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aprilsrant · 4 years ago

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Start Over | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N) has anger issues and a bad reputation that follows. Oliver seems to be the only one who hasn’t been on the receiving end of her outbursts and there might be a hidden reason for it.

WORD COUNT: 2,3k.

WARNINGS: Marcus Flint being an idiot and a missoginy brat, it’s kind of angsty towards the end. Maybe a curse word or two. There is a fight and a duel too. (If I miss any, let me know!)

REQUEST: can’t find it, but yes, this was requested.

A/N: This took me so long and I’m so sorry, but for some reason I couldn’t get this finished. Hope you enjoy it! Like, reblog or leave comment if you like, feedback is always appreciated!!

Also, I made the reader have a holly wand because details are important sometimes.

English is not my first language, there could be mistakes!

Gif is not mine!!

MASTERLIST.

For whatever stupid, possibly misogynist, reason, Marcus Flint never allowed girls to tryout for the Slytherin Quidditch Team, not even when he, and everyone else present, knew of their talent and how much it would benefit them. Now more than ever, with that Harry Potter kid catching every single Snitch flying round him, Flint’s team needed new members. And members that actually knew how to play and not those who would pay their way in.

Once again, (Y/N) was waiting in the stands for the Slytherin Captain and the whole group attempting to grab themselves a spot. Arriving before them gave her an “advantage” and that was not being completely disregarded the minute Flint saw her in the midst of the line up following him like some kind of lost puppys.

With nothing else to do than just stand round the edge of the Quidditch Pitch, (Y/N) looked up and watched as a few Gryffindors threw the Quaffle towards one of the three hoops. She didn’t even know why people kept trying out to be a Chaser in Wood’s team when the current three were the best they had. And they were all women. Who would have thought that girls could play that well, right?

(Y/N) didn’t know why she continued to insist when she was aware that Flint would never let her be on the team. Maybe because it was her last year, or because she had a tiny spark of hope inside of her that something, pretty much a miracle, would happen and the boy’d change his mind, finally acknowledging that (Y/N) was better than the two Slytherin beaters together.

“What are you doing here, (Y/L/N)?,” the voice of the Slytherin Captain brought her back from the train of thoughts. Glancing towards the Pitch, she realised that it was empty, the only Gryffindor there was Oliver Wood, seating in the opposite set of stands with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. Upon seeing Flint and the trail of Slytherins behind him, he rolled his eyes and quickly left his spot, steps faltering after hearing Marcus’s irritated tone. “I told you, multiple times may I remind you, that I don’t want girls in my team, and especially not those who want to be beaters.”

This was something she saw coming, of course, and she’d tried to assume it for the last couple of days every time the image of being rejected, again, would pop into her head, replaying the times were she had actually been rejected as if her own mind was trying to torture her.

She had also seen the other part coming, and she had tried to stop it. But in her defense, when Professor Snape interrogated her an hour later, Marcus Flint kind of deserved it.

“Why not, Flint? I’ve been trying to get in the team ever since you became Captain and decided I wasn’t good enough after our fourth year,” (Y/N) had said, voice raising after more words left her mouth. With her broomstick in hand, she stepped down the stands and marched towards him.

“You said it yourself, (Y/N), you weren’t, and still aren’t, good enough,” Marcus responded while shrugging his shoulders arrogantly and walking past her.

“I was good enough, you prick, I was better than just good enough and you fucking know it.” All of the group that had gathered to try out turned their heads in her direction when she started to scream, whispers and shared glances expectant of the outcome of the argument. Pushing a third year in front of her out of her way, she kept walking, stopping only after she was face to face with Marcus. “And how can you be so sure I’m not adequate? You haven’t even let me fly around the Pitch for the last two years.”

Ignoring her, Flint commanded the two boys carrying the box full of equipment to leave it on the floor and start to warm up.

“Can you… Can you, please, let me try this one time?,” (Y/N) whispered, burying her pride and dignity in the same coffin after the word please escaped from her mouth.

“Now you’re begging, you are pathetic, (Y/L/N), and they say you’re supposed to be dangerous” the boy exclaimed, clearly enjoying seeing her so desperate. He walked towards her, his taller figure towering over the girl. “Let me tell you something. Both of us were on the team, right now one is the Captain and the other one… Well, I’m pretty sure you know your exact position in this whole thing. And that’s why you are not in my place, because you are not good enough.”

Her teeth, jaw and fists clenched at the same time, the rest of her body shaking slightly, lighting up on fire with every sentence Marcus sneered at her.

From a young age she had people question her, her interests and her decisions, even her place in the House of ambition, many believing the girl to be “too soft” at first. That had changed after the start of her second year. If they wanted her to be violent, rash and reckless, that’s what they got. Now, every time her name was mentioned around Hogwarts, whispers and rumours would be shortly behind. Most of the things people said about her were incorrect, not even close to the truth, but she accepted them anyways. She took each one of the rumours and turned them into her truth.

For some (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was on the right path to become a Dark Witch, a pureblood longing to take on Lord Voldemort’s place and rule over the Wizarding World, torturing muggleborns and blood traitors. To others, she was the Devil’s offspring in the flesh, waiting for the right moment to raise the forces of hell upon Hogwarts. And they were the ones speaking of her mental state while coming up with ridiculous theories. Nonetheless, she had to admit it was a new kind of entertainment seeing the first years getting warned about her, bombarding them with false information and stupid allegations. But the laughs she would have from it on her own company didn’t erase the loneliness and the solemn feeling of having no one.

Like the symbol of her house, (Y/N) was a creature of instinct. And like what people murmured about her, (Y/N) was also a creature of violence.

As only one can imagine, no one was shocked from the response Marcus Flint got. Not in words, or insults, which were regular, but in the form of a fist connecting with his cheek (although she had intended to hit the nose).

One would think anger makes people a better fighter, all that pent up rage coming from nowhere and lashing out against your opponent it’s more damaging to you than the person you are fighting. Now, this was not (Y/N)’s first fist fight but that didn’t mean she knew what she was doing. Every time she had punched someone it had happened in the midst of uncontrollable wrath growing, attaching itself to the girl’s body, controlling her limbs, numbing her mind.

For a moment she closes her eyes, one thought in her mind, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, — I did it. Again —. When (Y/N) opens them, she notices the change of scenario, or positions. She is no longer standing on her feet, she is several metres away from her housemate, the back of her body on the receiving end of the harsh floor; the loud beating of her heart thundering in her ears, almost giving her a headache, swallowing the spell Flint had used on her.

After rising from the grass, (Y/N) marches towards him, holly wand in her hand shooting hexes, barely missing its target. She’s about to whisper the Stunning Spell when someone from behind grabs her wrist, holding her back from trying to curse Marcus, whose responses are getting slower and scarcely protecting him. An arm sneaks around (Y/N)’s figure, distancing her from the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

Her elbow moves almost instinctively and hits the person behind her in the stomach, the arm around her waist retreating fast enough for (Y/N) to cast a protection charm and petrify Marcus Flint.

Turning around, she sees none other than Oliver Wood, bending over his stomach with a hand clenching his right knee and gasping for air.

“What the bloody hell was that, Wood?”

“I was trying to help you!,” he manages to say while looking up at her.

“Help me? You were trying to stop me, you twat.”

“Exactly!,” Oliver shouts, making her move backwards, “Do you want to get yourself expelled, (Y/L/N)? Because if that’s what you want, you are doing an excellent job.”

She should have hexed him right there, no one else was on the Quidditch Pitch with them, except the handful of Slytherins and those weren’t the snitching types, but she didn't, surprising herself and everyone else watching them.

|||

Later that night, after finishing the horrendous detention Snape had put her in —reorganizing his entire cabinet claimed by suspicious ingredients and potions with terrible smells, making the small space smell like rotten eggs and the Gryffindor Quidditch robes after a rough match—, looking at the moon and the landscape surrounding Hogwarts from the Astronomy Tower, she thought about the reasons to why she hadn’t raised her wand, or fist, to face Oliver.

He wasn’t special. Yes, he was a great wizard, with problems in Potions and History of Magic, still quite good at Defensive spells but not that good to beat her if she was fully focused, he would be easy to defeat especially after Quidditch tryouts. So, why? Why did she just walk away?

“I knew I could find you here.”

(Y/N) turned around, quickly taking hold of her holly wand and raising it towards the tower’s entrance. The thundering in her chest calming, her breathing going back to its normal pace when she realised it wasn’t Sirius Black, the murderer that had escaped Azkaban and was said to have roamed through the castle.

“What are you doing here, Oliver?”, she addressed him once the moonlight illuminated his tall figure.

“I wanted to apologise,” the boy admitted, his voice faltered just like his approach, as if he was trying to make peace with a beast; as if he was telling a snake that his feet would not come close to its head, “for what I said earlier. It wasn’t fair because I know how you…”

“How I what? How I tend to react when I’m angry?,” (Y/N) interrupted, the hand holding her wand still facing Oliver, “don’t try to act like you know me.”

“But I used to,” he murmured.

Neither of them said anything, both of their minds desperately trying to find the right words, one to plead for forgiveness once again and the other to accept it if the plea ever escaped his mouth.

The distant sound of creatures soaring through the night sky and the flip of their wings was all they heard for minutes, minutes that had felt like hours; she would dare to say days if the sky wasn’t still dark, filled with bright stars circling a full moon.

“Why don’t we get to know each other all over again? We can start over, please.”

There it was.

And then it came.

“That’s such a great idea, Oliver!,” (Y/N) answered with a big smile on her face, the quick change of demeanour unsettling Oliver. They hadn’t talked in years but he was still amazed at how much he remembered of her, and how this didn’t mean any good. “We can get to know each other like all those years ago and then, you can abandon me like all those years ago”. The grin on her lips transforming into a scowl right after she pronounced the last part of her sentence.

“Why are you even here, Wood? You felt guilty and now you’re trying to make it go away? Or is it charity?,” the Slytherin kept ranting,” or better yet, someone challenged you to do this? I’m putting all my money on the Weasley Twins.

“N-No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Oliver explained while moving his hands and walking the final steps leading him to (Y/N),“ I just- I never- I, I never wanted this, I never expected it but everyone was talking about you and-and they were saying horrible things and…”

“And you believed them,” (Y/N) stated, turning around to stop facing him and his hurt expression,” I don’t blame you for doing it. It’s quite funny if you think about it.”

“What’s quite funny?,” his gaze still on her when he asked.

“Most of the things you and the rest of the school heard were invented by me, so people would just stop bothering me,” she pretended to confess only to the stars, for if she didn’t, she would never admit it to him,” you can say I planned my entire doom. And it’s quite funny because, in the end, you still believed me.”

“You could have told me, (Y/N). Why didn’t you?”

“You believed the rumours, I’m sure not the craziest ones though, but that tells me that you thought I was capable of actually doing all the terrible things I said about myself.”

“I’m sorry, I am, (Y/N), truly.”

“Sorry doesn’t mend it,” she murmured, now forcing herself to look him in the eyes and act as if the pain never happened; as if she hadn’t missed his company and his random, permanently out of place Quidditch facts.

“I know, but it’s everything I have right now and I hope you can forgive me one day.”

“I have already forgiven you, Oliver, but I was too proud to reach you.”

“Typical you, (Y/N). I should have expected it.”

A small smile formed in her lips and for a moment she forgot their broken friendship, the reputation that had become her shadow and the future awaiting after Hogwarts. It was only them, (Y/N) and Oliver, with the moon glowing down on their faces and the feeling of being eleven year olds settling over their minds.

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loveforpreserumsteve · 3 years ago

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Part of Me: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Nineteen:

Almost as though he had summoned a superhero group to assemble, Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey surrounded Oliver with their love. Posting memes on his social media accounts and blowing his phone up at all hours of the day with cheesy jokes that made Ollie throw his head back and loudly laugh. They couldn't come visit as soon as they wanted, but when they finally could rolled around, Ollie's oldest best friends came to uplift him with their love. The only one who was missing was Rhodey.

Making another batch of popcorn, Steve was briefly startled by his phone ringing. Reaching for it on the counter beside the popcorn maker, Steve was met with another unknown number.

Considering how important the last time he answered an unknown number was...

"Hello?"

"You have a collect call from –" the automated voice cut out so a familiar deep voice could fill in "– James Rhodes – at Stony Brook City Jail. This call may be monitored or recorded. To accept this call, press one. To refuse this call, hang up. To hear a rate quote, press two. To make billing arrangements, please call 1-888-843-7238. To replay this message, press the pound key. To speak with the inmate, remain on the line."

Stunned that Rhodey was in jail, Steve could only stand there, staring at the popping kernels in the popcorn machine. When Rhodey was allowed to speak, he rushed, "Don't freak out!"

"James Rupert Rhodes, what in the world are you doing in jail?!" Steve got out, leaving for the pantry. Not sure if it was for privacy or for wine, but either were fine with him.

"I, uh, got into a fight."

Confused by the admission, Steve had never even heard the boy argue with anyone let alone get into a fight. Of course, that was before someone hurt his best friend.

"With John?" Steve correctly assumed.

"Yeah," Rhodey confirmed. "And I was wondering if you could pick me up. I kinda don't want my parents to know just yet."

Sighing, Steve assured, "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Steve playfully mocked and then hung up.

Leaving the pantry, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Oliver standing there in the entryway to the mudroom. The bruises on the left side of his face were healing nicely, and the swelling had significantly gone down, but it still made Steve's chest clench knowing that someone had hurt his baby.

Brows furrowed, Oliver asked, "What're you doing?"

"Getting chocolate chips," Steve easily fibbed, reaching over to grab the bag of sweets. Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously and Steve added, "For the popcorn."

"On the phone?" Oliver asked, crossing his arms while studying his father.

"I, uh," Steve quickly wracked his brain. Looking down at his phone and then the pantry. "I was adding it to the grocery list. You know how much I hate waiting until the last minute."

"Right," Oliver scoffed, but clearly didn't believe him.

Not that Steve could spend a lot of time worrying about that. After all, he had to bail his son's best friend out of jail. Because he got into a fight. On the bright side, Steve hoped that Rhodey gave the creep a good enough beating that neither he nor Bucky had to finish the job.

"Can you, uh," Steve distracted himself by carrying the bag of chocolate chips out to the kitchen. Oliver was right on his heels, which made lying to him that much harder. Normally, he wouldn't lie about something like this, but he wasn't sure if Rhodey wanted Ollie or their friends to know since he had called Steve above them all.

Grabbing his wallet and his keys, Steve asked, "Can you watch the littles? I've got to... pick up... a prescription."

"Why don't you just have dad pick it up on his way home the way you usually do?"

Steve knew that his oldest son knew that he was lying, but that didn't stop him from doing it. Instead, he lied, "I have to show my ID."

With his arms crossed along his chest, he studied his pops. Steve could feel himself start to fidget, but he couldn't stop himself. And with the jail being about an hour away, give or take, he needed to get going.

"Okay," Ollie finally gave in, turning to get some juice from the fridge.

"Okay," Steve nodded to himself and turned to head in the opposite direction. Pulling on his snow boots and his winter jacket, Steve longed for warm weather as he climbed into his minivan.

On the drive, Steve distracted himself with all the wild images he could with how Rhodey dealt out all the justice Oliver deserved. Sure, charges had been pressed by the State since Ollie had been unconscious when the witnesses had called the police, but John deserved a lot more than that. He deserved a broken nose, fat lip, black eye, and a whole hell of a lot of other injuries. If it was up to Steve, the alpha wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again. Whether that be from broken hands or an extended coma, Steve wasn't really picky, he just never wanted him to be able to hurt anyone else.

Pulling into the parking lot, Steve took in a deep breath and blew it out in a huff. He couldn't believe that he was bailing out one of the most responsible kids he had ever met.

