#one of the languages she said the first about was French.. I’m Canadian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

howlett-n-morgan · 7 days ago

Text

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good.

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation.

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest.

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him.

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken.

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.”

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor.

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat.

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side.

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place.

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?”

“No sir,” he let out with a breath.

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?”

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken.

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time.

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him.

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together.

You never wanted to go back to Canada.

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief.

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side.

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?”

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.”

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs.

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say.

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would.

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward.

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion.

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it.

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies.

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly.

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth.

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction.

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle.

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset.

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis.

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this.

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through.

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie.

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada.

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there.

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away.

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines.

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again.

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut.

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut.

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone.

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time.

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him.

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things.

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now.

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?”

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine.

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…”

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first.

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall.

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up.

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible.

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning.

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago.

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze.

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved.

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning.

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?”

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with.

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life.

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.”

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again.

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing.

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye.

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it.

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before.

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back.

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left.

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket.

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas.

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room.

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer.

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?”

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside.

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland.

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you.

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed.

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past.

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes?

“Logan, you okay?”

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him.

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today.

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed.

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud.

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across.

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem.

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike.

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you.

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible.

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change.

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom.

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself.

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever.

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake.

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door.

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees.

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing.

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you.

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why.

Don’t hurt her, Logan.

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run.

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed.

Her pain will become your own.

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone.

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him.

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there.

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up.

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word.

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure.

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan.

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him.

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him.

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person.

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen.

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk.

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter.

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold.

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step.

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye.

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand.

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him.

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it.

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off.

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly.

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned.

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head.

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you.

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question.

“So, how long have you been at the school?”

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

“Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?”

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast.

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?”

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span.

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?”

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it.

“You feel that?”

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected.

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion.

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting.

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.”

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it.

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes.

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was.

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically.

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented.

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you.

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours.

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out.

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself.

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face.

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom.

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag.

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole.

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin.

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression.

“You gonna go call her or not?”

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves.

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby.

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake.

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears.

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?”

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint.

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home.

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line.

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed.

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?”

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form.

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right?

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was.

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead.

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room.

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night.

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy.

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something.

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?”

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base.

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity.

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories.

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base.

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws.

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor.

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already.

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor.

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible.

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy.

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now.

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping.

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?”

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?”

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways.

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside.

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet.

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again.

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.”

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel.

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days.

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator.

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air.

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight.

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering.

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir.

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers.

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother.

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away.

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure.

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?”

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel.

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly.

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results.

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?”

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him.

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?”

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you.

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention.

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm.

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old… he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced.

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew.

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant.

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto.

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“I just wish he'd been something like you…”

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you.

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones.

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs.

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself.

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

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wearebarca · 8 months ago

Text

2. Captured // // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 Part 2

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 5,7K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Currently procrastinating instead of finishing my thesis on "The methods of repression used during the first Christian Inquisition" Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

As soon as the words left her lips, Rosalie knew that she would be in for a world of teasing from the two women who still stood behind her. She had hoped that even with the few years she had spent playing in France, Lucy had not picked up enough French to understand what she had said, but the burst of giggles that was heard quickly killed all her hopes. The confused look plastered on the Catalonian made the French-Canadian turn an even darker shade of red.

“ Perdon? I am sorry I do not understand,”

“Oh no I’m sorry, I got my languages mixed up. I’m Rosalie” She extended her hand for the captain to shake.

“Rosalia? It is nice to meat you, I am Alexia, Welcome to Barcelona ,” Her hand was much bigger than her own, calloused from all her training. The blond never broke eye contact from the smaller brunette who did not dare to look away.

A cough finally broke the girls from their interaction. Lucy and Keira were still there, but another woman had joined them. “ We hope you enjoy it here,” Alexia let her hand go and made her way back to Mapi, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky smile hovering on her lips, which earned her a loud smack behind the head.

“ Hola chica, I’m Sara, one of the coaches, welcome to the team,” she hugged the Canadian like she had known the woman for years, “we just wanted to tell you that if you would like, we could go over your training together! We’d love to help if you need.” The woman’s enthusiasm made it hard for the photographer to refuse which led them to set up a time the following week for a run together. It was indeed a good proposition since her marathon was quickly approaching and a professional opinion on her training routine wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Soon enough, all the introductions were made and Rosalie was left once again alone with Lucy, who was still giggling about her friend’s encounter with her captain. Seeing as the girl was showing signs of being a little overstimulated, she decided to drag her to the locker room. Once inside, she shoved Keira’s spare boots in her hands and pushed the younger girl back to the pitch. Back at England’s national camp, especially during the last one they spent together, whenever Rosalie felt like the world was spinning too fast around her, Lucy would pull her aside and pass the ball with her. This would always relax the brunette and help her talk about whatever was on her mind.

« Are we even allowed to do this” she asked as she kicked the ball right at Lucy’s feet.

“We have twenty minutes before the end of training and I am not going back in there.” She said wincing “ And don’t worry, the staff does this all the time” she kicked it back to Rosalie, the ball flying to her chest, absorbing the shock before falling to her feet.

“Your captain seems intense”

“ oh oui madame elle est très intense.” The younger woman's eyes rolled so far she would have caught a glimpse of her frontal lobe

“ Got you a little nervous didn’t she”

“ Don’t even start Bronze” While she was distracted, Rosalie stole the ball from Lucy’s feet and sent it to the top right corner of the goal. A few cheers could be heard from the gym where a few players had gathered.

“Some defender you are” the younger woman said as she started to walk toward the building. She turned around just in time to see Lucy lunge towards her and grab her by the waist to hoist her on her shoulder like a potato sack.

Lunch arrived soon after and everyone made their exit towards the cafeteria. Rosalie sat at the table with the rest of the media team whom she hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Everyone was very welcoming, especially Marcello who was one of the marketing guys and Isabella who is the head of social media and the face of barça’s media. Marcello is a very laid back guy with an easy laugh while Isabella was a whirlwind of colours, energy and excitement. The both of them together completed each other and quickly included the Canadian in their conversation, speaking in English and slowed down Spanish for her to understand.

Even with the cacophony of voices and constant back and forth between tables, at the other side of the room, Alexia seemingly could not take her eyes away from the brunette who’s bright green eyes had not left her mind. A sharp pinch on her arm pulled her from her day dream. “ If you stare harder she might combust, you know.”

Mapi had watched her friend stare for a good ten minutes before feeling bad for the brunette across the room. « You can talk to her you know, you’d like her she seems like a simple girl. »

« Mhm »

« She’s gonna fit well here, have you seen her instagram? She is very talented and obviously very beautiful and… » The blond captain tuned out her friend who she knew was going on one of her rants and didn’t need the blond's participation in this one-sided conversation.

The truth was that the catalonian did not know how to feel toward the new photographer. She had never been a big fan of the media team. She knew that they were simply doing their jobs but she had always hated this part of professional football. The eyes constantly watching her, her private life exposed for profit, she simply wasn’t comfortable whenever a camera was near.

She didn’t hate the previous head photographer, but she never bothered to be more than courteous towards her. For some reason, this time, there was something different, she was curious about the canadian.

The afternoon went fast for Rosalie. An official meeting with the media team, more documents to sign and more hands to shake. The brunette was itching to take her camera and go down to the pitch to start on some training pictures, which she did as soon as she was free to leave management’s office.

It was now around two in the afternoon and the sun was shining bright on the training pitch. The whole team was out and playing a practice game and the photographer took this as an opportunity to take a few shots. She had heard Spanish football and how different but these girls were definitely on a different level and seeing them in action for the firing time was truly impressive, the woman thought as she watched the ball fly towards the goal, the shot so precise and powerful that Sandra Paños had no chance to block it.

It did not take long before she was running around the pitch with her camera in hand. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she could feel her baby hairs stick to her forehead. The heat was getting to the photographer who had rolled the sleeves of her t-shirt and was currently cursing her choice of pants. Heat wasn’t her cup of tea. Even after a month here she still wasn’t used to the temperature. She was Canadian after all, the cold was more her element. Even under the unforgiving sun, her eyes were glued to the viewfinder, her mind set on the scenery around her and the heat wasn’t even an afterthought.

Rosalie managed to get a couple decent shots of the girls in action that she ended up showing to Mapi and Patri who kept shouting something about who was the hottest one in Spanish.

Everytime her eye left the camera, The brunette could feel a piercing gaze stuck on her, the eyes belonging to none other than Barcelona’s captain. Even though she had caught her staring, Alexia’s hazel eyes wouldn’t stray. The French-Canadian would send a shy smile her way which would break her trance, and then the blond would simply go back to the game without acknowledging her even the slightest.. By the third time, Rosalie simply stopped acknowledging her and just focused on her work. If the blond didn’t bother to be polite, then she didn't have to be either.

After an hour outside, she finally decided that she had enough material and headed back to her office. She made a stop at Martina’s office to discuss which pictures would go in today’s post and ended up agreeing to go get coffee tomorrow morning before work. The rest of the afternoon was spent on editing the pictures she had taken and working on some more from the night before. She had had an idea during her little meeting with the media team. A project that would serve as a thank you for the never ending support of the Barça fans and she was really excited. This project would take up a lot of her schedule, but after only a month in Barcelona, she had seen how spirited and dedicated the fans were and she thought it was important for them to know that their club was infinitely thankful for them.

A knock on the door pulled her from her work and her eyes quickly shifted to the door.

“ It’s half past five, why are you still here?”

Keira was standing in her doorway, changed and bag in hand, ready to go home after a particularly demanding training day. She half thought that the younger brunette would be gone by now but she wasn’t surprised when she saw her still at her desk, ready glasses low on the bridge of her nose, completely focused on her computer screen.

“ I just want to finish these for tomorrow, it has to be perfect.” Her eyes strayed back to her computer but she could still hear the other woman walk around her desk and lean over her shoulder. A picture of Alexia standing on the sides lines, arms crossed and face scrunched up in a concentrated expression was currently in the process of being reframed and adjusted.

“These are good.”

“Thank you,” she scrolled on the lot to show her more, “ Everyone looks so happy, besides..”

“It’s normal, you won’t catch her smiling, especially these days” she said it so casually, Rosalie felt bad for the woman.

“Pressure?”

“Most likely” she said “ Come on, we’re coming over to your place tonight, you gotta prepare.”

“Says who?”

“ Your big sister, we know you’re far from unpacked. We’re coming to help.” She said, grabbing Rosalie’s bag on her way out.

“We’re bringing take out” That was all it took to convince the Canadian to put away her laptop and follow the woman out of the training grounds.

She had not realized just how badly she needed a night like this. The last time she had spent the night goofing around with her best friend was almost a year ago during international break and she had missed her friends dearly ever since. As the brunette had predicted, the couple arrived shortly after her, still in their training kits, claiming that this was as much their apartment as Rosalie’s which meant that they had the right to shower here if they pleased. While Lucy was gone, Keira had set up the kitchen island as a table while Rosalie was busy rummaging through her boxes to find two additional plates and cutlery.

“ How long have you been here? A month? And you still have this many boxes lying around?”

“What can I say, all I really need is out and the rest could wait… indefinitely.” She ducked fast enough for the placemat to miss her head by an inch.

“ By the end of the night I’m telling you, you’ll be all set and you’ll owe us a round at the pub.”

By the end of the night, they had managed to take care of most of the boxes and made a list of what items were missing for this palace to become a real home. The couple ended up staying late, and would surely regret this at training the next day. It was truly like no time had passed since they had last seen each other. The evening was full of laughs and stories shared but the girls on their respective journeys since they had last been together. Rosalie would not admit it, but she truly needed a night like this. She felt so happy to finally be surrounded by her family, and the prospect of being able to see them a lot more often made this place feel like it could finally be somewhere she considers home.

The rest of the week was more or less the same. Rosalie started her days by going to get coffee with Mapi and Ingrid, who quickly became good friends, or Martina. She loved the woman’s constant smiling and contagious energy and quickly found out that the head of social media was the woman to go see if you wanted to know the latest gossip amongst the Barcelona team and staff members.

Friday was her last day of the week at the training center and was scheduled to be a very busy day. The morning would be filled with meetings and a presentation for the special fan project she had come up with. Then she had several shoots planned with the girls that would take place in her office. This alone would take the whole afternoon and Rosalie knew that when she would leave for the weekend, she would be exhausted. She knew that she would need all the energy she could get which is why she was currently on her way to the coffee shop with both Ingrid and Mapi by her side.

Upon entering the shop, the girls beside the photographer both stopped in their tracks and turned towards the counter. A tall blond woman was currently leaning with her back against the counter and her hands in her pockets. The shop was almost empty so the three girls entering made enough noise to pull Alexia out of her thoughts. She recognized easily the voice of the tattooed woman and the Norwegian but, the third voice sent chills down her back and the woman froze, keeping her eyes on the floor, half hoping that the trio would make their way to the register without noticing her. But of course, as if the universe was against her, her name was called by the barista.

“Alexia, chica, cómo estás?” Mapi made her way towards her captain, leaving the photographer and Ingrid at the counter.

“ Bien, ¿Por qué estás aquí tan temprano?” Usually on fridays, training started a little later, so the blond did not understand why the couple was here so early instead of relaxing at home like they usually did.

“ Ambos tenemos fisioterapia esta mañana, pensamos que tomaríamos un café con Rosalie antes de nuestras citas.”

“ Ah si, fisoterapia,” Eversince the photographer’s arrival in the small shop, the blond was hyper aware of everything happening around her. The sound, the wiring of the espresso machines, the sound of spoons hitting the rim of the cup, the shuffling of sneakers on the hardwood floors. When a delicate smell of coconut and argan oil came to her, she did not need to turn around to know that the reason for her nervousness was standing next to her.

The photographer was just as nervous as the footballer. All week she had seen the captain’s behavior change every time she would walk in a room or on the pitch. The captain would either avoid the brunette and stare from afar or simply leave the room she was in. At first, she thought it was simply because the woman was shy and needed time to warm up to new people, but that theory quickly fell once she had seen the taller woman interact with journalists and strangers. Now standing so close to the woman,the French-Canadian did not know if she should ignore her or try to engage with the mysterious woman.

Surprisingly, it was Alexia who made the first move. “ I heard you will have a big day today with the annual team shoot.”

“ Oh oui, it’s going to be a busy one I'm afraid, but I’m excited to work more closely with you all, I never get to see you guys outside of training settings so this should be fun!” She said, clearly excited to get to do a little studio work. The clear happiness on the smaller girl's face made the blond smile slightly.

“ I do not know if you will still be happy once you have a bunch of children running around in your office.”

“ Hey! We are not so bad.” Mapi said, hitting her friend on the shoulder.

“I love you darling but yes you are.” Ingrid had her arms crossed and was smiling fondly at her girlfriend who was pouting slightly.

Silence fell on the group as they watched a mother and her little girl entering the shop. Sensing that the atmosphere was starting to be a little awkward considering no one was going to talk, Ingrid decided to steer the conversation towards something she knew would appeal to everyone. “ Are you guys excited about the match next friday”

The team was playing Sevilla next Friday and this would be Rosalie’s first away game. She had a feeling they would ask her to join the team to see how it usually goes. As the head photographer, she would usually not have to make the trip every single time but shetought it was important that for the few next away games, she would come along and experience the whole ordeal herself.

“ Sevilla is always entertaining to play. Besides, we will get the whole day after the match to go around the city.” The blond responded. “ You will come with us, I heard.” She added turning slightly towards the brunette.

“ They haven’t told me anything yet but I can only assume that if they told you I was coming then it means I’ll be there.” At that, the blond catalonian let a small smile graze her lips. The sight made the photographer melt a little on the spot.

« Good, it will be a good game » an awkward silence fell on the little group.They were all waiting on Alexia to add something but the woman stayed silent, staring down at the smaller girl. From closer, the Canadian realized that in order to look Alexia in the eyes, she had to tilt her head up quite a bit. Combined to her intense gaze, the height difference made the blond Catalonian look even more intimidating which added to the Canadian’s inability to speak at the moment. Thankfully for both, Alexia’s name was called once again by the barista which allowed the smaller brunette to relax while the captain went to finally pick up her order. She quickly walked back to the small group and handed Rosalie a cup that smells exactly like her favourite coffee.

« te veré en el entrenamiento chicas » she said, quickly exiting the shop without sparing another glance towards the confused photographer.

« What did I do? »

« What do you mean? »

“She must hate me to act so weird when I’m around » She said as she took the coffee that she had ordered herself the counter, Ingrid trailing behind her, carrying her own order and Map’s since the woman had ran out after Alexia.

« She’s very closed off. It’s always been hard when newcomers arrive in the team. '' She said, while staring down at her feet. “ She did get you a cup of coffee so I don't think that she hates you.” She added. In her mind, it was clear that the Norwegian was keeping something from her just by the way she would not meet the photographer's eyes while talking.

“ Speaking of coffee, how did she know my favorite?”

“ Martina”

“ Mais quelle fouineuse celle-là”

“ What?”

“Oh nothing,”

When they arrived at the center, the Spanish women were near the entrance, deep in conversation. The rapid spanish rambling was completely lost on the French-Canadian who was starting to think about asking about those intensive lessons management had offered her. She made a mental note to ask later today and decided that she had had enough awkwardness for today and wanted to save the small amount of energy she had left from her first week to focus on the day ahead. She would thank the captain for the coffee when it would be her shoot in the afternoon.

Just like she had predicted, Rosalie’s day started at a hundred miles an hour with multiple meetings. One of them being an update on the fan project she was currently working on. She also met up with management about the game on wednesday and got the travel details. She would travel with the team and be seated with the girls on the plane and bus so she would be able to capture as much content as she could during the trip. She would be the only member of the photography team to go since the rest was working on a side project that involved the second team and youth club, so for the sleeping arrangements, she would most likely room with a random coach or therapist but nothing was sure yet. Being the only photographer on the trip meant that Rosalie would have twice as much work as usual which put her on edge a little but nonetheless, she was excited at the prospect of her first trip with her new team.

The meetings ended up taking up the whole morning and finished only when lunch started. The photographer still had to set up her office for the shootings and had to skip lunch in order to have everything ready for the first group. The day before, when she received the backgrounds management wanted her to use, she had almost laughed in front of them at how cheesy it looked. They were a dark navy blue with red and white stars all around. Someone who did not know Barça’s colour team would have probably thought this was an american themed photoshoot. The brunette had decided to lean into the cheesiness of the backgrounds and picked up some props that would go well with the vision she had in mind.

The first ones to arrive were Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid, which eased the Canadian's nerves a little. With the help of the people she knew best in this team, she was able to pinpoint what worked best and test out some poses she had thought of. Alexia had been right. As serious and focused these girls could be on a football pitch, whenever they were out of training settings, they turned into a bunch of children, which made the photographer laugh a lot, and their happiness and childish energy showed in the pictures.

Most of the girls were easy to work with, not being shy in front of the camera and understanding quickly the directions the brunette was giving them. But some, mostly the younger ones, weren't very familiar with all media related things and had a hard time relaxing. Rosalie prided herself in being able to charm these girls into forgetting they were in front of the camera by distracting them with music and making the shooting as casual as she could. Seeing the girls in smaller groups allowed her to get to know them a little better and when the last group came around, she was confident that these girls had accepted her in the Barcelona family.

The last group consisted of Irene, Fridolina, Marta, Panos and Alexia. Knowing the girls, this would be the calmer group and she wasn’t mad about it. She was definitely feeling the exhaustion of the day toppling over her and adding to the week’s worth of stress and overall tiredness. The brunette was ever grateful for her extra cup of coffee, which sat, cold and half empty on the corner of her desk. Unfortunately, the photographer would not get the chance to thank the captain just yet because the blond was not in the group that had just entered her studio.

“ Hola chica,” Sandra exclaimed, hugging the smaller brunette. “ Alexia will be running late, she is with the physiotherapist for her knee. I’ll be just the four of us for now.” The French-Canadian would be lying if she said she wasn’t all the more stressed at the prospect of having to have a solo photoshoot with the woman that rendered her a nervous mess, but she put the thought aside and got to work.

The girls ended up being the one that worked the quickest, being used to this sort of duties, but they were certainly not the ones who looked the most at ease in front of the camera. Irene in particular looked comically angry in certain shots where she was meant to look like she was celebrating a goal. Overall their shoot ended quickly, without Alexia ever showing up.

