. I wonder if his is doing the same thing." Rosanna suggests.

"Do you often think of my father while we're alone together? Do you fancy him?" Draco cocks his head to the side, it's his turn to have a laugh.

"Eww." She crosses both arms over her chest.

"It's a fair ask." The boy shrugs. "This is the second time you've mentioned him in the past five minutes."

“I hate you."

“You love me,” Draco corrects her.

“I do, don’t I?”

The image of a young Draco dancing across her mind. Much too young for her to have known him.

By the time she realizes what's happened, or has a chance to stop, she's pushed from his mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Rosanna apologizes, immediately.

The trick with Legillimacy, at least in her experience, is that she can’t control if and when she sees things. Especially once she gets close to someone. Others would give an arm or leg to be born with a gift like that.

"I'm not angry, you surprised me is all." Draco stops her, feeling physically ill when Rosanna flinches away. "Don't," he chokes out, against the lump in his throat. "It’s alright." Draco insists, reverently.

"No, Draco-" Rosanna remembers the horror stories he’d told about having his mind searched, invaded by his Aunt Bellatrix when she’d taught him the art of occlumency.

"Rosanna, I want you to see me."

Her hand trembles, reaching out to touch his face, allowing the images to flood her mind once more.

Draco is five, sitting with Lucius and Narcissa. He wants to play with children his age, the only ones he's allowed are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, they'll have to do.

Draco receives his Hogwarts letter. Lucius once again drills into him the importance of Slytherin house and how all other houses are less than.

Draco is presented with a wand by Narcissa, 'the best wand.' But seeing as it never had a chance to choose him, it takes a while to give it's allegiance.

Under his father's request, a young Draco attempts to befriend Harry Potter, who is quick to reject his outstretched hand.

Second year their rivalry continues when they become seekers for opposing houses. Calling Hermione a 'filthy little mudblood,' when she accuses Malfoy of buying his way onto the quidditch team.

Then third year, the cheeky girl with the accent. Grading his nerves during their project, worming her way into his dreams, even worse, into his heart.

His fear of rejection, fear of disappointing his parents, fear of caring for her more than he should. Jealously over her friendship with Harry and Ron, being angry for hours if one of them lean in too close or if their eyes linger too long.

The dress he’d chosen for her, fourth year. How nervous he was to ask her to the Yule Ball to begin with. Overhearing Dean Thomas and Fred Weasley debating if Rosanna was truly interested in a prat like Malfoy.

Taking a spot on the inquisitorial squad fifth year, to protect Dumbledore's Army, even though it was run by Potter. The nights spent with Rosanna, learning to produce a patronus. Thoughts of her bring the silver lion to life, bounding off the walls of his dorm room. He's not entirely surprised to learn that his patronus is the same as hers.

That Christmas being the worst of his life, the way her tears threatened his resolve. How many times he nearly crumbled and wrote her during their separation. The way the days seemed to drag on, leaving a Rosanna sized hole in his heart.

Pretending he was fine, happy even, that she never meant a thing to him. Lying to his family, biting his tongue when his father made remarks about her. Oftentimes laughing through the pain in his chest.

When Lucius is taken to Azkaban, part of Draco is relieved. The other, larger, part is devastated. Despite it all, Draco loves his father. Wanting to reach out to Ro before committing himself to Voldemort, ultimately deciding it was too dangerous.

Being ashamed when she confronts him on the train and wishing he could scrub the mark off his skin. Hating how nervous and sad Rosanna's eyes are as she leaves, almost calling her back.

Mending the vanishing cabinet, feeling hopeless all the while. Returning home for Christmas and overhearing his mother and aunt discussing the prophecy.

'It's a baby, Cissy.' Bellatrix purrs to Narcissa. ‘Born from the dirt, through he, blossoms. It’s the filthy blood from the girl’s mudblood mother.’

'He’s just a boy.' Narcissa argues.

‘Draco should be honored to serve the dark lord, as should you.’

Telling Rosanna of their fate, knowing there's nothing he can do. The anger that consumes him, when his mother confirms the pregnancy. Being unable to control his sobs, when he feels the child stir in her belly. Rosanna finally waking up as he hopes beyond all hope that she's not disgusted by him.

Instead, she asks if he's ok, if he missed her. Taking nothing for granted and living each day with her to the fullest.

Knowing that during their duel with the trio, she was going to cause a distraction, still being gutted when he hears her scream. How much he truly enjoyed waiting on her hand and foot for seven entire days.

Loving her more with each passing second. Reading up on his baby books when he can't fall asleep. Dreaming about their child, unbeknownst to Rosanna, hoping for a brown eyed, Gryffindor, with her smile.

Rosanna finally breaks their connection. Draco can be an ass when he wants to be, therefore very few people have the pleasure of truly knowing him. “Thank you.”

Lucius clears his throat, from the entryway, startling them apart. “Draco, I need a word with you.”

Draco’s father has a nasty habit of sucking all the air out of a room.

“Give us a minute.” Draco pecks a kiss to Rosanna’s cheek.

“I’ll be upstairs.” She moves to stand, squeezing Draco’s shoulder, in parting.

Lucius waits until she is out of earshot to make his move. "Let me see your mark." He extends his arm, for comparison.

Draco obeys, peering down at them. "What's it mean?”

"The Potter boy is getting stronger, destroying horcruxes surely. We should have been the ones to turn him over to the dark lord." Lucius seethes.

"He doesn't know Potter was here, unless Bellatrix told him." Draco replies.

"Don't be daft Draco, of course she's told him." Lucius knows Bellatrix's allegiance was never to them. "He's not pleased, however the child is of utmost importance."

"Why do you care?" Draco asks his father. "Why do his bidding?"

"Son, you've heard the stories-"

"I've heard stories of a great man; I have yet to see a great man. I have seen a creature, who may have been a man once. One who is vile and cruel, whose only desire is to harm. I don't understand." Draco leans forward.

"Keep your voice down." Lucius scolds him like a child.

"All my life, you were on about blood purity, how we were somehow better; more powerful than blood traitors and half bloods. You must know it's a lie. Rosanna is better than you, she's better than me, she's better than the lot of us put together. She's not going to stand with him. She is good." Draco annunciates each word.

"Have you considered what will happen if you fail the dark lord?" Lucius asks, reaching the end of his patience. "If you love Rosanna, you'll convince her to swallow her pride-"

"Pride has no part in this." Draco swallows, harshly. "I will not force her hand. I will not take the light inside of her and snuff it out."

"Do you think her lot will ever truly accept you?" Lucius tuts. "That they will simply, excuse your past actions? You will always be a suspect, they will never trust you."

Draco squares his shoulders, “she’s worth it."

"She will die for this Draco, you will die for this." Lucius steeples his hands in front of his mouth, in frustration. "I realize I've been harsh, but never because I don't love you, rather because... I do." Lucius chokes up a bit. "I beg you both; reconsider."

Part 5

#through love and by love #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfic

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spookybunnybabe · 3 months ago

Text

the whispering space station

Summary:

When the crew of the Red Dwarf encounters an abandoned space station drifting at the edge of a mysterious void, they have to board in order to stop their ship from being eaten up by the void. But as they board the station, they find themselves facing an ancient cosmic horror lurking within its depths. Separated and hunted by an entity that feeds on their deepest fears, each crew member must confront their worst nightmares. With reality warping around them, they must push through madness-inducing horrors to shut down the core before the abyss consumes them all.

first entry to my lovecraft x red dwarf anthology series called Fear of the Unknown.

link to ao3

warnings for: body horror and disturbing/unsettling themes.

The Red Dwarf drifted through the vast emptiness of deep space, its hulking shape lost in the cold, starless void. The only sounds in the control room were the gentle hum of the engines and the occasional flip of Lister’s magazine as he lounged, feet propped up on the console. Cat, immaculate as ever, was busy polishing his already flawless nails, while Rimmer paced, muttering about “protocols” and “proper procedures.”

“Honestly, Rimmer,” Lister said, not even glancing up from an article titled ‘The Top 10 Deep Space Curries You Must Try’, “if I have to hear one more word about protocols, I’ll bash my head against this console.”

“You don’t understand, Lister,” Rimmer snapped, his eyes darting nervously. “We’ve gone off course. Holly’s lost the coordinates again. For all we know, we’re drifting straight into a supernova or a black hole. We need diagnostics!”

“Or we could run a ‘shut up and relax’ program,” Cat quipped, inspecting his reflection. “I’m not stressing over space hazards; they’re bad for my skin.”

Before Rimmer could retort, Holly’s face flickered onto the screen, her expression unusually solemn. “Boys don’t know if this’ll be of interest, but I’m picking up an abandoned station. JMC origin, but it’s not on any current records. Looks like it’s been drifting for decades.”

“An abandoned station?” Kryten’s voice chimed in as he entered the room, his eyes locked on the screen. “In my experience, anything abandoned in space usually means disaster—or worse, ghosts.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes. “Oh, marvelous. Another relic from JMC’s glory days. What does the readout say, Hol?”

Holly’s face glitched, flickering between static and her usual deadpan expression. “Well, no life signs, no power, nothing really. But... it’s orbiting a big, gaping hole in space.”

Lister finally put his magazine down. “A gaping hole? How big we talking’, Hols?”

“Big enough to give you the heebie-jeebies,” Holly replied. “And I do mean big. It’s absorbing everything—light, radiation, signals—like it’s... hungry.”

Rimmer paled, his voice rising an octave. “Oh, brilliant! An invisible death trap. Why are we even thinking about going near it? It’s the classic horror setup; next thing you’ll be telling me the walls are bleeding, and people went mad.”

Lister threw his magazine at Rimmer’s head. “What’s wrong, Rimmer? Afraid of a little cosmic hole?”

“I’m not afraid, Lister,” Rimmer retorted, straightening his uniform. “I just don’t want to get sucked into a void and turned into space dust.”

“Holly, anything on the station logs?” Lister asked, ignoring Rimmer’s grumbling.

Holly’s screen flickered again. “Logs are... vague. The crew seemed to be researching something inside the station—something about the void’s energy. But in their last entry... well, they mentioned people disappearing. One by one.”

Kryten’s eyes narrowed. “Disappearing? In my experience, sir, people don’t tend to leave voluntarily when they vanish one by one.”

“Maybe they found a better spot,” Lister shrugged. “Nice beaches and all that?”

“Or,” Rimmer said, his voice edged with panic, “they got consumed by whatever’s inside that void! I don’t know why we’re even considering docking there—it’s clearly suicide.”

Cat, closing his mirror with a dramatic snap, shook his head. “If it’s eating light and everything else, I’m not going anywhere near it. I don’t do pale and ghoulish.”

“It’s not a vampire, Cat; it’s a void,” Lister laughed. “A really big void.”

“Bigger than that, Dave,” Holly said, her voice taking on a darker tone. “It’s moving.”

The crew fell silent, their eyes fixed on the screen.

“Moving?” Rimmer’s voice was tight with fear. “What do you mean, moving?”

“It’s expanding,” Holly replied. “And not in a slow, ‘oh isn’t this interesting’ way. It’s pulling everything into it—station included. We’re caught in its gravity. If we don’t act fast, we’ll be next.”

“Fantastic,” Rimmer scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And our first thought is to investigate it?”

Kryten was already busy pulling up schematics. “It’s worse than that, sirs. The station seems to be at the very center of this... anomaly. Whatever’s inside isn’t behaving like any black hole I’ve seen. It’s emitting energy—unlike anything recorded.”

Lister leaned forward, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What kind of energy?”

“By the sound of these logs... malevolent energy,” Kryten said, frowning. “The entries become more erratic—almost frantic. Mentions of shadows moving in the corridors, whispers, and... something ‘waking up.’”

“Waking up?” Cat shivered, his usual bravado faltering. “Yeah, that’s my cue to stay put. Anything that ‘wakes up’ in deep space is never good.”