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ardentmuse · 5 years ago

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Chalk and Leather (Murphy McNully x Reader)

DISCOVERING AMORTENTIA SMELLS LIKE MURPHY McNULLY TO YOU

Harry Potter Hogwarts Mystery - Murphy McNully x fem!Reader

A/N: Since we just finished up the valentine’s day quest, got to give some love to the characters we can’t date. :)

Masterlist

“What do you smell, Y/N?” Skye asks you as you stand what should have been a safe distance from the cauldron Snape has bubbling in the middle of his classroom. Streams of pink smoke loft occasionally into the air as your professor’s voice continues to cut through the crowd, droning on about how you need to study amortentia to know how to identify it and therefore avoid it. A better policy seems to be just don’t touch any potions you don’t know.

You try hard not to lean forward but it is intoxicating. Skye elbows you and raises her eyebrows; clearly hoping your nose might provide some juicy gossip.

“I smell chalk and freshly cut grass and—“

Your eyes find the real thing you are smelling on the other side of the room. Murphy McNully, one of your dearest friends, is beside Rowan, the two chatting in hushed tones about something or the other. He laughs — the kind of bright, full laugh that consumes his whole face — and you feel the warm trickle in your chest you haven’t been able to explain for weeks, at least until this very moment.

“Leather and shoe polish,” you finish with a whisper. The words flow from your mouth like they’re the solutions to a riddle because they are. You are in love with Murphy McNully and somehow you hadn’t put two and two together until it was right under your nose.

You take another whiff and enjoy the fragrance you associate only with your rambling friend. It’s a pleasant blend of masculine comforts, rustic and warm like the boy himself. McNully catches your eyes across the room. He smiles, always so friendly, though something in your face must be off because he frowns soon after, returning his attention to Rowan and the rest of your class on his side of the room.

“That’s an odd collection of scents,” Skye muses. “I just smell the pitch.”

“Predictable. Maybe I’ll give those bludgers some amortentia next practice and see if they’ll chase after you like some lovesick puppies so I can take the day off.”

Skye cackles even though your joke wasn’t that funny and Snape snaps at the both of you.

“Is this stuff getting to your head, Parkin? Making you dumb?”

“No, Professor.”

“Then I advise you keep your voice down and pay attention,” Snape says, speaking to Skye but looking at you as well.

“Yes, Professor.”

Snape turns on his heels and heads back towards his desk. Skye lets out a breath, shaking off her scolding. You wish you could shake off your feelings, too: joy, fear, anxiety, doubt, hope, and love above all the others.

As the class ends, your quidditch crew prepares to leave and head to the pitch for practice. McNully usually never misses an opportunity to come with you all and practice his announcing skills but when Skye calls out his name in the corridor of the dungeon, he mumbles something under his breath. He doesn’t even meet your gaze as he rolls down the hall and out of sight.

“Someone’s a little grumpy.”

The worry fills your chest like a balloon, making it hard to breath.

“Isn’t that odd, though? He’s always chipper.”

“So are you and you look like a house elf denied her supper,” Skye laughs, patting you on the back as she runs ahead to catch up with Orion and the rest of the gang. But you can’t join in the joyous run. McNully is somewhere less than pleased about whatever he saw on your face during potions.

You arrive at the locker rooms and change into your quidditch gear, a little slower than usual. Your brain won’t stop replaying images of the dinners spent playing wizard chess with the dimpled blond currently getting situated in the announcer’s booth, the late nights in the common room, your legs up on his lap, memorizing quidditch strategy, and the after-match hang outs where you often found excuses to be close to him, grab his hand, and congratulate him on commentary you arguably didn’t hear given your focus on the match. How had you not seen before just how much he meant to you and just how many of your tiny fantasies about how nice it would be to have a boyfriend involved soft blue eyes just as you closed your eyes to be kissed or running your hands down crisp white collars as you snuggle close in front of the fire, or the pleasant warm laughter of mirth-filled lungs as warm hands run through your hair, just as soft and strong as McNully’s? Everything you hoped for had been right in front of you for well over a year.

When the team assembles and takes to the air, you heard the faint calls of Murphy’s voice from the booth as you bat at the first bludger. He had come to practice after all, just not with you.

“And Y/L/N whacks the bludger away from Parkin with a—“

There is an odd and long silence that follows and it seems the whole team notices. The entire friendly slows, each broom taking to a lazy bob as your team’s statistician stands in stasis.

“… some level of accuracy,” he finally says with a cough.

Murphy is struggling with numbers? That’s odd, you think and it seems everyone else is as confused as you, that is at least until Orion screams for you to focus from the other end of the field, clearly not wanting to lose practice time. But he doesn’t even need to call you from your daze. A rogue bludger is already heading for your team’s latest addition, Oliver Wood.

You fly as fast as you can, swooping down towards the goal posts in hopes of intercepting the ball as the rest of the team resumes play. With a great push, you dangle down from your broom and swing low, just hitting the edge of the wall and knocking it back towards the pitch below.

“And with an impressive show of athleticism, Y/L/N managed to protect our young keeper from a bludger that was—“

Murphy coughs like there is a frog in his throat. It’s alarming and your heart pulls for him. Without a thought for anything but wanting to make sure he is okay, you fly down towards the box where Murphy is sitting. His head is in his hands and his face is redder than it normally is. When he sees you, his eyes bug out a little, but he looks away. His attention is back on the game. He straightens his shoulders and begins commentating again.

“And Parkin shoots for the upper left and misses! A rare miss for the ace chaser, whom this season alone has scored 92.4% of shots on open goals in sunny weather.”

Wait, how come that stat was not an issue?

You hover a bit and stare at the boy who is proving quite the enigma. Your chest heaves a bit as you consider what might be happening, but out of the corner of your eye a stream of black comes barreling through.

Instinctively, you press forward and swing your bat just as the bludger enters into Murphy’s commentary box. The bludger flies away to the east just as McNully covers his face, prepared for a sure to be painful smack right to the noggin. Your momentum however doesn’t stop just because you managed to knock the ball away. You pull up on your broom but can’t stop and land right down on top of Murphy, curling up in his lap as his wheelchair slides back into the wall. His arms wrap around you protectively, covering your head as the house banners fall down upon you in a giant crash.

Once your crash ends and the chaos subsides, you realize exactly where you are; seated on Murphy’s lap with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, canopied in the privacy of fallen tapestries. Murphy’s breathing is hard as his hands curl into the flesh of your back.

And for the first time since potions, he smiles.

“Y/L/N with the greatest save of the day,” he whispers, his hand reaching up to wipe a bit of dust off your cheek.

You face is hot as you look deeply into Murphy’s eyes, unable to stop the smile on your face, too. And somehow, suddenly, everything feels right.

“And what were my chances of making it?”

He slides his hand into your hair as he tilts your face up to him.

“I haven’t a bloody clue.”

He shakes his head and laughs, his cheeks turning the brightest red you’ve ever seen. You start to speak but his voice interrupts you.

“I can’t think of a single thing but you when you’re near, you know that?”

“I— I can’t either.”

Murphy laughs, the hearty kind you missed just a little, and the matching smile on his face only makes it better. He pulls you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his chest. He takes a deep and stabilizing breath.

“Lilac,” he says more to himself than you, “And fresh clean linens.”

And now it is your turn to smile as you realize Murphy knows your scent, too— two people attracted by nothing other than each other. It’s impossible to resist the urge, just like this morning in Snape’s classroom, to draw closer to the source of such joy. Every part you longs to lift upward, to taste the thing you’ve been craving so intensely, the thing you didn’t know you needed.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you okay?” Skye is screaming from somewhere near by. You hear the scrambled sounds of brooms dropping onto the deck and footsteps rushing to your aid.

But McNully doesn’t care. His hand takes your chin and he kisses you full on, not wasting a moment to seal your newly-declared affections. And all you can do is melt into him.

A faint breeze hits your face and you look up to see Skye standing now under the banners, her eyes filled with mischief as she takes you in.

“That chalk smell makes a whole lot of sense now.”

Murphy’s eyes bug out of his head as he pushes back on you.

“I smell… like chalk to you?”

“Among other things.”

He laughs, “I’ll have you know my spell for the chalk board reduces chalk use by 68.3% over traditional writing methods.”

You can’t help but smile. He’s back in all his quirkiness and something about the fact that he can be himself with you in his arms, open about your feelings, brings you more joy than you can say. And that joy is the kind of joy you hope to have every night moving forward with the boy who smells like chalk and leather by your side and loving you fully.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik, @amberkay284, @the-new-galahad, @13ofjuly, @daft-not-punk

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech, @luckyvirgo, @hellizhelusive2, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid, @amazingwonderlandnapkin, @garbdump

#hphm #hp hogwarts mystery #hphm imagine #murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully imagine #hphm murphy #mcnully #hp hogwarts mystery imagine #harry potter #hp #reader insert #x reader

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shadowhuntertrash · 4 years ago

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High Notes

I own nothing

Chapter Six

The day went by quickly and Thomas didn’t have much time to ponder the almost kiss he had with Alastair or the girl's from the coffee shop’s words until dinner that night. Lucie and Cordelia had gone and had an early dinner with Alastair and the other boys had decided to have a late dinner and go ahead and knock the rest of their rehearsal out.

James and Christopher were in a deep discussion about dress rehearsal they had tomorrow and Thomas found himself, once again, under the scrutinizing gaze of Matthew. Thomas moved the fry around on his plate, his hamburger long forgotten. He was too anxious to eat anyway. “Who started it?” Matthew asked in a quiet voice. Thomas raised an eyebrow, “Math I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.” He said innocently shrugging, Matthew just glared.

“Stop it, we both know you do.” They held eye contact for a minute and Thomas was reminded vaguely of a dominance match between dogs. Thomas gave up with a huff and looked back down at his fries again. “I honestly don’t know. I had a panic attack and then we were just walking and then it just kind of… happened. Lord, that sounds dull.” Matthew smirked at him and Thomas groans, burying his head in his hands. Matthew laughs softly and James looks over at them. “What are we talking about?” James asked, propping his chin on Matthew’s shoulder so he could see Thomas.

Thomas had sat in this booth first, Matthew had sat next to Thomas and then James, the social anxiety impersonation he is, sat next to Matthew instead of sitting in the booth with Christopher. Which led to Thomas, Matthew, and James being squished together and Christopher propping his legs up in his practically empty booth.

They had to sit in the back because most places they go they get noticed by fans and won’t get any peace. It was a habit now (for their band and Alastair and the girls) to ask for a spot in the back or off in a corner somewhere when they went out to eat.

“We’re talking about Thomas and Alastair almost kissing.” Matthew said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Christopher choked on his drink and James looked at Thomas with wide eyes. “When did that happen!” Christopher said when he had stopped choking. Thomas was sure he resembled a tomato at this point.

He hit Matthew, who was still laughing hysterically, in the arm and slumped further in his seat, hating his height more than anything at the moment. “When we found them, they were about to kiss and then we stumbled upon them and they didn’t.” Matthew frowned and slumped against James. “What a bunch of cock blocks we are.” Matthew said as if it were him that didn’t get to kiss someone he wanted to.

Thomas found himself laughing at Matthew’s forlorn expression and James’s still too wide eyes. “Nothing really happened. We were just walking and talking. We were actually trying to find you guys because I told Matthew twenty minutes and then I realized I was late because I didn’t have my phone on. Sorry about that Math, I know you worry. So I was trying to-”

Matthew cut him off with a raised hand. “Stop rambling it’s okay. I was just picking and James was just a little shocked.” Matthew finished with a shape jab to James’ ribs which seemed to snap James out of his daze. James nodded enthusiastically before looking at Matthew with a wide smile. “Oh my god otp Matthew OTP!” Matthew and Christopher burst out laughing and Thomas slumped impossibly further in his chair. Why did they always have to pick on him?

Matthew dropped his hand on Thoams’ shoulder and Thomas looked at him. Matthew was looking at him with a look that was strictly reserved for James, Thomas, and Christopher. A soft look that was often off putting since he was constantly annoyed or making a joke out of everything and anything.

“You know Tommy we only pick on you because it’s easy with how embarrassed you get. We love you and as much as I dislike Alastair I think you two would be good for each other. Plus,” He added a wink that made Thomas blush before he even heard the next part. “I think you could teach him some well needed manners.” Thomas laughed softly and gave Mattew a pointed look.

“You really shouldn’t make fun of my pining, saying as it is not nearly as bad as yours was.” Matthew put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me Thomas. Anyhow even if that was accurate,” He turned to James and stuck his tongue out boyishly. “Which it wasn’t,” He turned back to Thomas who was smiling at his friends. “It isn’t my fault you’re too nice and didn’t pick on me when you had the chance.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

It was common knowledge that Thomas was nice, it was why the fans had dubbed him the ‘Kind One’ or ‘Gentle Giant’ as some others called him. He hated that one thought, gentle giant made him sound dull. They had dubbed Matthew as the ‘Sexy One’, James the ‘Mysterious One’, and Christopher, well Christopher was his own category.

Thomas pushed Matthew playfully and Matthew fell back dramatically accidentally falling on James, causing him to fall out of the seat. “Jesus Math, be careful.” James said taking Matthew’s outstretched hand and getting back to his feet, Matthew was too busy laughing to listen to him.

Thomas sat back watching them, his brothers by all means but blood, and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

When it was time to go back to the hotel rooms, which they were staying in when they weren’t on the road, they all split ways smiling and wishing each other goodnight. Thomas followed Christopher to their room. There were two beds so Thomas knew he could stand staying with Christopher.

Thomas showered as soon as they got to the hotel. Some people thought it was weird but Thomas showered twice a day and washed his hair at least once a day. Matthew always picked on it but Thomas just shrugged it off he didn’t feel clean if he didn’t wash his hair.

Thomas took his time feeling the hot water wash off the stress of the day. As soon as he had got to the quiet hotel room the fans from the diner’s words came back to him. He knew he would spend too much time thinking about this.

He got out of the shower about 40 minutes later and ran his towel through his hair shaking it out. He flopped gracelessly on the bed and groaned. Christopher was fast asleep on the bed next to him, the sound he was making strongly reminded Thomas of a lawnmower.

Thomas grabbed his phone, turned the brightness down, as he began feeling the beginning of a headache, and read the texts he had received.

Matthew Unfairchild:

Sleep well dream of your knight in shining armor <3

Thomas scoffed and replied,

Tommy:

We all know I’m more into Prince Charming. <3

He opened a text from Lucie and smiled at her picture. It was a picture from the first time they went to Disney World. No one else would go with her, Cordelia didn’t like it because she couldn’t stand the lines and decided it was no more magical than Six Flags. James and Matthew had claimed too manly (however it turned out they went two months before without telling anyone), and Christopher, bless his soul, wouldn’t stop going on and on about the mechanisms in the rides and that just made everyone untrustworthy of the shaky rides.

So Thomas had gone with her and they had stayed for two days, riding rides and meeting characters. The picture that made her profile was of her in front of Cinderella’s castle with a bunch of fireworks going off in the background. She was mid jump and a look of pure happiness plastered on her face, she had an ice cream cone in her hand however the ice cream was mid fall.

It was Thomas’ all time favorite picture of her and he was quietly proud of his photography skills. Lucie’s parents, Tessa and Will, had taken one look at the picture and demanded it be framed and hung on the wall of their house. Thomas was proud of that too.

Luce <33:

Matthew told me what happened. I'm so mad at myself. You two were finally gonna kiss and I messed it up I’m so sorry Tommy.

Thomas laughed and shook his head. It seemed everyone was rooting for them and Thomas was quietly pleased. Thomas just hoped he wasn’t going off of false hope.