“ If you want, I can go see what is taking so long and fetch her for you,” Irene said, lingering in the door of the studio.

“ Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t want to press her, she can come to me when she’s done, I’ll still be here editing the photos till pretty late.”Answered the brunette who was already settling down at her desk.

“Alright as you wish. Thank you by the way, you’re really good at what you do, it was fun, for once.” The tall woman said before leaving. The statement put a smile on the brunette’s face before she put on some headphones and dived in the multitudes of shots taken during the afternoon. Whenever she works on editing, Rosalie usually completely loses track of time, being pulled into her own little bubble and forgetting the world around her. She was so focused that she did not even realize it was well past her usual work hours and supper was rolling around the corner. Hunger started to make itself known but the photographer was dead set on at least finishing first three groups before leaving for the weekend. Her shooting with Alexia had completely slipped her mind, which made the brunette even more confused when a polite cough pulled her from her work.

The Catalonian had been standing in the threshold of the photographer’s office for longer than would admit, but the way her reading glasses were placed low on her nose giving her a little secretary vibe, or the way the small brunette would scrunch up her nose whenever she wasn’t certain about a specific angle or even the smile smile that would stretch across her features whenever she would take in her work were simply too enticing for the blond. The only reason Alexia finally made her presence known was the bag containing the paella from her favorite place. Lucy had texted her that the brunette most likely would have forgotten to eat and the football player decided to get something for the photographer to thank her for her patience.

“Hola Rosalia,”

“ Alexia, hi!” The brunette said, taking her glasses off and getting up to greet the blond. “ How was the physio?”

“ Good, they said everything was stable,” Alexia had just recently been back on the squad after her knee had relapsed, so she had frequent visits to the physio’s office and was very careful during training and games.

“I’m glad to hear that,” As the photographer got closer to the blond, an amazing smell reached her nose and reminded her that her last meal had been breakfast. “ Did you bring food?”

The pure excitement emanating from the smaller woman was enough to break the nervousness that was clawing at the captain who smiled and finally stepped in the room to go put down the bags of food on the small coffee table in front of the couch. She pulled out a plastic container filled to the brim with fresh paella and motionned the woman to come sit next to her. “ I did not know what you liked so I brought you my favourite.”

The smell alone was enough to make Rosalie drool. She sat down and quickly picked up the plastic fork. The blond was looking at her, seemingly waiting for her to take a bite and tell her what she thought. The face and sound that came out of the photographer at the taste made the blond blush furiously which prompted her to turn around to try to hide her reddening cheeks. On the other hand, the other girl seemed completely unaware of what she had just done and simply kept eating the delicious food.

“ Are you not eating anything?” The brunette asked after a moment.

“No, no I will eat at home.” The truth is that Alexia had simply forgotten to order anything for herself, too worried about making the photographer wait any further. The brunette got up and reached in one of her drawers and pulled out a fork that she then offered to the blond.

“Here, we can share,”

“ No I got this for you, as a thank you for waiting so long.”

“You already got me coffee this morning, thank you by the way, I would not have survived my day without it.” She said smiling, “ Besides, I won’t be able to finish this on my own and it is too good to waste.”

The blond hesitated a moment and then reached for the second fork. They both ate in silence, too absorbed by the food to say anything. Once the plate was empty and the trash disposed of the girls drifted towards the studio part of the room and Alexia, who previously seemed relaxed enough, seemed to tense at the sight of the set up in front of her.

Rosalie, after a week of observing the team interaction had quickly realized that Alexia, even if she was a seasoned player that was no stranger to the camera, was still incredibly uncomfortable when she was the target of the lens. Seeing the way the captain went rigid when she reached for her camera, the photographer decided that her traditional distracting methods would not be the best way to go about in this particular case.

“ Would you mind grabbing the speaker for me please?”

“ Si,” While the blond was gone, Rosalie rapidly prepped her camera and left it on the side in order to adjust the lighting so it wouldn’t be as harsh for the eyes and wouldn’t blind the football player.

“ Here, you can go on Spotify and put on anything you like,” She said, handing the captain her phone.

“What do you usually listen to?”

“ Anything really, but I wanna know what you like, surprise me.” This made the blond relax a little as she searched for the songs she had in mind. As the photographer was finishing setting up the equipment, she created a small playlist with her favourite songs at the moment and hit shuffle. The first few notes from “Provenza” started playing and the photographer started to sway a little while trying to select the right lens. “ This is nice, very… Spanish.”

“ Wow, how perceptive of you,” The brunette laughed at the comment and turned towards the blond who was standing awkwardly next to the lights.

“ Can you tell me why you are so tense?”

“ I don’t like pictures.” The answer was short, delivered hastily, making the photographer almost regret asking in the first place, but she had a plan, and she was determined to get some answers out of the captain.

“ And what don’t you like about them?”

“It is not the pictures I guess, but the camera,” she said with a certain disgust, “ It’s always looking, it’s like you are never really alone, someone is always watching.”

“ It must be hard, not being able to go out without people pulling out their phones or cameras to catch a glimpse of you. I am sorry there are people who have so little respect for privacy.” The blond offered the photographer a small apologetic smile and took place in front of the background.

“ How do you want me,... I, I mean where,... Wait, what should I do,” Rosalie brushed off Alexia’s stammering, thinking it was just the nerves and stepped away from her little station.

“ We’re just talking now, you can relax,”

“ Si, thank you,”

“How’s the light, are you blinded at all, can you still see me?”

“ Si, it’s all ok,” the blond shuffled on her spot, “ Have you visited the city a bit since you moved?”

The brunette was slightly surprised by the blond’s curiosity but gladly answered, taking this as a sign that Alexia was slowly getting more comfortable with her.

“ Unfortunately not a lot, no, besides the streets around my apartment and the more touristy places, I haven’t seen much, I haven't even seen the beach yet.” A gasp almost made the woman drop her camera on the floor.

“ This is a crime. How could you not? You have to see the sunset, go take pictures, you'll see it’s beautiful.” The expression on the players face was too cute not to capture and the brunette took advantage of the moment to snap a picture of the awe displayed on the taller woman’s face.

“You’re gonna have to show me the good spots though.”

“Si si, Ingrid knows all of them, I can ask her to bring you..”

“ I didn’t ask Ingrid.” The captain instantly blushed at the comment and smiled big. A clic was heard and Alexia’s featured switch to indignation.

“You are distracting me!”

“ Guilty, I'm afraid, now cross your arms and spread out your stance a little bit for me please.” They stayed silent for a moment, the photographer trying different angles and Alexia holding the position she was currently in, harbouring a serious expression, as if ready to take on a whole team alone. Once the brunette lowered her camera Alexia decided to ask the question that had been on her mind since she had set foot in the studio

“ Why photography?”

#alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #alexia putellas x y/n #lucy bronze #keira walsh #ingrid engen #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #futfem

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blurredcolour · 1 year ago

Text

You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part One

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

The 101st Airborne's jump into Normandy is filled with unexpected surprises for all parties involved.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Weapons, Death, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Shout out to my bilingual friend who double checked my French lines for me. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 4809

--------------------------

Paris – December 10, 1944

The sea of humanity in Gare du Nord was overwhelming as Dick Winters stepped off the train from Mourmelon-le-Grand. Though it was mid-morning on a Sunday, it seemed like everyone was on the move. His height had him standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd as he made his way down the platform toward the exit, nearly bumping into a woman dressed in an olive drab uniform.

“Sorry –” He reflexively apologized in English before correcting it to the local French, though his pronunciation left a lot to be desired. “Excusez-moi.”

You turned back to him, eyes widening with recognition as they flicked over his face. “A captain now.” You smiled as your gaze eventually settled onto the two bars shining on the garrison cap of his Class-A uniform.

“A Canadian now.” He replied as his own eyes settled on the patch embroidered on your shoulder. The hip length jacket, A-line skirt, and peaked cap of the uniform suited you. “Or were you always, Charlotte?” The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his green eyes met yours.

He did not miss your visible swallow before you recovered with an even warmer smile than before. “I’m sorry you’ve got me confused with my good friend Charlotte Roussel. She’s told me all about you.” You offered your gloved hand to shake as you introduced yourself properly, though he wondered if it was just another cover identity.

Taking your hand in his, he shook it firmly with a bemused expression playing on his face. “Dick Winters. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Captain. If you are in need of a place to stay, I happen to have a recently vacated room in my apartment I would be happy to loan to you, free of charge. The hotels in Paris would love nothing more than to liberate you of your American dollars.”

Dick eyed you curiously, still as full of questions as the last time he had seen you in early June, yet you continued to obfuscate. “I wouldn’t want to impose…” He replied in the time-honored tradition of the polite refusal that preceded acceptance.

“Not at all. Besides, Charlotte would not forgive me if I did not repay you for saving her life.” You insisted with a nod, and he swallowed, noticing the way you now wore your hair to carefully cover your forehead beneath your uniform cap.

“If I remember it correctly, she saved mine first.”

------------

Normandy – June 6, 1944

After the rattling and jostling of the plane as it flew through clouds and flak, the drop onto French soil had felt peaceful in comparison. Granted of course, there was the constant awareness that enemy fire could find him on his way to the ground, but by some miracle he made it in one piece. The same could not be said of his leg bag.

After linking up with Hall from Able company, the pair had set off into the woods with only one M1 Garand between them. Dick had done his best to remain calm and reassuring despite how poorly the night seemed to be unfolding already. Small touches of humor appeared to calm the young man’s nerves but they both remained hyper vigilant to all sounds around them. Roughly ten minutes from their rendezvous they heard a noise to their right and Dick signalled for them both to halt and get low, but before Hall could level his weapon, they were face-to-face with the muzzle of German K-98 rifle.

Preparing to lunge at the soldier’s legs, Dick was brought up short when a figure in dark clothing jumped onto the man’s back, clamping a gloved hand over his mouth before burying a knife into the side of his neck. The unexpected weight thankfully pulled the weapon toward the sky before the soldier squeezed off a few rounds in the struggle, but the brutally efficient downward stroke of their blade had the soldier quickly collapsing to the ground, neutralized. Left standing was a woman clad in what first looked like a skirt but was in fact very wide-legged slacks and a wool sweater with a cap over her hair and a scarf covering her neck and face up to her eyes.

“Parlez-vous Francais?” You asked in an elevated whisper as you crouched down to wipe the blade of your knife clean on a corner of the dead man’s uniform jacket.

Dick and Hall both shook their heads in silence, dumbfounded.

“Welcome to France.” You smiled a little as you pulled down your scarf to reveal the rest of your face.

Dick was struck by many things in that moment, first and foremost being how beautiful you were, which he quickly compartmentalized as he’d been well trained to do. The second was the lack of a French accent, of any accent to your English. You almost sounded American and yet…

The stirring of brush to the left had them tensing once more before a young man of no more than sixteen, tall but obviously underfed and in clothes that had fit him several inches ago, emerged to pick up the German rifle from the forest floor. The function returned to Dick’s brain all at once and he looked back to you quickly.

“Resistance?”

You nodded in confirmation, glancing between the pair of them before turning to the young man. “Emile, donne le fusil au lieutenant.”

“Mais Charlotte…” He protested, gesturing at the older rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Maitenant, Ils auront une nuit pire que la notre.” You replied in a firm tone that brooked no argument and he handed it over to Dick who thanked him with a nod.

Hall immediately began to dig through the fallen soldier’s pockets to find him some more ammo.

“You’re a lot further inland than we were expecting you.” Your comment brought Dick’s attention back to you and he did his best not to let his annoyance at the situation show.

“Any idea where we’ve ended up?” He asked as he took what Hall was able to scrounge with a nod of thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his ODs.

“Half a kilometre outside St. Mere Eglise. You have a map?” You asked with a tilt of your head, and he hesitated a moment, knowing that while he did, it was covered in confidential material. He watched as a knowing smirk stretched your lips. “I have one without your top-secret information, one moment.”

You raised up on your knees to tuck your knife into the sheath at your hip before reaching up the back of your sweater, the motion inadvertently pulling the fabric higher to reveal the skin of your midriff. He quickly averted his eyes to the tree canopy above, wondering when the training on attractive female Resistance fighters was supposed to have been delivered.

The sound of rustling paper had him glancing carefully toward the ground and he relaxed to see you unfolding a map across the leaves and pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. The four of you gathered around as you took out a lighter, using the weak light from the flame to point out your rough position.

“Easiest way to the coast is the railroad tracks – keep off the roads. There is a squad of about ten Nazis with two officers on a horse-drawn wagon. They are making their way to their favourite spot here.” You tapped the map further into the woods.

“Favorite spot?” He prompted quietly.

“To make members of the Resistance disappear.” You replied grimly, glancing at the simple watch on your wrist. “We set explosives here,” you tapped a spot along the rail line further inland, “to detonate about now. That should help you find your way?” You looked up to him just as the explosion sounded in the distance, a column of orange lighting the sky.

“Bravo, Charlotte. À l’heure juste.” Emile beamed at you, and you nodded in reply with a grin of satisfaction.

“Merci. Any questions, gentlemen?” You asked turning back to the two Americans.

“None. Thank you, Charlotte. Be careful out here.” Dick replied earnestly, hoping you were not headed to the German’s so-called favorite spot, but he held his suspicions.

“Same to you.” You nodded firmly folding up the map as he tapped Hall on the shoulder and the pair began to make their way towards the rail line.

You had been right, the explosion made an excellent beacon. The situation continued to improve when he reconnected with Lipton, Guarnere, Malarkey, Wynn, Toye, and two boys from the 82nd. When he heard the whinny of a horse, he realized you had also given him an accurate warning about the group of Germans. While Dick presumed it was usually preferable for Resistance to avoid confrontation, with the numbers he had gathered, he preferred to eliminate the threat and arranged an ambush. Mercifully Guarnere’s premature action did not result in the failure of their attack and the men went about cleaning up the mess while Dick took a moment to reprimand him.

They were about to depart down the road when a rustling in the trees caught the hot-headed Sergeant’s ear. “Flash!” He barked out the password challenge in his brash Philly accent, sending everyone’s eyes towards the edge of the road where you stood, flanked by Emile and two other men Dick didn’t recognize.

“Thunder.” He rapidly replied on your behalf. “Don’t shoot, they’re Resistance.” He elaborated, coming to stand beside Guarnere.

“Merci, Lieutenant.” You exhaled. Your reply was muffled behind your scarf, but the relief was still audible.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a dame!” Guarnere hissed, pouring his excess adrenaline into his outburst.

Your barely smothered laugh reached Dick’s ears, making him swallow reflexively as the group watched you make your way to the back of the wagon. One of the older men, his clothes gone baggy under German occupation, carrying a weapon from the last war, grasped a corner of the tarp laying across some hidden cargo. Together you pulled it back to reveal the bodies of two more of your comrades.

“Merde.” Emile choked out and turned to take out his frustrations by kicking one of the fallen Germans at his feet.

Dick could not help the frown as he walked to the back of the wagon, his eyes falling on the form of a young boy no older than twelve.

“Goddamn he’s just a kid…” Malarkey uttered in dismay.

“They’ve got women and kids fighting out here for fuck’s sake.” Toye growled, slamming his helmet onto his head as he wrenched his eyes away from the scene, moving to take watch to the head of the wagon, obviously impatient to get moving.

“I’m sorry it’s not the outcome you were hoping for.” He looked to your eyes, wishing that scarf wasn’t hiding your face.

“But not unexpected.” You muttered back, straightening your sweater before leaning forward over the boy’s body.

“What will you do?” Dick asked as you grasped the boy’s lifeless arm and slung his torso across your shoulders, hugging his legs close to your body beneath your other arm.

“The only thing we can do - take him home to his mother, so she can bury him.” You replied as the fourth man with you, mid-forties with a build not unlike Randleman’s though still wasted away some, stepped forward to gather the remains of the twenty-something still on the wagon. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good luck.” You met his eyes briefly, revealing your own glistening with unshed tears, before disappearing through the trees the way you had come.

The next twenty hours passed in a blur – finally reaching the assembly point, destroying the 105mm guns at Brécourt, losing Hall. Would that he could return the boy to his mother as you had been able to do with your fallen. As Dick watched Nixon open the can of food he’d been struggling with, he sighed deeply.

“Met a Resistance fighter in the woods after I landed – she spoke perfect English, Nix. No trace of any accent, at all. The men were all looking to her for direction.”

Nixon raised his eyes to meet his meaningfully. “No shit…” He blinked and handed him the successfully opened food. “Sounds to me like you met a genuine SOE agent assigned to ‘set Europe ablaze.’” His tone was dripping with envy. “Division wasn’t entirely convinced by Churchill’s boasts. She must be one tough broad.”

“She seemed pretty proficient, Lew.” Dick replied with poorly concealed admiration, eyeing the contents of the can reluctantly.

“We ought to send Churchill a thank you card, then.” He smirked knowingly.

Dick let out a half-hearted laugh before his face fell serious once more. He looked to his boots before confessing to the loss of Hall, which Nixon tried to make up for by reassuring him the map he’d retrieved would be useful. Surrendering the food with the excuse of lack of appetite, Dick wandered off lost in thought.

Honestly never expecting to lay eyes upon you again, he was stunned to see you in a hamlet somewhere between Culoville and Vierville the next day. It was no more than a tiny cluster of buildings on both sides of the road, too small to earn a name on the map. The road was clogged with refugees, fleeing the conflict, slowing the progress of the armored division they were meant to be traveling with.

Dick had diverted Easy across a nearby field behind the hedgerow, bringing them to a halt to plan their final approach, his officers naturally gathering around him.

“Christ there’s civilians everywhere.” Welsh hissed under his breath as they peered through the foliage.

“So, who’s going to knock on the door?” Compton grinned, his bulk barely concealed by the late spring greenery.

Dick paused, squinting through his binoculars as he watched you carefully set your wagon, filled with suitcases and other belongings like any other refugee, beneath the window of a café. Your gaze was fixed on the boulangerie across the lane, seeming of a mind to purchase some food for your travels. His eyes followed as you wended your way through the dwindling stream of people, clad in a spring jacket with a worn brown dress beneath, a pair of dusty boots on your feet. You stood out to no one but him.

“Dick?” Nixon prompted in a hushed whisper.

“Hold. The Resistance is here. Which means we most likely have Germans lurking nearby.”

“Resistance?” Nixon’s eyes widened as he fumbled with his jacket to retrieve his own binoculars. “You mean she’s here?!” He whirled to face the road, his movements made less than graceful by his excitement, and Dick barely contained his amused grin as you had already vanished inside the bakery.

His amusement did not last long, unfortunately, as a red-faced German solider came charging out of the café.

“Bingo.” Nixon breathed quietly.

Dick’s lips pressed into a grimace as the man re-emerged shortly thereafter dragging you by a fistful of your hair, shouting and pointing at your wagon. Any remaining civilians on the road quickly scattered into the other buildings or the fields beyond.

“He’s upset about the wagon.”

“You don’t say, Nixon” Compton replied sarcastically, a furrow forming between his brows.

Your voice carried to them, the pleading tone laced with fear making Dick tighten his grip on his binoculars. He could tell you were speaking a mixture of French and German, but not much more than that. “Lew?”

“Please in German…Please in French. I was just getting food. I’m sorry in German. I’m trying to get away from the Americans in French. The death in German. Please.”

Dick could hear the men shifting restlessly around him and lifted his head. “Tell them to hold, not yet. That café has got to be full of Germans. Plan on snipers in the fourth and fifth buildings as well.” He described the assault plan for each of the squads as your pleas continued to ring out parried by barked commands from the increasingly perturbed soldier. “But wait for my signal.” He nodded firmly to dismiss them, and they hurried off to their respective platoons.

Dick wanted to trust that you had the situation in hand, but this surely could not be unfolding according to your plan. He raised his binoculars once more to see you desperately plant your hands on the soldier’s chest, several men drawing a collective breath. Dick narrowed his eyes as your gaze shifted to the left, toward the face of your watch glinting in the afternoon sunlight. He tensed noting your proximity to that wagon, convinced now more than ever that it was filled with explosives.

The sharp ‘smack’ of the German’s glove impacting your cheek had your head snapping to the side in a way that had Dick seeing red.

“I’m going to kill him myself.” Nixon hissed under his breath, but Dick didn’t have time to respond as, surging forward, you slammed your forehead into the soldier’s nose, a bloom of red flooding down his face and yours.