Lister smirked. “Well, it’s that or sit here and get sucked in anyway.”

Rimmer threw up his hands. “Those are our options? Fly into an abyss and get torn apart or board a ghost ship full of malevolent energy? Fantastic!”

“Sirs,” Kryten said, scrolling through the last of the logs, “if we want to avoid becoming cosmic debris, we need to board the station. The central power core appears to be the source. If we can shut it down, we might stand a chance.”

Lister grinned. “Well then, guess we’re suiting up.”

As they approached the station, its jagged silhouette loomed larger, the darkness of the void swallowing what little light remained. The surface of the station looked scarred, as if twisted by unseen forces. Shadows seemed to dance along the metal exterior, and the air inside the ship grew colder.

“Holy, plot the safest landing spot,” Lister ordered, pulling on his suit. “And keep the engines running—just in case.”

“Engines are already at max, Dave, but that void’s got a grip like a giant squid. It’s not letting go easy.”

Rimmer’s eyes darted nervously. “I’m telling you; this isn’t a weekend trip. We’re flying into the belly of some cosmic beast.”

“Or we’re about to find some real treasure,” Lister shot back. “Think about it, Rimmer—who knows what’s inside?”

Kryten looked up from his console. “Logs show the power core might be connected to whatever’s warping the gravity. If we can disable it, we might disrupt the field.”

“Alright, boys,” Lister said, his grin faltering. “Time to find out what’s really in the dark.”

As the Red Dwarf docked on the derelict station, the ships metal hull scraping against the rusted exterior with an unsettling screech of metal on metal. The airlock hissed as it opened; a thick breeze of stale air carried through the scent of something metallic and something that smelt rotten. As they stepped out, Lister took a deep breath in as the first one to taste the unpleasant air.

“Smells like someone’s been storing corpses,”

“Not funny, Lister,” Rimmer muttered as they all stepped out into the eerie dense air, “I’m telling you; this is how it starts. Cold air, eerie silence and then bam, aliens,”

Cat pulled at his suit feeling the nippiness of the air around him, “This air is bad for the skin and the lighting? Does nothing for my complexion. I do not like this one bit,”

Kryten’s sensors whirred as he adjusted his scanners trying to make sense of this nonsensical area, “I’m detecting minimal atmospheric pressure, but the radiation levels are...inconsistent. It’s as if the stations systems are trying to stabilize and something is stopping them. I’d recommend that we all stay alert,”

The crew stepped onto the docking bay where their footsteps echoed in the cavernous empty space. The walls were like a patchwork of different bits of metal of varying degrees of stability and exposed electrics. The lights were barely on, flickering in a fight to stay alive. Shadows stretched long twisting tendril like features across the hallway.

No one spoke. Who knew what was lurking beneath the darkness? However, the sound of Holly’s voice crackled through the communication device as if the signal in this space station wasn’t very good.

“I’m having a hard time keeping up with you boys,” Holly’s voice crackled through static, “The void’s pull is getting stronger too. Don’t take too long,”

“Noted, Hol,” Lister said gripping his flashlight more as he scanned the area of the corridor, “Right, Kryten. Where’s the power core?”

Kryten’s eyes darted between the station’s schematics, “It should be approximately four levels down, through the central corridor and past the engineering bay. I recommend caution,”

“Four levels?” Rimmer’s voice quivered through the dark halls, the lights dancing on the walls as if they were alive with monstrous shadows, “I suggest we cut our losses before this thing eats us whole,”

“And get slowly sucked into the void? Fat chance,” Lister shot back, “I would rather die trying to turn it off than risk being sucked in by doing nothing,”

Cat’s eyes flickered nervously between the shadows and his reflection in a cracked metal panel. He gave it one curious glance before turning back to the others, “Well, I don’t see anything worth staying for. There better be an all you can eat buffet at the end of this or I’m out,”

Kryten continued to lead the way as they moved deeper into the station. The air felt heavy, like wading through the fog of a dark day. With each step they took, it echoed for far longer than it should have as the sound stretched as far as the shadow until it was swallowed whole by the silence. The lights cast pale, sickly beams that barely cut through the murk which left long pools of darkness between the dim light. Every few feet, the lights would flicker leaving beats of darkness between those moments before spluttering back to life as if the station was gasping for air.

Rust streaked down from the seams like dried blood, here and there, pipes jutting out at odd angles. The temperature kept dropping the more and more they delved into the uninviting corridors. The walls wept with condensation, droplets running down like cold sweat.

Lister shone his light along the walls when his beam caught something; unfamiliar symbols that etched deep into the metal. It was jagged, angular and seemed to be writing of some kind but of what language, it was hard to say.

Kryten’s eyes caught on and scanned it, “It’s not JMC standard. Looks almost...ritualistic,”

Cat shivered, “Whatever it is, it’s bad for my vibes,”

“Agreed,”

The crew moved deeper and deeper into the winding corridors as the air grew colder and the shadows lengthened along the walls. Each step sounded heavier with the creaking beneath their boots. The station started subtly shifting around them, as if it were alive and breathing, a low insistent murmur. As they moved along, Lister kept darting his flashlights to the unknown writing on the wall as if trying to decipher it even though the language was completely alien to them. Due to this, he started to lag behind, he frowned almost frustrated by the lack of understanding of what happened here.

That was when he heard it.

The whispering.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Soft, like distant echoes. He turned around to try and pinpoint it before looking forward and seeing the rest had gotten further than him. Lister caught up with them, trying to process the barely audible terror.

“Do you hear that?” He asked them.

“Hear what?” Cat replied, “All I hear is this place trying to ruin my mood,”

But then it became clearer. Sharper and clearer which made Lister stop and turn around. It was no longer a distant echo, but it sounded like it came from the bottom of the hallway and instead of it sounding like a jumble of a mix of different people talking, it was one voice, and he recognized it.

He dropped his flashlight.

“What is going on Lister?” Rimmer asked, annoyance clear in his voice which was probably exacerbated by the nervousness. Lister didn’t say anything as he strained his ears so he could hear it again. He knew the voice. He knew it so well and it just couldn’t be possible...

“...Kochanski?”

He stared into the dark recesses of the corridor. The more he stared into the voice, the more his eyes dared to stare into the black void of despair, the more he felt himself lost in the whispering. It was her.

Dave...why did you leave me?

Lister’s heart was pounding in his chest. He swept his flashlight into his hands and shunned it down the hallway. He felt something touch his shoulder but when he turned around, no one was behind him. The rest of the crew were ahead of him, and he looked over towards them.

“Guys. It’s Kochanski. She’s alive...I don’t know how but...” Lister didn’t know where to begin. He moved his torch to look down into the corridor as if he was ready to dive headfirst into the abyss. Uncertainty twisted his gut.

The crew exchanged glances, and Kryten’s sensor’s beeped, “Sir, there are no signs of life beyond this point. Whatever you are hearing...”

“Lister, it’s messing with your head,” Rimmer’s voice was surprisingly soft, but it did nothing to mask that he was terrified, “We need to stick together. The last thing that we need is to be separated,”

But Lister simply could not tear his eyes away from the void for two minutes. The whispers in the dark, each word climbing and burying deep within his skin like a parasite digging and digging into his skull. His breath hitched as he took a step towards the voice.

“Dave, why did you leave me?”

“Lister!” Rimmer’s voice rang out, but Lister didn’t hear it as his steps kept carrying him towards the voice. It was closer now, like it was beyond the veil of a shadow.

Why didn’t you come back?

He shone the light deeper and deeper. He ignored the sound of his crew calling on him as he walked into the void, almost as if he was being pulled by a magnet. The shadowy tendrils of the dark pulling him in deeper and deeper within its grasp. As he continued to shine his light, he wasn’t hitting anything, and it seemed as if it were to go on forever and then he saw her.

Kochanski. Her silhouette bathed in the weak flickering light. Relief flooded over him. Years of loneliness and missing her crashed down on him and suddenly, she was there.

“Krissy,” He called out, his voice cracking a touch as his steps quickened up, “Is that really you?”

Dave.

The relief was gone.

Something about her was off.

Her body twitched slightly, unnatural as if she were a puppet on strings. Hope drained from his face as he stared at her. Her head movement jerky. When her eyes met his, they were dull and glassy as if dolls eyes were forcibly shoved into her sockets. Her mouth twitched into a smile, but it was far too wide as the corners of her mouth were stretched unnaturally ear to ear.

Don’t you recognize me, Dave?

Lister took a step back. His eyes widened as he watched her step into the light. Her skin, pale and waxy, seemed too tight for her skull which made it look like a mask. The longer he looked at her, the more he noticed small details such as her hair hanging limp and plastic looking, far too perfect. Her hands and fingers stretched unnaturally towards him.

It looked like a mockery of the human form.

I’m so cold Dave.

The sound didn’t even sound like it was coming from her as the sound was out of sync with the moment of her lips which revealed oddly shaped teeth.

Lister’s breath came in ragged gasps as she continued to move closer to him. Her limbs twisted in horrible ways that no human body could naturally. Her arms began bending at grotesque angles with the sound of bones snapping and cracking with each moment.

He stumbled back, against a cold wall, “You are not Krissy,”

But she kept advancing, her head jerking to the side. Her body began to look more like a costume for what was inside of it. Her neck peeled like a mask revealing the raw, wet grotesque flesh underneath.

Don’t you recognize me, Dave?

Lister stumbled back, his flashlight beam catching her arm as it split apart, sinews unraveling into a mass of writhing tendrils. He felt a cold, clammy hand grip his arm—her hand, or what was left of it. The flesh was too soft, too pliable, and it squeezed, pulling him toward her.

With a yell, he wrenched himself free, falling back. The flashlight rolled from his hand, its beam casting erratic shadows that twisted into monstrous shapes. He scrambled to his feet as she lunged, her body elongating, joints popping audibly as they twisted to impossible angles. Her skin split open as she smiled, revealing something dark and writhing beneath.

Lister dropped his flashlight. The beam rolled and spun wildly as it cast nightmarish shadows that twisted and turned, merging with the darkness. He yelled, his voice echoing in the darkness and then...silence.

The silence was broken by the sound of frantic footsteps as Rimmer, Kryten and Cat came sprinting down the corridor. The walls seemed to close in on them.

“Lister!” Rimmer shouted as he scanned the darkness, “Where are you?”

Kryten’s sensors beeped erratically, struggling to get a clear reading, “I’m picking up faint traces of his life signs, but there’s something interfering and I can’t pinpoint his location,”

Cat’s eyes darted from side to side, “This place is bad for my mood and worse, my style,”

They rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. The beam from Rimmer’s flashlight caught the edge of something lying on the floor, spinning around slowly. It was the flashlight Lister had, and its beam dim and flickering, casting weak rays that barely pierced the shadows.

Kryten leaned down, his hand grabbing the flashlight, “This...This is where the signal stops. There is a high concentration of neurological activity in this area...as if something has tampered with the atmosphere,”

Rimmer’s flashlight swept over the walls, catching glimpses of those jagged angular symbols etched into the metal.

“Lister!! This isn’t funny!” Rimmer snapped in the silence, “Where are you?”

Kryten leaned back up and looked at the other two, “My theory is that the station is reacting to us and is...targeting us,”

“Then we need to keep moving,” Cat said, voice urgent, “We can’t let this thing pick us off one by one,”

Rimmer looked at the other two and then shone his flashlight back in the darkness. And just before they rounded the corner, Rimmer swore he saw movement—a flash of Lister’s face in the shadows, but it was wrong. His eyes were too dark, his smile too wide.

He shuddered, forcing himself to move faster. The station wasn’t just playing with them—it was hunting.

The crew climbed the staircase to the next floor. The metal steps were creaking under their boots. The walls felt much closer there as if the station itself was beginning to squeeze in on them. Each breath was visible in the cold dark air, leaving a metalic taste in the back of their throats.