Tommy:

It’s fine sweetie don’t worry about it. I wasn’t thinking anyway.

Thomas checked his other text to find pictures of Barbara’s engagement ring and a video of her telling our parents about her engagement. Thomas smiled slightly and watched the video with the volume on low knowing exactly how his mom would react. He did however have to turn it up when he couldn’t hear the video over Christopher’s snoring.

He watched as Barbara casually, without words, held up her engagement ring for them to see. Sophie’s hands automatically came up to cover her mouth as her eyes started watering dangerously. Gideon however stared at it not comprehending yet. “He did not!” Sophie all but screamed. He listened as Barbara and Oliver started laughing.

Gideon’s mouth fell open slightly, understanding brightening his eyes. He walked over quickly and hugged her, Sophie joining quickly. The video ended then and Thomas sent his sister a text.

Tommy:

Aww! They’re so proud! I’m proud of you. It was about time Oliver took the next step! Love you tons miss you more!

Thomas opened the last unread message and furrowed his eyebrows, it was an unknown number. Thomas opened it and felt a smile stretching across his face.

Unknown Number:

Hey I asked Lucie for your number hope you don’t mind.

Unknown Number:

It’s Alastair btw lol

Thomas let out a happy sound that immediately made him blush even though Christopher wasn’t awake to hear it. Thomas took a few calming breaths cursing himself for acting like a little girl with a crush.

Tommy:

Oh hey I don’t mind sorry for responding late

Thomas stared down at the message, that was cool right? Not too eager, not too pushy. Thomas sighed roughly and put his phone on the nightstand by their beds. Thomas closed his eyes and replayed the events of the day, the practicing, the boys trying to convince him to sing at a concert, the girls words which were still ringing in his ears much to his dismay, and Alastair.

Daring Alastair with his stupid dyed hair and his face that lights up constantly. Thomas shook his head as if he could physically fling the thoughts from his head. He got up knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep yet. Christopher was making sure of that. Thomas knew in the back of his mind that he was probably going to end up in James and Matthew’s room.

Thomas got up and picked up his guitar. It had been a long day and he had written a song but he didn’t want to play it for anyone yet. It was deeper than his normal ones, it was more just words he needed out of his head. Thomas huffs loudly the girls words playing on repeat in his head, he could tell he was getting a migraine but he bit back the pain and started strumming.

I don't know why I just feel I'm better off

Stayin' in the same room I was born in

I look outside and see a whole world better off

Without me in it tryin' to transform it

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind, yeah

Listen, I know

This one's a contradiction because of how happy it sounds

But the lyrics are so down

It's okay though

Because it represents, wait, better yet it is

Who I feel I am right now

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Oh, don't you test me, no

Just because I play the piano

Doesn't mean I, I'm not willin' to take you down

I'm sorry

I'm, I'm out of my mind, oh

I'm not seein' things right, oh

I waste all this time tryin' to run from you

But I'm, I'm out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah, oh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

You are out of my mind

You aren't seein' my side

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Thomas sighed and sat his guitar down rubbing his forehead with one hand. He got migraines when he had stressful days, which in all honesty were more often than not. Maybe he could ask Matthew for migraine medicine, he was sure to have some.

Thomas got up and jot down a message telling Christopher where he went in case he woke up, which wasn’t likely but he didn’t want to risk it. He put some sunglasses on because the yellow lighting in the halls made his head worse and walked down to James and Matthew’s room which was only three doors down.

Everyone knew where the others were sleeping in case of emergency or if they just wanted to hang out.

Thomas was about to knock when he heard some noises coming from inside. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering the hell they could be doing to make that racket. He could hear the bed hitting the wall and realization dawned on him. Crap.

Thomas whined softly knowing that he couldn’t get Matthew’s medicine now. He blushed furiously and walked away from their door quickly trying to erase the noises he had just heard. He sighed and shook his head stopping for a moment when a sharp wave of pain hit him and he stumbled slightly.

Thomas put his hand on the wall and walked slowly to Lucie and Cordelia’s room slowly, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He cursed when he stood in front of the door. He knocked sharply not wanting to be too loud in case they were asleep. He stood there for a few minutes before he turned to head back to his room deciding to wait it out.

The door opened as Thomas took his second step. Thomas let out a noise of relief. “Lucie-” He started softly before realizing that it wasn’t Lucie standing there, it wasn’t Cordelia either. It was Alasatiar.

Thomas looked at him for a while trying to wrap his head around why Alastair was there before slowly realizing that this wasn’t the girls room it was Alastair’s. Thomas groaned loudly and stumbled slightly. Alastair’s eyes, normally playful and joyous, were now darkening; he was practically scowling and Thomas shrunk away.

“Lightwood please don’t tell me you’re wasted.” Alastair said glaring Thomas shook his head and promptly sat down when the room spun too fast. Thomas let out an exasperated laugh. Alastair was now looking at him with concern, all annoyance gone. “Lightwood what’s wrong with you?” He said squatting down so he was eye level with Thomas.

Thomas looked at him in confusion before shrugging trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He hadn’t meant to be here and it was quite embarrassing to be a stumbling, collapsing mess in front of someone he cared so much to impress or at least not embarrass himself in front of. Alastair’s eyes narrowed, not a glare, but a look that said stop lying.

“Thomas you all but collapsed in front of me and you’re saying there’s nothing wrong?” Thomas let out a small noise. “James and Matthew are shagging.” Alastair’s eyebrows shot up. That was obviously not what he was expecting, Thomas laughed. “And this affects you and I how?” I close my eyes, the pain radiating and pulsing in my head.

“I needed his medicine.” I explain quietly trying to show him he needed to be quiet. He seemed to take the message because the next time he spoke it was significantly quieter. “Thomas what medicine?” Thomas furrowed his brows trying to think of the name giving up quickly when that just made the pain in his head worse. He really really hated migraines.

“Thomas,” Alastair said, now kneeling in front of Thomas. He looked slightly desperate and Thomas took a moment to appreciate that he had never seen Alastair look like that before. “Thomas come on what medicine.” I pat his shoulder and stand up shakily. “It’s alright I actually meant to go to Lucie’s room.”

Alasatir gave him a serious look and took his hand gently leading him inside the cold hotel room. “Thomas just come here and what medicine do you need?” Thomas didn’t even try to fight him, knowing Alastair was too stubborn to let him go easily. He was attempting to ignore the fact that his head was steadily getting worse and how his stomach was flipping dangerously. “Migraine.” Thomas said simply, answering Alastair’s question as best he could. Alastair looked at him wearily.

“Is that what’s going on? You have a migraine?” Thomas nodded and that was all it took to push him overboard. Thomas gasped and stood up quickly stumbling to the bathroom and barely making it in time to empty out his stomach in the toilet. He felt a hand on his back and soothing words but the burn in his throat and throbbing in his head was all he could think about.

“Thomas, I’m going to go get some medicine okay? Do you want me to stay or are you going to be okay for a minute?” Thomas just groaned in response and continued emptying his stomach contents. He honestly didn’t believe he had much in his stomach because he hadn’t eaten much that day but he was being proven wrong.

He felt the hand leave his back and he threw up a little more before sitting back and resting his back on the bathtub. Thomas groaned in embarrassment when he realized that not only had he accidentally come to Alastair’s room, collapsed in front of him, and was dragged into his room, but he had also thrown up in front of him.

Thomas didn’t get much time to ponder that thought because Alastair came back with pills and water. His face was calm but his eyes were slightly panicked. Thomas wondered if he was the only one who could see it or if Alastair just showed it obviously.

Thomas took the water gratefully and drank it quickly, onl stopping when Alastair put a hand on his and carefully lowered it, taking the glass with it. “I brought you some medicine too. It’s not migraine medicine but it should help a little.” Thomas nodded, head still throbbing and took the small pills Alastair had offered him. He threw them back easily and swallowed them dry, taking the drink back from Alastair’s frozen hand.

Alastair was watching him with a dark look in his eyes, something Thomas couldn’t place but he knew it wasn’t bad. Not the kind of look Alastair had when he thought Thomas was drunk. Thomas shuddered and finished the water. Alastair helped him up and put his arm around Thomas’ waist to keep him steady.

Thomas flopped on the bed, not unlike he had earlier that night and sighed. His stomach didn’t feel as bad but his head was still pounding. Alastair sighed and sat up against the headboard, holding his arm out, inviting Thomas closer.

Thomas didn’t have to be told twice. He all but collapsed on Alastair’s lap. Thomas hummed contentedly as Alastair ran his fingers through his hair. Thomas grunted when he couldn’t find a comfortable position with his sunglasses off. Alastair gently tugged his glasses off and Thomas groaned as a new wave of pain hit him when his eyes saw the light. Alastair quickly blocked the light with his hand and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

The room was plunged into darkness and Thomas just cuddled deeper into Alastair’s lap. He could vaguely remember that this wasn’t his room and he shouldn’t be doing this but need to sleep, most likely due to the pills, was overwaying his ability to freak out properly. When Alastair started humming he couldn’t keep himself aware of much anymore.

One thing Thomas was aware of was the fact that Alastair’s fingers felt good in his hair. Thomas wondered what it felt like to run his fingers through Alastair’s hair. To bring his face closer. To kiss him.

There were so many things he wanted to do and a massive inability to do any of it. Thomas was decidedly ready to tell Alastair how he felt. If he were any more awake he might have even done it right then, but he knew he was far too gone to do it.

Thomas listened to Alastair’s quiet humming and decided that he would tell him over a song. Thomas shifted slightly so his head was resting more on Alastair’s thigh and smiled tiredly. “Alastair?” The man in question made a noise in place of an answer. “I’m going to sing my song.” He realized too late that that probably made no sense whatsoever but it seemed Alastair understood because he beamed at Thomas and ruffled his hair slightly. “I’m glad. I love hearing you sing. I’m proud of you for deciding to do it.”

Thomas hummed non-committedly. “Only for you.” He mumbled before his eyes slipped closed against his will and his mind gave way to dreams. He could have sworn right before he fell asleep that he felt someone kiss his head, but he chalked it up to sleep and want.

#thomas and alastair #thomastair #thomas x alastair #fanfiction #tlh #the last hours #high notes #other tags im too lazy for

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ourfairytale · 6 years ago

Text

Quickie

Requested- “Can you do an imagine where (Y/N) begs Grayson for a quickie? Thanks ily.”

A/N: yesyesyesyes a Grayson quickie would be so hot, holy shit . . . don't even get me started about him in a suit. shall we combine the two? i think yes.

Requests are open!

Content: dirty filthy smut smut smut, some swearing, and a lil aggressive #sorrynotsory

*****

I was laying on my stomach on the purple velvet couch, scrolling through twitter on my phone, occasionally laughing at a funny video or retweeting something relatable. It was pretty early in the morning and usually, I'd be asleep right now, but Gray had woken me up so I could accompany him on the filming of his and Ethan's new video.

Suddenly, a heavy body landed on my backside and a grunt of annoyance escaped my lips. I turned my head slightly to find a poofy-haired, paperclip-necklace-wearing goofball with his butt on my lower back while he relaxed against the couch.

"I think all of our intros and outros should be filmed like this," He said amusingly. I mimicked his laugh and pushed up with my arms to make him slide off of me.

"You'd probably lose subscribers," I commented, standing up and putting my phone into my back pocket. I looked over Ethan's attire and it looked pretty put together, but I was a little confused as to why he was dressed so formally. "Why are you dressed like that? I thought you were just going to work at a coffee shop?" I asked him, arms crossing over my chest.

He bent over the camera, that was in between the both of us as he began to turn it on as well as the microphone.

"Well we have to do the interview first, so we wanna make a good first impression," He explained as he made sure everything was in place. There was only one thing missing; Grayson.

As if on queue, he came waltzing into the workshop area, his fingers fondling with the tightness of his necktie. As soon as I saw the grey suit adorned by his toned body, I was done for. All sleepiness left me and I was awoken by a sexual drive. My mouth went dry and my panties were surely drenched just by the sight of him.

The white button up hugged his torso, the grey coat on top looked as if it was going to be ripped due to his biceps. Don't even get me started on the grey slacks. It was clearly obvious this boy didn't skip leg day due to the definition in his legs and butt being clearly visible, as well as his bulge.

"Babe? Y/N? Are you okay?" I was brought out of my thoughts by Grayson's broad hands running up and down my arms. Heat crept up my neck and to my cheeks as my stomach did cartwheels. I nodded my head, trying to compose myself. "Can you help me?" He spoke again, slight grogginess still evident in his voice due to the early morning. He gestured to his tie and my hands went up to his neck as I did my work.

Oh, how I tried so hard to focus on straightening out the tie, but my mind couldn't stop from imagining myself pulling his body to me and licking him from head to toe.

"You okay, Princess? You haven't even said a simple good morning," He dipped his lips down to my ear and whispered so that only I could hear. This fucker knew exactly what he was doing. I pressed my legs together, trying to suppress my body's need for friction down there. I cleared my throat, flattening the tie against his chest while I looked up to connect my eyes with his. If eyes could smirk, his definitely were.

My eyes peered over to the side to see Ethan hunched over a to-go bag, placing a camera and a microphone inside for when they film in the cafe, completely oblivious to what was going on.

My attention turned back to Grayson, hands still on his chest. I began to slide them down his torso slowly, feeling his abs through the material, finally reaching the waistline of his slacks and lightly tugging on his belt. Grayson clicked his tongue against his cheek, removing his hands from my hips just to remove mine from his pants.

"Not now, I have a video to film," His words a bit harsh, as well as the forcefulness of his hands. I rolled my eyes, peeling myself away from him in annoyance.

I watched as he joined his twin's side and sat on the purple couch. Before long, they were arguing about Grayson's outfit and after five minutes of their bickering, I excused myself from the room. Gray hiked up his trousers slightly to take his seat comfortably, the groin area becoming even tighter. I decided it probably wasn't healthy watching my sex god of a boyfriend and imagining all the things I wished he would be doing to me instead of filming a youtube video.

I trudged towards Grayson's bedroom, the aching in my core growing with each step as I imagined pulling on his tie; imagining him using that tie on me.

I laid myself across his mattress, knowing they would be filming the intro for quite a while. I also knew that I wouldn't be able to contain myself while watching him in that suit all day. I hiked my casual olive green dress up around my hips, slowly inching one hand down my torso while the other cupped my own breast. I dipped my fingers underneath my thong, instantly being able to feel how wet I already was. That man was torture.

I pictured his arms pinning my own above my head, hips rocking into mine, breast against chiseled pecks, his hot tongue and lips on my neck . . . everything I wanted. Everything I needed. I rubbed figure eights onto my clit, imagining that it was Grayson's long digits instead of my own.

I felt myself nearing my climax, but I was definitely missing the feeling of him inside of me. Short and soft moans escaped my lips and I took the hand that was massaging my own breast and bit down on my finger to keep myself quiet.

"Mmm, Gray," I whispered, eyes closed, arching my back off of the mattress, images of him making love to me replaying in my mind.

"Fuck," A deep voice startled me, instantly removing my fingers from my heat and pulling my dress back down in protection. I then saw him standing with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, back against the closed door as he watched me with hooded eyes. "What do you think you're doing, Princess?" His voice was so low and quiet, it made the pain of my unfinished orgasm even more unbearable.

"I couldn't wait, Gray . . . you do things to me," I watched him as he approached the bed, he swallowed hard when I pulled my dress back up, my lace clad core in full view for him. My fingers resumed what they were doing before they were interrupted. My middle finger circling over my entrance before I inserted my digit, biting my lip. He watched with pain in his eyes, falling to his knees in front of the bed, my center in full view. "Come on baby, it would feel so much better if it was your dick instead of my finger," I breathed out, shutting my eyes, but knowing I had his full attention.