He held his breath as you seemed to stumble back, a bit dazed as a commotion sounded from within the café, but he was able to exhale as you regained your feet and used your ankle to sweep the man’s jackboots right out from beneath him. Dick glanced to the wagon once more with apprehension as you yourself dove to the ground before grabbing the back of the dazed soldier’s coat and hauled his body over yours. He had barely shifted his gaze to the collection of five Germans in the doorway when the wagon exploded violently.

“Right on time…” He muttered to himself, tucking his binoculars away and preparing to advance.

Nixon turned to stare at him, speechless.

“Don’t.” He replied warningly, still unsure if you had survived the blast, giving the debris a moment to settle before he gave the signal, heading straight up the road to you.

Much to everyone’s annoyance, the telltale sound of Shermans approached from further up the road – just in time to get all the glory without really having to do any of the work. As planned, the men peeled off to clear each of the buildings as Dick rolled the dead German off your body. He watched with bated breath as Roe appeared at his side to check your pulse, nodding up to him.

“She’s alive, sir.”

The road was filled with broken glass from the explosion, and fearing for the bare skin of your legs, Dick had Roe help carry you into the bakery as Malarkey reported it clear, the medic sliding his arms beneath your shoulders. Dick did his best to ignore how soft the backs of your knees felt against his fingertips as he managed your legs. They laid you down on the floor in the back room amongst abandoned baking supplies and he swallowed as your eyes fluttered open.

“Charlotte, you’re alright, Doc’s just going to look you over, ok?”

You furrowed your brows and glanced down at Roe as he undid your coat, looking you over for injuries aside from the obvious scrapes as Dick quickly pressed a bandage to the split in your forehead from where you had broken the German’s nose.

“You’re in good hands, I need to go back out there alright?”

You sighed heavily and he looked to your eyes quickly.

“I’m sure you’re speaking in that fucking wonderful American accent of yours, Lieutenant but I cannot hear a fucking thing. I’m sorry.” You spoke, seemingly unaware that your voice was obnoxiously loud.

Dick grimaced at your language as Roe barely contained his scoff of laughter before Dick nodded to you to show that he understood. Eyes pinning yours, he pointed at you firmly before forcefully pointing at the floor.

“Stay here. Understood.” You replied with a nod, a loud groan quickly overtaking your voice.

Dick hesitated a moment, but Roe was already looking over your face and into your eyes. There was really nothing for him to do here and his men needed him outside. Securing his helmet on his head, he dashed back out into the afternoon sunshine. Aside from one sniper’s nest three buildings down the road, which was easily managed with the help of the armored division, the hamlet was secured with only one minor incident involving Muck and some broken glass.

At Nixon’s urging, which Dick allowed to play out much longer than was needed to convince him, he ordered two stretcher bearers to accompany him back to the bakery to fetch you. He was encouraged to find you sitting with your back propped up against the wall, looking more alert with your knife grasped with one hand, though you had not seemed to have had the wherewithal to unsheathe it. He crouched down in front of you carefully, sliding his helmet from his head.

“I’m just going to take that from you, there Charlotte.” He wasn’t sure why he was speaking, fully aware that you could not hear him, but your grip loosened on the weapon as he reached for it.

“Alright.” You murmured softly in response and his eyes snapped to yours.

“You can hear again?” He asked as he tucked the knife into the pocket of his ODs.

You began to nod before halting the movement abruptly. “Mostly…”

“Good. That’s good.” He smiled briefly. “Do you have any other weapons on you?”

“No.” You replied after a thoughtful pause and patting of your coat pockets.

He nodded before standing, addressing the men lingering in the doorway. “Take her to the aid station, Lieutenant Nixon and I will be there as soon as we can.”

They responded with a chorus of ‘yes sirs!’ before he stepped back out to deliver orders for the company to take a rest while they awaited their next set of instructions. It was not long before they were told to proceed to Vierville where Colonel Sink had set up the battalion command post. It was also, conveniently, where the aid station was located. Once the men were situated for the night, Dick and Nixon quickly made their way to hotel that had been taken over as a medical facility.

They had barely walked in the door, the copper tang of blood just meeting their noses, before the battalion surgeon was calling out to him.

“Winters! Why in the hell did you send me a civilian?!”

“Strategic intelligence asset, sir.” Nixon replied smoothly, stepping in front of Dick to take the heat. “Where might we find her?”

“In one of the back offices. She cannot stay here. She needs to go a hospital whenever you’re done…whatever you’re doing.” He narrowed his eyes skeptically, hands on his hips as made his way over to them between the rows of cots set up in the lobby.

“She going to be alright, sir?” Dick asked, tone carefully neutral.

“Concussion, lacerations, bruising, three stitches to the forehead, hearing gradually returning. Overall malnourishment like all the French civilians. She’ll be fine after a week or two.” He muttered. “In a civilian hospital.”

“Yes sir.” Nixon replied quickly with a grin, grabbing Dick’s arm and pulling him towards the aforementioned office.

For all his bluster, the pair were amused to find the surgeon had set you up in a rather nice space, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of hot coffee in your hands. Though judging by the grimace you made after taking a sip, it wasn’t to your taste. Your hair pins must have fallen out during the struggle and subsequent transport as the style you’d been wearing that afternoon was lost, and a few swathes of gauze now encircled your head to hold a bandage in place over your stitches.

He knocked on the door frame quietly and you looked up, smiling at little, your eyes shifting to look at Nixon.

“Charlotte, this is Lieutenant Nixon.” Dick introduced his friend who quickly stepped forward to offer his hand.

“Lewis, please.” You took it carefully, shaking it in return.

“Charlotte Roussel.” You replied.

“Would it be alright if we asked you some questions?” Dick tilted his head, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” You almost nodded again but caught yourself more quickly this time.

Dick stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and perching on the edge of the desk as Nixon took the only chair. He tried not to grin as you sipped the coffee and grimaced once more, obviously failing to conceal his reaction as you apologized.

“It’s very bitter, but very appreciated.”

“I won’t tell the surgeon.” He nodded with a conspiratorial look.

“So, Dick tells me you’re with the Resistance?” Nixon spoke after a moment of watching your exchange.

Your eyes slid over to Dick, and he tensed, briefly concerned you might be upset with him, before you looked back to Nixon. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Any information you might be able to share with us would be of great assistance.” Nixon nodded encouragingly.

“Well, all of my documents were quite recently destroyed but I’d be happy to share what I remember with you. Do you have a map?” Your question echoed one of the first you’d asked him and pulled a small smile from Dick’s lips.

He watched quietly as Nixon produced as clean map of the area and you easily provided all the information you had on which German troops were stationed where, between wincing sips of the hot drink cupped between your hands. The intelligence officer thrust out his palm about halfway through and Dick patted down his ODs until he produced a pencil for his friend, passing it to him so he might jot down the volume of information you were able to impart.

“And what about yourself, Miss Roussel?” Nixon looked up to you once he’d acquired all your knowledge of military use.

“Me?” You blinked innocently.

“Tell us about yourself.” Nixon nodded encouragingly, leaning back in his chair.

Dick noted the way your fingers tightened slightly on the mug, and he realized it bore the logo of the requisitioned hotel, but otherwise your demeanor remained calm and collected. “I was born just outside Paris in 1920. My aunt and uncle have a farm near St. Mere Eglise. They have no children of their own and when my Uncle Phillipe was killed during the invasion my Aunt Sophie asked if I could come help her. There is more to eat out here than Paris anyway, where you can grow it.”

“Why do you speak such good English?” Dick asked, unable to help himself.

Your eyes turned to meet his curiously. “I was a university student before the war, I had an excellent teacher from America. Ms. Jones. She was able to go home before the Nazis arrived.”

There was a touch of envy there, and though Dick was convinced you were selling them a very good story, the desire for ‘home’ struck him as true. He watched as you leaned back against the wall wearily, your eyelids growing heavier.

“You’ve never been to England?” Nixon prodded.

“No, Lieutenant Nixon. I’ve never left France.”

“Your experience with explosives? Who taught you that?”

“Antoine. He fought in the last war, he was a sapper. He was there after you took out the Germans who had captured our comrades.” You looked to Dick who nodded in reply, recalling the elderly man who easily could have fit that description.

He heard his friend sigh a little in frustration as you seemed to have a perfectly reasonable answer for everything – answers that were not what he was wanting to hear. A sharp knock on the door drew the attention of the group and Dick raised his head.

“Enter.”

A runner from Colonel Sink popped his head in the door and Dick sighed internally knowing they had run out of time. “Lieutenants, Colonel Sink has requested the pair of you at battalion CP immediately.”

“Right, thank you Sergeant. We’re on our way.” He looked to Nixon who sighed audibly in defeat before the pair looked to you.

You were barely keeping your eyes open, the mug in your hand tilting precariously. Dick carefully took it from your hold and set it on the desk.

“Thank you very much for your assistance, Miss Roussel. Do take care.” He stood, wishing there was something better to say, but there was too much to do. The landing had barely taken place and was by no means a sure success yet. The best thing he could do for you was to get out there and liberate France entirely.

“I’ll see to it that you’re transferred to a hospital as soon as we can.” Nixon added.

“You’re welcome, Lieutenants. And thank you.” You replied, Dick swallowing as he could feel your gaze following him out of the room.

-------------------------

Read Part Two

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers

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michellesmusing · 7 months ago

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ABOUT ME

First name: Michelle

Nickname: Subikid… Where did It come from? I have owned 5 Subaru cars in my life (I love Subarus). Love to drive and I love everything about cars. One day, I saw on a Subaru Facebook group, someone who had this license plate and decided to get the same for my car… It’s now my nickname at work and to everyone who knows me ahah! Zodiac Sign: I was born on August 31st, so I’m a Virgo Birthplace: Quebec, Canada Height: 5’3” What are you doing for a living: Remember when I said that I love Subarus? Well my dream job was to either become a parts advisor or service advisor for The Subaru Dealership here in my town, and this since 2013… My dad passed away on November 1st, 2020 and I decided to go back to school to get a diploma in Parts/Service Advisor. Alas when I got my Diploma, Subaru didn’t have a job for me and I was quite sad, I knew everyone working there and I wanted to be part of that Subaru Dealership. Hyundai Hired on March 2022 me and I quickly learned the job as a Service Advisor, and I really did enjoy it (For 11 months I did own An Elantra N Line) In August 2023, Subaru was looking for a Service Advisor and even though the men and women at Hyundai were super cool, I wanted to be part of the Subaru Team. I called Max (The Service Manager) and ask him if could meet him and the new boss and an hour later, I was shaking hands with the new boss! I left Hyundai on September 21st and on September 22nd, I was already at Subaru! Where you would go if you could travel anywhere right now: I’d go back to Las Vegas. I lived there for a year (well, almost) and I really did love it! I’m glad to be back in my hometown though, but I miss Vegas. I miss the Desert and its Landscape… And The Dry Heat ahha! The things you’re allergic to: Hmm I’m allergic to nothing, but I can’t eat Pineapple. My stomach burns like hell after this!! Your favorite type of food: I really enjoy Pasta, Seafood, and Tacos!

Favorite Sports: As a Kid I grew up Playing Hockey, hey, I’m Canadian after all🤣, Skateboarding and Snowboarding were my favorite sport from 1996 to 2022, I had to stop though, thanks to my right knee that love to dislocate from its groove (after 10 patella luxations, I had to say goodbye to snowboarding, and plus the luxations didn’t even occur while snowboarding… Not cool!) I love working out, Cycling and Swimming.

Tattoos and Piercings?: My right arm is covered in Tattoos (We could say a Sleeve, right?) One tattoo on my left arm, and 3 others on the back and 2 on the neck. I got ears piercings like most human beings on earth ahah! Your go-to cocktail order: I love a good Rhum & Coke. I actually enjoy getting a new Rhum bottle each time I’m out of rhum, so I can taste and discover a new Rhum each time! The last song you played on Spotify: Blue on Black - Kenny Wayne Shepherd To be honest, I enjoy a lot of music styles… From the 80’s, 90’s, Electronic music (Above & Beyond, Armin Van Buuren and many others), Alternative rock, Pop, and Country. I don’t really like Rap though 😐 Your guilty pleasure TV show: I love everything about Cars mechanic shows where they’re revamping cars haha! If not, my favorite shows are “Breaking Bad”, “Better Call Saul”, “Timeless”, “The OA”, “Chernobyl”, “True Blood”, “Six Feet Under” and “The Sopranos”

Favorite Actors and Actresses: Goran Višnjić, Willem Dafoe, Stellan Skarsgård, Alexander Skarsgård, Keanu Reeves, Dennis Hopper, Mark Rufallo, Eric Bana and John Cusack // Charlize Theron, Saoirse Ronan, Reese Witherspoon, Anna Paquin, and Shailene Woodley.

The languages that you’re fluent in: I was born in Quebec, so my first Language is French. I Started learning English when I was 7 years old. My mother grew up in Toronto and she had many books in English and I simply loved the language, and I wanted to learn it as fast as I could! English is my second language, and I use it a lot for my job as most terms used on work orders are in English, and so are the car parts! I know a bit of Spanish, but never really got the interest in learning it. A strange talent that you have: Quite Frankly I don’t know haha! Let me think about it The names of your pets: I only have one pet and it’s a Sphynx Male cat named Igor. The best place you’ve ever been to: Phi Phi Islands in Thailand. It was Epic! Would do it again! Especially since I love traveling and flying! What you wanted to be when you grew up: After seeing “Twister” on VHS in 1997, I wanted to become a Storm Chaser. I always did love observing Severe Weather. I was the kid on a BMX bike riding outside when the sky was growling!! I once got caught in a Thunderstorm and saw a bolt of lightning striking a power line near me, needless to say that I screamed at the tops of my lungs hahah! What would you pick if you won a sweepstake that gave you a lifetime supply of anything you wanted? Free food hahaha! Your favorite memory from your childhood. I think it’s the fact that I grew up with the same childhood friends for over 12 years. We were together everyday and without them, my childhood wouldn’t be the same. I still talk to one of my childhood friend everyday 🙂 What you were known for in high school. Hahaha! I used to love Wrestling (Especially The Undertaker) During my teenage years. I was also a tomboy and loved doing sports with the guys at school. So I was known for that I’d say. The career you almost ended up pursuing. I wanted to become an English Teacher… But It never happened. I did enjoy doing Theater as well, I did a lot in High School and I miss that a lot! I’m also an aircrafts enthusiast, and I would've loved to work in an Airport or a job related to the Aircraft industry. If there’s a plane passing by, you can bet I will look up at the sky! ✈ Your biggest fear. Spiders and Pool Drains hahah! If I go to a pool I’ve never been to, I will check first where the drains are located. That’s my weird side 😛 The celebrity you’d most want to meet. That one is easy, right? Ahha! I’d like to meet Goran Višnjić, have lunch with him, hear him talking about his career and have a selfie with him haha! Of course, I really doubt it will happen, unless he comes to Quebec for a theater play or a movie 😛

My Instagram

#about me #fun facts

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crimeronan · 2 years ago

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the fondest specific compliment i’ve gotten on my toh fic is that everyone swears in a way that’s very true to character. where it feels like they Definitely talk like this offscreen, like it flows naturally & isn’t jarring despite the G-rated source material

this delights me because i have spent SO MUCH time thinking about the owl house cast and how different people swear. limiting this post to POVs i’ve written but here’s a few headcanons

luz: almost never swears. if she does she’s either doing it for Maximum Emphasis or because it’s very funny in a very specific situation with very specific peers (hunter & willow. she can’t swear in front of amity or gus bc she feels like she’s tarnishing her Innocent Image). even when luz CAN say “fuck” in T-rated properties, she does in fact default to “jeez” and “crikey” and “wow” and “EAUGHHH NO OH NO EUGH NO” at all times. some people swear in their other main language around english speakers but luz is not one of these people. generally in situations where most reasonable individuals would yell “HEY ASSHOLE” or “DUDE??? WHAT THE FUCK????”...... she simply throws things and/or starts biting. That’s My Daughter

hunter: swears more than luz but still not Super Often. most common go-tos are ‘shit’ as a panicked exclamation & ‘bullshit’ as an unimpressed observation. he knows more curse words than anyone else in the show including eda because of How The Coven Scouts Are. several of the curse words are wholly made-up epithets shared by approximately ten trauma-bonded weirdo soldiers. that said, he.... legitimately does not know which muttered oaths are just weird idioms versus Actual Swears bc he’s never Needed to know. (formal speak with belos automatically removes all of these informal interjections in the first place, and no one else is gonna question how The Golden Guard talks, so.... no reason to learn.) if anyone tries to explain these nuances to him later in life he will get into an autistic shouting match about how that’s SO STUPID and UNNECESSARY and MAKES NO SENSE you DUMBSHIT MOTHERF-

eda: tries hard to tone down her language around The Chillens but swears... sssSSSO MUCH. sailor tongue ahoy the woman was raised by wolves (ie: her mom who even in her old age will still shout “YEAH RUN YOU PUNK-ASS BITCH” at randos on the street). eda says “fuck” aloud an average of once or twice in any given fic chapter but should say it more. if i ever write her alone with raine it will become 200 times per chapter because with raine she casually flips back to her high school self and all her creative teen lingos. yknow, back before she learned to be all Mature and Professional. a class act. as she rifles through heaps of garbage and develops hives at any sign of emotional intimacy

darius: theoretically swears a lot and has nothing AGAINST a very verbose “motherfucker son of a bitch dick-for-brains are you fucking SHITTING me you INCOMPETENT-” however he USUALLY uses boiling isles swears. not because he’s being censored by the writers but because a muttered “mother of titans i’m begging you to come down and cast these fucking imbeciles into the boiling sea before i lose my fuckdamned SHI-” is just. Yeah. That’s Him. darius is the guy who WOULD be saying ‘jesus h christ’ and ‘christ on a stick shift’ and ‘mother mary of god PLEASE either end this meeting early or STRIKE ME DEAD BEFORE MASS’ except. yknow, he’s got other religious figures to invoke. sidenote he’s been dying to shout “KIIIIISS MYYYY ASSSSSS” at 98% of his coworkers for 30 straight years. to the point that he sometimes dreams about it

bonus

camila: swears exclusively in french (a language in which she is not fluent) bc she doesnt want luz picking up bad language. she learned these expressions from an old friend from montreal which means that luz now has a weirdly broad knowledge of extremely rude quebecois slang without knowing any specific definitions. she just knows that these are words you recite to french-canadians if you want to start a bar fight.

#toh #luz noceda #hunter toh #darius deamonne #eda clawthorne #camila noceda #the camila one is just lifted from my childhood. idr the swears now tho its been too long since i saw my dad [pensive]#spent an unbelievably long time editing this shitpost for maximum lolz. please appreciate it

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bibbawrites · 4 years ago

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First Man - Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 1735 words

Summary: the song First Man by Camila Cabello but make it about Charlie Gillespie

Warnings: i think theres one swear word and thats all ?

A/N: so i had originally written this for another fandom that i am no longer in but i decided to change it to charlie cause why not this is literally just the song first man by camila cabello, so go listen to that if you dont know it haha again i tried to make this gender neutral but i may have messed up at one point so if i did im very sorry anyways hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik

Winter 2019

It was a mild Winter's afternoon in LA. You walked down the stairs of your family home, bag in hand, smiling when you spotted your family sitting around the table, a board game in the middle.

"Y/N! Come join us!" Your mum called when she spotted you enter the room. You shook your head.

"Maybe another time, sorry guys. I'm actually just heading out, I'm gonna stay with Charlie tonight... is that okay?" Your father sighed before nodding.

"When will we get to meet this Charlie boy that we hear so much about?" He asked, standing up to walk over to you. You shrugged.

"I'm not too sure, but it will be soon, I promise." You grinned. Your little sister looked up from the game board.

"What's he like Y/N?" She asked, looking at you intently. A soft smile appeared on your face at the thought of your boyfriend.

"He's really sweet. He's funny, just like you Dad. He’s not super tall but it doesn’t even matter. And he loves dragging me along on hikes." You paused.

"I really like him." You finished. Your dad frowned slightly, but hid it quickly.

"That's nice to hear darling. Don't forget a jacket, okay?" He told you. You looked at your father knowingly. He had been like this with every boy you’d ever brought home, not that you'd brought home tons of boys before.

"No it's okay, it’s not that cold outside today. Besides, he's waiting outside for me." You said, glancing down at your phone to see the text from Charlie.

'I'm here' it read. You looked back up again, noticing your father watching you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug.