Kryten continued to lead the way, following his scanner as his flashlight bounced erratically as he moved throughout the walls.

“I’m telling you, when this is all over, I am going to need a serious spa day,” Cat said, “This place is giving me stress lines,”

“Let’s just keep moving,” Rimmer muttered as his eyes darted nervously between the shadows, “The sooner we find out what’s causing this, the sooner we can leave,”

Kryten’s scanner beeped as they reached the next corridor, a narrow hallway lined with twisted, rusted pipes, “The energy levels are increasing. We’re getting closer to the source,”

As they moved forward, they kept close together but then Cat began to hear something. He stopped, his ears twitching as he looked around and then his ears twitched. That sound was very familiar.

“Ugh, not all this again,” Cat grumbled, shining his flashlight down the hall, “Do you guys hear that?”

Kryten and Rimmer paused, before looking at Cat, “Hear what?” Kryten asked.

Cat’s eyes narrowed, his flashlight beam searching the corridor, “It’s me...I hear... me,”

The whispering grew louder, taking on a distorted tone. Cat’s eyes darted nervously looking around frantically, “It’s like, someone is trying to do a really bad impression of me,”

“Cat, it’s the station messing with your head,” Rimmer said, his voice betraying his own fear. “We need to stick together—don’t fall for it.”

But Cat’s flashlight beam swept over a figure at the far end of the corridor. He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, what... what is that?”

“Cat!”

But it was too late as Cat’s frantic steps lead him down the hallway. Rimmer and Kryten yelled after him as Cat searched the hallway frantically for the voice. The flashlight bounced off the walls, trying to find the source of the whispering but it wasn’t long until the light source landed on the source, and it was...

Cat’s eyes locked onto the figure at the end of the hall. At the end of the corridor stood what looked like a distorted mirror. As it stepped forward, the Cat’s signature outfit style stood out, but it clung to the doppelganger’s distorted body to its frame like a wet paper towel and fused to the skin in hideous patches. Its face sagged, as if it had melted in places and then hardened and burned in other places with clumps of hair hanging like matted lumps of hair.

Cat’s lips curling in disgust, his voice wavered, “You’re not me,”

The figure’s head twitched, a sickening crack of bones was heard as it did. A crack split down the center of its face that looked like it was opening like a zipper. From the gap, black, oozing fluid spilled out, dripping into the floor in thick, tar-like drops. The figure’s mouth opened wide as its jaw broke off from its hinges at a crooked angle as it grinned at Cat.

But I am.

And I know what you really are.

Cat stumbled backwards as the creature’s skin began to bubble and began to peel. The flesh underneath was unnatural, full of scales and patches of fur as if it was transforming between different and unrecognizable. Its hands split down the middle and its bones protruding outward like talons.

Perfection is just an illusion.

Underneath.

We are all rotting inside.

Cat’s flashlight trembled as he pointed it at the doppelganger, catching sight of its eyes. They were sunken and uneven, one larger than the other and bulging grotesquely out of its sockets. With the light on it, the skin bubbled and rippled, shifting and rearranging itself as if someone was alive underneath the skin and trying to escape the bone and flesh underneath.

“No... this isn’t real,”

The body contorted further. The arms began to snap and bend at unnatural angles and bend in different ways. The chest split open, revealing rows of jagged broken teeth underneath the flesh. The skin stretched tight with veins that pulsed with dark liquid.

Cat turned, panic surging through him as he sprinted back down the corridor, his footsteps echoing wildly. The whispers followed, growing louder, mocking, overlapping with his own voice.

You’ll never be perfect... you’ll never be real...

He stumbled, and the flashlight slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. The beam rolled, spinning wildly before finally settling on the deformed Cat’s grinning face. The thing lunged, and Cat’s scream echoed through the hall.

Rimmer and Kryten heard the scream as they bolted down the corridor.

“Cat!” Rimmer shouted, his voice tinged with fear, “Cat, where are you?”

Kryten’s scanner beeped frantically, “I’m not picking up his life signs,”

Once they got to the spot where Cat had been, all that remained was his flashlight, its beam pointing at the far wall. Kryten knelt down, his hand hovering over the light, “He was here...”

Rimmer’s face paled as the reality of the situation sank in further, “It’s real. It’s taken us one by one,”

Kryten sighed, standing back up, “We need to get to the core. We need to stick together now...”

The second floor felt colder than the last, the air heavy and damp as Rimmer and Kryten moved cautiously through the narrow hallway. The lights overhead flickered erratically, casting twisted shadows that stretched and recoiled as if alive. The whispers that had followed them since they entered the station grew louder, slithering through the walls and creeping into their ears.

Kryten’s scanner beeped steadily, the readout erratic. “The energy readings are stronger here. We must be getting closer to the source.”

Rimmer glanced around, his flashlight beam trembling as it passed over the corroded metal walls. “And what’s the plan when we find it, Kryten? Because so far, all we’ve found is a haunted house of horrors.”

However, before Kryten could answer that, Rimmer stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around frantically in the direction behind them.

“Sir...”

Rimmer’s breath caught in his throat as he looked forward into the darkness, his eyes widening as he froze. Eyes were darting from shadow to shadow, “No... not here...no not now,”

Kryten turned, concern etched on his face. He reached out a mechanical hand to place on Rimmer’s shoulder with the attempt of trying to ground the other man, “Sir, stay focused stay focused it’s the station, it’s trying to-”

Rimmer’s face contorted. He looked as if he was staring down the worst nightmare of his life. A nightmare that Kryten couldn’t see and couldn’t understand.

“They’re here...”

Then, without warning, Rimmer turned and bolted, his footsteps echoing frantically down the corridor.

“Rimmer! Wait” Kryten shouted, but Rimmer was already gone. Swallowed by the darkness. Kryten’s sensors began to flare up with interference, the readings began to jump wildly as he tried to find Rimmer’s life signs, “Oh smeg...”

For a moment, Kryten was left alone in the oppressive silence, his only companion the faint, distorted whispers that seeped from the walls.

The whispers shifted, morphing into a familiar voice that made Rimmer’s heart stop.

Arnold...still a useless failure.

Rimmer’s breath caught in his throat as he continued to run, “No... not here...”

The shadows around him began to shift, bulging like tendrils out of the walls as if they were alive. Figures began to emerge, their bodies twisting and writhing like snakes. Rimmer’s flashlight beam trembled as he swept it over the shapes forming before his eyes.

His parents’ and brothers’ face. Their features are pale and distorted. They all stared back at him.

You’ll always be a failure.

Rimmer stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. “No, you’re not real. You’re no real!”

But the figures grew clearer, stepping out of the walls. His father’s face split open down the middle, revealing a gaping maw filled with rows of jagged teeth that twisted and snapped. His arms elongated, the skin splitting as bony claws protruded from his fingers, dripping with dark fluid.

You’ll never amount to anything.

His mother’s face warped, eyes stretching into black voids. Her hands became skeletal. Her fingers grew into talons that scraped against the walls, leaving deep scars along the body of the ship. Her neck stretched out, the skin tearing to reveal there was something inside trying to escape. His brother’s faces on her body but their mouths too wide, splitting open as their jaws unhinged from her body. Long, snake-like tongues slithered out, withering in the air as they laughed.

Why are you running?

The shadows that surrounded them took on physical shapes, hands sprouting from the walls, fingers with nails like claws, scraping and reaching for him.

The walls pulsed as limbs jutted out, splitting the wall open with wet, tearing sounds. The fingers dragged along the floor, some dripping with black, tar-like blood. Some twitched and clawed at the air. Rimmer backed up as he felt the cold of one grotesque hand grab his arm.

“Leave me alone!” He shouted but the figures pressed closer. His mother’s face loomed, her mouth opening wider and wider until it split down the sides, the skin tore as she revealed rows of sharpened, jagged teeth. Her eyes bulged, the pupils dissolving into the black voids seemed to draw him in.

Why don’t you give up?

The arms that reached out for him. Their arms were elongated, skeletal with claws instead of hands. One hand grabbed his leg, and he felt the ice-cold grip, the claws digging into his uniform, ripping through the fabric and into his skin. The pain was sharp, like needles being driven into his skin.

The pain was real. Rimmer tried to pull himself free, but another hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. It was his father’s long thin fingers wrapping tightly around his arm, the skin flayed open to reveal the muscles and writhing underneath like worms.

You’ll always be a failure.

His father’s face hissed, the mouth splitting wider until the head was barely attached, hanging by strips of flesh.

“Help!”

Rimmer screamed but his voice was drowned out by the cacophony of laughter and hissing whispers. The floor beneath him felt like it was shifting, softening. He looked down and saw that the metal was dissolving into a mass of writhing tendrils that wrapped around his boots, pulling him down. The tendrils coiled tighter, climbing up his legs. His mother’s face leaned in close, her head twisting at an unnatural angle, eyes now replaced by open, gaping wounds.

Why don’t you accept what you are?

Rimmer struggled, feeling the tendrils wrap around his arms, the fingers of the shadows tearing into his skin, “No....I won’t”

But the shadows surged. The walls closed in, and Rimmer’s scream echoed through the dark as he pulled into the depths.

Kryten sensors went wild at this moment as he scanned the darkness, but all he could see was the narrow beam of his own flashlight reflecting off the rusted walls, “Rimmer? Sir, where are you?”

The whispers faded, replaced by an oppressive silence. Kryten moved cautiously forward, his eyes scanning the floor. He spotted the flashlight lying abandoned, its beam pointed at the wall. He knelt, picking it up and shining it around, but Rimmer was nowhere to be seen.

He frowned, his sensors beeping. “Life signs...disrupted...Something interfered...”

The corridor was far too quiet. Kryten’s eyes darted nervously into the shadows.

“Sir...respond if you can hear me,”

But there was no answer. Only the echo of his own voice. He scanned the area again; it was completely empty.

“Rimmer...Lister...Cat...”

But all that responded was the hum of the station’s failing systems and the distant dip of water echoing from somewhere deep in darkness. The whispering had gone silent, and then all of that remained was ominous nothingness.

Kryten looked at the wall, his eyes narrowing, “It’s picking us off, one by one.”

As he turned back, he could almost swear he saw movement – a flicker of something running off in the distance but when he turned to fully take it in, it was gone.

He glanced down at the flashlight on the floor, “I must stay in control. It’s feeding on us and...”

With one last look at the empty hallway, Kryten turned and made his way to the staircase.

Kryten’s sensors beeped as he approached the floor where the core was located. The air felt almost oily as he pushed open the rusted metal door. At first, it was the stench that hit him. A putrid smell that was a mix of rot and decay that made his very circuits shudder. The hallway beyond was a nightmare of filth. Trash and debris littered the floor. A thick layer of grime clinging to every inch of the metal beneath him. A dark, tarlike substance streaked down the walls, oozing from the cracks and pooling out of the broken pipes. Cockroaches scattered as he advanced, their slick bodies skittering over the identifiable refuse. A sickly green mold overed large patches of the floor, releasing nightmarish spores with each step he took, creating a fine mist of decay that hung in the air.

Kryten grimaced, his eyes darting around the hallway, “Oh dear...this...this is beyond cleaning,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Further down, the lights barely flickered, casting twisted, half-formed shadows that slithered along the walls like snakes. He could hear the faint, rhythmic drip of something vious, dripping from the ceiling and forming puddles of rancid liquid that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Kryten’s sensors flared, and he stepped around one of the pools, shuddering as a rat’s carcass floated to the surface, its fur matted and skin bloated.

Despite all of this, Kryten had to force himself onward, but his eyes widened as his flashlight caught something lying just ahead. His servos stuttered as he approached, a beam revealing something sprawled across the floor. It was Lister...or at least... that’s what it once was.

His skin had taken on a greyish hue and stretched unnaturally of the bone and muscle. His eyes were wide open, unseeing, but his mouth was twisted into a grimace, as if he had died screaming.