"I can't . . . E and I have the interview for the coffee shop that we have to leave for in 10 minutes, plus the view is pretty fucking amazing from here," He palmed at his erection with one hand, the other fisting the sheets. The amount of restraint this man had was awardable.

"C'mon, we both know we can finish this in five," I propped myself up on one elbow, continuing my circular motions on my clit as I looked at the drooling man in front of me. I knew he needed this just as much as I did, but he still wouldn't budge.

Groaning, I sat up completely, reaching forwards for his necktie, pulling up on the material so that our lips were centimeters apart. His eyes widened due to the hasty action, I had completely halted my movements and was now leaning over the side of the bed, face in close proximity to his.

"Come on Daddy . . . make me feel good," I inched forwards, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth as I tugged slightly. He closed his eyes, humming in response to the name pet name I called him. He continued to hold back, clenching his jaw to keep himself from giving in.

"This pussy needs your cock, Daddy. Please," I begged, about to connect my lips with his until I was taken off guard. He moved to his feet, arms pushing my shoulders backward quite roughly, by back sinking into the mattress. He didn't stop there. His fingers went to his tie, tugging it free from the collar of his shirt, hastily grabbing my hands and binding them together; something he had gotten exceptionally good at. He bunched my dress up, making sure my whole lower half was completely visible.

"Since you begged so nicely," He ripped the fabric of my lace thong, then tugged at his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. He pushed both his pants and his boxers down, letting his member spring freely against his abdomen. The tip was already swollen, and I could see the vein on the underside of his dick pulsating from where I was laying. I moaned at the site, wrapping my legs around his torso, pulling him towards me.

His finger dipped down between my folds, lapping up my juices and circling my clit. His other hand pinned my bound hands above my head and I was a moaning mess beneath him. I needed him.

"So wet," He whispered right before he inserted his fingers into his mouth.

"Grayson," I seethed, urgency in my voice. Instantly, his length stretched out my entrance. He didn't waste any time with the slow approach, almost immediately bottoming out and I could swear I could already feel his tip grazing my g-spot. A moan escaped my lips from the feeling, back arching, my clothed chest pushing into his.

He gave me a second to adjust before his hips retracted just to thrust back into mine again. A whimper escaped me, wanting so badly to claw at his muscular back while a much-anticipated pressure was being relieved. His lips found mine hungrily, tongue immediately flattening on my own as his grip on my wrists tightened. The rough hairs on his pelvis rubbed against my clit as he made sure to hit my g-spot with every onslaught.

"Harder," I moaned against his wet kiss. He grabbed the back of my leg, hiking it up higher on his hip for easier access, his other hand still pinning me to the pillows. Sweat was collecting on his forehead due to him still being half clothed in his suit but he didn't slow down. His balls slapped against my ass and his grip got tighter and tighter.

"Mmm, Grayson, right there," I encouraged his movements as his lips attacked my neck, sucking harder than usual, surely leaving a mark behind. He grunted and moaned against my skin while his arm shook from holding himself up. I could tell he was getting close, his thrusts becoming more aggressive. He should be orgasming any minute now, but he wouldn't dare let himself cum before me. He never did. He always made sure I finished first; what a gentleman.

"Cum for me, Princess," He let go of my wrists, fingers dipping between my folds, rubbing my sweet spot. I arched into him, teeth lightly gnawing into his shoulder while my bound wrists went around his neck and hugged him closer to me His hot breath fanned over my skin, soft whimpers escaping.

"Oh, Grayson! Yes!" The screams spilled from my mouth and In that instant, the heat that was building up finally reached its boiling point and a wave of pleasure washed over my entire body. My legs shook around his hips, soon the rest of my body following in shivers. He wasn't far behind, an aggressive "fuck" emerging from his hot plump lips. I could feel his liquids spill into me, making my orgasm that much more pleasurable.

After we both caught our breaths, he untied my wrists and flopped down beside me. A thin layer of sweat coated our skin as we laid there, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of our own rapid heartbeats.

Before long, a fist was heard against Grayson's bedroom door, followed by Ethan's annoyed tone of voice. Gray huffed before he got up on his feet and looked down at me, sprawled on the mattress, obviously worn out from the previous activity.

"Stay right there, Princess. Wait for me until I'm done shooting the video, I'm not finished with you yet." He smirked down at the beautiful mess he made out of me before he was out the door.

#this sucks #im sorry #i didn't do grayson any justice #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dolan twins imagine

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marigoldbaker · 6 years ago

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lucky to have you

The lights flash purple-blue, catching in the raven-black of Jenny’s hair. Jenny’s mouth forms the lyrics of the song blaring through the ballroom, and Miss Charlotte is on the verge of falling in love. She lets her forehead bump against Jenny’s, telling herself she can blame it on the alcohol. “You’re a godawful singer,” she shouts over the music.

“Don’t I know it!” Jenny shouts back, beaming at Miss Charlotte as though she’s been paid the compliment of the century.

i started thinking about my potential novel again today, which of course meant that i went through my old notebooks and extended something from last year into an actual little piece. mostly about my beloveds biconic vampire jenny callahan and british fire-witch miss charlotte, with some mentions of various other people.

a brief synopsis: jenny and miss charlotte dance, flirt, and might have kissed if they weren’t both so bad at communicating. miss charlotte is a pining idiot. jenny is probably also a pining idiot.

Miss Charlotte takes a long sip, looking at Jenny over the rim of her glass. “You’re not dancing,” she observes. “Isn’t now a prime time for you to bring out the funky chickens?”

Jenny chokes a little on her drink and wipes her mouth on her sleeve, still grinning. “First of all, Charlie-pie,” she says, “the dance itself is called the funky chicken. And second, I don’t generally dance at these kinds of things without a partner to dance with.”

“How horribly traditional of you,” says Miss Charlotte, and smiles a little so that Jenny can tell she’s joking. “Next you’ll tell me that you always let the gentleman lead.”

“Hardly,” says Jenny, and places her drink down on the bar, taking a sweeping bow. “I let the guy in the suit lead, and that’s pretty much always me.”

“And if it’s black-tie?”

“Then I cut a rug with a girl instead,” says Jenny, extending a hand to Miss Charlotte.

Miss Charlotte bites back a smile. It won’t do to act a besotted fool. “As it happens,” she says, “I’ve all but finished my drink—” and places her nearly-empty glass down on the bar, picking up the drink that Jenny’s abandoned. “Do you waltz?”

“I’m a vampire from the 1890s,” says Jenny, as if this should answer all Miss Charlotte’s questions. “I can waltz, I can shimmy, I can jitterbug—”

“You are making it far too easy for me to make fun of you,” Miss Charlotte informs her.

Jenny winks. “That’s the idea.”

Miss Charlotte takes a sip of Jenny’s drink. A bit too bitter for her taste, she thinks, and a bit too expensive for her to afford at any rate. She often forgets that Jenny, who has the sweetness and excitability of someone much younger, is a cultured, ageless being—perhaps it’s because Jenny is never pretentious, never holds her experience above other people. It’s remarkably endearing. “I suppose,” she says, “that I might be able to spare you one dance,” and takes Jenny’s hand.

“Ooh, your dance card’s all full?” Jenny plucks her drink from Miss Charlotte’s hand, tossing it back in a last graceful sip. She looks extraordinarily dashing in the dimmed lights of the ballroom—completely in her element—and as she sets the glass back down on the bar and leads Miss Charlotte onto the dance floor, Miss Charlotte is struck by the beginning of a feeling that she can’t yet place.

A faster song starts up, one with a pulsing beat. Miss Charlotte feels Jenny’s hands on her waist in a way that sends a thrill through her. Refusing to comply to her fluttering heart, she says dryly, “You’re certain that you can manage a waltz at this tempo?”

“The advantage of having a century or so under your belt,” says Jenny, “is the amount of time you’re given to accrue numerous talents.” She pulls Miss Charlotte close—the way one does when they waltz, no closer than that, but it feels like they’re close enough to kiss—and this close, Miss Charlotte is suddenly aware that Jenny is nearly a head taller than her. Sometimes she forgets—Jenny makes herself so easily accessible—

“Don’t I know it!” Jenny shouts back, beaming at Miss Charlotte as though she’s been paid the compliment of the century. “At least I’m not as bad as Oliver!”

Miss Charlotte laughs, forgetting herself, and Jenny’s answering smile makes her heart sing. Her hair is falling out of its neat bun; she is only slightly paying attention to her state of disarray. “You’re not waltzing,” she persists, “we’re just jumping about while you hold me.”

“Any objections?” says Jenny, giving Miss Charlotte that playful, flirtatious grin that she gives absolutely everyone.

Miss Charlotte is jerked unpleasantly out of the moment. Jenny Callahan is an ageless being, Jenny Callahan flirts with everyone, and the thought that she might someday be something special to this woman is terribly unrealistic. “Yes,” she says, “yes—” Her chest is tight as she pulls herself free from Jenny, missing the brief handful of seconds where she was able to forget.

“Charlotte,” says Jenny, a sudden worry in her voice.

“Call me one of your foolish nicknames, why don’t you?” says Miss Charlotte waspishly, well aware that her tipsy state probably isn’t helping this interaction. “It’ll make this whole thing seem bloody normal again. Excuse me.” She hurries away from Jenny—or tries to. Jenny has caught her arm.

“Charlotte,” says Jenny again, and her hand moves up to undo Miss Charlotte’s bun. Miss Charlotte’s blonde curls tumble loose, bouncing free against her shoulders (left bare by the strapless dress), and Jenny draws in a soft, pained breath. “You’re so beautiful,” she says.

“Are you drunk?” says Miss Charlotte stiffly.

Jenny’s eyes are incredibly clear; she looks the farthest from inebriated that a person can be. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m—I’m drunk. Sure.”

Miss Charlotte nods to herself, heart pounding. “Don’t tell me I’m beautiful like it matters to you,” she says. “Don’t do that to me.” And she jerks her arm out of Jenny’s hand, hurrying across the room and through the crowd, out the door and into the deserted gardens.

Well. Mostly deserted.

Tasha and Natalie are lying sprawled on the grass together, Natalie’s suit rumpled and Tasha’s dress riding up her thighs. Tasha is settled in Natalie’s arms, and Natalie is pointing out various constellations, and they look unapologetically happy, and it is almost too much for Miss Charlotte to bear. What is it like, she thinks, to be in love with someone who can love you back just as easily?

“Hey,” says a voice, and Miss Charlotte turns. Oliver’s girl—Clover—is standing there, surveying her with a thoughtful expression. “Jenny’s hitting the bar pretty hard,” she says. “And when I asked her why, she said she was shooting for attainable goals tonight, and getting drunk seemed more attainable than some of the stuff she really wanted.”

“She wants me, I think, for tonight,” says Miss Charlotte coolly. “I shan’t oblige her.”

“Shan’t,” Clover mimics, and laughs almost affectionately. “Listen, Charlotte—”

“Miss Charlotte, if you please,” says Miss Charlotte all but reflexively.

“—she doesn’t want you just for tonight,” says Clover. “At least, I don’t think she does.”

“Thank you for your input,” says Miss Charlotte, and goes resolutely back to watching Natalie and Tasha cuddle under the stars.

She hears an exasperated huff from Clover, and the sound of retreating footsteps. She doesn’t bother to look back. Clover is a young thing with little experience when it comes to love, and Miss Charlotte is nearing her forties having participated in a healthy number of relationships.

(Granted, she has never been in love before, but this is not something worth mentioning.)

Jenny is spectacularly smashed by the time they all leave the gala, leaning heavily on Miss Charlotte and playing with her curls as they sit together in the back of the limousine. “You’re beautiful,” she says again, still with that odd, helpless note of sincerity to her voice. Miss Charlotte determinedly ignores it, focusing instead on the fact that Jenny has said this to a thousand other women and men before her. “You are so so beautiful and any girl would be lucky to have you.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” says Miss Charlotte.

“Jesus fucking Christ but they’re idiots,” says Clover to Oliver, who gets the vaguely panicked look on his face that he always does when he might be asked to side with someone.

Jenny hums, settling into Miss Charlotte’s side. “I hope I’m drunk enough not to remember this,” she mumbles to herself. “Made such a fucking idiot of myself—god, I hope you’re drunk enough not to remember this too.”

The statement cuts Miss Charlotte to the bone; she tightly grips the fabric of her dress, part of her wishing it to tear under her hands. She wants some physical representation of what she feels—she wants it not to be bottled up inside, inflicted on no one but herself. “I am drunk,” she agrees, if only for the sake of drunk-Jenny. “Drunk enough not to remember, I’m sure.”

Jenny raises her head, eyes bright. “Can I kiss you, if we won’t remember?” she asks. “I’ve always wanted—”

“WE ARE STILL IN THE LIMO,” says Tasha very loudly, an expression of abject mortification on her face. Miss Charlotte buries her head in her hands, Jenny blinks languidly at the rest of the Do-Gooders, and Oliver sort of whimpers.

“So this is what you guys do when you go out,” Clover observes. “Cool. Remind me to never go out with any of you again.” She considers, then squeezes Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re okay, though. Maybe.”

Miss Charlotte replays that memory; it’s the only one she’ll get. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, eyes longing, lips parted as if in anticipation of the kiss she is requesting. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, and the note in her voice is still that one of desperate sadness, as though she already knows the answer. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, already leaning forward.

Yes, says Miss Charlotte, in a world where they were the only two people in the godforsaken limousine, and she was just a bit more drunk, and both of them were just a bit less afraid. Yes, yes, yes.

Jenny is painfully hungover the next morning. “I am dead,” she complains to the office at large, “I should be exempt from things like this—and how are you not hungover, either, Char-lots-of-curls? I could’ve sworn you were drinking too.”

There is no apprehension in her eyes as she looks at Miss Charlotte.

Miss Charlotte aches.

“Miss Charlotte’s a witch, remember?” Natalie points out. “Probably she’s got some high alcohol tolerance thing going.”

“Yes,” says Miss Charlotte. “That.”

Jenny pulls herself up from the floor and to her feet. “Hey, Charcoal, can we talk?” she says, and sort of jerks her head towards the conference room. “Real quick. It’ll only take a second.”

All of a sudden very nervous, Miss Charlotte follows Jenny, grateful for her years of practice when it comes to remaining calm and composed. Jenny shuts the door behind her, and involuntarily, Miss Charlotte blurts out, “You asked to kiss me last night.”

Jenny winces. For once, she looks her age. “Yeah, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that,” she said. “Most of it was the alcohol, I think.”

“That’s good to know,” says Miss Charlotte miserably.

“What—oh, no, Charlotte, don’t you ever think I don’t want to kiss you,” says Jenny, sounding genuinely horrified by the concept. “I just meant that if I made you uncomfortable with any of my come-ons—”

“You want to kiss everyone,” says Miss Charlotte. “I don’t take it personally. Leave it, Callahan, all right?”

“Charlotte—”

“Leave it,” says Miss Charlotte, and hurries out of the conference room, unable to look back and see the hurt that she knows is on Jenny’s face.

#my writing #oc tag #the do gooders #jenny x miss charlotte #jenny callahan #charlotte novak #not tagging everybody else #i would tag clover but she still doesn't have a last name. so #anyway i will reblog this MANY times probably. so look forward to that

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just-arrowolicity · 7 years ago

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A Superhero Learns To Fly Chapter 11

A/N: If it is someone still waiting for this update here it is!!! I really sorry for the delay but real life and I was struggling with all the ideas the came to my mind for this chapter. But don't worry I know where I am going with this. Also thank you to my Beta!!!! Read on AO3

Summary: Felicity made her choice, now she need to be brave and become something else, so she can survive.