"Don't freak out Dad, I'll be fine." You assured him. He squeezed you tightly.

"I just worry about you." You smiled, pulling away.

"I know, I get that. But I'm an adult now Dad. I got this."

"I know, I know." He sighed. By now the rest of the family had gone back to their game.

You patted your dad on the chest before turning to leave, stopping when your hand touched the doorknob. You turned back around to face your father.

"Just remember Dad, you were the first man that really loved me." And with that you turned back to the door and left, leaving your dad to smile sadly. His little baby was growing up.

Summer 2020

It was Summer and you and Charlie had a few days off from work. You had decided to head back to LA together, to visit your family. After all, you had been dating for over a year and Charlie still hadn't met your family yet. The family that you spoke so highly of.

You touched down at LAX and made your way through security quickly.

"You ready?" You asked, holding tightly to Charlie's hand as you made your way to baggage claim, where you had organised to meet your parents.

"Honestly? I'm fucking petrified." Charlie responded, causing you to laugh.

"You'll be fine. Everyone loves you Char, and my family will be no different." You walked around the corner, spotting your Dad quickly.

"Dad!" You called, rushing over to hug your father. Charlie walked over slowly. You pulled away and grinned, glancing at Charlie.

"Dad, I'd like to meet my boyfriend, Charlie." You introduced. "Char, this is my dad, Sam."

Charlie held his hand out for your dad to shake.

"It's nice to officially meet you Mr Y/L/N. Can I call you Sam?" He smiled nervously. Your father looked him up and down before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Sir will do. Charlie, short for Charles I assume?" His glare was stone cold. Charlie swallowed, nodding.

"Yes sir, but I prefer Charlie." Your father nodded before turning his attention back to you.

"How long are you two here for?" He asked, ignoring Charlie, who moved to grab the both of your bags that were coming along the carousel.

"We have 8 days off, but we're only here for 4." You responded. Your dad nodded.

"Well I guess that's better than nothing. Come on let's go, your mother is waiting in the car outside. She didn't want to pay for parking so she's been driving around while I waited in here."

And with that the three of you headed outside to the car.

Luckily for Charlie the rest of your family weren't as scary as your father was.

Your mother was lovely, and she had been very welcoming, even speaking to him in French when it was brought up that the two shared a common language.

Your brothers were really cool and invited him to join them to play video games whenever he wanted.

And your little sister, well, she adored the Canadian boy from the minute he walked through the front door.

And just like that Charlie’s first day at the Y/L/N house was over.

After sitting outside for hours with you and your parents, Charlie decided to head off to bed, and with a quick kiss for you and a murmured "goodnight" he was gone.

"So what do you think?" You asked once you knew that Charlie was well and truly inside.

"He's lovely darling." Your mother told you, smiling. You turned to your father.

"Dad?" You asked. Your father shrugged.

"He's not too bad, I guess." He admitted. You shook your head slightly. Of course your father would say that.

"I met his family you know? They're really nice, just like you guys." You told your parents.

"Oh, that's good sweetie." Your mum grinned.

"His parents are great, they're really down to earth. And his brothers and sister are really cool. Plus they love their hockey." You looked at your dad as you said the last part, knowing how big of a hockey fan he was. Your dad nodded in appreciation.

"That's good to hear. If they like hockey they must be good people." Your mother nodded in agreement with her husband. You fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

"You know..." You began, breaking the silence. "I think he might be the one." Your mother put her hand up to her mouth, unable to hide her excitement.

"Oh Y/N, you really think so?" She asked. You nodded.

"Yeah, I really love him." You smiled.

"And he's a good man?" Your dad questioned, fixing his gaze on you. You nodded quickly.

"I swear on my heart. He loves me, and he'd never hurt me." You assured him.

"Good." He said, and with that the conversation was over, the topic changing to gossip about a family friend who's husband had cheated on her.

And later when you were heading off to bed you made sure to give your dad an extra big hug and remind him softly that he was the first man that really loved you.

The four days passed quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time for you and Charlie to leave.

Your family gathered on the driveway, next to Charlie’s car that he had collected on your second day back. After a few hugs with your siblings Charlie moved to bid farewell to your parents. Your mother pulled him into a hug.

"It was lovely to meet you darling." She said softly, before pulling away.

"You too." He smiled. "It was lovely to meet all of you."

"Don't be a stranger Charlie." She said.

"Yeah come back all the time." Your little sister agreed. Charlie nodded.

"I'll make sure of it." He turned his attention to your father, holding out his hand for him to shake. Your father took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you for having me sir." Charlie smiled politely. Your father paused, before faking a smile.

"It was no problem." You exchanged a knowing look with your mother. You both knew that your father didn't think that Charlie deserved you.

After a few more goodbyes you and Charlie hopped into the car and left, waving to your family as you pulled out. You had barely made it to the end of the street before you grabbed Charlie's arm.

"Wait we need to go back." You said quickly.

"Why?" Charlie asked, but turned around nonetheless.

"I forgot to tell my dad something." He pulled up in front of the house and you jumped out quickly, rushing over to your father who was still outside. He looked at you in confusion.

"I forgot to say, remember you were the first man who really loved me." You smiled softly, and with one last hug you left again.

Spring 2022

It was a beautiful Spring day in Hawaii. You and your father were stood together at the top of the beach, dressed to the nines, him in a fancy suit and you in your chosen wedding outfit.

It was almost time.

Time for you to walk down the aisle and marry the love of your life.

You looked over at your father, noticing his tie was slightly crooked. You took a step closer, and fixed the tie, watching as he tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. You smiled softly at him.

"You know, I've never seen you cry before." You whispered. Your dad smiled, a tear falling down his cheek.

"You just look so beautiful Y/N. No matter what, you'll always be my little baby." He responded, pulling you into a hug.

As you separated the music began to play, and he held his arm out for you to take.

"Here we go." You whispered, and the two of you began your walk down the beach to where Charlie was waiting, teary eyed, at the end of the aisle.

As you walked, your father found himself looking over at you, taking in the tears of happiness and the look of love that you were giving Charlie. Your dad smiled to himself, glad that you had finally found the perfect man for you.

You reached the end of the aisle and you pulled your father into a hug.

"Remember," You whispered. "You were the first man who really loved me." You pulled away, stepping back. Your dad hesitated for a second before stepping forward to pull Charlie into a hug.

"Take care of my little angel." He whispered. Charlie nodded.

"Of course Sir." They pulled apart and your dad smiled softly.

"You can call me Sam."

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #fluff #based on the song First Man by Camila Cabello #reader insert

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Would love to see a wired autocomplete interview with coops! 🥰

Anon, did you read my mind? These two have such chaotic energy when they’re given an outlet and it was a true pleasure to write it. Dorcas is exhausted. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Wait, I want to pull the tab,” Remus said, tugging on the edge of the cardboard lightly as Sirius tried to hold it out of his reach without falling off his chair.

“I get to read it out loud for you and then we switch!” Sirius protested, smacking him gently on the head with it. The resulting bonk noise made them both break down laughing.

“You guys know we’re rolling, right?” Dorcas asked as she gathered a stack of cards in her lap, looking highly amused.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She turned to the camera with a bright smile. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, hockey fans! I’m Dorcas Meadowes and I’m here today with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to answer some of the internet’s most pressing questions. How are you two feeling?”

“Terrified,” Sirius said.

“The internet is like the Twilight Zone,” Remus agreed. “Who goes first?”

“Sirius, you’ve got a card already. Take it away.”

He cleared his throat and grabbed the edge of the first pull tab, ripping it off slowly. “That is so satisfying, woah. How tall is Remus Lupin?”

“I am five foot eleven and a half.”

“That half inch comes from your sneakers and you know it.”

“It does not!”

Sirius just smiled and removed the next paper slip. “What language does Remus Lupin speak?”

“I speak English and a little bit of French. Tried to learn Spanish in high school, but failed miserably.”

“I love the wording on this one,” Sirius said as he turned the board toward the camera. “Remus Lupin Green Bay Packers.”

“Dammit, now everyone knows my full name,” Remus sighed. “Uh, the Packers are cool.”

“I think people were wondering if you ever played on the team,” Dorcas said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a football player to you?”

“Next question!” Sirius ripped the tab off and took a good section of the paper above with it. There was a beat of stunned silence. “I am…so sorry.”

Behind the camera, Marlene burst out laughing, along with most of the camera crew. “It’s fine, keep reading.”

“Okay, um…” Sirius squinted at the partially torn-off question. “Remus Lupin name meaning.”

Remus groaned. “I hate this question. Yes, it does mean Wolf Wolf. Yes, my dad’s name also means Wolf Wolf. Yes, my mother’s maiden name is Howell. I’m aware of the endless puns.”

“Don’t you mean a-were?” Sirius asked as a slow grin spread across his face. Remus grabbed the card and bonked him over the head with it.

“Remus, your turn.” Dorcas handed him a poster board and took the blank one.

“I’m going to be careful with this one, unlike somebody,” he teased, kissing Sirius on the cheek. “Is Sirius Black…related to Pascal Dumais?”

“In all the ways that matter, yes.”

Remus grinned when he read the next one. “Is Sirius Black missing a tooth?”

“No!” Sirius gave the camera an offended look. “I have all my teeth, thank you very much.”

“Is Sirius Black mean?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Reporters don’t like you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual. I love the fans though, most of them are so sweet.”

“Oh, I like this one. Is Sirius Black married?” Remus rested his chin on the top of the card and batted his eyelashes, making Sirius laugh.

“Almost! Ask me again in July.” Remus set the card on the floor and Dorcas passed Sirius a new one. “Does Remus Lupin wear glasses?”

“Nope.”

“Does Remus Lupin—I have never said your name so many times in one sitting, my god—does Remus Lupin have siblings?”

“Yup.”

“Does Remus Lupin—”

“Can you elaborate?” Dorcas asked with a laugh. “How many siblings? Names? Ages?”

Remus turned to the camera. “I have one brother named Julian and he’s ten years old. He likes piggyback rides, ice cream, and hockey.”

“Much better. Take it away, Cap.”

“Does Remus Lupin have allergies?”

Remus frowned in confusion. “Why do people want to know that? Uh, yeah, I’m allergic to some pollens. Spring is hell.”

“How many of these do we have?” Sirius asked as he tossed the board over his shoulder and crossed his legs.

“Quite a few! Loops, you’re up.”

“Where is Sirius Black from?”

“Canada.”

“Where does Sirius Black live?”

“The Lions ice rink. I set up a tent in the middle of the goal posts every night so that I’m never late to practice.”

“Sirius Black gay.”

Sirius paused. “I think we’re missing a couple words in there.”

“That’s literally all it says,” Remus laughed, moving it to show him. “Sirius Black gay. I don’t know, honey, Sirius Black gay?”

“Sirius Black very gay,” he confirmed. “Sirius Black thinks people need to have better grammar.”

“Is Sirius Black’s hair naturally curly?”

“No, I use a curling iron every morning to do each individual curl,” he said. “It takes me seven hours and thirteen minutes, and I use a full can of hairspray.”

Remus scooted over so Dorcas could hand him a new card. “He keeps a stopwatch and tries to beat his personal record every time.”

Sirius pulled the first tab away and immediately started laughing too hard to speak.

“What does it say? You can’t just leave me hanging!” Sirius turned the board around and Remus leaned down to read it. “Is Remus Lupin hockey? Yes. I am the entire sport of hockey condensed into one being. I’m coming for basketball next. Thanks for asking!”

It took a few seconds for Sirius to get his breath back. “What is Remus Lupin—”

“I thought we just answered that.”

“—what is Remus Lupin zodiac sign?”

Remus paused. “Is that the thing Pots was talking about the other day? With the quiz?”

“That was love languages.”

“Your zodiac sign depends on your birthday,” Marlene called. “When were you born?”

“March 10th.”

“You’re a Pisces.”

“I’m a Pisces!” he said brightly to the camera. “No idea what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“It means you’re two fish.” She laughed as Remus sucked his cheeks in for a fish face. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Sirius was especially careful as he pulled the paper slip off the next question. “What is Remus Lupin first job?”

“The grammar of these questions is killing me. Um, I worked in the university bookstore during college.”

“On the list of ‘things that don’t surprise anyone’,” Dorcas joked.

“Did Remus Lupin go to college?”

Remus gave the camera a look. “First of all, I have a medical degree. Second of all, did people completely forget about the whole ‘about to be drafted right out of college’ thing? It was a grand total of four years ago! Google it!”

“That’s what they did,” Sirius pointed out, gesturing to the board.

“True.”

“Last one for this card: how old is Remus Lupin?”

Remus thought for a moment. “Y’know, I kind of lost track after the first few centuries. My turn…what is Sirius Black real name?”

Sirius glanced at the camera. “It’s Sirius Black? Is this a trick question?”

“There are people out there who think that’s a fake name,” Dorcas said.

“Um, okay. Yeah, my real name is Sirius Black, my brother is Regulus, my dad is Orion, and I have cousins named Andromeda and Bellatrix.”

“What’s your uncle’s name again?” Remus asked.

“Which one? Cygnus? Phineas Nigellus? Arcturus?” At Dorcas’ surprised look, he laughed. “Oh, I could go all day long with this. That’s the tea on old French families with weird-ass naming traditions.”

“This next one is similar: Sirius Black middle name?”

“Orion.”

“Fun fact: the first time I saw your full name, Moody had written it and I thought it said ‘onion’.” Remus laughed as Sirius’ jaw fell open. “Those three seconds were a highlight of my life. Alright, what’s next…what color are Sirius Black’s eyes?”

“Blue.”

Remus shook his head. “They’re gray, almost silver.”

“Basically blue.”

“There’s nothing basic about you, babe.” Remus slid the board onto the floor and passed Sirius a new one. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Is Remus Lupin Canadian?”

“I wish.”

“Is Remus Lupin left-handed?”

“No, but a lot of people seem to think that I am.”

“Is—” Sirius cut off with a snort. “Is Remus Lupin scrappy?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Remus asked, leaning over. “Is that actually what it says?”

“Yep.”

“Scrappy? Really?” He shook his head, lost for words. “I mean, I guess. Nobody’s ever called me scrappy before.”

“I don’t like this last one. How much is Remus Lupin worth?” Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. “You’re priceless.”

“I’m worth at least half a PB & J, but only if you use the good peanut butter. If you use the shitty Skippy stuff, hand over the whole sandwich. My turn! Does Sirius Black have piercings?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Does Sirius Black have an Instagram?”

“I do. Sblack12, if you want to see pictures of my friends’ kids and this cutie.”

“Is Sirius Black Australian?”

“Fuck off. I’m French Canadian, how the hell did anyone think I was Australian?”

“Sirius Black birthday.”

“I have one.”

“What is it?” Marlene asked. “I’ll tell you your zodiac sign.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “November 3rd.”

“Scorpio bitch.”

“Hey!”

“On the bright side, Scorpios and Pisces are super compatible.”

“What a relief, I was really banking on our astrology compatibility,” Remus said drily.

Dorcas handed Sirius a fresh board. “First up: can Remus Lupin sing?”

“Eh.”

“The correct answer is yes. What is Remus Lupin like in real life?”

“I’m horrible. I kick every puppy I see and carry one of those sticky hands from arcades to steal candy from children.” A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth and Sirius’ cheeks turned pink from suppressing his laughter. “Like Spiderman, but evil.”

“What happened to Remus Lupin after college?”

“What didn’t happen to Remus Lupin after college?” he laughed, leaning back in his seat. “These past couple years have been bonkers fucking yonkers. I became a PT, got a secret boyfriend, and now I’m engaged and an NHL player. There were, like, three seasons of character development squished into eighteen months.”

“Alright, last one. Why Remus Lupin kissed Sirius Black?”

“Because he’s hot and nice. Also, because he’s my fiancé.”

“Is that the criteria for kisses?” Sirius asked. “I just have to be hot and nice?”

“Pretty much. You’ve got both boxes permanently checked.”

“Final card,” Dorcas warned as she handed it to him. “Make it count.”

Remus cleared his throat. “How does Sirius Black work out?”

“I rollerskate and hula hoop for six hours a day simultaneously.”

“How old is Sirius Black?”

“Ageless.”

“How did Sirius Black meet Remus Lupin?”

“Fun story, actually. You know the movie Ocean’s Eleven?”

“Are Sirius Black and James Potter—”

“Dating.”

“—still friends.”

“Damn, I thought I had that one.” He did a double take. “Still friends? What happened? I saw him an hour ago, tops.”

“You might have to google it,” Remus suggested as he slid the board across the floor. “That’s it!”

“Way to go, guys,” Dorcas laughed. “I know literally nothing new about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said as the two high-fived. “We were completely honest the whole time.”

She faced the camera with a poorly-hidden smile. “Thanks for joining us today, Lions, and remember to like and subscribe for more content!”

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achliegh · 3 years ago

Text

Mistletoe Madness: Day 3

Olive and Otto’s first Holiday in Gryffindor

Finn, Logan and June’s first Holiday with the twins.

“FINN! OTTO WON’T LET ME PUT GLITTER IN HIS HAIR!” the red-head sighs, Leo told the twins he was going to make treats in the kitchen with their mom and if they interrupted it would take twice as long. Logan and June were wrapping gifts in a random room so that left Finn for the kids to run to. Speaking of the kids, they come running over to him. Olive gripping Otto’s sweater that Sergei knitted for him.

“What's wrong?” He takes Olive's hand off Otto who climbs into his lap for sanctuary.

“Olive was trying to cover me in glitter and I said no.” This is a bit surprising since Otto has a really hard time saying no, but now that he thinks about it… it has become a common word in this child's vocabulary recently.

“Olive, you can’t cover him in glitter, it's too messy.” Olives whines and starts crying. Finn loves these two with all his heart but sometimes he needs a break. So he turns on the TV, the sound of a commercial catches the twins' attention and they share a look before running off. He thinks he got away with something for a second until they come back with a VHS tape.

“Can you play this? It's Daddy’s favorite.” Otto hands it to him and he raises an eyebrow, he doesn’t own a VHS player but he could look up whatever this movie is and airplay it to the TV. He read the movie name on the tape and frowned.

“Barney’s Night Before Christmas… 1999? This came out two years before your dad was even born.” He pulls out his phone and looks it up, sure enough it shows up on YouTube. He sets it up to play and watches the O’s sit crisscross on the ground in front of where the coffee table is normally, but everything was moved around so the tree could fit, to watch this film. This was the most calm he’s seen them in a while.

They watch the film no problem, singing along with the songs and dancing the same way the kids on the screen do. Eventually Leo walks in the room and gasps.

“This is my favorite Christmas movie!” He runs over and sits behind the kids stretching his legs out so one is on either side of them resting his head on top of Otto’s head because he knows his son isn’t going to move.

“Looks like you stole my chef.” Ink walks in, Finn realizes her and Leo were wearing matching aprons, how sweet. She takes a spot on the end of the couch and curls up with her feet under her butt.

“I didn’t realize this movie was so popular, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen it before.” He hears a door close down the hall and the sound of June and Logan laughing traveling down the hall.

“Leo watches it every 24th, something about it just makes him so happy.” They both watch as Leo and the kids sing Joy To The World in sign language just like the girl on the screen. Olive and Otto jump back into Leo’s arms who falls on his back on the ground as he holds his children tightly laughing. “He’s a good dad.”

“Yeah he is, but I’m better.” June comes around the side of the couch, taking her place between Finn and Ink. Snuggling up to her fiance holding her tight. “Alright maybe I’m not but I still try.”

“You do amazing, Sweetheart.” Ink kisses her temple and looks back towards the screen.

“I smell cookies, are they done yet?” Logan leans over the back of the couch flopping his arm around Finn’s neck and kissing a bunch on his head.

“Timer still has a few minutes but you can go check them.” Ink smiles at him, Logan kisses Finn’s head one last time before skipping into the kitchen. Finn thinks about it for a second and decides to follow his little French-Canadian.

“Don’t take them out yet!”

“I’m just poking one!” Logan is reaching into the oven with a plastic spatula completely ruining one of the cookies to see if it's done. “I just realized I have no idea how to tell if a cookie is done…” Finn chuckles, leaning in the doorway watching one of his loves destroy a cookie for Santa. He looks up for a second and notices the mistletoe above him.

“Hey Lo, come here for a sec.” Logan closes the oven, setting the slightly melted spatula on the counter, walks over to his boyfriend and wraps his arms around his midsection. Looking up at him and smiling sweetly. “Look.” Finn points to the decoration signifying a smooch has to be given and wraps his arms around the shorter man swaying them slightly. Their lips meet in a sweet chaste kiss that lasts a good few seconds before someone walks up behind them.