“No... not you, sir,”

As Kryten looked closer, the horror deepened over what he saw. Lister’s limbs were bent in unusual angles. His skin split open to reveal sinew and bone. His fingers were wrapped and swollen.

Kryten staggered backwards, nearly slipping on a path of black tar like sludge. His flashlight beam shifted to the wall. Hanging limply was Cat. His normally immaculate hair was matted with thick black ooze that dripped from his body. His clothes, torn and fused to his skin in patches and his face was horribly distorted. His jaw hung slack, unhinged and stretched unnaturally. His eyes were empty black pits.

“This...this isn’t real...” Kryten tried to reassure himself. Reassure himself that it was the ships attempt of driving him mad. But his words felt...hollow.

He turned, only to find Rimmer lying against the far wall, his body barely recognizable. His skin was molted and blotching, almost melting places. His mouth frozen in a scream. Tendrils of slime had wormed their way into his wounds, filling the splits in his skin and oozing from his mouth and eyes.

“Oh...Oh sir...”

The hallway stretched on, each step revealing more horrors. Shattered bones and strips of skin lay scattered across the floor. The whispers grew louder, mocking and crawling into his mind.

The lights flickered again, and in the darkness, Kryten saw movement – a writhing mass of tendrils that slithered across the ceiling. It took him a moment to realize that the tendrils were emerging from the bodies that were emerging from the walls, coiling and twisting as if they were searching for him.

Kryten stepped into the core chamber, the door creaking shut behind him. The air was freezing, and the walls pulsed with a sickly green light that seemed to pulse from the metal. At the core lay int he centers, an enormous, pulsating mass of cables and machinery – but something else was there too.

Something maddening. Something that defied all comprehension.

An entity.

It loomed over the core in an unnamable mass that writhed and shifted stretching into shapes that were impossible to describe. It was as if darkness had taken form, filling the room with a presence that was so alien, so ancient, so malevolent and... alive. The thing had no clear shape is description. It was shifting into a nightmare, a tapestry of grotesque forms that morphed and twisted before his eyes. One moment, it was all eyes, a million eyes staring at him with all the hatred in the world. But then it would shift and dissolve into a mass of tendrils that writhed and groped through the air.

Kryten didn’t understand what he saw.

“What...What in silicone hell are you?”

The entity didn’t respond in words. A low pulsating hum filled the room, vibrating through the walls and cut right through his circuitry. The sound was a lot more than a hum though; it was a voice speaking an ancient language that bypassed his processing systems and went straight to his mind filling it with images that made no sense. Alien landscapes, colors that could not be described, places where laws of physics are twisted and shattered, where stars are devoured by the dark.

Kryten clutched his head as his sensors blared at him in protest of the onslaught of images of worlds that no mere thing could ever understand. But the entity’s presence only grew stronger. He glanced back, hoping to see an escape but there was nothing there. The walls were replaced by a flesh like material that throbbed in time with the entity. Kryten’s internal systems were beginning to fail as his vision flickered to process the images he was seeing.

The entities form shifted again. Tendrils retracted from his mouth with razor sharp teeth. Millions of mouths formed and whispered to Kryten in a language he couldn’t understand. A pair of eyes blinked into existence, massive and lidless, staring directly at him. Each eye was a swirling void, filled with galaxies that spun and dissolved, consumed by an endless hunger. The longer he looked into them, the more he felt his own sense of self being pulled apart, torn down to his core programming. Fragments of his memories surfaced, mingling with the alien visions, merging into something new, something that wasn’t entirely his own.

“You’re....just a malfunction...a nightmare,”

But the entities gazed only intensified, its many eyes narrowing as they focused on him, boring into his mind with intelligence so vast and ancient that that it defined understanding. The mouths began to speak

Then in plain English.

You are nothing.

Your existence is an illusion.

Kryten stumbled at the weight of his words. The room seemed to pulse with the entity’s power, warping around him as though reality itself were bending to its will. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring as his mind fractured, each memory shattering and reassembling into twisted versions of themselves.

“No...” Kryten whispered, clutching as the images assaulted him, “I am... real... I have a purpose,”

The entity laughed, it’s voices merging into a single mocking tone.

You are insignificant.

He focused his gaze back to the core, tearing it away from the maddening sight of the entity. The control panel was within reach, but it was covered in symbols – twisted alien markings that didn’t make sense in his mind. The entity’s eyes blinked, and for a moment, Kryten saw himself reflected in their depths—broken, torn apart, lost. His circuits sparked, and he felt his systems start to shut down. But he fought back, gripping the control panel, forcing himself to push past the hallucinations and the fear. But then, Kryten slammed his fist on the control panel.

“This ends...now,”

A scream, an unearthly soul rending scream, filled the chamber, reverberating through Kryten’s circuits shaking him to his very core. The entities eyes blinked erratically looking around as its eyes stretched wide in agony as it thrashed, its form breaking apart piece by piece. The walls around Kryten began to break apart in brilliant flashing light.

You are...you are... Nothing.

Kryten’s vision flickered. The room shifted from nightmare to reality. The entities shape distorted on itself and disappeared into a pinpoint. The silence that followed was deafening.

The core’s control panel blinked with a final surge of power, then the lights stabilized, illuminating the chamber in a cold sterile glow. The darkness was gone. Kryten’s circuits, though sparkling and damaged, had held long enough. He turned slowly, seeing the room as if it truly was silent, empty, and devoid of any trace of the creature that had nearly consumed him.

“Kryten, are you there?” Holly’s voice crackled through his communicator, sharp and clear.

Kryten’s voice trembled though he forced a faint smile, “Yes, Holly... I am here. The entity... it’s been neutralized,” He stood up, straightening as he took in the quietness of the chamber. For the first time since entering the station, he felt a strange sense of peace – the absence of all malice.

He looked up and saw Lister, Cat and Rimmer all stepping into the chamber, looking as though they had awoken from some deep, horrific nightmare.

“Kryten!” Lister’s face looked revealed, “Smeg, am I glad to see you!”

Kryten’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a cut nod, “Sirs...it’s over... The entity, whatever it was...has been neutralized,”

Rimmer’s eyes continued to dart around the room as his face looked like a mixture of disbelief and lingering dread, “Neutralized... Are you sure it’s not lurking somewhere?”

Kryten managed a shaky laugh, “Quite sure, sir. The core had been shut down and the entity...well, it vanished,”

“I swear, I’m getting wrinkles from just standing here,” Cat said, sniffing the air.

Lister placed a hand on Kryten’s shoulder,” You did it, Kryten,” His voice was low and sincere, “You saved all of us,”

Kryten looked at him, a faint and genuine smile crossing his face, “Thank you, sir. But I couldn't have done it without the crew,”

They began to make their way back through the station, the corridor now brightly lit, revealing the rusty abandoned structure as it truly was...empty but no longer monstrous.

The shadows were now gone, and the walls no longer pulsed with that unnatural life.

They boarded the Red Dwarf and made their way to the cockpit, the familiar surroundings a balm after the nightmarish station. Holly’s face appeared on the screen, her usual cheerful oblivion a strange comfort.

“Ready to leave the station?” She asked.

“Please,” Cat said, collapsing into a chair, “I need a spa day just to feel alive again,”

Lister looked back at the viewing screen where the station’s eerie outline was barely visible against the vast, dark cosmos. The familiar hum of the Red Dwarf engines vibrated beneath their feed, and for a moment, everything felt safe.

Holly’s voice cut through the silence; her tone uncharacteristically thoughtful. “You know, that void out there... it’s strange. Like it’s... watching us.”

Lister laughed, “Don’t go getting philosophical on us, Holly,”

The stars drifted by in silent witness, the memory of the entity a whisper in the void, a reminder that the darkness was still out there...still waiting.

#red dwarf #arnold j rimmer #dave lister #arnold rimmer #the cat red dwarf #red dwarf fanfiction #bbc red dwarf #ao3 fanfic #red dwarf fanfic

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kj-1130 · 2 years ago

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Anything for You

chapter 7

previous chapter || series masterlist

“Psst… pssst!”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and irritation, turning and trying to get away from the poking on your cheek. You groaned lowly when it only persisted, peeking your eyes open to see MJ’s face.

“Good morning,” she whispered softly, stroking your cheek, almost lulling you back to sleep. “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy.”

With a sigh, you reach over to the nightstand where your phone was located, and start pressing down, hoping that you’ll soon hit whatever button that gets the noise to stop. After a few seconds of the randomized tapping, silence returns and you snuggle back into Michelle’s chest who is happy to hold you close. The warmth and love she radiates is enough to suck you back into a peaceful rest.

Said peaceful rest lasts for only a few moments before it’s so rudely disturbed by the same buzzing you stopped only a little while ago.

With a hefty groan, you reach over once again, snatching the phone and pressing the ‘accept call’ button.

“What?” you demanded in a grouchy tone, giving up any hope of getting any more sleep.

“I’m outside. In the parking lot.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear with a frown on your face, squinting at the screen trying to decipher who was calling you at such an hour (it was well past 11 in the morning). Once you saw who it was, you let out a sigh and begrudgingly lifted the phone back to your ear.

“What are you talking about, Pepper?” you muttered out, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Our day out,” she said as if it was obvious. “I’m here.”

“Our what now?”

The woman let out a short exhale that you could hear exhaustion seep out of. “Can you just…get ready? And come outside? Please?”

You laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what was even going on. Your brain wasn’t even fully aware, with you not even being awake for five minutes yet.

Then, you hung up.

Your hand falls from your face onto the bed as you let out a breath and close your eyes.

“Are you gonna get ready?”

“Hmm?” you hummed back looking up at Michelle with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t wanna leave her waiting for too long…” she trails off, noticing your still confused face. “Pepper,” she clarifies.

In response, you finally sit completely up and let out a sigh.

“‘M not sure if I have the energy for…that right now.”

MJ copies your movements and puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her. She could feel how tense you had gotten despite only waking up less than five minutes ago.

“She’s…trying,” your girlfriend says after a moment of searching for a proper word. She senses you about to interject so she picks back up. “And I know. It’s too little, too late. Believe me, I know. But you’ve been trying too. Trying to get closure--trying to heal. Maybe in some way, this’ll help. All else fails, you set your boundary and you never have to do it again,” she finishes.

Letting the girl’s words ring around your head, you inhale deeply and slowly start to push yourself off the bed and stiffly make your way towards the closet. MJ watches you walk away, hoping and praying that all goes well. She couldn’t bear to watch you break once more.

Pepper’s head snaps up as she’s startled from the sound of her car door opening and being slammed shut. The woman watched as you buckled yourself up with shaky hands and got (uncomfortably) settled. Eyeing your clothing choice of a hoodie and sweatpants with some old Nikes, she clears her throat gently.

“I um…didn’t think you would come,” she confesses.

“I didn’t want to,” you replied. Seeing her grimace out the corner of your eye, you let out a sigh. “But…somebody said that something good might come from this so…”

The woman nodded and after a few more seconds of silence, put the car in drive and made her way out the parking lot. She cruised down the streets, taking short glances at you every now and then.

“So,” she starts hesitantly. “What do you like to do? Anywhere you wanna go?”

You briefly thought about telling her ‘back home’, but decided against it. Not only would Michelle be slightly upset (no matter how hard she’d try to hide it), your new therapist (found by your girlfriend) would be disappointed that you hadn’t taken this opportunity to heal yourself.

“I don’t really get out much…” you trail off. “Just book stores and stuff.”

Pepper nods in response. That wasn’t what she was expecting but surely she could find something for the two of you to do. Somewhere you could sit and she could learn about you, even if it was just the tiniest thing.

It had been about an hour or so since Pepper had picked you up and the amount of bags you had sitting in her trunk were ridiculous. She had stopped by some stores (not any fancy boutiques, thank the lord) and bought anything she caught you eyeing for more than 2.5 seconds. She even thought of MJ and asked for your input of things you think she’d like.