Felicity was tied to a chair blindfolded when she heard steps getting closer to her. Suddenly, someone took off the blindfold. She squinted as her eyes adjust to the bright light beaming from two monitors in front of her.

Felicity stared at the monitors, they were showing an empty office until Amanda entered it. She kept her eyes on Amanda, but nothing happened until she saw a red light. She had seen this before that was the Flash. Barry was in an Argus facility with Diggle and Oliver.

Felicity couldn’t take her eyes off Oliver. He put his hood down. He wasn’t wearing his mask, he yelled at Amanda and Diggle put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Amanda said something. Oliver quickly took an arrow put it in his bow. Diggle and Barry said something to him, but he didn’t care what the two men told him. He shot the arrow. Felicity gasped the next moment she saw Barry with an arrow in his hand, the one Oliver shot at Amanda. Felicity let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Oliver got close to Amanda, he said something to her and after that Oliver, Diggle, and Barry were gone. Felicity realized that was the last time she will see Oliver.

A man entered and took off Felicity’s chains. He said to her, “Time to leave.”

Felicity got up and followed him. This didn't look like the facilities that she had been before, she was in a corridor with cells. The man stopped in front of one of the cells, opened it for her and said: “This is yours. Waller will come to see you soon.”

Felicity entered her cell, sat on the bed and started to replay in her head what she saw a few minutes ago. Oliver, her Oliver just tried to kill Amanda and he didn’t hesitate. What was Oliver thinking? Killing Amanda will only bring him problems. “Oliver please stop looking for me,” Felicity whispered to herself.

Amanda opened the door, and Felicity put on her best poker face because she was determined to be brave, she can’t be weak. Amanda gave her a sarcastic smile and said “Sorry I was delayed.”

“You knew he will come after you, that’s why you wanted me to watch it,” Felicity said.

“You are smart Miss Smoak,” Amanda smiled, “it’s time to come with me.” Felicity got up and followed Amanda to another room. The room had all the technology that someone like Felicity could ask for. Felicity should be amazed by the technology in front of her but she only saw an opportunity for her freedom.

“This will be your office. We will provide you with everything to catch the Calculator,” Amanda said, taking Felicity out of her thoughts. “Your abilities will be more useful here and you will become something else with us,” Amanda added.

Felicity did not respond and took a seat in front of the computers.

One week later

“Some Argus agents had been kidnapped,” Amanda explained to Felicity.

“Do you want me to track the person who’s doing this?” Felicity asked while she looked through the file that Amanda has just given her. Nothing seems to connect the agents together, besides the fact that they were retired Argus agents.

“I already know who is doing this,” Amanda told her.

“What do you want me to do then?” Felicity asked confused.

Amanda smiled at Felicity, “Miss Smoak, I need you to stop them.” Amanda pointed to one of her monitors showing the faces of Oliver, Diggle, and Lyla.

Before Felicity could say anything else, Amanda said, “You can go now.”

Felicity sat down on her workstation, and read each report. All of them showed the same information ‘two men; black mask; tortured; asking for a Felicity Smoak.’ Felicity saw the pictures, the only word to describe how this man had been tortured was a monstrosity. Oliver couldn’t have done this, Lyla and Diggle would not help with something like this.

Felicity decided to dig in more about this situation. She tracked Oliver’s movements in the news since she had been gone.

“Felicity Smoak, The New CEO Of Palmer Tech Allegedly Dead”

“Oliver Queen Took Back His Candidacy”

“Oliver Queen Certain That His Fiancé Felicity Smoak Is Still Alive.”

And that’s it, Oliver on the news talking about her. He hadn’t been to Palmer Tech and the Arrow had not been seen at once. Now she needs to dig a little deeper, Felicity hoped that Oliver used the driver that she had left him on the lair’s computer so she will have a back door to her own system. To her surprise, she didn’t find anything related to the Argus agents, not even a search that indicates the team was looking for her, just normal criminal cases that had been taken care by Roy and Thea.

“Lyla show me something” Felicity whispered to herself while she was dig through Lyla’s past and her works with Argus until she left.

After a long night, Felicity finally found something, an old warehouse located in Coast City. It’s a warehouse that Lyla used once for an old mission. Felicity puts together each kidnap’s location and compared with the warehouse, and she noticed the locations were closed, but far at the same time. She was very sure that she found the place where they had tortured the agents.

Now Felicity need to make them stop, but how can she do that. Felicity took a look at the files that Amanda had given her 6 days ago. Suddenly, she knew what to do. “Curtis my friend, you’ll be hacked. But believe me, this hurts me more than it hurts you” Felicity said to herself and started to work on her computers.

3 months later

One week ago Amanda gave Felicity her first mission that required her to be on the field. She went through some training that will guarantee her safety on this mission. She had also created two devices to help her on the field. She could run facial recognition, and x-ray an entire building. She thought that she could manage herself on the field.

She was wrong, the moment she and the others step foot into the building, they got caught. Guns were pointing at them, they couldn’t do anything. Then guns was shot and some Argus’ agents died.

One week of torture, is what Felicity had been through. Each day a man came to her cell, put her in a chair and gave her electric shocks, asking for what happened in Corto Maltese. He showed her photos of dead people, and she always said: “I don’t know”.

Today Felicity’s body was giving up, she couldn’t feel her legs and arms. She wanted all of this to be over. Felicity closed her eyes. She heard one of the men torturing her walk away. The other man got close to her and took off her chains. She looked up confused, and he told her “you know what to do.”

Felicity looked at him in shock, what was that supposed to mean? The man walked away leaving her alone and unchained. Felicity got up, she looked for something that could be used as a weapon. She took a little knife and got out of the room.

Felicity started to run. She didn’t know where to go but she was sure that she needed to find a computer or her equipment. She didn’t want to be in hand-to-hand combat with her captors.

Felicity closed her eyes, took a breath and heard Diggle’s voice in her head “You need to pay attention to your surroundings, look for something that can used as a weapon.” Felicity took another breath, and she noticed a door, she walked towards it. She got close to the door. She didn’t hear anything. She decided to open the door, she saw a gun on a desk. “I’m going to regret this” Felicity muttered as she walked forward to get the gun. When she took it, the light turned on and two men were in front of her.

“GET UP” one man yelled at Felicity.

“No,” Felicity whispered. “Just finished this. Please,” she cried.

“That’s not our mission,” the man said.

Felicity looked at him confused. Suddenly, a man grabbed her from behind and put his hand around her neck. She closed her eyes, she was ready to die. That was when she heard Oliver’s voice in her head, “Fight to live”.

Felicity opened her eyes and hit the man behind her with her head. The man let go of her and she went straight towards the one with the gun. Felicity disarmed the guy with a swift kick. She hit the guy in the face, then the abdomen. The man fell on his knees. The other guy grabbed her by her hair and stabbed her before letting go.

Felicity put both of her hands on her abdomen and saw blood. “I won't die here,” Felicity said to herself.

When Felicity turned around, she saw both men were in fight position like she hasn’t done anything to them.

They attacked her first. However now it was more difficult for Felicity to protect herself because she was getting dizzy. One of them kicked her and she ended up on the floor. Then she saw it, Felicity saw the gun.

Felicity took the gun and point it to her opponents and she shot them. Felicity saw that her hands we shaking and covered with blood- her blood- but it felt like it was the blood of the man that she killed.

Someone opened the door, Amanda entered with a smile on her face and told Felicity “Good job Miss Smoak, now it’s time to get to work.”

“This was a test,” Felicity breathe heavily, she pointed the gun at Amanda.

“You can shoot if you want,” Amanda got close to Felicity. “Or I can give you medical attention.”

Felicity dropped to her knees and cry. Looking at the dead men next to her and she remembered Amanda’s words “You will become something else with us.”

#Arrow Fic #Olicity Fic #FanFicRec #I pretned to write #AnnaWrites

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watercoloredlie · 7 years ago

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Title: What They Needed Most

Summary: When all was said and done, Amara had told Dean that she was giving him what he needed most. What if it wasn’t just Mary that Dean needed the most?

Notes: So I was missing Pretty Bird and with tomorrow being @laurelwinchester birthday, I thought, what the heck, I’ll write this. I’m aware that the timelines are probably off, but whatever lol. So I hope you have a very happy birthday tomorrow, Becks! You deserve it!

What he needed most. Those words kept replaying through Dean’s mind as he tried to figure out what Amara had meant. The sight of the blonde standing before him took his breath away. He knew from the blonde hair and the white nightgown that it was his late mother Mary Winchester. When she turned around to face him, Dean enveloped her in a hug. The first one he had been able to give her since he was four years old.

To say that she was overwhelmed with being alive again for the first time in over thirty years would definitely be an understatement. They weren’t sure if it was temporary or permanent. Though Amara’s choice of words definitely had Dean feeling as if it were not temporary. Either way, both of her sons were thrilled to have Mary back in their lives.

“Who is this?” Mary’s voice pierced the silence of the room as she picked up the framed photo of the beautiful blonde with the brilliant smile from beside his bed. It was beside a photo of Mary with little Dean.

Dean swallowed hard feeling his chest tighten a little. He had told her about Amanda, Cassie, and even Lisa. But he hadn’t yet told his mother about the blonde that still held his heart.

He sighed taking the frame from her staring down at the picture for a moment. “Dinah Laurel Lance. Lost her about a year ago.”

“Uh..My.. My name is Dean Winchester and I’m an alcoholic.”

It was a first step at least. He wasn’t about to admit to Sam that he had been right. He was nowhere near ready for the ‘I told you so’ speech. Dean said his piece and sat back down. He listened to other people give their testimonials and was about to get up to leave when the last person to speak for the night caught his attention. She was blonde with sparkling blue eyes and a smile that could light up a whole planet. There was an ethereal glow about her that seemed to just take his breath away. She received her chip that day for being thirty days sober.

“Hi. I’m Dinah Laurel Lance. You can call me Laurel. I know it may not seem like it now, but what you did tonight was really brave.”

She had approached him first once the meeting was over and he got over his nerves quickly asking if she wanted to talk more over coffee. It was Laurel that suggested a nearby diner where they sat for hours talking over coffee and pie. She told him about Oliver, Sara, Tommy, her parents, and her drinking. He told her about his parents, Sam, and hunting. It was the most honest he had ever been with a woman from the start.

They had only officially been dating for a few weeks when she asked him to take her on a hunt. He was against it at first wanting to protect her until the night he discovered her own little secret. She took him to the Arrow cave or whatever you want to call it. Felicity had let them in promising to keep Oliver away for as long as they needed. Dean felt as if he had walked right into a comic book movie when he saw the leather suits on display. Laurel stood in front of hers and smiled that brilliant smile that he loved at him.

“I’m the Black Canary.”

A chuckle fell from Dean’s lips as his strong arms wrapped around her waist. “I know. You might wear a mask, but you can’t mask that ass.”

She smacked his chest playfully as he leaned down to kiss her. Of course he knew it was Laurel. Nothing she could do would ever disguise her beauty.

Dean reluctantly agreed to let her go hunting with him and Sam knowing full well she could handle herself. Despite a few bruises and scrapes, the three of them made it out of the hunt fairly well. It was only a few weeks later that the Black Canary was gravely injured during a battle. He had made it to the hospital as fast as he could. She was already out of surgery when he arrived.

“You’re the love of my life, Dean Winchester.”

Of course it didn’t matter that Oliver and her father were standing right there. She felt weak and she wanted Dean to know exactly how she felt about him. Her hand fell limp in his grasp and the doctors rushed in though it was too late. Dinah Laurel Lance was gone.

Her death had crushed him. He was used to losing people he loved, but her loss had totally broke him. Even himself dying hadn’t helped matters because he came back as that which he despised most. A demon. Thankfully Sam and Cas were able to bring him back to normal again. Now here they were with Mary back and all Dean could think of was Laurel.

Sliding open the nightstand draw once he was alone in his room again, Dean sighed as he picked up a small black velvet box. He held it in his hand opening it to reveal a diamond engagement ring. He had gotten it a month before she died.

“Was that for me?”

Her voice was clear as day and he shut his eyes for a moment wondering if he was hearing thing. Standing up, he turned around and nearly dropped the box at the sight of Dinah Laurel Lance stepping out from the shadows. She seemed sort of upset, but it was only seconds later that her beautiful smile appeared upon her face.

Dean took a step closer to her and then stopped. “But how?”

“I’m not really sure. All I know is that Amara says you’re welcome.”

At the mention of Amara, he took her into his arms hugging her tight and spinning her around which made her laugh. “Is it really you?”

“The first time you let me drive Baby, I pressed down too hard on the brakes and you got mad. We got into a stupid argument that wound up with me on top of you in the passenger seat. Then you just had to say that you’d let me drive Baby more often if we ended up like that. Oh and Sam caught us when we were finished. There was also the time I slept over the bunker for the first time and I went to the kitchen because I was thirsty. Cas appeared out of nowhere startling me and I screamed so loud that you ran in with Sam with your guns drawn ready to fight.” Laurel recalled memories that only he and her would know.

Dean pulled back to get a good look at her and grinned softly. “It really is you.”

“It really is me.”

He hugged her again before pulling her into a lingering kiss. It was seconds later that he dropped to one knee. “I know this is nowhere near as perfect and romantic as you deserve. But I don’t want to wait another second. When I picture my life as happy, it’s with you. Dinah Laurel Lance, I never got the chance to say it before, but you are the love of my life. There is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my days with than you. So what do you say, Pretty Bird? Will you marry me?”

“You bet your ass I will. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Dean!”

When he awoke the next morning, the bed was empty beside him and his heart sank. Had it all been a dream? Dean sighed in relief when he saw her walk back inside their room. She greeted him with a kiss and smiled. They stayed like that for a bit and then he went to wash up before starting on breakfast. Part of him feared that his mother might have been taken away from him in exchange for him getting Laurel back, but those fears quickly disappeared when he found her having coffee with Sam. He greeted Mary with a hug and then moved around the kitchen happily making breakfast for everyone.

“Slept well last night?” Mary inquired smiling curiously at her older son.

Dean grinned softly watching as Laurel appeared in the doorway just then with her ring on full display. “Best sleep I’ve had in over a year.”

Sam followed his gaze and a gasp fell from the taller man’s lips. “Laurel?”

“Hi Sammy. Oh you must be Mary. I’m Laurel. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” The blonde grinned as she entered the kitchen greeting Dean’s family.

It was only after she hugged them both that they noticed the ring and congratulations was given to the happy couple. Of course it was Sam that asked how she was back and they simply said Amara. It was the same reason Mary was back as well.

Laurel’s return to Starling City wasn’t exactly what she hoped for, but she was relieved to know that her loved ones were all safe. She was thrilled to reunite with Thea and had already put word out to let Sara know that she was back. It was her first night back as the Black Canary that she discovered that she had been replaced. Hearing that her father had given his blessing and that both he along with Oliver believed it was what she would have wanted made her grow incensed.

“What I would have wanted? Are you both kidding me? What I wanted was a boyfriend that wouldn’t cheat on me with my own damn sister. What I wanted was a father that wouldn’t blame me for all his problems. What I wanted was a mother that was actually there for me. What I wanted was some damn respect around here. Look, Tina is a great girl, but you can’t just pass on the Black Canary thinking it’s what I wanted. Dinah Laurel Lance was and is the Black Canary. Dinah Laurel Winchester will be the Black Canary.”

“Laurel, please...”