“Do we get one?” Leo is smiling at them with a kid in each arm, holding them around their chests as their feet dangle, smiling exactly the same as their dad.

“Well of course!” Finn leans over to kiss both the kid’s foreheads, Logan doing the same. They both meet at Leo and kiss his cheeks very dramatically and loud making the ragdolls into the taller man's arms giggle. They hear the timer in Ink’s phone go off from the living room and the children perk up.

“COOKIES!”

#leo knut #finn o'hara #sweater weather #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #coast to coast #O&O

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lonelyreputation · 4 years ago

Text

Unofficially Official

A/N: These dialogue prompts were requested quite a few times, so I combined them! Enjoy going to a hockey game with Shawn 🏒🥶

Request: Your hands are so cold & Hey, are you still awake?

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: None! // WC: 2.2K // Fluff

Being Canadian, there were a lot of stereotypes that came with the nationality: Tim Horton’s being God’s blessing to the earth, everyone was always a bit too polite, and you were expected to live and breathe hockey.

While you found most of the stereotypes true, there was one aspect of yourself that your friends always thought made you “un-Canadian.” And it was that you couldn’t care less about hockey.

You were never vocal about your indifference toward the game. Most of your friends learned how to skate on the ice at the same time they learned to walk, but not you. You always went to support your friends at their hockey games, but other than the sound of the puck gliding on the ice, nothing about the game appealed to you.

And whenever you got caught up in a hockey conversation, you would nod along and smile, not understanding what forechecking or icing meant.

The most recent time where hockey was brought up in conversation was when you were at a twenty-four hour diner with your friends, and the boy you just started seeing, Shawn. It was well known that Shawn was a hockey fanatic, and you had yet to tell him that the game he obsessed over was one you didn’t care much about.

The twenty-four hour diner was a spot you wound up at with your friends every Saturday night during high school. And with it being all of your last years at University, everyone thought it would be fun to relive the “glory days.” And while you were all for reliving your so called “glory days,” Shawn was finally home after finishing up tour, and you asked your friends if he could tag along.

And that’s how you found yourself in a booth, pressed between the side wall and Shawn, with his arm lazily hanging around your shoulder. Your head was rested on his shoulder as you mindlessly paid attention to Shawn and your friends conversing about hockey.

“How do you talk hockey with this one?” One of your friends threw a french fry at you. You scrunched up your nose and flipped them off, “I hardly consider her Canadian.”

Shawn tilted his head at your friend, “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t like hockey,” another one of your friend’s piped in and you saw Shawn’s eyes widen as his head turned to face you, “She’s weird, isn’t she?”

“What?” Shawn’s attention was solely on you now, blocking out all of your friends saying how weird it was that you didn’t like the sport.

You raised your head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes as you shrugged, “Never got into it.”

Shawn scrunched up his nose, “So you don’t like hockey?”

You tried your hardest to keep your laughter in as you looked at his genuinely offended face, “Just indifferent.”

“Basically the same thing,” Shawn scoffed as he shook his head, “I’m taking you to a game.”

“Shawn, you don’t––”

“I think the Leafs have a game coming up?” Another one of your friends piped into the conversation.

“I don’t think–––”

Shawn completely ignored you and engaged with your friend who brought up the Leafs game, “Home?”

And while you were still pressed into his side, his thumb drawing soft circles on your shoulder, he was making plans for a hockey game as if you weren’t right next to him. You let out a huff, took a sip of your milkshake, and leaned your head back down on his shoulder.

///

“Get,” Shawn jumped around you as the two of you walked toward your seats, “Excited!”

You rolled your eyes at his enthusiasm, shivering a bit from how cold the arena felt. Pathetically, you lifted your index finger up, and did a small twirl with your finger, “Woo.”

“How do you consider yourself Canadian?” Shawn chuckled as he blindly reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together, “Your hands,” he put his other hand on top of your clasped hands, rubbing them together, “are so cold.”

You rolled your eyes at him and bumped your shoulder against his as a silent response.

The smile on your face widened as you looked down at your locked hands, still not used to the fact that you could hold Shawn’s hand whenever you wanted. It blew your mind that he wanted to hold your hand.

But you would never complain about that.

The two of you had been friends for about two years, but just within the past three months, your friendship progressed into some sort of relationship. It started out as a few coffee outings, Shawn stating that he wanted to know you more––Just one on one. Then coffee turned into getting lunch. Lunch turned into a few kisses and hand holding. And then that progressed into dinner dates and keeping an eye out on his Toronto apartment whenever he was out of town.

Nothing was official between the two of you, and while you wanted nothing more than to put a title on your relationship, you didn’t want to come off as clingy. He was Shawn Mendes after all, and while that didn’t matter much to you…You didn’t know if he wanted to have a girlfriend.

Shawn looked down at the tickets in his free hand to make sure you were at the right section. When he looked up at the number on the wall and saw that it matched, he pulled you under the archway, and walked down the steps with you until you got to your assigned row.

He let you walk in first, keeping a hand on the small of your back, until you got to your designated seats. You pulled the plastic seat down, and right when you sat down, Shawn threw an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m so excited for you.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder as the tips of his fingers ran up and down up and down your bicep, “I’m excited to see you in your element.”

Shawn smiled as he ducked his head, placing an innocent kiss on your lips, before returning his eyes to the sight of the ice, “It’s an exciting day for both of us.”

Soon enough, the game started and you tried your best to keep up with everything. The puck moved too fast, the players skated in circles too much that you couldn’t keep up, and you tried to listen to Shawn as he whispered a play by play in your ear.

Every time the Maple Leafs scored, Shawn jumped up, pulling you up by your hand, and pressed a short kiss to your lips. You didn’t know much about hockey, but you did know that you wanted the Leafs to score as much as possible if Shawn gave you a kiss every time.

Shawn was sitting on the edge of his seat for the first two quarters as if there were only seconds left in the game.

“You should be on the field based on your enthusiasm,” you poked his cheek and laughed when he turned to look at you, eyes wide with a hint of disgust.

“Field?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Rink,” you corrected yourself, “You should be out on the ice rink.”

Shawn shook his head and poked your cheek in retaliation, “They should just revoke your citizenship now.”

You swatted his finger away, “You’re mean.”

Shawn laughed as he caught your hand in the air, slotting his fingers with yours and resting your clasped hands on his lap, “Me? Mean?” He chuckled, “I’m the nicest boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You froze in your seat. You felt your hands start to clam up as your eyes widen on their own accord.

Shawn had just called himself your boyfriend.

Did that make you two official? Did that mean he wanted to keep spending time with you? Did that mean he saw a future with you in it?

With him defining his title, you figured that all of the answers to your questions were yes, he wanted all of those things with you. And while that made you the happiest person on the planet in that moment, you know that your tense body language probably said the complete opposite to him.

“Everything alright?” Shawn pulled his eyebrows together as he nervously looked over at you, “Do you…not want me to be your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened even more, voice getting caught in your throat, until everything just came out at once.

“No, no, of course I want you to be my boyfriend––I didn’t know if you––Honestly nothing would make me happier––We’ve been dating, but I didn’t know if you wanted to keep dating me––And I didn't know if you wanted a relationship––”

Shawn let out a nervous laugh as he ran a hand through his curls, “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” you weakly chuckled as your eyes briefly drifted to the zamboni that was smoothing over the ice, before you looked back at Shawn’s terrified face, “I was just caught a little off guard. We never had…The talk.”

This time, Shawn let out a real genuine laugh, “The talk?” He shook his head, “Y/n, I like you. And I know you like me,” he smirked a little, “What more is there to it?”

When he broke it down in such simple terms, it made sense. You liked him. He liked you. ��And while it was never explicitly mentioned, you both knew that neither one of you were seeing nor talking to anyone else since you started going out for coffee a few months ago.

You shrugged your shoulders, insecurity filling up your mind because in this moment you felt like such a child. You didn’t mean to make such a big deal about defining the relationship, but in this day in age, you felt like you needed it to keep yourself sane.

“I didn’t really see the point in us having ‘the talk,’” Shawn shrugged his shoulders, “We like each other, we’ve been dating for a while now, and I just…I’ve considered you my girlfriend for a while now? I call you my girlfriend when I talk to friends and family––And I––I’ve already asked Andrew to look ahead at my touring schedule to see when you can come visit––And I really really like you––”

“You’re rambling,” you smiled at him as you shot his words right back at him.

He rolled his eyes, “My point is,” he squeezed your hand in reassurance, “I would really like it if you were my girlfriend and if I was your boyfriend.”

You didn’t stop the wide smile that came across your face, “That sounds nice.”

Shawn returned your smile and pressed a kiss to your cold cheek that now burned, “Whatever you say, girlfriend.” He winked at you before turning his head forward to look at the ice.

You chose not to respond, instead choosing to lean your head on his shoulder. You pressed a small kiss at the base of his neck and when you glanced up at him, you saw a wide smile spread across his face.

With the zamboni driving off the ice, you knew the game would restart soon.

Shawn’s arm stayed around your shoulder for the rest of the game. And you kept your head on his shoulder, soaking up every ounce of warmth from him. While Shawn was enchanted with the movement of the puck, you found yourself paying attention to his even breathing more than the game.

Feeling his gentle breathing was calming, and while everyone in the arena was focused on the game, you felt your eyes start to flutter.

“Hey,” you took a deep breath and opened your eyes to see Shawn softly caressing your cheek, “are you still awake?”

You were about to answer with barely, but all of a sudden, an airhorn blasted throughout the arena that caused your head to jolt up from his shoulder. It was the most ear splitting sound you had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in panic, but when you looked over at Shawn, his straight face broke out into laughter.

Shoving his shoulder, you mumbled, “Shut up.”

His eyes were still shut tight as he laughed, and while you were trying to calm down your breathing, you couldn’t help but smile at how the corners of his eyes crinkled. He said something about the game being almost over, but all you were focused on was being able to lean your head on his shoulder again.

And when his attention finally turned back to the game, you got comfortable and rested your head on his shoulder. As if on instinct, Shawn’s arm curled back around your shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

With his arm around you, and a wide smile on both of your faces because you two were official now…After being unofficially official for a while. And you started to think that you could start becoming a “real” Canadian and acquire an interest for hockey.

Taglist (add / remove yourself): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @crossedties @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter @par_r @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes Imagine #Shawn Mendes Story #Shawn Mendes Fic #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes one shots #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes blurbs #Shawn Mendes request #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes writings #wonder

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 4 years ago

Text

Business AU - Working Late, Part 4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Flirt mode A C T I V A T E D 👏

As everyone else in the room was getting ready to depart for the day - chatting here and there and gathering their belongings - Vee was mostly occupied by her handbag, making sure everything was there before she would leave the place. She did not hear when someone approached her, but she next felt the poke of an object to her right shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad earlier,” started Donatello’s voice. “But I truly do think we’re connected somehow now.”

She looked at him, first noticing that he had been poking her with a cardboard file folder, and then she took a good look at his clothes. Purple. AT LEAST not the same shade. He was wearing a fitting v-neck sweater of a dark purple color, with a white shirt and a black tie underneath, his looks completed with dark charcoal pants and black shoes.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me,” started Vee with a stifled laugh. “Why are we like this?”

“I’m not superstitious, but maybe it’s destiny. We were meant to work together,” he winked. “Great minds think alike!”

Vee couldn’t hide her smile, next prompting him to get on the move for their dinner. She first expected them to walk out of the building and head to a subway station, but she was surprised to see the turtle head towards the indoor parking lot of the building.

“Wait, you want us to go by car?” she asked, her heels clacking rapidly on the tiled floor as she caught up to him.

“Why not? It’ll be quieter that way! I don’t feel like dealing with crowds in the subway anyway.”

She had to give him that, at least. A car would smell better than a subway train... As they made their way through the lot, she noticed Donnie getting out keys, the woman commenting:

“Huh, I thought you’d have a chauffeur or something like that.”

“Why, because I’m rich?” asked the mutant, amused. “I like driving, so I don’t see why I would leave all that fun to someone else.”

He pressed a button on a small remote attached to a key, which prompted a black SUV nearby to flash its light.

Vee was most certainly impressed by his taste, first observing the vehicle until she noticed the other opening the passenger door for her.

“The lady may take her seat.”

As she took place, her eyes scanned the interior.

The major difference she could notice from any other cars was how the driver seat was rearranged a bit further back, allowing space for the mutant’s shell most probably. As Donnie took place next, Vee couldn’t help her question:

“Is this car completely custom made?”

The other smirked: “If it was, it’d be way cooler. ... Nah for this I only had a Genesis GV80 model slightly modified to accomodate my form. I like the look of it and I don’t need something too extravagant to go around on the streets.”

“ ‘Don’t need something too extravagant’,” quoted the woman. “You do realize that you have an expensive car?”

“Remind me to show you my brother Mikey’s cars,” added Donnie, then starting the car’s ignition. “Then we can talk back about what’s expensive.”

As soon as the vehicle was brought to life, music was heard, being none other than Dio’s “Better In The Dark” track. The turtle rapidly fumbled to turn it down, his eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for that,” he said once silence was back.

“... Are you kidding? You shouldn’t apologize for listening to Dio!” reassured Vee. “That guy frickin’ rocks!”

The terrapin smirked: “Ah, a woman of good taste! You keep on getting better and better.”

Vee couldn’t help her smile in return, the pair then finally getting on the move.

***

Donnie had to park his SUV on a quiet street, the duo next walking towards their destination; New York’s Little Italy. The evening was already laying its shadows in the sky, but the streets were bright and colorful, the warmth in the air of the incoming summer days an absolute delight. A light conversation was held as they were walking, until Vee was abruptly stopped by almost falling due to one of her heels stumbling into a small crack in the sidewalk. She was first surprised by how fast Donnie had been to catching her, a small laugh escaping her. To feel his touch around her, his strength, all she could hear was her heart drumming in her ears. They continued their path, Vee’s arm hooked to Donatello’s. It simply felt like a dream at that point...

They finally arrived to the place; a small rustic looking restaurant that had been hiding from the bigger crowd’s broad sight. There were few patrons inside, the ambiance calm and somehow giving a “feels like home” kind of vibe. Donnie seemed to know the place well, only quickly waving to the staff and already going for a table. It was a nice little corner with a table large enough so they could lay down their paperwork. Being a complete gentleman, the mutant was quick to draw a chair for Vee to sit on, waiting until she was seated properly before settling down across the table. A waiter was already at their disposition, Donnie already asking for a bottle of white wine, interjecting some Italian words in the bunch and ending with a “grazie mille”, to Vee’s surprise.

“You speak Italian?” she asked as the waiter was walking away.

“Non molti, ma un po' sì (Not a lot, but a little bit yes),” he answered. “Still learning, but I’m getting there.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I’ve tried to start learning Japanese alongside my brother Leonardo, but I’m not as proficient as him so far. I’ve also started French.”

Vee couldn’t help herself: “Donc, si je parle dans ma langue maternelle, tu devrais comprendre? (So, if I speak in my native tongue, you should understand?)”

Donnie froze for a moment, soon ruminating the words and showing a smile.

“Un peu (a bit),” he said. “But I feel like I need to practice a little more.” He did not skip a beat when adding: “I don’t know why, but I think a French Canadian’s accent sounds way more interesting than metropolitan French. There’s a certain flair to it, I can’t really explain...”

Vee was most certainly amused: “Try going into any rural parts of Québec, then you’ll feel like you’re speaking to aliens or something. Our French is unique, sometimes butchered, but it is nice indeed.” She did a small shrug. “I could help you practice, if you want.”

Their wine arrived, their glasses filled and the bottle left at their table. Donnie took his glass, pensively rolling the drink in his hand.

“You keep on giving, miss Vee, and I’ll soon feel cheap. First you’re helping me for the Lowline, now you’re proposing to help me with my French. ... My oh my, mademoiselle, I’ll have a debt to repay once again.”

“Let’s start by actually getting something for dinner,” added the woman, lifting the menu to her face in order to hide her blush. “It’ll give me time to think about if I need your help with something. What’s good in here?”

It was so hard to act casual...

“Their pastas are the best, but I’ll have to say that their tiramisu is to die for - I’m definitely grabbing one of those at the end.”

As the evening went along, Vee was finally starting to feel more at ease. The food was delicious, the wine delectable, and the company absolutely charming. They took some time to review the folder Donnie had brought along, talking about the project’s restrictions and demands. It was simple enough thus far, some ideas already boiling in the woman’s mind. Maybe the wine was kicking in, but she didn’t even flinch when her hand brushed the turtle’s over some papers. Her body language was screaming interest, lightly hunched over the table, actively listening to him and her smile tender. She couldn’t quite explain this attraction she felt. All she knew was that Donnie had this aura surrounding him; a welcoming and calm presence that made her feel safe and relaxed. His humor was subtle and his additions to a conversation well-placed. He was a man of many words and of a vast knowledge, although gladly giving the spotlight to any soul speaking, always listening with great interest. Vee could only admit that she wanted to learn more about him.

***

The dinner over, the pair headed back to the SUV, Donnie at least insisting that he could drop Vee to her place. How could she say no to a sweet smile such as his, anyway? The address handed, the ride went on smoothly in a comfortable silence, the woman glancing at the many lights outside - not even noticing that the terrapin would sometimes glance her way and feel this lovesick knot in his chest...

As he parked nearby her apartment building, he did not hesitate to get out as well, at least considering it good etiquette to escort her to the entrance.

“I hope I didn’t make it harder for you by cramming all that information in your face?” he said as they were talking, arms hooked again.

Vee shook her head, amused: “Absolutely not. It has given me ideas, in fact.”

“Good, good.”

As they stopped by the main door, they paused, their hooked arms transitioning into a longing, yet subtle touch of their hands. Vee finally moved her hand away, her blush faint as she removed a small strand of hair from her face.

“... This was nice, thank you,” she said. “Not the habitual work meetup I’m used to, but this was good for a change.”

Donnie quickly cleared his throat, retrieving his thoughts.

“Of course! It was quite pleasant, indeed. ... It’s not often that I get such enjoyable company.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

There it was, that silence as they both crossed gaze. That moment of unspeakable words and uncertain actions... The mutant sweetly smiled, breaking that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. ... Goodnight, Vee.”

“Goodnight, Donnie.” She felt like she could breathe again...

Yet, as she saw the other walk away, she added:

“Donnie!”

He turned back.

“I think I know how you can repay me for the French lessons,” she continued. “... How about another evening together? Not work related this time.”

Joy lightened up the turtle’s features, definitely agreeing: “Absolutely!”

And just like that, the night felt even better.

((Part 5))

#it's-a-moi #business au #man oh man oh man oh maannnn I already have some scenes planned #I'M SO PUMPED BY THIS #it's short and straight to the point - mama likes that #and of course the usual apology is there are some errors here and there #my brain is poo tonight #**if there are #SEE I MAKE ERRORS EVEN IN MY TAGS

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gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

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The Meeting

Warnings: implied intercourse, but not described A/N: First story that I am posting! I have four more parts, so if you like it, leave me a comment and I will post the others :) Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :)

Masterlist

The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future

The Meeting

“Quiet on set...! And...Action!”

Teagan watched in silent adoration as Charlie delivered his lines. She didn’t always have the opportunity to sneak away from work to watch him work, but today was an exception. The second season was well underway in the filming process and their popularity was increasing. Kenny noticed Teagan out of the corner of his eye and motioned her over so that she could watch the scene from the monitor. She was amazed at how Charlie looked playing Luke. She had met him three years ago when he was filming Season 1, but yet the boy on camera looked exactly like he did that same day three years ago.

***

Teagan had been visiting Vancouver that weekend to visit family and help her sister get settled. Her little sister had been accepted into the University of British Columbia in the Business program studying Accounting and Finance. She was the pride and joy of filipino immigrant parents as she was attending an esteemed university and getting a degree. All the while their oldest, Teagan, had opted for a non traditional method of getting into the marketing industry by working for a popular canadian clothing brand. Her sister was going to be a university graduate while Teagan worked her way up the ladder in a retail store. Teagan always knew that going to school wasn’t where her path was taking her, but she always knew that hard work, determination and experience were valuable assets in the job market. Something her parents would never understand.

“Charlie watch out!”