You walked out with new clothes, shoes (nikes in particular as she had seen that the ones you had on were a little worn out), and some jewelry.

Currently, the two of you were at a little locally owned diner per your suggestion. You had become familiar with the owners over the years you came in with your girlfriend.

You shared some small talk. You asked about Morgan (who had been apparently singing your praises at home), she asked about how you and MJ had been settling in your apartment.

You were reluctantly enjoying yourself but it all seemed so…forced in a way. Like she was trying everything she could think of to appeal to you and make you like her.

“You don’t have to…buy me out, you know,” you said during a lull in conversation.

Pepper sighed and placed down the fry she was about to eat, nodding slowly.

“I know.”

You watched her gather her words and prepared yourself for an emotional monologue from her.

“When they told me you were in the hospital, my heart dropped. I thought I had lost my chance to…make things right?” she said, not sounding quite sure of herself. “This isn’t to ease my guilty conscience because if anything, I should be living with it for the rest of my life. No excuse could possibly be made to explain what I did.

“I just want to give you what you deserve,” the woman reiterates, taking the chance and reaching across the table to rest her hand on top of yours. Strangely, the urge to pull away wasn’t terribly strong. “You deserve a guardian--an adult at the very least to lean on. It’s something you should’ve had since the beginning. I’m not trying to be a parent to you--it’s much too late…”she trails off. You see tears pooling in her eyes as she continues. “I just wanna be there…to support you and watch you blossom; to help you grow and go off into the world knowing that you have something to fall back on if you ever need it.”

Emotional talk always made you uncomfortable, but you knew right now that it was needed. There was no way you could continue without acknowledging the elephant in the room and it’d be foolish of you if you thought you could.

As you shifted in your seat, you nodded slowly in response to her impromptu speech. If she could talk the leap, then so could you.

“Thanks,” you whispered. You could see Pepper lean in closer to you out of the corner of your eye as you stared at your plate of food. “I think…maybe I’ll get used to it eventually but Pepper…” you trailed off, finally looking up at her before taking a breath. “I just need some time.” You shook your head as you saw the woman slouch slightly, clearly affected by your response. “Some time soon just…not right now.”

“I understand,” she mutters.

Previous conversation resumed, but it just didn’t feel the same. There was a heavy air that surrounded the two of you that made things awkward. Pepper had felt the sting of a rejection, that was completely unintended, and you felt guilty for making things tense (even though you shouldn’t have).

You finished your late lunch and the strawberry blonde had driven you home afterwards. Even if things hadn't gone down like they did, you still would’ve requested to be taken back to your apartment as all the shopping had worn you out.

When you arrived, you insisted that you could carry all of the bags up. Pepper watched as you waddled towards the entrance and you saw her zoom off as soon as you reached the elevator.

Tremors spread from your hands to your arms as you watched the number in the elevator slowly rise, silently wishing you hadn’t been so stubborn. The doors finally opened and you gathered the last of your strength to make it to your door. When had the halls gotten so long?

By the time you got there, you could’ve sworn you felt a drop of sweat go down the side of your forehead. You kicked the door harshly, knowing you couldn’t move your arms to knock.

MJ opened the door a few moments later, looking confused then highly amused.

“Need some help with that?”

You simply glare at her and walk in once she moves to the side. As soon as you were in an open area, you dropped the bags and shook your arms out in search of relief.

When Michelle saw the way your hands and arms shook in response to such strain, she furrowed her eyebrows in concern and made her way over to you after closing the door.

“She didn’t help you bring these up?” she questioned, massaging you from forearm to fingers.

“I didn’t want her to,” you mumbled with a hint of shame in your voice.

Your girlfriend let out a sigh and you knew she was upset and slightly disappointed, even if she didn’t say so out loud.

“I take it things didn’t go so well?”

You shrug, “They did just…got kinda awkward I guess.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

As the two of you gazed at each other, you noticed how much love Michelle held in her eyes. And it was all directed towards you.

“Maybe later. Just wanna spend the rest of the day with you.”

And that’s exactly what the two of you did.

Pepper was on her side, staring at the wall as she laid in bed. It was one of the rare nights Tony joined her at a reasonable hour. He laid behind her and if she was being honest, his snoring was driving her up the wall.

The digital clock that was on her nightstand beside the bed shone at her.

12:40 AM

Time. That's all that seemed to be on her mind lately. She feared that she had let too much of it pass her by and now, she selfishly hoped that it would speed up ever so slightly.

As her mind continued to race, her phone buzzed, catching her attention. The notification turned out to be a text and she wondered who’d be messaging at this hour.

y/n: next saturday with morgan? her pick

She sent back a quick positive reply and turned her phone off. She settled under the cover and finally settled for the night.

-_-_-_-_-_-

taglist

@coollemonsaresour @ximaginx @xx-narcissa @jesuswasnotawhiteman @yelena-belovas-wife @uselessgay101 @freyathehuntress @oliemolliever @eternally-ineffable @daniphantom1 @ejsephton13 @lavvi23 @geeksareunique

#anything for you miniseries #michelle jones x fem!reader #michelle jones x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #black!reader #marvel x reader

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simp999 · 2 years ago

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A New Home Ch. 11

Various Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.2k

Back to the start! Previous Next

"OH MY COD, YOU TWO KNOW EACHOTHER?!"

You're quick to wave your hands dismissively, attempting to cut Leo off before he can assume anything.

"We only sometimes see each other when watching battles, is all. Don't get too hyped."

You can see how Leo's mood immediately dropped, maybe he wanted to use this as a chance to get closer to Rider? He is a lot of people’s idol. You assume that that's going to be the end of that, but you assumed wrong. Thanks to his character development, Rider's a tad more friendly than he was at the beginning of the series. What a pain.

Rider notices the way Leo got all mopey, and he can recognize a fan from a mile away.

"If you care all that much, did you want an autograph or something?"

Milo and Leo jump at the idea and almost out of their seats, but you grab their shirts, forcibly sitting them back down.

"Battle's not over, you idiots."

They're giddy in their seats, excited for it to be over. You side eye Leo.

'Seriously? You'd rather miss out on Skull's battle for an autograph?'

It didn't take long for Goggles to lose his footing, and manages to strike Skull with a shot from his inkzooka midair. Without a moment to spare, Leo and Milo shoot up from their seats. You had no excuse to stop them this time, so you and Tasha slowly followed behind them. The rest of the Yellow-Green team were watching the battle too, apparently, which led to Tasha and Bamboo chatting. With very few words, of course, given their personalities, but it seemed they were getting along. Not as an idol-fan type of relation, but more as acquaintances. It's good to see Tasha find someone who she may get along with. You stood near the back of the group, still trying to avoid everyone, but someone else decided to slow his pace to match yours. You don’t think too much of it, he is known to be shy. Maybe he just wanted to avoid the group, too.

“Hey! Um, I just wanted to say that I, uh, respect your level of skill. You’re really good with your weapon!”

You look over at him, Stealth, but he’s looking away. You catch the way he plays with his fingers nervously, it must have taken a bit out of him to speak up. You focus back on what’s in front of you, not wanting to bump into the others.

“Well thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”

He stops walking for a second, surprised at the nickname. You snicker to yourself when he can no longer see your face from behind. He catches back up to you, he quickly tries to organise his thoughts.

“I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, my name’s Stealth!”

“Yeah, I know.”

You both keep walking without a word being discussed. It takes a bit of effort to keep your laugh in, but it’s worth it to see his face slowly become an even darker shade of green.

‘Oh yeah, I guess people would blush a different color here? Depends on their main ink color I suppose. Did he always have freckles? That’s cute.’

Stealth decides that he wouldn’t be able to take another nickname, so he does a quick little jog to catch up to the rest of the group. Rider notices his teammate and takes a quick look back at you, who’s looking away, pretending to be innocent.

‘A bit of banter can’t hurt, right? It’s not like this’ll change a big part of the story or something.’

Finally you make your way over to the centre of the Plaza, where Leo and Milo are already posing next to Rider.

An inkling with dark blue ink runs up to Leo and gasps, then quickly turns his head towards Rider.

“YOU MADE FRIENDS?!”

“Shut up! We’re in the middle of the plaza, idiot!”

Hm. He doesn’t deny it right off the bat, but his mind seems to be preoccupied with getting attention off of him, thanks to everyone in the vicinity being curious at the loud shout. Leo saves you, just saying that your team are just big fans.

'Hey, wait! Leo, you dork, don’t get me involved!'

You don’t clearly remember what happens after this battle, but it hits you when you spot a wide variety of ink colored cephalopods walking your way. Crap, this is when they all have curry together.

'How can I get out of here? I can’t just say I gotta go fold the dishes or something, they wouldn’t get my humour and Milo would definitely just laugh it off and encourage me to ‘step out of my comfort zone for a bit’. Hey, I could just play it off like that! Yeah, I just get nervous around my ‘idols’ is all. Yeah, perfect.'

You look around nervously at how many people were here. Usually this many people would make you a little nervous, but you know all of these characters too well, almost like old friends, in a way. You decide to spend this time taking mental notes on how these characters are out of battle.

You slowly make your way behind Milo, who managed to sneak his way over to Army and talk about whatever Army cared about. Which ended up being curry of course, which is what lead to everyone eating curry.

'Oh, being here changed the interactions, but not the end result. Odd.'

Milo realises that you made your way behind him and being the sweet other brother type that he is, he shields you from the group. When Army turns to berate Aloha for being too much of a party animal for a second, Milo assures you that he doesn't want you to be too uncomfortable, but that you should step out of your comfort zone and try to make some friends. He knows that you're a fan sorta, so he wants to encourage that, too.

'Milo, I love you and you're the sweetest person I know but not now! Not like this, don't make me interact with these people!'

Milo gently encourages you to move out from behind him, and you let your nervousness show by playing with the hem of your top, and only taking quick glances at the others at most, not letting your attention linger too much. This paint on the sidewalk is much more interesting than the S4 right now. You consider if having curry right now or eating supper later would be better, but you see that the rest of your teammates already had their share and won’t want supper tonight. Also, it’s free. Can’t pass up free food.

You make yourself a plate, finally getting closer to the group. Physically. You haven’t warmed up to them just yet.

Next Part

May.2.23

#fanfic #x reader #splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga rider #splatoon fanart #splatoon manga stealth #splatoon stealth goggles #splatoon manga stealth x reader #splatoon manga yellow green team #splatoon rider #splatoon manga rider x reader

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mirthlxss · 2 years ago

Text

Off to the races

Chapter 7: He doesn't mind

Somehow, both John and Lilith understood this, it wasn’t enough.

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

sexi taglist: @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom

warnings: angst, mentions of blood.

His comfort faded as quickly as his smile did, having corralled Lilith inside the Captain seemed to have moved on from her distress. Set on checking off another task on his ever-long list, his presence coursing through halls as he passed through, the dampened woman trailing after him. Soldiers pressed against the walls to make room for his bearish gait, reputation cloaked upon his broad frame, tripling his size. He moved in silence, thoughts ticking over in time with his steps, a steady beat in which his subconscious could growl too, mull over the thrum of his anger. Wet echos of her borrowed footwear sounded as she hurried herself in order to remain in his shadow, scornful eyes burning holes into the back of his khaki shirt, occasionally flickering around to then glare at a stray soldier.

The flip-flops were slowing her down considerably, slipping and sliding on the shiny linoleum floors. Lilith slid her foot out of one mid-step, letting it remain in their wake. She soon ditched the other, now able to somewhat keep in step with Price as he led her through the maze of buildings. Words clattered against the cage of her teeth, hurdling around her shut mouth with such force she could barely contain herself, desperate to stir up something other than the heavy atmosphere that the man ahead of her carried. This whole situation had uprooted her life completely and yet it felt like he was the one on a quiet rampage. She could feel it slamming against her, the need to crack the weighted silence, break the dam. The pink of her lips now slowly burst into a deep red as the capillaries broke, teeth wrenched down into the soft flesh, hesitantly released in preparation to speak, cage steadily shattering.