“Ollie, Don’t. I became the Canary because I wanted to feel strong after losing my sister all over again. I got sober and I felt closer to Sara by being the Canary. Then I was helped to realize that I couldn’t be the Canary because that was Sara and I am not Sara. I am Laurel and I am the Black Canary. It’s more than just a name, okay? So instead of putting pressure on this girl to live up to the Black Canary name, why don’t you let her choose her own identity?” Turning on her heel, Laurel walked out of the Arrow Cave in her gear leaving both men in her wake.

The Lance-Winchester wedding was a small gathering in a beautiful garden in Central City. Thea was maid of honor. Sara and Iris were bridesmaids. Sam was best man. Barry and Roy were groomsmen. Cas officiated the wedding. The whole Legends team was there. As were Cisco, Caitlin, Joe, Harrison, Wally, and Jessie. Even Laurel’s old friend Joanna was there as well. Lyla and little Sara were there as well beside Mary in the front row. Diggle had the honor of escorting Laurel down the aisle.

It shocked the couple that the whole day and evening went uninterrupted. Part of them expected something to interrupt the wedding or maybe the reception. But nothing did. For once, Dean and Laurel had a perfect day.

#laurel lance #dean winchester #the black canary #supernatural #HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECKS

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danganronpa-imagines · 7 years ago

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Ouma, Amami, Tenko, Kirumi and their S/O trying to cook something new and unfamiliar

How fun! Thank you so much for the request! I had a little trouble with this one, mostly because I had rewritten it a total of 7 times without feeling satisfied with my end product, haha. I want to make sure that I only give my best for you all!

Kirumi Tojo

- As the Ultimate Maid, there exists nothing that she has never cooked or prepared before. No recipe that she hasn’t carried out and no dish or confectionery or baked good that she has not made with her own hands and proudly served. Nothing leaves the kitchen unless it meets her standards, after all.

- So when you suggest that the two of you prepare something unfamiliar, Kirumi was dumbfounded as to what to say or do. That was just impossible. You pondered your request for a little longer. After some thought, you propose making something spontaneous and ridiculous, and, although it did not exactly suit Kirumi’s dignified tastes, she agreed to it to please you.

- So the both of you head to the nearest supermarket, with Kirumi behind the wheel as always since she enjoyed driving. As refined and patient as she is, she would occasionally experience a little road rage and would have to take deep breaths. Because the two of you have been together for such an impressive amount of time, Kirumi has seemed to loosen up around you because you insisted. You wished for a loving partner, not a maid. So since then she has tried her best to be less of a servant and more of an expressive lover to you.

- While at the supermarket, any time that it appeared that Kirumi was picking up ingredients for one particular dish, you would randomly pick up something unconventional and toss it into the shopping cart, flustering her. After some pleading, she gave her consent for you to push her around in the shopping cart, and vice versa. You both had fun, and came home with an assorted bunch of ingredients. Nothing leaned toward a specific recipe, but the two of you decided that both of you would make dishes out of some of the ingredients and occasionally add in something unorthodox, or even combine them with other dishes.

- In the end, the two of you ended up with:

Miso and butternut squash soup

Fried bacon slabs covered with peanut butter (Kirumi does not particularly enjoy fried foods so this was your idea)

Macaroni and cheese (but with quinoa and some chopped almonds instead of macaroni pasta)

Cauliflower disguised to be chicken wings dressed with Kirumi’s newly curated hot sauce (made with mangoes and apples)

Salty cotton candy with hints of lemon/lime (Kirumi has a cotton candy machine stowed away somewhere she was sure of it and you used salt instead of sugar?)

Chocolate avocado ganache cake

- Needless to say, the food combinations were really strange, but the two of you had a great time, and that’s all that really mattered. Also, Kirumi does not see herself doing this again and insists that you leave the cooking to her.

Tenko Chabashira

- You and Tenko mostly dined out, as you both shared a taste for healthier meals but can’t seem to prepare them well yourselves (a bunch of iceberg lettuce dressed with excessive amounts of dressing just wasn’t the same as ‘that one salad with that one dressing’ you had at a restaurant). The two of you were clueless when it came to the names of salads and dressings, despite enjoying them so often. In addition, you both never took too long to eat, and were in and out of cafes and such fairly quickly.

- One day, she suggested that the two of you come up with your own salad dressings! It was going to be so much fun! You could even keep it in those fancy jars that everyone seems to have and everything!

- It was a sudden and unexpected proposal, but you agreed to it. You two could experiment and have fun for a day or two and take a break from your Neo-Aikido training (she was teaching you and you would always jokingly call her your sensei). To the supermarket you go!

- While you were there, you really had no idea what you were doing or planned to do. You just bought a lot of random ingredients (mostly liquids) that you THINK would be good in salad dressing. You left the store with red wine vinegar, cherry wine, garlic, white wine vinegar, almonds, peanuts, sesame seeds, chia seeds (Tenko insisted on chia seeds because they looked like sesame seeds so why not), olive oil, salt and pepper, dijon mustard, honey, all the seasonings, red onions, rice vinegar, lemons and limes.

- Here were your end results (Tenko labeled the jars with what was inside):

Red wine vinegar, salt and pepper, olive oil, chia seeds.

Paprika, sesame seeds, dijon mustard, honey, a little salt and pepper.

Rice vinegar, red onions, lemon, salt and pepper, sesame seeds.

Olive oil, white wine vinegar, chopped thyme, lime zest, salt and pepper.

Garlic, peanuts, rice wine vinegar, honey.

- There were some hits and misses, but overall, you and Tenko felt a little more accomplished since you two invented new things!

Kokichi Ouma (this was arguably the most difficult, since I felt his was boring)

- It was around 10 PM. You and Ouma were nestled comfortably on your couch, complete with plenty of pillows and blankets since that’s how he liked it best. Even when it becomes rather humid, he insists on gathering the usual amount of pillows and blankets on the couch. It has been quite a while since he has been this calm. You were running your hand through his hair, and he purred with each stroke. That was, until, an advertisement for a soda making machine appeared on the television.

- His ears seemed to perk up just like a small animal’s, and he turned his face to the screen. Everyone and their mothers knew of Ouma’s love for Panta, a grape flavored soft drink. It was unhealthy, and you always tried to supervise his Panta consumption, much to his dismay (miraculously, he never obtained any cavities. If he did, it would be gross for you to receive a kiss from him, nishishishi~).

- So when he discovered the existence of a machine that could produce his favorite thing in the world (aside from you, of course), at at home too, he HAD to have it. You were quite content with your position on the couch beside him, but during the advertisement, Ouma pounced off the couch and scurried over to glue his eyes to the television screen. Once it ended, he turned his head to look back at you sadly and almost pleadingly, and before you knew it, both of you were in the car and on your way to the nearest store.

- You returned with the carbonator, some soda flavoring packets, and two large water bottles. The most difficult part wasn’t the actual making of the soda, but rather the assembly of the machine. Neither of you possessed any knowledge on how to assemble things, but somehow you both managed, and all you had to do was place a large water bottle beneath the dispenser and put in the soda packet.

- Ouma was practically vibrating as he saw the soda being made, and once it was finally done, he quickly grabbed the water bottle. But strangely, he did not put it to his lips right away. Instead, he stared at it for a little bit before handing it to you. He was looking downward, so it was difficult to hear him when he shyly said thank you, and told you how much he appreciates you for always going through so much trouble to make him happy.

Rantarou Amami

- After finishing a movie, Amami felt inspired to cook its main dish: ratatouille. He had never heard or seen such a unique dish, and was drawn in by how colorful it was. He asked that the two of you pay a visit to the supermarket immediately, as he did not want the inspiration to slip away. You agreed wholeheartedly, as seeing him Amami this way always brought a smile to your face. His carefree and ‘go-with-the-flow’ attitude prompts him to do things spontaneously and on a whim, but they were usually enjoyable and productive things.

- He insisted that there was no need to replay the clip, as he memorized everything that he saw, and with his basic knowledge regarding cooking matters, he also knew what was fundamentally needed. So the two of you walked to the local supermarket, picked up what you needed, and arrived home.

- Cooking sessions with Amami were always wholehearted and warm. He was always extremely compassionate and enjoyed taking the cooking process slowly, often taking the time to wrap his arms around you if you are working on something and he finished what he was doing, pointing at something and taking some food while you looked away, and planting kisses on your forehead every now and then. You had accidentally cut your hand while slicing the squash, and he immediately went to disinfect it and place a band-aid over it and kissed it.

- For some strange reason, whenever the two of you used the oven, the smell of the food in there seemed to be strong, and whenever you would bring that up, he would always reply with, “Maybe it’s because we prepared it with so much love?”

- Once the ratatouille was finished, he brings it over to the dining table and you two enjoy it together with some laughs and some wine, and discuss how grateful the both of you are for the other.

#danganronpa imagines #danganronpa killing harmony #new drv3 #drv3 imagine #drv3 #kirumi tojo #ouma kokichi #tenko chabashira #amami rantarou #sfw #modkiibo really tried

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dust2dust34 · 8 years ago

Text

Pieces of Always: January 2025 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Jules' tenth birthday brings a few surprising moments for her and Felicity.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

January 2025 - More Than A Thousand Words

She should be reviewing proposals from the marketing department. That’s what Felicity should be doing right now. But today is one of those rare days where Felicity pushes her obligations aside, ignores her ever-present workload and turns her phone on silent.

It’s a Tuesday, but she’s taken the day off work - like really off work, not even work-from-home work is happening. Nate’s been down for a rare nap for a bit and the girls are still at school. So, in spite of all the things she should be doing, Felicity’s curled up in the armchair in her office at home with a tablet in her hands, replaying some of the most important moments of her life.

“Hi Momma!” Ellie’s voice calls out as the front door slams. Felicity jolts, looking to the clock and finding it a whole half hour later than she’d assumed. Time goes by so fast while you aren’t looking.

Ever a ball of energy, the blonde little girl appears in the open doorway bouncing on the balls of her feet as Felicity puts the tablet down and stands up to greet her. “I asked Frank to stay for cake, but he said he’s too worried that maybe you cooked it so he doesn’t wanna. He’s coming with Grandma Donna this weekend for the party, though, because I promised Daddy was baking. But Sara said any cake is worth the risk, so she’s staying. Can she and I go play in the fairy castle out back, pretty please with fairy dust on top?”

Felicity pauses at that and quirks her head to the side as she watches her younger daughter’s dramatic, toothy grin. Sara Diggle appears right behind her wearing an identical smile.

“Pleeeeeease Aunt Felicity?” Sara asks, batting those huge brown eyes of hers. As if she’d been going to say no.

“Sure,” she agrees. “Nate’s asleep, though. Don’t slam the door. Okay? And you, my birthday girl,” she says as Jules also joins the group of young girls, “how was your day, my ten-year-old?”

Jules’ eyes light up at the question and her cheeks flush as she smiles thinly and shrugs one shoulder. “Okay,” she replies. “I had art and library today. I found a book with a dog that looks like Buster and Mrs. Nelms, the librarian, said she thought I’d really like it.”

Ellie and Sara have scampered off toward the back yard. They wholly ignore the command to not slam the door, but it hardly matters because Buster has realized his girl is home and he bounds noisily through the house until he barrels right into Jules. He immediately jumps up, putting both front paws on her shoulders and whining as he licks at her face, tail wagging wildly. You’d think he hadn’t seen her in a month. It’s like this every single day.

“Down, Buster,” Felicity scolds. But it’s half-hearted at best because Jules laughs and kisses the mutt soundly on the top of his head. She loves this dog more than anything in the whole world and even if Felicity really wishes behavioral training would stick better with him, she also doesn’t really want to scold the pup today. He makes Jules so very happy.

“I missed you, too, boy!” Jules tells him as he nuzzles against her desperate for her attention. It’s sort of a miracle he doesn’t just knock her down. It feels like he’s grown even faster than Jules has. “Down, though. Down, Buster.”

Of course, he listens to her. He sits sharply at attention, tail thumping against the wood floor as he looks up at her adoringly. Felicity shakes her head at the sight. It’s not that the dog can’t understand direction, it’s that he only listens to Jules. Ever.

“That’s my good boy,” Jules tells him, scratching behind his ear. If a dog could preen, he would be. He’s so utterly delighted at being called a good boy by his girl. “Can Buster have cake, too? It’s basically his birthday, too, since I adopted him two years ago.”

Felicity could swear the dog understands her words, because he just stops and stares at her, both he and Jules wearing identical, wide-eyed expressions. ‘Please?’ they say. ‘Please can Buster have a treat?’ It’s absurd.

“The cake’s chocolate, which isn’t good for dogs,” Felicity reminds her. “But… I might have asked Raisa to pick up some of his favorite t-r-e-a-t-s.”

“Yes!” Jules declares cupping the dog’s face and ruffling his fur with excitement. The dog is thrilled, even if he clearly doesn’t know why. It doesn’t matter. His girl is happy. That’s all he needs. “You’re gonna have a great dinner tonight, Buster! It’s my party. I’m double-digits, now!”

Oh, wow… that’s… Felicity’s been trying really hard not to think about that all day, but there it is stated plain as day. It seems impossible that she’s ten now, but she is. And, in spite of wanting to make the clock stop, Felicity sort of loves this place they’re at right now. Finally. Things finally feel like they’re on the right track.

Almost a year after finishing chemotherapy, her mom is doing well. Nate’s finally sometimes sleeping in his own bed without complaint. Ellie’s ever-joyful and past that terrifying time when the other Ellie had taken her trip through time. But, most importantly, Jules seems more at peace than any time since she was a toddler. She’s happier, not open exactly, but not closed off anymore either. It feels like everything is moving in the right direction.

A laugh breaks through the sound of Buster noisy licking Jules’ hand and the girl looks up in confusion. “Is someone over?”

“Nope,” Felicity smiles softly. “I was just watching a few old videos. I guess I left them running.”

“Oh…” Jules says, craning her neck. She’s curious, but quiet. Both of these things come as no surprise to Felicity. But she’s gotten a lot better at picking up on her little girl’s nonverbal cues over these last three years, stopped to take in what Jules isn’t saying and hears it as loudly as what she is.

“Come on,” Felicity says with a tilt of her head in invitation as she walks back into her office. She doesn’t wait to see if Jules will follow; She will, but she’ll hesitate if she knows she’s being studied for a reaction. Instead, Felicity grabs her tablet and curls up in her chair again. Sure enough, curiosity gets the best of Jules and soon she’s leaning against the arm of the chair to get a better look at the screen.

“You were huge!” she says in astonishment, blinking her big, blue eyes owlishly in amazement.

Felicity can’t help it. She bursts out laughing immediately. “I really wasn’t, actually,” she corrects. “You were on the small side. I got a lot bigger with Nate.”

“I guess I didn’t notice,” Jules tells her. She’s not looking up, too distracted by the video playing out in front of her. Felicity gets that. It’s a pretty great moment.

“Oliver, how is it possible that you can build a bow out of like… twigs, but a crib gets the best of you?” the Felicity on the tablet laughs. It’s not long after their first Christmas and Hannukah together, not long after Will first started spending some full weekends with them, and they’re both sort of on a giddy high that came along with pieces of their lives together falling into place.

“This has more parts!” Oliver protests. He’s completely surrounded by wooden parts and piles of screws and wooden pins. God, they’re both so young. How were they that young?

“Who took this?” Jules asks. She’s completely entranced, watching as Oliver gives up on the crib, grabbing Felicity instead and tugging her closer. He’s still seated on the floor, still surrounded by the unbuilt crib that will one day house their older daughter, but he’s given up on that for the moment. His attention is wholly on his pregnant girlfriend’s belly.

“Aunt Thea,” Felicity replies, but it’s sort of unnecessary because Thea’s distinctive snort sounds through the tablet a moment later, right as Jules shifts so that she’s sitting on the edge of the armchair rather than leaning on it.

“You’re such a sap, Ollie,” she tells him as he presses his lips to Felicity’s stomach.