They were walking around Gastown in their cute summer dresses killing time before their dinner reservation, when Teagan was knocked over by another person. As she got her bearings, she felt cold liquid on her chest and the weight of another body. The other person quickly scrambled to their feet and profusely apologized, helping her stand as her cousins stood there in shock. She heard a couple more footsteps rush over to where she were standing, dusting off her butt and looking her tackler in the face. In an instant, Teagan had forgotten what had happened as she got lost in the deep green pools of the man in front of her. It wasn’t the eye colour that stole her focus, but rather the intensity of emotions that he conveyed through them. Teagan could see and feel the embarrassment, regret and sincerity of the man.

“Teags?”

Her cousin’s voice broke her trance and she blushed when she realized she had been staring. She noticed that two other people stood behind him, in which she assumed was her friend. One was fairly tall and blonde and the female with long auburn hair and a beanie. Teagan forced herself to focus on what the man was saying rather than the beautiful eyes in front of her.

“I am so so so sorry. I completely didn’t see you and didn’t mean to ruin your dress or tackle you to the floor” Teagan looked down at her once cute summer dress covered in iced coffee from Starbucks. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Teagan stood there speechless.

“Uh-uhm- D-Don’t worry about it! It’s totally fine” Teagan felt slightly flustered and out of breath, her blush deepening as she heard her cousin scoff on the side. “I can quickly just go and buy something else to wear”

“Please let us pay for it! We feel horrible!” the man’s female friend offered coming closer to Teagan motioning the other two males as well.

“Seriously, it’s fine! I’m totally fine! Don’t worry about it!” Teagan couldn’t quite understand why she felt embarrassed when they were the ones who were at fault. “What happened anyway?”

“Our friend thought it would be funny to run away with my iced coffee and wasn’t looking where he was running. It’s my fault too because I was chasing after him” the blonde one shyly confessed, rubbing his neck apologetically. “I hope we didn’t ruin your night”

“We were just killing time waiting for our reservation. It isn’t for another half an hour, so we have ample time to grab Teagan a new dress” Teagan silently thanked her cousin as her brain was malfunctioning at the handsome man in front of her.

“We seriously feel so bad, can we please make it up to you somehow?” the female tried to offer some sort of compensation again.

“It’s totally fine, no hard feelings. It wasn’t like it was on purpose right?” Teagan’s brain started to slowly function as she declined the offer of the female.

“Seriously, we need to make this up to you two. I won’t take no for an answer and if you do say no, I’ll just follow you around until you say yes” The handsome man took a step closer to Teagan, causing her breath to catch and swallow deeply.

“Uhm, okay! I mean, if you won’t take No, I’d much rather just make new friends instead of gaining a stalker!” Teagan could feel her words tumble clumsily out of her mouth. Thus began the start of a new friendship. Teagan, her cousin and their new friends ventured to the nearest H&M to find something else for her to wear. Turns out that the other female, Savannah, had excellent taste in clothing. They all came to learn that they were all in the same age range, with Tegan being born in 1997 and Owen, the blonde being born in 2000. Teagan also came to learn that her handsome tackler’s name was Charlie and that all three of them were actors for a new Netflix project that was scheduled to air in the New Year. The three ladies got along incredibly and their shopping trip turned into all five of them going to dinner. They had lucked out when a table of 5 before them no-showed the restaurant. They spent the evening getting to know one another and a deep friendship was easily formed. Throughout the night, Charlie and Teagan connected on several levels and at times forgot there were three other people at the table. Occasionally the two would banter or tease each other, even though they had met that day. As their dinner came to an end and bills were paid by none other than Charlie, the girls exchanged contact information, planning to hangout on their next day off. But before Teagan could walk away for the night, Charlie slipped a piece of paper in Teagan’s hand apologizing one more time for running into her.

‘Coffee? This time I won’t spill it on you’ was messily written on the one side, with his phone number on the other. Teagan’s cousin didn’t notice the smile that lit up her face, but she quickly snapped a picture of it and tucked it in her purse for safe keeping.

That coffee date with Charlie ended up becoming a regular occurrence, though the only one who would be drinking coffee would be Teagan as Charlie always settled for tea or whatever dessert or smoothie he wanted to explore that day. She appreciated his adventurous side as she was creature of habit at times. She learned a lot about the industry and the many quirks of Charlie Gillespie. Soon, coffee dates turned into dinner dates and dinner dates turned into weekend cuddles and relaxation, but filming would eventually wrap and the holidays approached, leaving Teagan and Charlie to make a definitive decision in their relationship. Teagan didn’t expect to extend her Vancouver visit from a week to about a month and a half. Reality was coming fast ans soon Charlie would be back to LA and Teagan working in Edmonton.

“Charlie, what are we?” she asked him as both sat on the couch of his apartment. Mama Mia played softly in the background on the TV as she turned to face him.

“Well what do you want to be?” he cheekily asked her, flashing one of his killer smiles.

“Je suis sérieuse. Tu retournes à LA toute suite et moi à Edmonton. C’est quoi ça?" Charlie knew that when Teagan spoke to her in french she was serious. It was one of the things he learned early on about Teagan. He was pleased to know that she was fluent in french, having taken an IB course in high school, but they often bantered about their accents. She understood how french was a huge part of who he was and she didn’t speak to him in french unless it was important. She knew it got his attention right away since he was so used to being around people who only spoke english.

He paused the TV, complete silence filling the room, both of them facing one another. Charlie was off to Vietnam for the holidays and Teagan planned to spend hers with her family in Edmonton, seeing as she had made an impromptu extension to her trip in Vancouver. He knew that the next time they would be seeing one another they would be crossing borders to visit one another and to be honest the distance felt a bit overwhelming. But Charlie couldn’t shake the fact that there was something about Teagan that he didn’t want to let go.

“What’s going to happen when we both go back to living the way we were before one another?” Charlie chuckled softly to himself, knowing his decision. Teagan cocked an eyebrow at his response.

“Well nothing’s going to go back to the way it was before Teags” she loved hearing Charlie use her nickname. He said it in a way that sounded so comforting to her ears. “You’re mine right?”

“Define: mine” Teagan smiled coyly at Charlie, already understanding what he meant. “I need help understanding you. I don’t speak Charlie Gillespie Language” Charlie rolled his eyes and got down in front of Teagan, settling in between her legs.

“Teagan Jillian Valencia, will you be my girlfriend?” He jutted his lips forward ever so slightly to create the perfect pouty lips and then he comboed them with his best puppy eyes. Teagan shook her head at the dramatics of the man in front of her and kissed him on the lips, pulling him up and forward. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded and kissed him again, this time a little more aggressively. Charlie took the hint and started getting all handsy, but Teagan broke their kiss. “As much as I would love to do this right now, Owen comes home in 30 minutes and I would much rather him not walking in on us, again”

“Well let’s make this quick and move to the bedroom!”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #fanfiction #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #imagine

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wearebarca · 7 months ago

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5. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 4,6k

18+ (eventually)

A/N: Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Tell me what you think, be nice, enjoy.

The return to Barcelona wasn’t as smooth as their arrival trip. Rosalie had ended up with a seat next to Lucy, which was good because Lucy knew how to handle the younger brunette on a plane, but she couldn’t shake the slight disappointment she felt when she realized that she wouldn’t be sitting with the captain. Nonetheless she was still happy with her flight partner since she hadn’t seen much of the English woman during this trip.

Lucy had shown up at six at the photographer’s door, in full training gear and running shoes in her hand, and had forced the brunette to go out on a run with her to relax a little before the flight. They had ended up in a park with a track that circled a nice football pitch, and Lucy decided that it would be a great idea to challenge the runner on a race. Rosalie might be an experienced runner, but explosive speed was the older woman’s strength and an hour later, they were both lying on the field, panting like dogs, with Lucy undefeated. Running back was a completely different story for the defender who had used most of her energy on beating the younger woman in sprints. She was glad when she could see the hotel in front of us but groaned when the photographer lightly shoved her and yelled “ Race you there!”

At breakfast, Rosalie sat with her usual group, sandwiched between Keira and Ingrid, who made sure the brunette was occupied with conversation the whole time. Their goal was clear to the photographer who knew that they wanted her to focus on anything other than the plane trip ahead. Unbeknown to the pair, the task of keeping her distracted was already being fulfilled by the blonde sitting a few seats away from her.

Rosalie’s perception of the blonde had changed since their dinner the night before. Being able to spend some time with the captain without the pressure of work or football allowed Rosalie to see another side of the blonde that she hadn’t encountered before. Now, Alexia intrigued even more the photographer who wondered just how many sides the footballer keeps hidden.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by Keira who had been trying to get the French-Canadian's attention for the past minute. “ Hey, Frenchy are you still here with us?”

“ Oui, yes I’m sorry I was caught up in my own thoughts.” The brunette said, turning towards her friends.

“ It’s ok really, we just wanted to know if you were coming to team building night with us?” Ingrid said.

“ Isn’t that for players only?” the brunette said confused. Back with Arsenal, she never got invited to this sort of night, even if she was, or she thought, one of the player’s girlfriends.

“ Not necessarily no. It is just a normal night with friends and we’d like for you to come.” Keira said, smiling at the photographer.

“ I’d love to.” Rosalie said, turning towards Ingrid. “ When would that be?”

“ We were thinking about two weeks from now, after the game against Levante. I’m just trying to see how many we’re gonna be so I can make a reservation at the restaurant.” The Norwegian said, picking up her phone to look at options. The rest of the breakfast was spent organizing the supper, allowing the photographer to forget about their approaching departure. Unfortunately, her feeling of dread and anxiety came rushing back as soon as she picked up her luggage from the bus and walked towards the terminal. The flight went relatively well for the brunette, who stayed wide awake this time, leaning against Lucy while a bad comedy was playing on the small screen in front of them.

Alexia, who was a few seats behind the duo, could not help but wonder how the smaller woman was fairing and finally succumbed to her urge to make sure the photographer was alright by getting up and quickly trying to find something to say to justify her presence next to them. As she arrived at their seat, a small smile crept on her face at the sight of the brunette bundled up in her oversized hoodie, with her hood engulfing her head almost entirely. She crouched down next to her and took her hand in her own to give it a light squeeze. Without letting the photographer’s hand go, she turned her attention to the defender. “ Could you remind me again of yours and Keira’s departure dates for international break?” She asked the English woman who seemed surprised by the question.

“ Yeah sure mate,” she said, pulling out her phone to check her emails. “ Why do you need to know so soon? Isn’t it in almost two months?” she asked

“ Uhh, I’m just planning ahead.” She said, hoping that the older woman would not see through the real reason for her presence here. Meanwhile, the photographer had significantly relaxed since the captain had arrived next to her, and was putting all her focus on the way the blonde’s thumb was tracing soothing patterns on the back of her hand.

Too soon for the brunette’s liking, Lucy found the email with the dates she was looking for and gave them to Alexia, who had no more reason to stay with them. She gave one last squeeze to the photographer’s hand and walked back to her seat. Lucy, who was far from dumb, had a good idea of exactly why her captain had come to their row, and it surely wasn’t to know their departure’s dates. She sent a look to the younger woman, who simply answered with one that clearly said, : “Not now Luce.”

It was the middle of the afternoon when the brunette finally stepped in the comfort of her small apartment. She refused to let it show too much during their trip, but she was truly exhausted from the strain two plane rides in such a short amount of time had had on her, and as soon as her body hit the bed, she was gone and did not wake up until the morning after. The rest of her weekend was spent mostly working on the editing of the shots she had taken during their day off and training. She decided to go check out the Olympic pool near her place and swim a few laps to allow her body to recover from the week's intense running sessions.

For the players, the week after a match was always slower than their usual training, but for the rest of the staff, it was when their schedules would be the most hectic. Rosalie started her week by following a few players on a media appearance for a foundation that helps little girls persevere in sports, then it was media day which took by storm the whole training complex. Various interviews and fun videos were being filmed all over the facility and Rosalie’s job was to roam from station to station and capture the girls during their appearances. On top of that, the brunette had her usual training content to shoot and edit.

This week’s workload meant that coffee with her favourite couple wasn’t possible, which saddened them even though they understood why. Rosalie also postponed her night with the English couple who were very eager to bombard the Canadian with all the questions they had so nicely kept to themselves during the trip. It was a relief for the brunette, who knew that sooner or later, she would have to go through her best friend’s interrogation.

Weekend couldn't come soon enough for Rosalie. Friday would be a bittersweet day for the photographer who had to finish and send the media day content tonight at the latest for their release the next day, which most likely meant a late night at the office again. Her hunch turned out to be right as she checked the clock around four and realized that she wasn’t nearly done. The girls had already left and the training facility was dead silent when the photographer left her office. Rosalie almost jumped at the sound of her ringtone echoing in the empty car park. The name that lit up her screen made the brunette’s eyes roll as she picked up the call.

“ Non.”

“ Oui.”

“ Non, je viens de finir de travailler, Je suis complètement brûlée, pas ce soir.” Rosalie said in a whiny tone as she all but threw her bags in the backseat of her small sedan.

“Too late, we're already at your place darling.” Lucy said laughing. Rosalie could hear Keira whine in the background for her to come quickly because she was tired of waiting to eat. “ We brought your favourite, now get your arse here, we’ve got questions that need answering.” The defender didn’t even wait for the younger girl’s answer and hung up.

“Mais quel enfoiré.” Rosalie took all the detours humanly possible, just to annoy the older woman. At the sight of Lucy waiting by the stairs of her apartment, Rosalie felt like a child getting scolded by her mum. She took a deep breath and climbed the few stairs that were left between her and her apartment.

“ Took you long enough.”

“ Traffic, ya know”

“ Fuck off you cunt you did this just to fuck with us.” Lucy said as she followed the Canadian back in her flat.

“ Woah woah votre langage madame Bronze.”

“ You’re lucky we like you Frenchy.” She pulled out the bags of fish and chips she had brought while Rosalie pulled out beers for everyone. She eagerly took the plate that was handed to her and made a face at the first bite.

“ I know, it’s not like back home.” Keira said, stealing a few chips from Rosalie’s plate.

“ It doesn’t taste bad, it just does not deserve the title of fish and chips.” Rosalie said, bringing her plate and beer to the couch. The two women followed her, Keira beside her on the couch and Lucy on the ground, on the other side of the coffee table.

“ Ok I’m done waiting so now, what the hell is going on with you and Alexia.”Rosalie almost choked on her fish at the younger English woman’s question.

“ There’s nothing going on”

“ What do you mean? There’s nothing going on. She keeps staring at you!” Keira said in an animated tone.

“Rosalie, you fell asleep on her shoulder, in the goddamn plane.” Lucy added. The brunette was cornered, she could not lie to these girls, they were her family, they knew her too well.

“ She’s just.. she’s easy company you know. We get along nice.” She said, hoping that would be enough for them, but she knew it definitely would not be.

“ We all saw how you were looking at her on the last morning of the trip. You haven’t looked at anyone like that before, not even…”

“Don’t,” Rosalie quickly interrupted. She didn’t want to compare Alexia, even in the slightest bit, to the Irish defender. “ She’s just very intriguing, you know. I haven’t quite met anyone like her before.”

“ She’s a pure soul, that one,” Lucy said, staring at her best friend who was currently looking everywhere but at the two friends. “ She’s shy and closed off but once she opens up, she is truly one of the most authentic girls I’ve met.” She said with a fond smile playing on her lips.

“ Why are you guys telling me all this?” Rosalie asked. Sure, she understood that these women were her family and they simply wanted to know what was going on but this felt like more than the usual interrogation she would be subjected to. It almost felt like they were encouraging the photographer to pursue whatever was going on between the brunette and the blonde.

“ No reason in particular, we just want you to be happy.” Keira said, trapping the brunette in a hug.

“Ok you can let me go now, you’re crushing me” they stayed silent for a moment, contempt in eating their food and unwinding after their week, until Keira decided to break the silence.

“ She talks about you, you know? With Mapi and some of the Spanish players. They think I’m not good enough in Spanish to understand when they speak fast, but I’m better now, and I can understand some stuff.” Keira said, happily stealing more chips from the photographer’s plate, who was too stunt by the woman’s statement to react. Lucy on the other hand, could not hold back the laugh that came out when she saw the look on the younger woman’s face. A deep blush formed on her cheek as she got off the couch and walked to the kitchen to put away her plate.

“I’m sure it was probably something about the shoot or the most recent post.” Rosalie said, trying to occupy herself until her face would turn back to its original colour.

“ No, no I heard your name, than “guapa” was somewhere in there and then they all agreed.”

“ Kei seriously, that could be about anything.”

“ I’m telling you, they were talking about you.” Keira said with a wide teasing grin on her face. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes while Lucy was laughing at the interaction. The couple ended up staying over until past midnight before finally deciding to make their way home.

“ By the way, you’re coming to the beach tomorrow, I’ll send you the time and address!” Lucy said as she stepped out of the brunette’s apartment and closed the door behind her, not leaving time for her to give an actual answer.

The next day she woke up with a text from Lucy only containing a time and an address for a beach not too far from the city. Rosalie had no idea what to bring for this occasion so she assumed that since they were meeting up around lunch time, she should probably pack some food, a quick call to Keira confirmed her suspicion and allowed her to also add beer to the list of things to bring. She put on her favourite bikini with a pair of linen shorts and a swimsuit cover, grabbed her camera bag and her backpack and hopped in her car.

The Canadian had never gone through this part of the city and decided to go explore it on her next run. Her GPS led her to a small parking area in front of a path in the woods. She parked between Lucy’s Cupra and another car that looked similar to Lucy’s but wasn’t familiar to the brunette. On the other side of the car park, she spotted Mapi and Ingrid’s car as well as other nice vehicles that probably belonged to Barça players. When she arrived on the beach, Rosalie realized that this was more than just a hangout between a few friends. Lucy and Keira were here, along with Mapi and Ingrid, Patri, Pina, Vicky, Jana, Aitana, mariona and finally, Alexia.

Barking was heard along with the sound of rapid little steps coming her way. She was greeted with a small white dog she knew very well, along with a small pomeranian. Narla jumped around at Rosalie’s feet, too excited for the Canadian to pet her, but the small pomeranian kept scratching at her leg. The photographer bent down and picked up the small fluffy dog, who immediately licked her face.

A chorus of “Hola”’s and happy cheers was heard as the French-Canadian made her way towards the group, with the small dog still in her arms. “ Finally! We were starting to think you got lost on your way.” Mapi said, hugging her friend tightly and taking the bags in the brunette’s hands so she could greet the rest of the girls.

“ Blame Lucy, she told me to be here at twelve.”

“ I see you met Nala.” Ingrid said, approaching the photographer, hugging her gently to not crush the ball of fur who was getting comfortable in the brunette’s arms.

“ Oui, she’s a little angel,” She said, kissing the top of the dog’s head, “ Who’s the lucky owner? Gotta know who I need to fight in order to bring her home.” She said laughing.

“She’s Alexia’s.” Mapi said, with a cheeky smile, “ She usually takes a while to warm up to people.” Rosalie could feel the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.

“ Good to know…”

“ Ok, can we eat now? I’m starving.” Mapi said as she turned around, to make her way towards the coolers. Ingrid smiled at her girlfriend’s antics and beckoned the French-Canadian to follow her towards the rest of the group. She helped Ingrid and Aitana set up the little potluck while the rest of the girls were setting up some beach chairs and towels around. The sun was high in the sky and not a single cloud could be seen, the heat was quickly getting to the Canadian who decided that the swimsuit cover was not helping cooling her off. She got up and took off the shirt, her actions not missed by a certain blonde, who was in the middle of a game of touch. The action made Alexia completely miss, which made the little group snicker at their captain.

“Capitán, debería limpiarse la baba de las comisuras de la boca.!” Patri said, laughing at her captain 's flustered face.

“ Oy, callate idiota!” To be fair, Alexia was not the only one staring. The photographer had put on a dark green bikini that complemented perfectly her tanned skin and showed off her athletic figure.

“ Ella es muy caliente.” The comment came from Pina, who received a sharp slap to the back of her head.

“Behave”

“ Si Capitana.”

The food was finally set up and the group was called back by the rest of the girls to come eat. Rosalie mainly stayed with Ingrid and Aitana since she still wasn’t used to being with this many new people at once. She quickly found out that there was absolutely no reason to be shy around the girls. The atmosphere was very playful and the air was filled with laughter and bickering in broken English since they all knew that Rosalie and Keira weren’t completely comfortable in Spanish.

“ Rosie! If you want to make your Spanish better, I know someone who’s a very good teacher.” Patri said with a shit eating grin.