“This’ll be your room.”

Her mouth hung open, brows furrowed as his tones filled the air instead of hers. So focused on projecting her angered gaze on him, entangled with finding the right words, blinded to her surroundings as he had thrown open a locked door. She faltered, blinking away the burning resentment in her eyes and letting them carry across the space. It almost reminded her of a dorm room, simplistic plywood furniture, desk, shelves, all of one eggshell colour that carried an impersonal air. The bed tucked into the corner, deep blue sheets that matched the colour of the curtains which were drawn over the window that presided just over. The light overhead flickered, he loomed beside the doorframe, inspecting her reaction, waiting.

Lilith stepped across the threshold, bare feet scratched by the rough-cut carpet, an off-blue that almost looked dirty. Maybe it was. She shivered involuntarily, sucking in a deep breath, cringing at the overwhelming smell of bleach.

“Garrick prepped it for you weeks ago,” Price had watched him do it, unsure as to why one of his best men was hell-bent on freeing someone who could have been the undoing of them all. Back and forth debate all the way as the Captain witnessed him scrub the place clean, skirting boards and all.

“What’s going to happen to those men?” She faced away from the other, cheek turned and body held in place. Lilith felt as if one more step further would come across as acceptance, a willing participant in her fate, no doubt he’d want to seal her in this astringent-smelling room. Practically a storage closet with a bed and a window, it was just missing the bloody body. Somehow this felt familiar.

She wanted some course of judgement, some trial, some punishment. His anger felt futile, an enraged Captain meant little to a woman trapped within his den of predators, a bleeding bunny led deeper into the bowls of this haunt, those pictures had only just rung the dinner bell.

The question riled his wrath further, calloused hands down dragging down the length of his visage, pulling at the course hairs on his chin, eyes clenched shut. Blood lay behind them, the vision of red so potent he could barely see past it. Not that he wanted to, it felt right in this situation, morals askew when it came to upholding the dignity of a woman, one supposedly in his protection. The red swirled on, protection or investigation? Who knew at this point, lines continued to blur as the weeks went on, now standing in a soldier's room and asking for damnation. He had answered before, he was going to fire them. The answer felt weak now, frail in the kingdom of his rage, barely able to keep upright as it offered itself before him. Somehow, both John and Lilith understood this, it wasn’t enough.

It felt wrong, wanting to inflict lasting hurt on men who were supposedly on his side, slept in his barracks, ate beside him at mess. And for what? A stranger who had saved Simon from a stab wound? Seen his face?

Saved.

He could make out her frame through the maroon mirage, peering out back at him, barefoot and shivering.

“They won’t be an issue.”

Lily inhaled once more, almost as if his reassurance had permitted her to breathe again. She nodded, eyes closing with the movement, lips drawn tight. She didn’t doubt that it would be handled, it seemed now, that the other's anger had grown so large it consumed her own, elevating the burden of action, swallowing the responsibility down as his to herald. His anger alone may have issued uncertainty but theirs together, it morphed into an odious thing. And by god was it beautiful.

The four walls surrounding her felt oppressive without Price’s presence pushing them back, focusing her thoughts. Having left Lilith to herself long ago with a gruff command to ‘remain’. At first, she spent the time in riled dismay, jeering out mock impressions of the Captain and his demands.

“Remain!” She’d bark, soon following it with a deeply sardonic laugh, then a stretch of pitying quiet as the room stayed the same, the carpet still scratched and she was still very much alone. With no clock to watch, an hour had stretched on to feel like an eternity. Wet clothes clad to her skin as she circled the small space, soon resorting to flinging open all the cabinets and drawers to relieve some modicum of her boredom.

Upon opening the inside of her desk, Lily stood pleasantly surprised. A small sticky note clung to the wrapper of a chocolate bar, messy handwriting scrawled out in black alongside a badly drawn smiley face wearing sunglasses.

‘Peace offering from your new neighbour, I introduce to you, the Gaz-laxy bar’

She removed the note to reveal a Galaxy bar with a ‘z’ crudely shoved between letters with what looked like black permanent marker. Lily huffed softly, a humorous swirl of air leaving her as she tried not to chuckle, it was so stupid. She loved it.

“See, told you guys it was funny.”

“Fucking hell!” With a gargled yelp, Lily spun toward the voice, now finding Kyle poking his head around the open doorway, Soap and Ghost beside him, all peering in. A strained silence fell upon the four as they seemed to stare at one another, she clutched the chocolate bar in her hands with a suspicious look, scowl now forming.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long, just came back, meant to show yer’ round lass” Soap pushed past the two other men crowding her doorway, awkwardly stumbling into one of the open closet doors in the process. A bundle of clothing in his hands messily clutched with great difficulty as he took a moment to situate himself, now dumping them onto her bed. Lilith picked through the pile, all standard-issue military uniform, on first inspection most of the items seemed normal though as the woman started to look properly-

“Where are the laces for the boots?” She held up a black boot, its leather tongue flopping out without the lace holding it steady.

Soap rocked back and forth on his own shoes, which very evidently had laces, lips pursed as he let out an elongated ‘err’, decidedly looking away and distracting himself by opening and closing the door he’d just fallen into. Lily persisted, now ever more suspicious, shoving the boot towards Gaz, waving it in his direction with a raise of her brow.

“How am I supposed to walk properly in them without laces?”

“Not allowed laces.” Deep, voice awash with general distaste, like he’d chewed up stone and spat it right out at her.

Lilith faltered slightly, not expecting Ghost to have addressed her, it was unusual, the man hadn’t spoken to her directly after the whole needle incident in the hospital. She chucked the boot back onto the pile, hand now situated on her hip as she returned his sour answer.

“Any particular reason?”

Both Soap and Gaz looked uncomfortable, even more so as the towering menace crossed the threshold and loomed over her, even with a good stride between them Lilith felt dwarfed by the other, things fell into Ghost’s orbit and never came back out, a black hole of a man sucking out all the energy in the room, all the oxygen.

“Could hang yourself with them.”

The sharp pinch of a shiver scraped down her spine, her hand fell to her side, shoulders slumping forward slightly, and the urge to make herself smaller overcame her.

“No belt, no laces, no drawstrings.”

She moved back toward the bed, picking up a long-sleeved shirt before casting an overly pointed look back towards the three.

“No underwear either? What am I gonna do with those? Seduce someone into lending me their laces so I can finally fucking hang myself?”

Soap let out a snort, throaty laugh leaving the shorter male as he petted Simon on the shoulder.

“Ask the Cap’n about personal items and whatever’s not there” He rocked back and forth once again before Simon shrugged off Soap’s hand and crowded the man out of the room, grumbling something toward Johnny as they left Gaz waiting in the doorway.

“C’mon Lil’ go commando and get changed for now, wanna show you the place before its dark”

She reluctantly complied with Kyle, only because of his stupid chocolate bar. Dawned with her ill-fitting hand-me-downs the woman looked like she’d been playing dress up. The dark green shirt hanging from her frame unflatteringly as well as the camo patterned cargos, which she had rolled up around her waist to accommodate for the material slipping down every two steps. The tour was short as her world had, oh so graciously, been opened up from the small hospital room to the section of the barracks which the team occupied. Shared bathrooms, a shabby common room and a hallway of half-empty dorms.

“What a thrilling tour Garrick, I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for the ten minutes you took out of the busy, busy day to show me your bountiful kingdom.” Lily stood, arms crossed over one another, sarcasm spread thickly over her demeanour.

“I haven’t even shown you the best part yet lil’ miss commando, get yourself ready, it’s the best your life in captivity is gonna’ get.” He grinned wickedly, beckoning Lily over to him as he raised himself up on his toes, stretching out to grab ahold of a cardboard box that sat on top of the row of kitchen cupboards within the common room. She watched curiously, inching closer as Gaz shook the box, the sound of packaging filled the air with each jolt.

“Oh yes”

“Oh yes indeed.” He hummed, chuckling now as the black-haired girl dove her hands into the mess of food. A whole box packed full of snacks, the feeling of the different plastics scratching her hand made her smile widen, childish pangs of excitement escaping her as she rummaged through the contents.

“Suddenly I love it here.” She grasped onto a packet of crisps and laid them along her forearms like she was cradling a newborn, rocking the plastic and shushing it comically.

“What’s her name?” Kyle cooed, now picking up his own packet and copying Lilith as they tended to the children. Laughter intermingled, he was indulging her for sure, or maybe just tired and happy that someone was willing to endorse his tendency to play stupid. Someone other than Soap that is. She circled the box and planted herself next to the other, pushing her packet towards his own when something seemed to halt the girl, her smile fading as she soon pointed at Kyle’s hands.

“Was it..” She started, glancing over the red ridges in his knuckles, the beginnings of a bruise covering the flesh around the welts. A heavy sigh heaved from his lips as he let his packet drop back into the box, stretching out his fingers, he spread the digits wide in order to grant the other a good look. Garrick had decided the moment his hand had collided with the face of one of those tech boys, that he’d tell Lilith. This had gone beyond the usual, it felt less like duty and more like defending a friend. Even more so when Price had come back to the room, Gaz was sure he’d be hearing the Captain call them off, but no, John stood seething, soon joining in. Even Ghost had thrown his weight about a bit.

“I doubt they’ll be finding any reputable jobs with faces like balloons” He scoffed, head tilted down slightly, trying to catch her gaze as she stared at his hands. Lily hesitated for a moment before she sucked in a sharp breath, already feeling the rush of blood circle through her head, the worry starting to build with every pump of her heart.

“I wish-“ Voice fell flat, not as strong as she wanted it to be, betrayed by the air in her lungs. “I wish I could’ve done something yanno? I feel like, well, I don’t know” She sighed, closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What happened, how it was dealt with, I think everyone involved wished they could’ve done something more” He was whispering now, lowering his voice to meet hers, outstretched hand now moving to gently grasp her shoulder, a gentle hold as they fell into quiet conversation. He inched closer, body turning to face her, eyes flickering around the place before he continued on. “I’ll be honest Lil’, never seen the Captain hit another soldier, not like that.” Hushed, eyes a little wide as he recounted Price, the look in his eye, the man seemed far from his sense, lost in whatever had taken hold. “Think we all crossed some lines today, if I’m honest-“

“What are you two hens clucking about?” The Scotsman smashed through the delicate exchange, rounding the corner to the common room with a loud whistle at the sight of Gaz and Lilly crowded over the snack box. “Price ain’t gon’ be chuffed about that” He hollered, clearly pitching the call up an octave or two, wanting to attract attention.

“Shut up man!” Gaz was quick to snatch the packet of crisps from Lily’s hands and scurry to shove the box back above the cupboards, leaving the girl to stand confused.

“Caught red-handed in the reward box Gazza, I canny remember you getting any permission for tha’”

Lilith watched as the two dropped into some petty back and forth, soon gathering that the snack box was indeed not a free-for-all but a coveted reward. One that king Price seemed to dangle over their heads. The notion made her curl inwards with a dubious sort of humour, disbelief evident at the childish nature of it all.

“Would you two shut up.” Ghost soon came into sight, notably, the man had changed into what looked like an attempt at loungewear. Dropping down onto the worn sofa he drew an exaggerated breath, taking out a phone from his pocket and holding it out before him. “Price said to go ahead and order.”

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callsign-joyride · 1 year ago

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Don't Fear The Reaper - Chapter Three

Description: Weird things start happening around the camp. You start putting the pieces together.

Content warnings: For the fic; violence with a knife, blood, death, gore, sexual themes, drug use. For this chapter; blood, animal death, gore, descriptions of a dead animal, fear.