“At least my little girl won’t judge me, will you Julie-bug?” he asks. “You’ll love this crib no matter what.”

“She’ll love you no matter what,” Felicity corrects. “Because you’re her daddy. That makes you the most important person in her whole world.”

“She’s awfully important in mine, too,” Oliver points out. He’s on his knees looking up at Felicity, his chin resting against her stomach. Felicity’s got one hand on his cheek and a dreamy kind of look on her face as her other hand rests against the curve of her belly, thumb stroking against the fabric of her shirt like maybe her unborn daughter can feel it.

“Mine, too,” she smiles back.

“God, you guys. I’m getting a toothache here,” Thea declares as the angle changes and the screen momentarily goes black.

“That’s it?” Jules asks. She sounds frustrated and she’s leaned so far over that Felicity just tugs her the rest of the way onto her lap so she can see better. And so that she can enjoy having her daughter on her lap. At ten years old, that’s a rarity these days. Hell, it’s been a rarity with Jules for a long time.

“For that day, yes,” Felicity confirms. “But there’s more coming…. You never wanted to watch these with me before.”

Jules doesn’t say anything to that, just gives a silent nod of admission as she presses her lips together tightly and watches the screen. Buster’s resting his head on her knee, but for once the girl is paying no attention to her dog. The whole of her focus is on the screen in front of her. Felicity’s watched these videos a hundred times. She knows them by heart by now. So, she takes the opportunity to watch her daughter instead.

Especially because she knows what’s coming next.

“Oh!” Jules gasps aloud. She starts to scoot forward, closer to the screen and the scene playing out on it, but Felicity adjusts her hold and tugs the girl back so she can both cuddle and see the picture well.

And oh what a heart-rending picture it is. Jules is just hours old, so very small, and barely awake in her father’s arms as he sings quietly down to her. Love radiates through the screen so strongly that it makes Felicity’s heart swell and her eyes water. The way Oliver loves is beautiful. It always has been. His devotion to his city, to her, to their children, it steals the breath from her lungs and sets her pulse racing. It always has.

“Is that me?” Jules asks. Her voice is so quiet, so in awe and tinged with disbelief.

“It is,” Felicity confirms, brushing Jules’ dark hair behind her ear so she can see her face better. “Ten years ago today. I’m asleep in the bed over there. You can barely see my leg at the bottom. Fourteen hours of labor and you wore me out, kiddo.”

“Fourteen hours?” Jules asks in astonishment, looking up at her. “Did you get… breaks or anything?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Felicity laughs before acknowledging, “It was a long day, but it was worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Jules looks a little stunned by that. She’s never quite believed when her parents have said things like this to her, but she doesn’t scoff or roll her eyes this time. She just chews her lip and looks back to the screen with fresh eyes. Something about that makes hope well up in Felicity’s chest. The idea that Jules isn’t immediately dismissing this, that she might actually accept it, feels like the best present she could have ever asked for.

It’s a sweet, but not particularly long clip and Jules makes a noise of protest when the moment ends. Felicity can’t blame her, because she wishes it weren’t so short, too. It’s such a beautiful moment, Oliver’s singing voice notwithstanding.

“There’s lots more, Julie-bug,” Felicity murmurs, kissing the top of the girl’s head as she relaxes again and the scene fast-forwards just a few hours.

She’ll like this one - Felicity knows she will - and she’s not at all surprised when her little girl lets out a giggle. “Is that Will?” she asks. “He’s so tiny!”

“Same age there as Ellie is now,” Felicity replies, a fondly reminiscent smile pulling at her lips. He had been so tiny, such a good little boy, and he’d been so in awe at this arrival of his baby sister.

“She’s here? Can I see her? Is it okay?” Will is anxious on the screen, an excited, jittery mess. Felicity doesn’t even know who recorded this one because they don’t speak and somehow manage to keep Will, Jules, Felicity and Oliver all in the frame. Something tells her it was Samantha, but she’s far from certain, and if it is then Will is far too enraptured with his baby sister to say anything to his mom.

“You can even hold her, buddy. We just have to be careful. She’s very little,” Oliver tells Will, heading to take the newborn from Felicity’s arms. This was a few days before the postpartum depression had really set in and Felicity wishes she could reach through the screen and warn her younger self, tell her what’s to come and that it’s not her fault, let her know that it’s okay to get the help she needs and it doesn’t mean she’s weak. But life doesn’t work that way and at least in the scene Jules sees now, her mom isn’t crushed by a hollow sense of brokenness.

On the screen, Felicity kisses her newborn’s dark hair and breathes in her unique baby scent. It’s so strong a memory that from ten years later, sitting in her office, Felicity’s pretty sure she can recall it with perfect clarity. The younger version of herself takes her time before handing over the baby to its father, she’s so reluctant to let the newborn go and it’s obvious enough that that same little girl on her lap now can clearly see it. Her eyes grow wide with surprise, but she’s so drawn in that it seems like she’s trying not to even blink for fear of missing this moment.

Oliver wipes at the baby’s mouth and smiles as she gurgles with more alertness than Felicity had expected at the time. She works her little arms out of the loose swaddling, a hospital-provided baby blanket covered in storks, and reaches one hand for her father’s finger, the other going straight to her mouth. She hadn’t sucked her thumb long as a baby - not like Nate or even Ellie - but those first few weeks she’d found comfort in it.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. You’re okay, Julie-bug,” Oliver tells her softly, rocking her just a little. Her tiny brow is furrowed like she’s trying to figure something out, like she’s unsettled by the change of arms and her own motion through the world. “I’ve got someone very special who wants to meet you.”

Absolute joy spills off of Will’s face. He’d been so nervous just a month or so prior, but those nerves had quickly given way to excitement and he’d never once looked back. But then Will’s loyalty is absolute and his trust is easier won than Jules’ has ever been.

“Sit down, Will,” Oliver tells his oldest, nodding his head toward a small sofa in room. It’s too small, really. Poor Oliver had taken a few short naps on it the day before and his frame hadn’t even come close to fitting on it. But it suits their purposes now and Will scrambles for the sofa as fast as he can, sitting at attention and squaring his shoulders as he holds his arms out stiffly. He’s blindingly excited, but Felicity thinks Oliver might be even moreso. His smile’s a mile wide and there’s so much joy in every single feature. It took her breath away at the time and it still does now.

“You all look so happy…” Jules says. It’s so quiet, so absently stated that Felicity thinks she might not even be aware she said it aloud.

“Oh, Jules… you have no idea,” she tells the girl. There’s a grating heaviness to her voice that surely emphasizes her point and the ten-year-old looks up at her with such raw hopefulness that it cleaves her heart in two. “You’ve owned such a big piece of my heart from the moment I knew you existed, sweetheart.”

Jules’ eyes water visibly and she can’t keep her mother’s gaze, but she holds on harder. She nestles back into Felicity’s embrace and clings to the side of her shirt as she soaks in more of the moment playing out in front of her.

On the tablet, Oliver’s eased himself down next to Will. The little boy is nearly plastered to his father’s side, craning his neck to get a good first look at his baby sister.

“Hiya, Julianna!” Will says, waving at the newborn, as if she could possibly understand that. His half-toothless grin focused entirely on the baby. “I’m Will. I’m your big brother!”

He’s so very proud of the title, had been telling everyone who would listen for weeks and detailing everything he was going to teach his baby sister, all the things they’d one day do together. At the time, Felicity had thought that interest would wane, that he’d tire of the crying or lose interest as she toddled after him. He is seven years older than her, after all. But that had never happened and the relationship Will and Jules have forged over the years is something she could have never expected, but also leaves her with a grateful sense of awe. Felicity never had any siblings, so she doesn’t know for sure, but she thinks that what Jules and Will have is exceptional. She thinks it’s rare and precious, and she really can’t imagine either one without the other at this point.

It’s gentle and slow as Oliver hands his infant daughter off to his son, adjusting his hold and reminding him to support her neck. It takes a moment, but Will gets the hang of it quickly and he’s so very proud of himself once he does, looking up toward where his stepmother is lying in the bed watching on.

“I got it!” he declares triumphantly. “See Felicity? I’ve got her!”

“You do,” she replies, the smile on her face barely visible from the angle of the camera.

“Hi Jules! Hiya!” Will says again excitedly. Jules smacks her lips at him and grabs his thumb in her tiny fingers, gripping for all she’s worth. “She’s really strong!”

She blows bubbles at him and he laughs happily, sticking his tongue out in return, which seems to utterly shock her. Oliver wraps an arm around Will, encompassing both of his children as they interact for the first time. He watches them for a moment before looking toward where Felicity lies in the nearby bed. Even given the distance between him and the camera, she can still see the dewiness of his eyes and she can still make out the words as he mouths ‘thank you’ to her.

‘Thank you, too,’ she hears herself murmur back just before the screen goes black.

“But…” Jules ventures before hesitating. There are more videos to come, but Felicity hits the button to turn off the tablet and devote her attention to her daughter here and now. The videos will be there later.

“But what?” she asks as Jules as the girl plays with the fabric of her sleeve.

“But… I wasn’t Ellie,” she says quietly. “I don’t understand. You wanted Ellie.”

That she still thinks that is like a knife to Felicity’s heart, but this also feels like a turning point, like an opportunity she can’t afford to let slip by.

“And yet,” she says slowly, “it was so much better that we had you.”

Jules’ eyes bug out hugely at that and her cheeks turn pink as her eyes dart toward the open door. It’s like she’s looking for Ellie, to make sure she hadn’t heard that. But that proves two things - first, that she’s completely unaware that her sister is incapable of doing anything quietly at this age and second, that she completely misunderstood her mother’s words.

“When I was pregnant with you, I thought you might be Ellie born earlier,” Felicity confesses. She holds Jules tighter as she says this, like she’s afraid she’s going to scare the girl off. “There were times I even thought that might be something I wanted, but that’s only because I didn’t know yet.”

“Didn’t know what yet?” Jules asks guardedly.

“That I’d love you every bit as much as I love her,” Felicity confides. “That having both of you was going to be so, so much better than just having Ellie. Jules, there is not a thing in this world that I would trade the experience of being your mother for. Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jules asks, disbelief painted across her every feature.

“Nothing,” Felicity replies with fierce honesty. “Not having Ellie earlier, not having the other Ellie back. Nothing. You’re you, baby girl. You are so special. You impress me every day. I would do anything for you. Anything at all. So would your dad. So would Will.”

Nerves flitter across Jules’ face. Getting what she wants, hearing what she’d like to believe, those are things she’s never trusted easily.

“You are the cornerstone of this family, Jules. You are,” Felicity emphasizes, her voice breaking as she holds tightly to her daughter and silently prays she understands, that she believes. “You are my first baby. Will’s first sibling. Your father’s first daughter. The original Ellie showed your dad and I that we wanted to be a family. But, honey, you’re the one who made us one.”

Felicity will never know exactly what part of all of this gets through to her, but something does. Jules lets go of her mother’s shirt to throw her arms around her neck instead, letting out a relieved sob into her shoulder.

In hindsight, she’ll be hardpressed to decide which of them needed this more. Weight she hadn’t even known existed feels like it melts right off of her and it’s replaced with a lightness of heart and spirit, a sort of solidarity she’s never really found with her older daughter before. It is so hard-won, but maybe that just makes it mean more.

“I love you, Mommy,” Jules says with a shuddering breath and wet eyes pressed to the collar of her mother’s shirt. Felicity feels like her heart might burst on the spot and she clings to her daughter with a newfound sense of purpose.

“I love you, too.” It sounds like a prayer, like a vow. Maybe in some ways it is. Maybe it’s every bit as important as the ones she’d said when she’d married Oliver. Maybe it’s actually more important. “I will love you every day of my life. Always. I could live to be a hundred years old and I would never love anyone more than I love you, Jules.”

She says nothing, but Jules nods against her neck and it’s the best feeling Felicity’s ever had. This feels like solid ground, like the first step of a joint journey together, like they’re finally, finally on the same page. She kisses the top of her daughter’s head several times - it’s almost compulsive - and shuts her eyes hard against the tears that have welled up past the point of containment.

“I want you to believe that, Jules,” she whispers. “Now and always. No matter what. I need you to know that. Because, God, baby girl, you deserve it so much. I want that for you - I want everything for you - but I especially want you to know how loved you really are.”

The unity found in this moment is as beautiful as it is unexpected. Jules holds on for all she’s worth, her mother’s hands rubbing her back as she lets out shuddering, relieved sobs into her mom’s neck. Those tears are the best thing Felicity can even imagine. Because they’re healing, because they’re washing clean the scars and bruises of their relationship.

It is, by far, the best birthday present she could have imagined, but it feels as much a gift for her as it is for Jules. She has wanted this so badly, struggled for this kind of understanding between them for so very long. But she and Jules have so frequently crossed wires, talked at each other instead of to each other, and this trust is so very hard won.

But maybe that’s good. Maybe that’s better, because now that they’re here, maybe it’ll stick. Maybe it’ll stay forever.

God, she hopes so.

Felicity has no idea how long they sit there. Distantly, she can hear the laughter of Ellie and Sara in the back yard. Buster’s concern for his girl gives way to some kind of distraction and he wanders from the room. The front door opens and shuts and Felicity glances toward her office doorway to find Will watching them with concern. Jules doesn’t even pick up her head though and Felicity just smiles at her stepson and shakes her head softly. He takes the hint and leaves them alone, wandering toward the kitchen, no doubt on a mission to eat the contents of the entire fridge - a sixteen-year-old boy’s appetite is something else.

But she and Jules stay in a little bubble of their own making right up until the patter of tiny feet echoes through the house and a half-awake Nate stumbles into the room.

‘Half-awake’ might be charitable, actually. He’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand and dragging a teddy bear by the ear with his other. He can’t quite seem to get his feet to work the way he wants yet and he blearily stumbles into the doorframe as he tries to make his way over to them.

Nate doesn’t say anything, though. The two-and-a-half year old just climbs up onto the chair with them, wedging himself between his mother and his oldest sister with a contented sigh and wrapping his arms around Jules’ midsection and nuzzling in. He’s such an affectionate kid, so very tactile.

“Hey,” Jules greets him, letting go of her mom with one hand to pet the back of Nate’s hair. He loves that. Playing with his hair is the very easiest way to get him to fall asleep.

“Hi,” he says, yawning hugely as he finishes the word. “You’re home. Is it birthday time now?”

“It’s been my birthday all day,” Jules tells him. “That’s how birthdays work.”

Nate wakes up a little more at that, looking up between his mom and sister. “Is there cake though?”

Of course that’s where his mind goes. This boy’s sweet tooth is absurd. But that hardly matters right now. What matters to Felicity is that she’s got two of her babies on her lap right now, safe and content and openly affectionate. She tries to hold this in her mind, to take a snapshot of it so it lasts forever and ever.

She’s so very glad she took the day off of work. There’s not a thing in the world she’d trade this experience for.

“Not yet, goofball,” Jules says, ruffling his hair.

“But soon?” Nate questions, his eyes huge and pleading. “There’s gotta be cake. Cake makes birthdays good.”

“There will be,” Jules says. She’s smiling. She’s honestly smiling. It lights up her eyes and makes her look so happy, so at peace, so at home in her own skin. It’s beautiful to the point where Felicity could positively sob at the sight of it. “But…” Jules continues, looking up at her mom as she keeps talking. “It’s already been a pretty great birthday, even without the cake.”

Reviews literally feed the soul muse, so go send some love to the fabulous @so-caffeinated!

#olicity #felicity smoak #julianna queen #ficon #forever is composed of nows #pieces of always #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust34 #arrow #arrow fanfiction

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geneshaven · 8 years ago

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Running (Chapter 5)

The plane banked left and began its run over the drop zone.