“ Si, si very patient, very good teacher. She would love to teach you, right Capitana?” Pina added, trying to hold back her laugh. The look the captain sent the girls would have scared anyone in their right mind, but the younger players were too busy laughing to notice their captain’s wrath coming their way. A sharp cry and a whine was heard when the football connected with the side of Pina’s head.

“Cállate, te lo merecías.” Alexia said as she pushed the younger girl towards the area they had been playing previously.

“ I don’t know if they were serious or not, but I kinda really do need help with Spanish. The online courses I’ve been taking are little to no help with understanding native speakers.” The brunette said as she set up her towel between Ingrid and another towel.

“I’m sure she would love to help.” Ingrid said with a knowing smile. The light sound of little paws hitting the sand caught the attention of the photographer who turned her head to see Nala strut her way. The little dog came over to the photographer to get a few pets then made a beeline to the towel next to her to pick up a little chew toy. Nalla then turned to make her way back to Rosalie to lay right in the middle of her towel. Rosalie laughed at the little dog’s antics while Ingrid smiled and turned to her friend.

“Now that your spot has been taken, you should go show these children how it’s done.” She said, motioning to the little group playing a game of touch. Mapi’s head shot up at her girlfriend’s words.

“ Yes, yes, let’s go, I want to see what you are capable of.” Rosalie let Mapi drag her up and to the group. She stood between Patri and Mapi and after a few passes, she was just as excited and hyped as the rest of the girls. They played for a while, working up a sweat with the sand sticking to their skin. Even though the brunette was focused on the game, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the blonde captain. She looked gorgeous in her light blue bikini, tanned skin glowing in the sunlight. She looked so carefree and genuinely happy. Their eyes met and both the women smiled wildly, until a particularly daring kick sent the ball straight to the ocean.

“ Rosie! You are a runner, si?” Patri said, lightly shoving the brunette to get her attention. “ The first to get to the ball gets to dunk the other one in the ocean!” She yelled, already taking off full speed towards the waves.

“ Hey! Non, that’s not fair!” She said laughing as she took off behind the midfielder who had too great of a head start for the Canadian to be able to catch up to her.

As soon as she reached the ball, she felt hands grab her by the waist and hoist her up only to launch her straight in the water. The photographer let out a loud shriek as she hit the cold refreshing waters. She could hear behind her the cheers of the rest of the girls who had made their way to Patri.

Rosalie walked out of the water, slicking her hair back with a sinister smile as she approached Patri, who was still caught in an uncontrollable laughter. She jumped on the player’s back and dragged her down in the water with her. Alexia saw this as an opportunity to get back at Pina for the teasing and grabbed the younger player, hoisting her on her shoulders and walking off in the water to dump her near the two other women who were busy splashing each other.

They all stay in the water for a while, teaming up against one another in a slashing battle. Patri and Rosalie against Claudia and Alexia. The footballers weren’t playing around and Rosalie quickly realized that she was in over her head. For the second time today, a pair of hands landed on her hips but this time, the touch sent shivers down the brunette’s back. She went still which allowed Alexia to swiftly pick her up as she carried the photographer away from the two other Spanish women, too busy bickering and slashing each other to notice the absence of their friends.

The midfielder set Rosalie down, but her hands on her hips stayed until she decided the woman was stable enough on her feet. “ I am sorry, I thought that you looked a little overwhelmed out there," she said, smiling at the smaller woman.

“They do play a little too rough for me.” she said, following Alexia as she started walking deeper in the sea. She was silent, only looking at the water stretching endlessly in front of her. Rosalie could see that something was bothering the blonde. Her beautiful smile had faded and her eyes held a worried look. “I can sense something is not right.” She said softly to the blonde who turned to look at the photographer.

“ It’s just that, the euros are getting nearer, national camp is in a few weeks and the girls are a little on edge with everything that has been going on lately.” The photographer was aware of the tensions in the national football scene in Spain. She knew that the players were fighting for better conditions and better treatment from the coaches, and she knew that this fight had cost some of the girls their chance to represent their country in some of the most important sports events. It was hard for the girls who had to stay behind . It was also hard for the ones who had decided to stay with the team but were enduring the poor treatment from the staff and management. Seeing these girls today, so happy and carefree, she could not fathom just how much pressure was resting on their shoulders.

“ Days like these are important, you know,” The photographer said, getting closer to the captain. “ They help unwind, allow you to forget about everything you know?”

“ I’m not very good at relaxing.” The blonde said, chuckling.

“ What do you like to do on your days off?”

“ I don’t know, I don’t get a lot of those.”

“ Ok, so what would a perfect day off be for La Reina?” The photographer said with a cheeky smile. Alexia gave the photographer a big eye roll before answering.

“ Probably going to get coffee, walk around the market. Maybe buy supplies to cook a nice supper and relax with a movie. Something simple I guess.” Alexia said with a distant look in her eyes. In this moment, Rosalie wished she could take all the pressure on the blonde’s shoulders and carry it for her for a little while, just so she could catch her breath. Unable to do such a thing, the brunette thought of the next best thing.

“ Tomorrow there’s no training right?”

“ Si, no training.”

“ And you don’t have anything planned?”

“ I was gonna train alone and work on some side projects, why?”

“ No you are not, because tomorrow, you are bringing me to your favourite coffee shop and to that market you talked about. Then you are coming back to my place and I’d like you to show me how to make Paella. I've always wanted to try making it but my cooking skills are horrendous.” Rosaie said in a tone that left no space for arguing. Alexia smiled at the smaller woman, she was surprised by the French-Canadian’s proposition but could not be happier with the turn this conversation took. She took the brunette’s hand and brought it to her lips. The action made Rosalie freeze on the spot as she felt the blonde’s lips graze the back of her hand, which sent a shock wave that traveled her whole body and made her breath hitch.

“ It is a date then.” Alexia said, letting the brunette’s hand go and walking back to the beach with a wide smile plastered on her face. Rosalie on the other hand, was still frozen at the same spot, trying to gather exactly what had happened between them. A deep blush had crept on her face and the woman felt hot all over. She lowered herself in the water, dunking her head to try and cool herself off, or wake up for this dream, but she emerged at the same spot, with the silhouette of the footballer walking in front of her, almost reaching the rest of the group, who was now sunbathing.

Walking back to her towel, she could see that Nala had moved to the top of Alexia's towel, near the blonde’s head. She was laying on her stomach, which allowed the photographer a clear view of the multitude of tattoos on the captain’s back. The photographer got comfortable on her back and shoved one airpod in her ear, leaving the other one free to hear the crash of the waves on the sand. She felt something fluffy brush against her hand and opened her eyes to see Nala had changed spots again, deciding to lay between the two women, making sure she was touching Alexia and Rosalie’s hand at once. With the soft music playing in her ear, the sound of the ocean and Alexia’s calming presence, Rosalies quickly surrendered to the week’s exhaustion and let herself drift to sleep.

#alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #keira walsh #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #ingrid engen #mapi leon #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #futfem #lucy bronze

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. I) - p.l. dubois

As promised, here’s the first part of Breakable Heaven! I’m really excited for this one, there’s so many things I can’t wait for you all to read. This chapter is more setup and background, but I promise it’s all worth it! I’d love it if you reblogged (helps me know people like my work!) or pop into my inbox and let me know what you think! I read all the tags :)

part I part ii part iii part iv

June 4 (thurs)

Laurel clipped her pager back onto her scrubs, leaning over the counter of the nurses’ station. “You ready to go grab lunch?” She had just finished changing the bandages and administering pain medication for a little boy who was recovering from a heart surgery, and was looking forward to getting off her feet for a few minutes. The PICU floor was quiet, only about half of the rooms being filled, and there were no pressing matters that required her attention. If something drastic changed in the next half an hour, she always had her pager.

Madeline looked up from her chair, where she was finishing up filling in a patient’s chart. “Sounds good,” she said, letting their charge nurse know that they were headed down. Madeline Peltier had been one of the first people to introduce themselves to Laurel when she started; having only been on the unit for two weeks herself, she was still getting a handle on the reins and was more than willing to show Laurel around.

Madeline was also one of the few on the floor who was just as comfortable in English as she was in French. French had been Laurel’s foreign language through college, but she was made rudely aware upon her move to Montréal that the pronunciation and slang of Canadian French was very different from the Standard French of Madame Anderson’s rural Minnesota classroom. Her grasp of the language was good enough to take the Québec nursing licensure exam — which wasn’t even offered in English — but the spoken dialect was proving much more difficult to pick up. They walked down to the cafeteria, on the second floor, grabbing some sandwiches before swiping their ID badges for the employee discount.

“I still think they should give us free food,” Madeline said moodily, unscrewing her water bottle and taking a sip.

Laurel laughed. “When hell freezes over, maybe. Doctor’s lounge usually has some pretty nice stuff set out, or at least that’s what they say. Pity our cards don’t let us in, I’m not above identity theft.” Madeline snorted into her sandwich.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Madeline asked a few minutes later, starting to peel an orange.

“Uh, not much?” Laurel said. “Getting my papers together to resign my lease in a few weeks, grocery shopping, but nothing big. It’s been a long few shifts this week and I’m mostly just looking forward to taking it easy. Why?”

“If you’re up to it,” Madeline shrugged, “Patrice and I are going out for dinner Saturday night and we’d love for you to join us.” Patrice was Madeline’s long-time boyfriend, they started dating in university and had been together ever since.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Madeline, thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to keep being your third wheel.”

Madeline let out a conspiratorial grin. Oh no, Laurel thought. This can’t be good. “As it would so happen,” she said, “you wouldn’t be third wheeling. One of Patrice’s friends is back in the city for a few months, and I think you two might hit it off,” she sing-songed. Madeline had been trying to set her up from practically the moment they met; whether it was someone from her gym, one of the critical care fellows, or apparently, her boyfriend’s childhood friend. They were always nice guys, but nothing had ever stuck for more than a date or two.

---

Twelve hour shifts meant that, at least on work days, there was no way Laurel was going to have the emotional or physical capacity to make herself a real dinner. She’d order in occasionally, but it more common to just pull together something quick like a frozen pizza or grab whatever leftovers she could find in the fridge. Yesterday’s chicken and rice it was, then. Sticking it in the microwave, Laurel opened the door to her balcony, letting Piper out to use the bathroom. Piper was an eight-month-old chocolate lab, the love of her life who she had adopted just after the new year. Laurel had always grown up with dogs; back in Minnesota she had Jackson and Lucy, and she had been missing them more than a little bit since moving to Canada. Piper was incredible. Intelligent, loyal, and so friendly that even her neighbor’s notoriously picky five-year-old son had taken a shine to her. She wolfed down her food, grabbed Piper’s leash and her water bottle, and headed out the door.

June 5 (fri)

The intricacies of language were hard. And, somehow, learning the intricacies of a language you already knew was even harder. Laurel was trying her damndest to pick up Québecois French as fast as humanly possible, but while she could conjugate l’imparfait in her sleep, the accent and vocabulary were what was really throwing her off. But she intended on making a life in Montréal, and staying as long as she could, so there really wasn’t any option but to hit the books. Immersion worked for some people, and thank God she knew the medical terminology to communicate with her patients and their families, but it wasn’t quite the same when she was struggling through telling the mechanic her car needed an oil change. In a perfect world she’d have someone to help her one-on-one, but she didn’t want to ask Madeline for that big of a favor. And while she made decent money at the hospital — she could afford her own apartment and had a little left over every month to put into savings — it was nowhere near enough to pay for a tutor. So Duolingo, and podcasts, and Youtube lessons it was.

Letting out a groan, Laurel leaned her head into her hands, shutting her laptop. She wasn’t going to make any progress being this frustrated. She bent down to scratch Piper, whose favorite spot for naps was a blanket right beside Laurel’s desk, between the ears, pulling her leash and collar off of their book by her bedroom door. Piper’s ears perked up, and soon enough she was running around the apartment wagging her tail as fast as it could go, a slightly exasperated but nevertheless laughing Laurel following. She finally managed to clip on her leash; at fifty pounds, Piper still had a little bit of growing left to do, but she had already proven she was more than capable of bending the will of a full-grown and otherwise capable 23-year-old woman.

She had discovered Parc Saint-François-d’Assise a few weeks after adopting Piper, and had thanked her lucky stars for finding a dog park so close to her apartment. Having a schedule like hers meant that she couldn’t always get her to a weekly training or obedience class — plus, the French that she did know certainly didn’t include ‘heel’ — so the time spent socializing was well-appreciated. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and Piper was good enough on a leash that she only stopped once to bark at a squirrel in one of the many birch trees that lined the street. The park was an acre or two, small enough that she could see all the way across and keep an eye on Piper as she let her off-leash, but big enough that there was more than enough room for all the animals. It wasn’t particularly crowded that Friday; Laurel was confused for a moment before she remembered that most people were busy at 11 AM on a weekday. There were a few families, with kids out for the summer from school, and a man playing in the far corner with his two small dogs, but not much else.

Laurel leaned down, unclipping the leash from Piper’s collar, and gave the chocolate lab a scratch on the head. “Have fun, girl!” Piper never needed much encouragement, and took off running almost before Laurel had even wrapped up her leash. Rolling her eyes and laughing, she picked up her phone. A text from Allison, one of her only friends in the city aside from Madeline, inviting her out for her birthday next week. Madeline, giving her the address for the restaurant the next night. The Duolingo owl, threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t log her language progress for the day. She was so engrossed in checking her email that she didn’t hear the shout for her to look out, or the two bulldogs barreling towards her at full speed, until they had knocked her off her feet and she landed straight on her ass.

“Desolé. Vas-tu bien?” The man asked, holding out a hand and helping her up. Laurel nodded, brushing the dirt off her jeans.

“Ouais, ouais. Pas de problème, pas de mal. Ils sont chiens, non?”

He chuckled, patting the smaller of the two bulldogs, which had decided to take a break from accosting passers-by to get petted. “C’est vrai.” They talked for another minute or two before saying goodbye, but she could have sworn it was an hour.

Walking Piper home half an hour later, Laurel was struck with two realizations. The mystery man — bulldog dad, as she had started calling him in her internal monologue — had very possibly the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen in her life, and she’d be cursing herself for the next week for not getting his number.

June 6 (sat)

Saturday meant Laurel had a day off, but more importantly, Saturday meant she didn’t have to set her alarm for 5:30 and could actually wake up at a semi-normal hour. Her internal clock didn’t wake her up until half past seven; even then, it was Piper’s soft barks that finally got her up, throwing on a pait of shorts, and leading her out to the courtyard down the hallway to use the bathroom before coming back to her apartment and throwing open the fridge doors. No 7 AM shift meant that she mercifully had enough time to make a proper breakfast. On shift days, there never seemed to be enough time to actually sit down and eat, and Laurel usually ended up just having a quick bowl of cereal or some overnight oats and making a protein shake to drink on the drive over. Eggs, bread, yogurt, a peach she had picked up from the farmer’s market.

After the bread was done toasting and her tea was finished steeping, she gingerly carried the food out to the balcony, placing it on the table as Piper trotted out behind her. Laurel crunched her toast with one hand as she flipped the pages of a book with the other, a Shirley Chisholm biography that Victoria, her best friend from high school, had recommended her. It was almost an hour later when she finally found a good place to stop. As much as she may have liked to just camp out on her balcony all day and blow through the rest of the book, her pantry was crying out for a grocery run and she was running desperately low on ice cream.

---

The dinner reservation was at 7, and by 6:30 Laurel was almost ready to leave. Her blue skirt fanned out on the couch as she sat killing time on her phone, tapping the floor nervously with the same pair of block heels that she’d worn to her university graduation. The restaurant wasn’t far from her apartment building, so a few minutes later, she decided to go, leaving Piper with a pat on the head and plenty of food in her bowl. Laurel laughed to herself on the way over, her eyes flickering over the skyline as she walked alongside the St. Lawrence River.

It’s like what she had told Madeline over and over again, every time she tried to set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She wasn’t actively looking for a relationship but wouldn’t be opposed to it. Whatever happens, happens. Biting her lip, Laurel decided that even if she didn’t hit it off with whatever guy Madeline was trying to set her up, even if things go horribly wrong and he’s the exact opposite of what she’s looking for in a partner, she’ll get a free meal and, hopefully, a new friend.

Laurel hadn’t been told much about her blind date, or anything, really. She didn’t even know his name. From what she had been able to figure out, he was from the area but didn’t work in Canada most of the year — so maybe he was in business? All Madeline told her was that he was tall, attractive, and had a dog. Or was it two? She honestly couldn’t remember. She trusted her and Patrice’s judgement, so if he had gotten their stamp of approval, it was good enough for her. She grabbed her phone out of her bag as she neared the restaurant, letting Madeline know she was almost there and asking where to meet her. She told the hostess she was meeting some friends, and Madeline walked around the corner less than a minute later. “Hi, love!” she said, reaching out and wrapping Laurel in a warm hug. “We’re over this way.” Laurel followed her around the corner and past the bar to a four-seater against the wall. She slid into the seat closest to the wall, leaving a space empty.

“He should be back in a minute, just ran to the bathroom,” Patrice said, nodding towards the vacant seat and referring to her mystery man. A minute passed, Laurel scanning the wine list, before Madeline threw her hand up in greeting.

“Salut, PL!” When Laurel looked up, she almost dropped her menu.

“Oh my God!” The stranger — PL’s — eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the bulldog dad!”

He chuckled, rounding the table to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Left, then right. It had taken Laurel a while to get used to; even going to university in Toronto, cheek kissing was practically obsolete, but that changed very quickly upon her move to Montréal. “I am. Pierre-Luc Dubois, good to meet you properly this time.”

Madeline looked between the two, clearly confused. “You know each other?”

Laurel shook her head. “Not really, no. His dogs ran into me at the park yesterday when I was there with Piper, we talked for a minute or two.”

Pierre nodded in affirmation. “So, Piper. The chocolate lab’s yours then?”

“My pride and joy.”

June 13 (sun)

Over the next week and a half, it became more and more common for Laurel to meet up with the group on the weekend, or one of her off days, or really whenever she had spare time. She had learned that Pierre-Luc was a hockey player, Patrice explaining that they had played atom league together growing up and the friendship had somehow stuck. Come to think of it, he had looked a little familiar. The University of Minnesota Duluth was less than an hour drive from her hometown, and besides being the college that the majority of the 50% of college-bound graduates of her high school went to, it also had one of the best hockey programs in the country. So she knew the sport, followed enough to be informed, and had even become a de facto Maple Leafs fan from her time in Toronto.

Sometimes Madeline and Laurel would bring another friend from the hospital along, sometimes it was just the four of them. Once, a Sunday afternoon coffee meetup turned into just Laurel and Pierre-Luc; Patrice had come down with a bad cold and Madeline was staying behind to look after him. If she was being honest, it was far less awkward than she had anticipated. Pierre had insisted on buying her iced capp, and they had settled in a corner booth, sharing a box of Timbits.

“Patrice mentioned you’re from the U.S., somewhere in the Midwest?” Pierre asked, sipping his coffee.

She nodded. “Cloquet, Minnesota,” Laurel sighed, “where there is exactly one hotel, one high school, and life revolves around the mines.”

Pierre sucked in. “That sounds...interesting,” he said diplomatically.

Laurel laughed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to mince words. The people are nice, if you think like they do, and the scenery is gorgeous, but…” She gathered her thoughts. “It’s not the place you can really dream big, you know?” He nodded. “Neither of my parents went to college, my mom’s a receptionist at the elementary school and my dad works in the mines. I knew by the time I was in high school that I wanted something more. There was just nothing for me there, and I didn’t ever want to feel as trapped and beaten down as some people I know.”

Pierre leaned back in his chair. “Do you go back often?”

“Once a year, maybe twice?” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ve only got a few good friends back there, and trust me, they’re much more excited to come to big-city Canada than I would be to go back to a town of 12,000 people.”

“Fair enough.”

Conversation between them flowed easily, so easily that before she knew it, two hours had gone by and he had to leave for a skate. As she walked back to the metro, Laurel couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the two hours she had spent with Pierre had felt more like a date than any she’d been on since moving to Montréal a year ago. But it couldn’t have been a date, because it wasn’t supposed to be. Right?