Pairing: Daisy Jones & The Six x OC Donna Smith

Series Masterlist Playlist Taglist Previous Chapter

June 13, 1978 All of the kids huddled in the mess hall as The Phantom Tollbooth played on the projector. You were originally going to go swimming at night but rain was in the forecast and none of you wanted to risk it. You had made it about twenty-five minutes into the movie before Astrid walked up to Daisy and asked if she could take her to the bathroom. Karen and Graham were in the kitchen, pouring M&M’s into disposable bowls when you all heard a loud bang from somewhere outside.

“What was that?” Camila asked.

“I don’t know. Probably fireworks,” Billy said.

“Dude, we’re in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. I don’t think that was a firework,” Warren said.

“Let’s just stop talking about it, okay? You’re gonna scare the kids,” you said. Warren nodded his head and put his arm over your chair. You didn’t pay any attention to the fact that he nestled his face into your neck. Daisy and Astrid came back in and Daisy looked freaked out.

“You guys heard that, too, right?”

She felt relieved when you all nodded your heads, but Karen said that you weren’t going to talk about it in front of the kids. Once the movie was over, you and Camila stayed to clean up as rumbles of thunder could be heard. You were standing on the deck of the mess hall and talking, but Camila kept on looking at something behind me.

“Someone’s about to come and scare me, right? That’s why you keep on looking over my shoulder?”

“No… I think there’s something in front of the art cabin.”

You swiftly turned around and you could see the faint outline of something under the dim porchlight by the door of the cabin. You started to run over to your cabin to check it out, and Camila was trying to keep up with you. She came to a screeching halt right as you did, nearly crashing into you in the process. The sight made you feel overcome with nausea as you shined your flashlight on it.

“Stay here. I’m gonna go get Warren and Billy,” you said, with your voice barely above a whisper.

You frantically knocked on the door and Warren stood there in a Star Wars shirt and basketball shorts.

“Woah, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said. The roof of your mouth was beginning to feel dry.

“There’s… There’s something at my cabin. I need your help.”

“Okay. Alright, kids. I’ve gotta go help Miss Donna with something but I’ll be back. I’m turning off the lights now and I want you all asleep by the time I get back.”

“Is she okay?” One of the little boys asked. Warren didn’t say anything as he turned off the light and walked out into the warm night air. You grabbed Bily from his cabin and anxiously walked to Camila. As soon as Warren saw what it was, he pulled you behind him.

“What is it?” Billy asked.

“I think it’s a dead deer. It looks like it was shot first but the head is obviously gone,” Camila said. Billy stepped forward and crouched down to swipe his fingers on the blood-soaked wood.

“This is fresh. I’ll go get Graham and Eddie. We’re moving it now so that the kids don’t see.”

“But the-,”

“We’ll scrub off the porch. Maybe put a rug over it for now. Donna, it’s okay. Warren, can you take them back? I don’t know how long this’ll take.”

Warren nodded his head and took your hand. Camila followed shortly behind, but none of you said anything. Billy, Graham, and Eddie dragged the deer behind the cabin and threw a tarp over it. It was too dark to be able to see the blood on the porch so Billy went inside of the cabin in search for a rug that was big enough to cover the stain for now. In between the floor boards, there was what looked like a folded up piece of paper. Graham bent down to pick it up, and his heart sank at what the message said. When Billy came back outside with a large rug, Graham passed him the note with shaky hands.

“Probably just some stupid prank. Everyone knows what happened back in 48.”

Warren walked you into your room and closed the door as you sat on the bed to take your shoes off. You put a tank top on and sat next to him with your head on his shoulder. The anxiety from what you had seen was finally starting to pass. Warren had his hand on your thigh as Because The Night by Patti Smith started to play on the clock radio. This time, your heart wasn’t beating from fear or anxiety, it was beating from excitement as Warren put a hand on your cheek and slowly moved closer to you.

You were interrupted when Camila knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“Sorry! I didn’t know you two were… Nevermind. I was gonna ask if I could eat some of your ice cream.”

“Yeah, go ahead. But you really didn’t need to open my door like that.”

Camila nodded her head and closed the door. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you turned to Warren.

“Uh, I should probably go. We both need to sleep and someone’s gonna need to clean out the pool in the morning. Just try and get some sleep, okay?”

You nodded and watched Warren leave before closing your window and turning the fan on. You could barely sleep. When you were able to keep your eyes closed long enough to welcome sleep, nightmares about the dead deer and the slasher from thirty years ago haunted you. Deciding that you’d just have to deal with being tired, you gave up on the idea of sleeping at around four in the morning. It was noticeable at breakfast when you almost fell asleep over your bowl of cereal.

“Donna, you good? You seem exhausted,” Daisy said.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t really sleep last night, is all.”

“You know you can go and take a nap, right? We’re gonna take the kids to play kickball so you won’t be bothered,” Warren said.

“I’ll be fine, I just need another cup of coffee.”

Everyone took your word for it and you all walked out to the scout cabins after cleaning up from breakfast. Camila had to stay in the nurse’s cabin in case one of the kids got hurt but she gave you her camera to take pictures of everyone having fun. The game went well, and Billy showed all of the kids how to do archery before sitting with you and Eddie. None of you were paying attention to the blocked off trail, but you didn’t think that you needed to. That was until you heard a shriek and saw Astrid running out of there with tears rolling down her face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as she ran up to you.

“There was a man back there and I followed him and then he scared me! Miss Donna, I wanna go home!” You immediately gave her a hug and stood up.

“I’ll take you to Miss Camila and she’ll check you out, okay? I’ll call your parents later and we’ll see if we can get you home. I think we’re having s’mores again tonight.”

“Will you be at the s’mores?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I’ve gotta call your parents and see if anyone else wants to go home, but we’ll see.”

“I’m not allowed to be there when you call my parents?”

“I don’t think so. This is a pretty serious situation so it’s going to be a grown-ups only conversation. But I’ll let you know what they say. Let’s walk back to the camp, okay? Eddie, do me a favor and see if there’s someone back there who shouldn’t be.”

You ended up having to carry Astrid back to the camp. She genuinely seemed frightened, but you wouldn’t have minded if she felt too tired to walk. When you walked into the infirmary, Camila stood up and walked over to Astrid to ask her what was going on. As she told her story a second time, Camila glanced up at you and sighed.

“Come sit over here. Miss Donna is gonna get you a popsicle and bag of chips, okay?”

Eddie walked over to the trail and stepped over the neon orange “DO NOT CROSS” tape. He walked about 100 yards into the trail and stopped to look around for a moment. Billy and Karen kept an eye on the area until he came back a few minutes later.

“I didn’t see anyone. What if she’s lying?” He asked. Warren got up and walked over to him.

“I don’t think she is.”

“Come on, man. She’s a kid. Kids lie. I didn’t see anyone or anything that seemed out of place. She probably just needed an excuse to go home.”

“She looked terrified, so either she’s really good at believing her own lie or she actually saw someone back there. He could’ve run away or something, y’know. It’s not impossible.”

Astrid finally calmed down after she ate her popsicle. Camila said that physically, she was fine. She was obviously pretty freaked out, but before you left, she tugged on your arm and looked at you and Camila.

“Am I gonna be in trouble? I know I wasn’t supposed to go back there and I’m sorry,” she said.

“Oh, no, you won’t be in trouble. We’ll make sure of it and I’ll make sure this never happens again. Do you wanna go back to kickball or do you wanna go and color a picture in my cabin?”

“Color a picture.”

The other kids kept on asking if Astrid wass okay on the walk back to the camp. No one really knew what to say. Astrid seemed to want to stay with you for the rest of the day, eating lunch and dinner at the same table as you and the other counselors. A few other kids walked up to you during clean up saying that they also wanted to go home. Everyone was freaked out after what happened with Astrid.

While they were eating s’mores and singing songs by the campfire, you and Camila pulled forms and started making phone calls. Teddy had said to call him in an emergency, and when you did that, the line gave you the busy tone. You tried to call three more times with the same tone playing.

“What’s going on?” Camila asked. She wasn’t going to start calling parents until someone talked to Teddy. It was part of protocol.

“It’s not ringing,” you said.

“Move over. Either he disconnected his phone for whatever reason or we have a problem.”

You watched as she pressed 9-1-1 and you both anxiously waited for someone to pick up. She looked like she was about to cry as she put the phone back on the hook.

“We have a problem.”

The wait for everyone to put the kids to bed and get to the infirmary was painfully long. Camila sat on one of the beds and you paced around the room as they all finally walked in. Warren walked over to you and gave you a hug before anyone asked what was going on. As Camila explained the situation, Eddie walked over to the phone and started to dial random numbers.

“So we’re trapped here,” he said.

“We have our cars and the bus that the kids were on to get here. We’re not trapped.”

“But we can’t call anyone for help. Parents don’t know that we’re trying to get kids home, and we can’t all leave at once because there are some kids who want to stay. I think she might’ve been lying about seeing someone in the woods because I didn’t see anything, but something is definitely going on. Smeone cut the phone lines, for fucks sake. It doesn’t seem like a prank anymore.”

“So what are we gonna do tonight?” Karen asked.

“Go back to our cabins, act like everything is normal. We’ll get this figured out in the morning,” you said.

“You want us to lie to the kids,” Daisy said.

“Not lie, but you shouldn’t tell them the truth, either. I don’t wanna scare them any more than they probably already are. Just say that we’re staying away from the scout cabins. Don’t mention the phones, though.”

“I think there’s something that you all need to know,” Graham said.

“And that is?”

“Last night, with the deer, there was a note. We shrugged it off as a stupid prank because pretty much everyone knows what happened here but now… I don’t know.”

“What did it say?” Eddie asked.

“That he was gonna kill all of us.”

The room went silent as you clapped a hand over your mouth and started to cry. Warren wrapped his arms around you and leaned over you as a way to hug you. You started to sob into his chest and Karen joined in on the hug. Camila had a death grip on Billy’s hand and Daisy was pacing around the room. Eddie started to argue with Graham and Billy about what the new plan was.

“We’re not gonna die! None of us are gonna die! So, everyone, let’s just quiet down and find something to agree on,” Daisy yelled.

“We need to get this to the police, like yesterday. We also need to get all of the kids out of here. I say that if he’s coming for us, let him. But he’s not touching the kids. If he was the man that Astrid saw, he already messed with them. That’s where I draw the line,” Karen said.

“Okay, Graham and I will go to the police first thing in the morning. We need to get the bus running, too. Protecting those kids is our top priority,” Eddie said.

At the entrance of the camp, the man parked his truck to block it off and broke off the top of the ignition key. The parking lot was somewhat out of sight from the camp and everyone was distracted, so it was easy for him to pop the hood of Eddie’s red ‘75 Pontiac and take the battery out. With the battery under one arm and his tools under the other, he walked back to the truck and slashed all of the tires with his pocket knife before making the trek back to the cottage.

Taglist:

@idontcare-11 @kmc1989

#daisy jones and the six #billy dunne #daisy jones #camila dunne #warren rojas #eddie roundtree #graham dunne #teddy price #karen sirko #reader insert #djats imagine #slasher au

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years ago

Note

Joel/Tess + neighbours AU

Didn't expect this one to end up close to 3k but here we are. Modern AU, rather nsfw (didn't plan that either), also on ao3.

Tess needs a change of scenery, or at least the different horrors of a middle-ring suburb. Somewhere it’ll be a little harder for her tendencies to get her in trouble, or at least different trouble, and-

On paper this is a hell of a slightly early midlife crisis, but something about her sees the words “fixer-upper” and thinks she’s watched just enough renovation shows in waiting rooms to at least turn this into a good distraction for a couple years or however it long takes her to DIY her way out of this. Never mind that she has no idea what she’s doing. She’s under-stimulated at work and kinda likes the idea of living somewhere the kids outnumber the purse dogs. This’ll be fine.