John was hooked up to his drop line, and with every jump he had made over the years, anxiety still clutched at his stomach like a vise. He turned and looked at the rest of his team. Except for Lyla and Curtis, who had jumped before, Rene and Dinah were the rookies. They looked spooked, their nervousness illuminated on their faces by the green light bathing them as they waited to plummet down to Lian Yu.

Curtis spoke to Rene and Dinah again, a last reassurance before leaving the plane. “Guys, all you have to do is jump clear of the plane. Your ripcords will automatically deploy once you’re clear. It’s a piece of cake.”

Rene growled in response. “Curtis…stop trying to make me feel better. I’m about to jump out of a plane that is 6000 feet above the ground. A clap on the back isn’t helping.”

Dinah had never parachuted either, but she was geared up for this mission. For the past 2 1/2 months, she had been in hiding, stripped of her police officer’s status because of her association with Oliver. Once again, her life had been dramatically altered because of events out of her control. It was time for some payback.

“Let’s do this,” she shouted over the roar of the airplane engines. “Oliver and Felicity are waiting for the cavalry.”

John nodded and turned to Lyla. “Are you sure there are two more heat signatures from the satellite images?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “They showed up yesterday before we left. I can’t figure out how they got on the island without being detected.”

“It doesn’t matter,” John replied. “Let’s get this done.”

Lyla shook her head. “John, I’m still not comfortable in letting you talk me into not bringing more Agents with us. We might need those numbers if everything goes south.”

John looked at her. “Honey, I know you are worried that just the five of us won’t be enough. But, my team has been trained for these kinds of missions. And…they have, uh, special abilities and skills that will make up for the lack of your firepower.”

Lyla still did not look convinced, but she loved and trusted her husband. “Okay, but I am leading this team. I have more experience being out in front.”

John smiled at her. “Okay, whatever you want.”

He turned and addressed the team. “Stand by,” he told them. When the jump light comes on, go to the door. Try and stay clear of the plane’s backwash from the engines. Once your chute’s open, steer south. We should land about 5 clicks from the location.”

At that moment, the red jump light came on.

“See you all on the ground,” John said. He turned back to Lyla. “I love you. Please stay close when we get on the ground.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she replied. “I’m not the one who needs rescuing.”

Lyla stepped around John and was the first to leave the plane.

The rest of the team followed her down.

When Oliver regained consciousness, he recognized his surroundings. He was stretched out on the dirt floor of the same cell he spent some time in while he was held by the mercenaries ten years ago. Oliver’s arms and legs were chained, cinched up in a crossing pattern in front of his body. Chase and Slade had removed his clothes, leaving him only in his underwear.

Oliver was alone in the cell. They had obviously separated him and Felicity after being caught. Both of them were shocked to know Slade Wilson was working with Chase and Talia. But considering where they were and who had set all this up, Slade was another force to be reckoned with, and he had a similar vendetta with Oliver as the other two.

After Felicity had been shot in the leg by Slade’s arrow, Oliver had picked her up and ran into the woods. Going back to Yao Fei’s cave was not an option anymore. Oliver didn’t know that it was Slade hunting them (herding them) away from the cave. But, Oliver set a frantic pace, and as he ran deeper in the trees, he recognized the surrounding terrain. A plan began to form in his mind.

From his arms, Felicity spoke in his ear. “Oliver, are you doing okay? I’m not too heavy, am I?”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile a little, and as he lay on the dirt floor of his cell, he replayed their banter in his head. Felicity was amazing, that she could take the time out from her own fear to check on Oliver---and still with the jokes.

“Felicity,” he replied to her attempt at lightning the mood. “I would carry you to the ends of the earth if I had to.”

“Aw…this is so sweet,” she whispered to him. Felicity shifted in his arms, and the arrow in her leg shifted with her. She still felt the pain shooting up and down her leg, but it felt different, dulled somehow. Maybe because the flesh around the wound was swelling up. “Seriously,” she added. “Where are we going? If my bearings are right, we’re moving away from our house.”

Oliver had been hesitant to tell her what he had in mind. But it would have been so old Oliver of him to exclude her. “Hon, are you a good swimmer?” Then he remembered they had gone snorkeling in Bali. “Of course you are,” he answered himself.

“Oliver…what are you thinking?”

“There is a river about a mile and a half ahead,” he told her. “If we can make it there, it could put some distance between us and our pursuer.”

“Why do I sense a… but coming.”

Oliver had smiled at her. “I’m sorry. Yeah, but the river is 100 feet below us. There is a cliff…”

“Oliver, no. Are you telling me that we have to jump…a hundred feet?”

“Felicity, I know you don’t like high places, but I’ll be right with you. I will not let you get hurt.”

Felicity sighed and conceded to Oliver’s plan. “Oliver, I trust you, and I love you too. Do what you have to do to make us safe. Besides, I’m just along for the ride anyway.”

It was a good plan, Oliver reflected as he tested the strength of his chains again. They were secure. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Oliver was insanely worried about Felicity. He guessed they had put her in a cell similar to his. She was probably scared and worrying about him too. Oliver was also worried about the arrow still in her leg. Infection would spread in her leg if it wasn’t removed soon. He didn’t know how long he was out. Felicity had the arrow in her leg since they started running. At least three hours.

They almost made it to the cliff. Oliver had seen it about fifty yards ahead of them, and he could also hear the river rushing below.

Then Chase and Talia had stepped out from behind some trees, and Oliver and Felicity were falling to the ground, as the tranquilizer darts Chase threw at them hit their targets. Just before he lost consciousness, Oliver heard Slade’s voice reach out to him. “Welcome home, Oliver,” it said to him.

Oliver had to think of something. He knew that they would use Felicity against him in whatever psychotic scenario they were cooking up.

He put all his strength into trying to break free. But the chains held.

Felicity felt a huge surge of hate and anger pour into her after Slade’s visit to her cage.

Like Oliver, she was chained hands to feet. Surprisingly, her captors had removed the arrow from her leg, washed and disinfected the wound then dressed it with clean bandages. It wasn’t the kind of attention she expected from people who were eventually going to kill her. But there was still some pain and she almost asked if she could get some of those wonderful ‘aspirins’ Dig gave her after being shot by the Clock King.

An hour ago, when Felicity woke up in her cage, Slade paid her a little visit.

“Slade,” she shouted at him. “You son of a bitch! Where’s Oliver? What’s going on? Why aren’t I dead?”

Slade stood outside her cage and smiled at her. “Felicity,” he spoke softly to her. “I missed you.”

“Where’s Oliver?” she asked him again.

“Oliver…well, he’s about 40 feet away from you, right next door.”

“Oliver!” Felicity shouted out. “Oliver! Can you hear me?”

Slade shook his head. “I don’t think he can hear you. He’s still---uh, sleeping.”

Felicity had glared at Slade and felt a new kind of anger inside her. “What are you going to do to us?”

Slade smiled at her again. “Oh, you’re going to love it. Just like old times.” He chuckled then turned around and left her alone.

She was stretched out on the dirt floor of her cage for another hour or so when she heard Oliver’s voice suddenly drift into the cage with her.

“Felicity, are you there?”

“Oliver, oh my god, yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m fine considering that I’m chained inside a cage. You know, that’s what bothers me. I…I mean we should be dead. Chase and Talia are up to something. Slade, I’m guessing, is an added bonus for them and with a similar vendetta against me… I mean us.”

“Oliver, what’s going to happen? Are we…”

“Going to die?” he finished for her. “I don’t know, honey. But knowing how our three hosts think, they are going to try to make us wish we were dead. I’m…”

Both Oliver and Felicity heard sudden hands clapping, coming nearby from outside the little rooms they were in.

“Bravo,” Chase’s voice spoke. “You are a very perceptive person, Oliver.”

Oliver remained silent.

“Nothing to add, Oliver? Well, maybe this might help.”

“Ollie…Ollie…where are you. What’s happening?

Oliver’s blood ran cold as Thea’s voice came from outside.

“Chase, you son of a bitch…if you hurt her…”

Chase brought his hands together again, a loud clap of thunder. “Everybody, you all need to listen. Oliver is going to play a little game with our new friend, Mr. Wilson.”

Thea responded. “What game?”

“A little something Slade likes to call…Pick and Choose. Your brother gets to play God one more time. He gets to decide who lives and who dies. You and Ms. Smoak are going to be the participants.”

Oliver didn’t get frightened very much, but suddenly he was scared to death.

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @ruwithmeguys @jaspertown @dmichellewrites @ibelievenu @it-was-a-red-heeler @geemarie @almondblossomme

#chapter 5

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divinefishingtips · 6 years ago

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shadowhuntertrash · 4 years ago

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High Notes

Chapter Six

Characters belong to Cassandra Clare

Matthew dropped his hand on Thoams’ shoulder and Thomas looked at him. Matthew was looking at him with a look that was strictly reserved for James, Thomas, and Christopher. A soft look that was often off-putting since he was constantly annoyed or making a joke out of everything and anything.

“You know Tommy we only pick on you because it’s easy with how embarrassed you get. We love you and as much as I dislike Alastair I think you two would be good for each other. Plus,” He added a wink that made Thomas blush before he even heard the next part. “I think you could teach him some well-needed manners.” Thomas laughed softly and gave Mattew a pointed look.

“You really shouldn’t make fun of my pining, saying as it is not nearly as bad as yours was.” Matthew put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Thomas. Anyhow even if that was accurate,” He turned to James and stuck his tongue out boyishly. “Which it wasn’t,” He turned back to Thomas who was smiling at his friends. “It isn’t my fault you’re too nice and didn’t pick on me when you had the chance.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

It was common knowledge that Thomas was nice, it was why the fans had dubbed him the ‘Kind One’ or ‘Gentle Giant’ as some others called him. He hated that one thought, gentle giant, made him sound dull. They had dubbed Matthew as the ‘Sexy One’, James the ‘Mysterious One’, and Christopher, well Christopher was his own category.

Thomas pushed Matthew playfully and Matthew fell back dramatically accidentally falling on James, causing him to fall out of the seat. “Jesus Math, be careful,” James said taking Matthew’s outstretched hand and getting back to his feet, Matthew was too busy laughing to listen to him.

Thomas sat back watching them, his brothers by all means but blood, and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

Thomas grabbed his phone, turned the brightness down, as he began feeling the beginning of a headache, and read the texts he had received.

Matthew Unfairchild:

Sleep well dream of your knight in shining armor <3

Thomas scoffed and replied,

Tommy:

We all know I’m more into Prince Charming. <3

So Thomas had gone with her and they had stayed for two days, riding rides and meeting characters. The picture that made her profile was of her in front of Cinderella’s castle with a bunch of fireworks going off in the background. She was mid-jump and a look of pure happiness plastered on her face, she had an ice cream cone in her hand however the ice cream was mid-fall.

It was Thomas’s all-time favorite picture of her and he was quietly proud of his photography skills. Lucie’s parents, Tessa and Will had taken one look at the picture and demanded it be framed and hung on the wall of their house. Thomas was proud of that too.

Luce <33:

Matthew told me what happened. I'm so mad at myself. You two were finally gonna kiss and I messed it up I’m so sorry Tommy.

Thomas laughed and shook his head. It seemed everyone was rooting for them and Thomas was quietly pleased. Thomas just hoped he wasn’t going off of false hope.

Tommy:

It’s fine sweetie don’t worry about it. I wasn’t thinking anyway.

Gideon’s mouth fell open slightly, understanding brightening his eyes. He walked over quickly and hugged her, Sophie joining quickly. The video ended then and Thomas sent his sister a text.

Tommy:

Aww! They’re so proud! I’m proud of you. It was about time Oliver took the next step! Love you tons miss you more!

Thomas opened the last unread message and furrowed his eyebrows, it was an unknown number. Thomas opened it and felt a smile stretching across his face.

Unknown Number:

Hey I asked Lucie for your number hope you don’t mind.

Unknown Number:

It’s Alastair btw lol

Tommy:

Oh hey I don’t mind sorry for responding late

Thomas stared down at the message, that was cool, right? Not too eager, not too pushy. Thomas sighed roughly and put his phone on the nightstand by their beds. Thomas closed his eyes and replayed the events of the day, the practicing, the boys trying to convince him to sing at a concert, the girl's words which were still ringing in his ears much to his dismay, and Alastair.

Thomas got up and picked up his guitar. It had been a long day and he had written a song but he didn’t want to play it for anyone yet. It was deeper than his normal ones, it was more just words he needed out of his head. Thomas huffs loudly the girls' words playing on repeat in his head, he could tell he was getting a migraine but he bit back the pain and started strumming.

I don't know why I just feel I'm better off

Stayin' in the same room I was born in

I look outside and see a whole world better off

Without me in it tryin' to transform it

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind, yeah

Listen, I know

This one's a contradiction because of how happy it sounds

But the lyrics are so down

It's okay though

Because it represents, wait, better yet it is

Who I feel I am right now

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Oh, don't you test me, no

Just because I play the piano

Doesn't mean I, I'm not willin' to take you down

I'm sorry

I'm, I'm out of my mind, oh

I'm not seein' things right, oh

I waste all this time tryin' to run from you

But I'm, I'm out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah, oh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

You are out of my mind

You aren't seein' my side

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah

Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah bah

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah

Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah bah

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah (Not today)

Bah bah bah bah bah (Not today), bah bah bah bah bah (Not today)

Buh buh bah (No, not today), buh buh bah (Not today)

(Oh nah nah no) Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah (No) bah (No)

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Everyone knew where the others were sleeping in case of emergency or if they just wanted to hang out.

Thomas looked at him for a while trying to wrap his head around why Alastair was there before slowly realizing that this wasn’t the girls' room it was Alastair’s. Thomas groaned loudly and stumbled slightly. Alastair’s eyes, normally playful and joyous, were now darkening; he was practically scowling and Thomas shrunk away.

“Thomas you all but collapsed in front of me and you’re saying there’s nothing wrong?” Thomas let out a small noise. “James and Matthew are shagging.” Alastair’s eyebrows shot up. That was obviously not what he was expecting, Thomas laughed. “And this affects you and I how?” Thomas closed his eyes, the pain radiating and pulsing in his head.

“I needed his medicine.” Thomas explained quietly trying to show him he needed to be quiet. He seemed to take the message because the next time he spoke it was significantly quieter. “Thomas, what medicine?” Thomas furrowed his brows trying to think of the name but giving up quickly when that just made the pain in his head worse. He really really hated migraines.

Alastair gave him a serious look and took his hand gently leading him inside the cold hotel room. “Thomas just come here. What medicine do you need?” Thomas didn’t even try to fight him, knowing Alastair was too stubborn to let him go easily. He was attempting to ignore the fact that his head was steadily getting worse and how his stomach was flipping dangerously. “Migraine,” Thomas said simply, answering Alastair’s question as best he could. Alastair looked at him wearily.

“Is that what’s going on? You have a migraine?” Thomas nodded and that was all it took to push him overboard. Thomas gasped and stood up quickly stumbling to the bathroom and barely making it in time to empty his stomach in the toilet. He felt a hand on his back and soothing words but the burn in his throat and throbbing in his head was all he could think about.

Thomas took the water gratefully and drank it quickly, only stopping when Alastair put a hand on his and carefully lowered it, taking the glass with it. “I brought you some medicine too. It’s not migraine medicine but it should help a little.” Thomas nodded, head still throbbing, and took the small pills Alastair had offered him. He threw them back easily and swallowed them dry, taking the drink back from Alastair’s frozen hand.

#high notes #high notes: chapter six #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #merry thieves #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale

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advancedthetapractitioner · 6 years ago

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