Or at least it would be if her new neighbors weren’t Those People.

She understands the appeal of outdoor maintenance, despite her own black thumbs – she killed a cactus with neglect, she was just out of town for a destination wedding, those things are supposed to survive months but it didn’t last a long weekend – and lack of interest in yardwork. She gets that most of the neighborhood does things the same way she’s inclined to, keeps it all neat and maybe a hanging basket out front but not overkill. But of course she goes and moves in next to someone who clearly has compulsions or something, whose yard looks like someone actually planned it, and that’s just the part visible from the front, their backyard has what looks like a complicated vegetable-growing setup and-

Tess is prepared to hate them on sight, whoever they are, whatever kind of people they otherwise are and it’s coinflip odds on sweethearts or assholes and she’s never been lucky. She is also prepared to spend the next couple months as indoors as possible, questioning every home-décor choice ever made in the 1970s, she’s pretty sure part of the reason the house was unusually cheap is the last owner died here – in their sleep and their mid-80s, if she heard right, but still – and good grief somebody liked orange a little too much and-

How she managed to get this place instead of one of those industrial demolition companies, she’s not quite sure, but she’s going to make it work.

She’s having a moment of frustration a couple weeks in – most of a weekend down an internet rabbit hole does not make her any more confident about removing what could politely be described as a chandelier – and it occurs to her that she doesn’t actually have a ladder high enough to safely get her hands up in that thing, and it occurs to her that Those People, who she has yet to actually interact with, probably do and will probably be horrified enough by her currently apathetic appearance to let her borrow it for a few hours. And possibly, if she brings it back without damage, other fun things she might need out of their inevitably thoroughly equipped shed and/or garage. Tess is nothing if not perceptive, and she’s half surprised she hasn’t gotten a please-make-sure-your-grass-is-even note in impeccable handwriting, and-

She’s not sure what she expects when she knocks on the door, but the man who answers – scruffy, gorgeous, just older than her enough to be hot – is somehow not it. To the extent that she has a type, this is her type, and fuck she’s finally going to add intentional homewrecking to her list of accomplishments (it doesn’t count if you don’t know for fact the other person has a tiny cute wife at home, fight her) and-

“I just moved in next door,” she says before this can get weird or she can do something fabulously reckless. “And I was wondering if you had a decent ladder I could borrow?”

Normal people do this, she tries to remind herself. Normal functional people who live in mid-ring suburbs occasionally ask favors from people nearby and it’s not weird at all. She’s used to a series of apartment complexes occupied by people who acted more like feral animals, and there’s a bit of that in her by association, but-

“What do you need it for?” the man replies, more curious than judgmental if she’s hearing him right.

“Taking down… fuck, I think somebody thought it was a chandelier but…”

Tess does not do the learned-helplessness thing, but apparently it’s obvious how far she’s in over her head. “Need an extra set of hands?”

“Never had someone I don’t know want to watch me get electrocuted,” she laughs.

“So, yes.”

She’s not going to say no, and she’s not going to waste an opportunity for what she swears will stop at light eyefucking, and she does notice there’s no indent of a wedding band on his hand but she’s seen the well-equipped truck out front and that may be more of a profession-related choice than useful information and-

The garage is as full of everything possible as she’d expected, but also a little more chaotic than everything publicly visible, and she almost has questions, and-

“Compromise,” he says like he knows what she’s thinking. “The kid’s not allowed in here.”

And now Tess has more questions, and… this is not the time, she decides, not while she’s testing the limits of someone’s patience. She can feel out the details of the personal situation later, after…

Her own living space is only neat because most of her worldly possessions are still in boxes, and there’s almost nothing in what must’ve been designed as a dining room except for the goddamned light fixture and-

“I don’t do a lot of electrical, but… you flip the fuse first?”

“Yeah. At least those were labeled.”

To be fair, she’d just meant to borrow a ladder, not make this entire project someone else’s problem, but… she’s also not complaining about that, and she’s going to have to return the favor somehow and she’s pretty damn useless as a person and-

She has a type, and how apparently competent this man is just makes her more interested, and she needs to run damage control against herself before she does anything and-

“You have time for this?” she asks, figuring that’s a safe opening.

“You mean like…”

“Anybody wondering where you are right now?” Fuck, that sounds creepy now that she’s said it, like she’s going to do something violent when the worst she’s actually thinking is how to get him under her, like-

“Kid’s doing something with her friends. That’s… it.”

Oh. Well.

Tess’s surprise must register or something, and she in general is apparently more expressive than she thinks, because her silence is enough to get her new acquaintance off the ladder and looking at her with more worry than she thinks another human has directed at her in her adult life. Oh, if this is how she makes it awkward…

“Saw your yard and I thought…”

“Kid watches too much TV. Her ideas and my hands.”

“How old?”

“Sixteen. Her mom left… a while ago. We try.”

Not objectively helpful information, Tess thinks – if anything, the implications that this man has been doing the single-parent thing impeccably for a good length of time just makes him more hot – but also exactly what she wanted to know and-

“I’m sorry if I got weird earlier. I make bad first impressions and… y’know, I try to behave but I’ve got eyes and you’re-“

“It’s alright.”

“Should’ve at least introduced myself first. Tess.”

“Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“I will… if you’re determined to save me from myself here, I will pay you. I’m not-“

“Conversation with an actual adult feels like enough.”

If she counts as an actual adult, the world is probably screwed, but…

“How much does that get me?”

* * * * *

It becomes something of a routine, after that.

Tess is determined to do as much of this minor renovation herself as she can, and turns out painting walls is a good way to burn off energy after work, but occasionally there are projects that she’s either not sure how to do or legitimately needs an extra set of hands for and that’s where the nice man next door comes in. Every time, she offers to compensate for the effort; every time, he turns her down. She’s covering materials and apparently that’s enough, and-

Every time, the thoughts about what could happen between them get a little more vivid.

They’re working on bathroom tile when she decides to actually do something about it, a project that she’d feel bad about if it wasn’t such a small space. Theoretically simple like everything else she’s tried to do, but her eye for detail isn’t great and it’s turned into her new friend doing most of it while she watches and hands him things and she probably owes him a kidney for this particular adventure alone and-

“So it’s just you here?” he asks, like he can read her damn mind and honestly she wouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah.”

They’ve avoided most of the deep personal questions, instead talking mundane stuff like favorites, filling the space between them with whatever they can. They’re compatibly damaged people, she’s figured out that much, and he’s good like she’s not sure she is, and-

“Figured, but… had to ask.”

“Me trying to flirt with you still makes you think I’ve got somebody out there?”

“Can’t rule out an open relationship…”

Tess laughs – she does that more around him than most people, something inherently stabilizing about this dynamic they’re working out. “No judgement to anyone else, but I’m way too territorial for that. What’s mine is mine.”

He’s quiet for a while, places a few more tiles absolutely perfect, lets the tension rest. It’s not awkward, exactly, but the energy is different and-

“Understood.”

“Wasn’t saying… shit, I’m not sure if I wanna ask you out or pin you to a wall or-“

“I’d let you.”

She puts that information aside for as long as it takes to finish the project, until they’re cleaning up and she’s aware she looks good in this tank top, hair already a mess but she thinks she’d break him if he ever saw what she looks like when she tries and-

“Can I kiss you now?” she asks, just a little softer than necessary.

Joel leans down and puts his mouth on hers and it’s everything she wants, scruffy and warm and just a little hesitant, and she’s going to melt and she’s going to do something that’ll ruin them and-

“That good for you too?” Adoration in his eyes, she’s not sure what to do with this, she’s not sure-

Normally she does casual and easy to disconnect from, and she is well aware that screwing her neighbor is neither of those things and will, if it ends badly, ruin her life. But what if it doesn’t, she thinks. What if this is good? What if…

“We’ve got all the major stuff done,” she murmurs, thinking out loud. “If this gets weird…”

“You have your priorities,” he replies, almost playful.

“Been thinking about you all over me since I saw you, but… yeah.”

He takes another kiss, deeper this time, and she feels what he’s not saying, that he’s been having the same thoughts for a couple months now and wasn’t sure it was a good idea but fuck it they have nothing to lose and-

“You think I’d do all this if I didn’t like you?”

“Guess this is how I’m repaying you.” She’s seen that part coming for a while, the inevitability of it, and she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t-

“Not like that.”

“A little like that.”

She moves her body against his for emphasis, and she wants, she wants-

“Not like that,” he repeats.

“Think of it however you have to,” she replies, deciding this is as good a time as any to shed her tank top.

It’s been a while since she’s been with anyone under quite these circumstances – daylight in a hallway with someone she actually knows. A dry spell since the move hasn’t helped, enough of a crush that she’s lost interest in her previously normal routines, and-

While she’s stuck in her head, he gets her against the wall and gets on his knees for her, and she’s half confused and-

“This look like you repaying me?” he asks, hands on her waistband.

“Don’t know your preferences enough to know.”

She doesn’t push him away, and he takes that for the let’s-see-what-happens consent that it is, and… most of the men she fucks don’t go down on her, and she’s pleasantly surprised that this one wants to, and-

Something about how he undoes her makes her think he’s also on the tail end of a much longer dry spell, not that she’s complaining. She’s easy to work open, and he’s apparently as good at giving head as anything else he does, and she’s going to get herself ruined, and-

“Stay with me,” he breathes against her thigh. “Keep your eyes open.”

She doesn’t, when it matters. Something about the combination of factors gets her off faster than she’s used to, and that doesn’t stop him working her through, making sure she’s properly wrecked before he stops batting her clit with his tongue. They are ridiculously compatible, and she can’t remember the last time a partner gave her that much attention, and-

“That clear enough?” he asks, back on his feet and still way too clothed for her preferences.

“You want me to return the favor?”

“Stop talkin’ like that.”

Well, if this is how she ends up pinned to a wall, she’s not complaining.

She’s usually more assertive than this, but if someone wants to make clear how much they want her, she’ll go with it. It takes some pawing to get his shirt off before he lifts her up, and it’s just as well he was so thorough with his mouth because he’s as solid between the legs as everywhere else and-

Tess is pretty sure she’s in love, and pretty sure that’s not a normal thought to have when being fucked against a wall, and pretty sure she doesn’t care about anything else right now. She hasn’t been done this well in quite some time, maybe ever, and she doesn’t get off again but she at least gets warm enough to have a good time, and-

“Shit,” he says after, after he falls apart inside her with a sharp bite to her shoulder. “You on anything?”

“Implant. Don’t trust me with anything I have to think about more often.”

“Should’ve-“

“At least you’re asking now.”

“Still.”

She’s still half pinned to the wall, and she turns it into an embrace and oh they fit right with their bodies separated too. This better work out, she thinks, this better-

“What now?”

He gets a hand back in her hair, now thoroughly messed up. “Think that shower will fit both of us?”

Like she’d know, she’s tempted to murmur, but it’d ruin the moment. “Only one real way to find out…”

* * * * *

They make it work.

Desperate-hot sex and home-improvement projects are a weird combination to start a relationship on, but Tess is pretty sure she’s never actually dated anyone before, and Joel hasn’t in years upon years, and… at least they’re useless together, at least there’s that. At least they’re winging their way forward, slowly drifting into…

She keeps her own spaces, even when things get serious. It’s a better situation for both of them.

Her yard is still, no matter what she does, even when she lets the kid (Sarah, sweetheart, decides she likes Tess surprisingly quickly) try to help, the disappointment of the block. It’s fine. Comparison helps no one anyways.

A couple years later, just as Tess is starting to think that it might be time to propose now that she’s on the other side of forty and about as domesticated as she’s likely to ever get, she gets a phone call and apparently owes someone a huge favor and ends up sharing space with a teenage girl who reminds her a lot of the purse dogs she thought she moved out here to avoid and…

It all turns out okay in the end. Somehow.

#ebf writes fic #joel x tess #queue

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