June 15 (tues)

It was half past seven on Tuesday, and Laurel was just getting home from work. She loved her job, genuinely, but twelve hour shifts were no joke. Spinning her key ring around her finger, she stopped in the mailroom, unlocking her box and fishing out the stack of envelopes that had accumulated in the two days since she’d last checked. Walking over to the elevators, she held the bundle in one hand as the other punched in her button to the third floor. Laurel flipped through the envelopes as the doors opened. Water bill, bank statement, letter from Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada. Hang on. Laurel stopped at the last envelope, running her finger under the flap as she turned her key in the lock, opening the door with her hip and letting it slam shut behind her.

She had applied a little over a month ago for her permanent residency card, which she had been assured by everyone she asked would be a relatively easy and painless process. “You’re a nurse, and a good one. I could use ten of you,” her charge nurse had stated. “You went to school here, you have a Canadian degree and a Canadian license. There’s no reason they would cause you any trouble,” Madeline had said. And she had done her due diligence, double-checked every piece of information, checked off every document on the list. Done everything she was supposed to do. So when she unfolded the paper, the words shocked her.

Denied. Laurel brought her hand shakily up to her mouth as her eyes raced down the letter. No explanation was given, all she was told was that her application had been rejected and she had until September 17, when her work visa expired, to leave the country. The first thing Laurel did was frantically grab her laptop, seeing if there was some way she could apply for a visa extension, but the deadline had passed; she’d have to go back to the consulate in Minneapolis and try to re-apply from there, but her chances weren’t good if she’d already been rejected. The second thing she did was collapse on the floor, Piper nosing herself under her arm, and cry.

June 16 (wed)

When the group met up for lunch the next day, Madeline noticed something was off about Laurel almost immediately. Normally someone who was hyper-focused on the task at hand, she was stirring her straw around in her glass, nibbling at a piece of bread and answering questions shortly if at all. “What’s up?” she asked carefully, catching Laurel’s eye as she tried to busy herself with straightening her napkin. There wasn’t really a way she could get out of answering that one.

“I, uh, I got a letter yesterday,” she said. Pierre and Patrice stopped their conversation. All eyes were on her. “From immigration services. They told me,” her eyes pricked with tears, “they told me my PR application was denied, and I only have until the middle of September before I have to leave.”

“Like, leave the country?” Pierre asked. She nodded. “But can’t you renew your visa or something?”

“No, I looked into everything.” Laurel said in frustration, shaking her head. “There’s not enough time for it to be processed, I’d have to go back and reapply in the States, and even then the chances aren’t great.”

Madeline leaned over, wrapping Laurel up in a hug. “Oh, Laur. I’m so sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.”

“It’s just hard,” Laurel started, “knowing that there’s nothing there for me back home. That’s the whole reason why I came to Canada in the first place, to get away. To get out. I’d have to retake all my licensure exams and find a new job and I don’t want to have to start all over when that’s not at all what I planned for. I thought I’d stay. I thought this was going to be my home”

“I can call my friend who’s a lawyer, see if he’s got any ideas?” Patrice offered.

Laurel smiled weakly “Thanks, Patrice, but I really don’t think they’d be able to do much. I was on the website for hours, and there’s like two ways I wouldn’t be kicked out of the country. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to give birth by September 17,” she said, letting out a watery laugh.

“You’d have to marry someone or something to stay,” Madeline said.

“Yeah, that’s the only other way it was going to happen,” Laurel agreed. “But seeing as how I’m obscenely single, I don’t see that happening…” She trailed off.

“I’d marry you,” Pierre said suddenly, shrugging.

Laurel’s head whipped to her side. “You’d what?”

“I’d marry you. We’re both single, by all accounts you’re an amazing nurse and deserve to stay. We get married, stay ‘together’ for a few years until you get your citizenship, and then tragically inform the citizenship and immigration people that while we tried, it just didn’t work out, and get a divorce. Easy peasy.”

Laurel almost burst out laughing, the idea was so ridiculous. She almost couldn’t wrap her head around what he was offering to do. He couldn’t be serious. Right?

---

Laurel slung her arm over her head, body tangled up in bedsheets. According to her phone, it was well past one. She couldn’t sleep. She had tried rain sounds, counting sheep, drinking a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing was working; she just wasn’t able to still her mind. Honestly, she couldn’t stop thinking about lunch earlier. More specifically, what Pierre had said.

As much of a bad person as it may have made her sound, the more she thought about Pierre’s offer, the more it made sense. He was incredibly attractive, so it wouldn’t be hard to fake a marriage to him for a few years. She really didn’t keep in contact with anyone from back home in Cloquet aside from her family and a few friends from high school, so it’s not like there would really be anyone to blow her cover. And she really, really wanted to stay in Canada. It wasn’t just the scenery, or the general human decency of everyone, or even the universal healthcare that pushed her to stay. She had fallen in love with the people, the city, and didn’t want to go down without a fight.

Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, pulling up Pierre’s contact. Hey, she texted. Laurel immediately cursed herself as the three dots popped up on his side. Hey? She was going to ask this man to marry her and the best she could come up with was hey? He wrote back immediately. Hey. You’re up late, what’s up? Laurel took a deep breath. How serious were you about offering to marry me? His second response was even faster than the first. As a heart attack.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #nhl writing #nhl

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

Crockett Marcel x reader D’accord (Oneshot)

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Mature themes, America has HORRENDOUS gun laws, seriously as a Canadian I get second hand anxiety about your gun laws/judicial system (even though Canada’s is far from perfect)/healthcare system, April is not written well here but I’m gonna do a nice fic for her soon, pardon my French (literally, quite a bit of this fic is in French with translations)

You’d been surprised to find another Francophone in Chicago. After you’d moved there from Quebec, you weren’t expecting much. Only a couple of “Oui, oui,” and “hon, hon, hon”’s from some unintentionally insulting Americans. So when, during your fifth shift, you swore in your native tongue “merde!” you’d been pleasantly surprised when Crockett had responded without missing a beat.

You’d shown him French-Canadian food, he’d shown you Cajun food, and you had each gained a confidant at med. And you’d both needed it. You were in a new country with very different social customs and laws, and April had kissed him while Choi was deployed leaving him a magnet for gossip. You’d both just needed someone to talk to, and speaking French with each other was just an added comfort.

“What did Doris say this time?”

“I don’t care that people are talking about me, I really don’t. Gossip is just part of hospital life and that’s fine, but I am so tired of being glared at and avoided. People aren’t even bothering to get to know me. I am just so tired about having to fight for a basic level of confidence in my colleagues for something that I didn’t even do! She kissed me, she just walked up and kissed me, how is this my fault?”

“I’m sorry Cherie.”

“I know. How was your day?”

“Anderson pretended to shoot at me again.”

“Seriously? You should report him to HR.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to be overreacting.”

“He is pretending to have a gun and waving it at you on a daily basis because he knows that you are from a country with decent gun laws. What about the day he comes in with a real gun? And loaded? What if he actually shoots you? You need to report him, Cher.”

“Okay, I will. At the end of the day.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat at Molly’s away from the main group, shunned by your colleagues. “It was just a joke, Y/N, can’t you take a joke?” But it didn’t feel like a joke. Not to you. You already felt like you should be wearing a kevlar vest on a regular basis; you didn’t need to be made fun of for your very real fear. You were busy moping when someone plopped down in the stool beside you. “Mon journée a sucé. Dites-moi que le vôtre était meilleur.” (My day sucked. Tell me yours was better)

“Voyez-vous la foule de gens qui me regardent et qui parlent de moi là-bas?” (Do you see the crowd of people looking at me and talking about me there)

“Zut. J'espérais vraiment que ça irait mieux.” (Damn. I was really hoping it would get better)

“Moi aussi.” (Me too)

“The hell are you two speaking? Swedish?”

“... It’s French, Hermann.”

“If you say so Y/N... You guys want another round?”

“Yes, please, kind sir.” Trying to make a joke with the man everyone said had a heart of gold and a belly full of laughs at all times.

“Well, okay then. French people are weird.” Both you and Crockett sucked in a breath. Explaining was always the hardest part. “We are not French people. Crockett is Cajun, and I am French-Canadian.”

“Okay, I don’t know what Cajun is, but isn’t French-Canadian just a Canadian who speaks French?”

“Mon Dieu.” (My God)

“Sacre bleu (Damn it), Hermann. No, a French-Canadian is not just a Canadian who speaks French, and unless you want to start a war in a country you don’t even live in, I advise you to refrain from speaking in that manner again. And just for the record, a Cajun person is someone descended from Acadia settlers in Nova Scotia who left for Louisianna to flee the British.”

“... Okay. I’m sorry I asked.” You just held your breath as Crockett swore under his breath. You opened your eyes, grabbed your glass over bourbon and downed it. “Je sais que je viens juste d'arriver, mais je veux déjà partir.” (I know I just arrived, but I already want to leave)

“Allons-y alors.” (Let’s go then) Marcel threw cash down on the bar before you could argue and helped you put your coat on. “Avez-vous déjà mangé des tapas? J'ai entendu dire qu'il y avait un super endroit à quelques pâtés de maisons d'ici.” (Have you ever eaten tapas? Heard there is a great place a few blocks from here)

“Montrez le chemin.” (Lead the way)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a new hot button topic of gossip the next day at MED. You and Marcel. Of course, no one was that cordial. ‘He couldn’t have a nurse so he went for an intern?’, ��What, she thought being an intern is too difficult so she’s hooking up with a doc so she doesn’t fail?’. None of anything they were saying was true. First of all, April kissed and then rejected him all while she was dating someone else, second, he wasn’t even your attending. You did your ED rotation before he got here. You were on your pediatrics rotation, and kicking ass at it. Third, he didn’t know anyone here besides you thanks to April, so who exactly was he gonna say ‘give her a pass for me’ to? You just rolled your eyes and continued working. At the end of the day, that was what would speak for you.

You hadn’t been very close to April, or anyone in the ED really, they’d all had their own drama going on the entire time you were there, so you just faded into the background. But now, April was making an effort to talk to you. You would have found it odd, had it not been at the time the rumours were really flying, and if you hadn’t seen the burning question behind her eyes. She was jealous. She damn well wouldn’t admit it, but she was. And you were angry at her, and at least you were grown up enough to admit that. She had hurt Crockett. Damaged his work relationships and reputation before he’d even started. So you acted like you enjoyed her company. You talked about literally anything that wasn’t Crockett Marcel. You watched as her questioning eyes grew more and more desperate. If she was going to come to you acting like a jealous girlfriend she should have had the decency to be honest. But she wasn’t. And Crockett was paying the price. So you tortured her a bit. It wasn’t that bad, honestly. Plus, what made her think she had any right to know about relationships you may or may not be in? But her feelings did become noticeable. To the other nurses, doctors, interns. Suddenly everyone was aware that she had kissed Crockett, and that Ethan wasn’t the only doctor she had feelings for. You felt bad for Crockett, he’d gotten sucked into a wormhole before he even knew his feet were leaving the ground. The same thing could be said for Dr. Choi’s fist.

You pushed back the curtain and marched over to Crockett who was too busy arguing with Maggie to notice you at first. “Have you gotten a CT done yet?”

“Oh- Dr. Y/L/N. Uh, let me check. Uh... Here.” Maggie handed you and a skeptical Will the tablet with Crockett’s head CT already loaded. The black and white image should have comforted you. It looked good, no injuries or anomalies. But you kept looking, you kept gripping the tablet no matter how much your knuckles, and fingers, and wrists were starting to hurt. “Cher?” You slowly looked up, Maggie and Halstead had left the room at some point. “You seein’ something Halstead didn’t?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have the voice to. Instead, you regarded his face intently. Choi had only gotten in a single punch, thankfully, so there was only bruising around his right eye. You moved to stand in front of him, standing in between his legs which were dangling off the side of the bed. “Cher?” The bruise was already purple, the section around the forehead turning black. Your lips pressed into a firm line. After setting the tablet on the end table you gently took Crockett’s face in your hands. Ignoring the rest of him, you gently drifted your fingers around the bruising. Your stomach sunk the more you looked at it. It wasn’t inflamed, there wasn’t any bleeding, his CT was clear. But you just couldn’t shake the weight in your gut. You didn’t even know what you were looking for. But you kept looking. “Cher.” No inflammation. “Cher.” No bleeding. “Cher.” Clear CT. “Cher.” Keep looking. “Cher.” Crockett delicately grabbed your wrist, finally grabbing your attention, bringing more than the bruise on his eye into your focus. “I’m okay, Cher.” His eyes were boring into yours, pleading for you to listen to him. He moved his hand from your wrist up overtop of your hand before intertwining your fingers together and leaning his face into your clasped hands at the side of his face.

“D’accord?” (Okay?)

“D’accord.” (Okay) He smiled gingerly. Still looking at you with soft eyes that made you melt he opened his mouth, you could tell that words in his native language were on the tip of his tongue, when the curtains in the room were pushed back suddenly. April stood, tall, strong, and with a look of utter betrayal on her face. No one in the room said anything, no one in the room breathed. Slowly, as if she were avoided a cornered coyote, April backed out of the room, her chest starting to shake, her eyes watering. Soon you were left alone in the room, your hand still wrapped in Crockett’s. Now in full view of the entire ED staff and gossip mill.

#One Chicago #chicago med #crockett marcel #crockett marcel x reader #april sexton x Crockett Marcel #april sexton #maggie lockwood

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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Villain

P. Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Wally stirred around in the bed, patting around the bed to look for his phone. After a while, he found it, flinching harshly when he found it and dared to check the time within the dark room.

5:30 in the morning.

Getting up, Wally noticed Amira missing from her room, deciding to look for her.

Unsurprisingly, he found her in the kitchen, baking.

“Want to talk about it?” Wally asked, sitting on a nearby stool. He watched Amira continue to knee the bread dough, her lips pursed as she ignored him. “Want to talk about something else?”

The pregnant silence in the kitchen remained there until Amira spoke moments later.

“Please.” Amira practically begged as she whispered, her kneeing stopping.

“Say no more. Remember when you left me here alone? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Bridgette! She’s the most adorable baby there is! And can you believe she actually held my hand? She held it for like two seconds. Two seconds!”

Wally went on to talk about the time he spent with Bridgette and how next time he will bring her some toys to play with.

He watched as Amira’s shoulders began to sink back down, her kneeing becoming less aggressive and the furrow of her brows less tense.

Wally made a mental note of investigating what caused Amira to have nightmares again.

After all, it’s been months he last saw her stress baking because of one.

What caused her to have one now?

Marinette appreciated the cold wind in her face, allowing her to forget the events from this morning.

She didn’t think video games would give her flashbacks of the days she used to play them with Jason. Days where they would stay up all night playing them until Alfred caught them or the days Dick would join them and then whine when he would lose.

Memories she believed she had deeply buried within her mind only for a Victim to bring them back with ease.

Days she missed dearly and wished badly for…

But the past was the past and there was nothing she could do to bring Jason back…even if she wanted to...

Stopping at the bottom of the school steps, she let out a deep sigh before going up the stairs, hoping to forget the vivid dreams of last night.

Just as she had a small plan on how to get rid of them, the moment she stepped into the school, she knew something was off. Something was interrupting the equilibrium and she hated that.

Shaking the feeling off, Amira headed to class, taken back by the small decorations in the classroom.

The windows were decorated with paper snowflakes, red and green ribbons draped around the yard.

“What’s all this?” Marinette asked herself, preparing herself for the upcoming school day. Keeping her scarf, she put away her coat and a few textbooks she didn’t need.

“Dudette, do you really not know why the school is decorated this way?” Nino asked, closing his locker.

“No be honest, no.” A gasp came from the other side, Chloé appalled at her.

“Dupain-Cheng. Christmas is just around the corner! How did you forget that!”

“Christmas?” Marinette repeated, wondering how she missed the holi-

Oh...right. “I...I don’t really celebrate it.” Marinette admitted, then remembering the last time she ever spent Christmas with her Grandpere and father...and with Jason… or rather...without him...

“Marinettte, are you-” Sabrina was about to ask if she was okay when the bell rang.

Now with a tense atmosphere, the friends made their way to their classroom, Chloe feeling miserable as she watched Marinette zone out throughout class.

During chemistry, the girl excused herself various times, making Alya having to do most of the work herself.

“What’s bothering her?” Adrien asked Chloe, noticing that she too was acting strange since that morning.

Pursing her lips, Chloe let out a sigh as she began to label the diagram in her textbook.

“I may have upsetted her.” Chloe admitted. “We were talking about how Christmas was right around the corner. I asked how she forgot it when she told me she doesn’t celebrate and then...she just...went quiet.” Chloe trailed, letting her pencil fall out of her hand. “Adrien, I messed up.”

“You didn’t know she would react like that.” Adrien replied, watching as Marinette walked back into the room, apologizing to Alya as she sat in her seat. “So you apologize for it.”

“Okay, so I apologize for it, but how do I prepare for the next time? I don’t know what I said that made her...well, change.”

“It might have been old memories.” Adrien quickly supplied. “Perhaps relating to her family.”

“Her family?”

“Well, this is just a theory,” Adrien started, hoping that he was semi-right. “But I think Marinette came to Paris to move on.” Chloe arched a brow.

“Move on?”

“Well, when we first met, she mentioned having siblings.”

“Siblings? As in more than just Bridgette?” Chloe asked, remembering seeing the tiny baby when they had gone to visit her while she was sick.

“Aside from Bridgette, Marinette did mention having two-one other siblings aside from her.” He corrected himself. “But as far as we know, we know nothing about them. Never talks about them either.”

“Wait, you said two before changing to one. Why?” Crap.

“Well, that's where things get a bit complicated. When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.” Adrien said quietly, looking at his book with great interest. “Her eyes became dull, just like how they look like now.”

Chloe processed the information, looking over at Marinette. To think she knew so little about her good friend. Chloe hit the table with her head, letting out a groan. “Don’t worry Chlo. She’ll understand if you just ask her.”

“I hope she does.” Chloe said, lifting her head.

Class went on and shortly later, Mlle Mendeleiev began to tell the class to pack up. With the ring of the bell, everyone went onto their next class or lunch, Chloe missing the opportunity to talk to Marinette.

Sighing, Chloe picked up her things and went to have lunch with her father as they had promised to do that morning.

---

Marinette huffed as she sat across from Adrien, taking out a notebook that was heavily encrypted in code.

After all, she didn’t want anyone else to know she was Ladybird and that she had narrowed her suspicions onto one man possibly being Hawkmoth.

“I heard what happened this morning.” Adrien said, flipping a page from his own book, Marinette noticing the odd language in it.

It looked eerily...familiar. Where had she seen that book before?

“I’m guessing Chloe told you.” Marinette continued, flipping a page in her book of evidence. “She doesn’t need to apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. She didn’t do anything wrong, I did. I shouldn’t have gone silent like that. I didn’t explain to her that-”

“But it’s because she didn’t know that she should ask what made you react the way you did. For future reference. And to avoid making the same mistake.” Adrien said, looking up from his book. “Of course, you don’t have to specifically tell her-”

“It’s because of my brother.” Marinette cut off, closing her book and looking straight at Adrien. “This will be the first Christmas...since his death...a Christmas without him...” Marinette trailed.

He was right? But wait...first Christmas without him? If they were siblings, surely the two would’ve celebrated various Christmas together...right?

“When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.”

Moved on…

Marinette did move from Gotham to Paris, remembering that she used to go to Gotham Academy. Surely the two had to have been greatly involved in each other’s lives if Marinette remembered her brother dearly; they had to have had a tight relation with each other. To be attached to each other-

“-to the hip.” Alfred’s words finished off for him.

Wait...what was it he had said after that?

“Even after the two were taken by different families, the two went to the same school and stayed together. But when Jason died, her parents took her with them to open up their business in Paris. To start anew and let Amira recover from his death.”

That had to be a coincidence...yeah! A complete coincidence!

There was no way- but now that he thought about it...it kind of made sense.

For starters, Marinette didn’t look like either of her parents. She was of a darker complexion and has emerald eyes.

Despite knowing French, Marinette spoke in a dialect that seemed more like Metropolitan French opposed to Parisian French, although her French also seemed to have Canadian influence as well. He remembered that during a spar of theirs, she accidentally said ‘aweille’ instead of ‘allez.’

Her English, for that matter, sounded more natural to her than her French, often hearing Marinette more relaxed when she spoke it.

Marinette also seemed to give off an aura of having already learned her materials, Adrien then remembering how she reacted to learning he was home schooled.

It seemed like she was somehow able to empathize with-

“-need to pick that up?” Marinette asked, snapping Adrien from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your phone. It’s been ringing for a while.”

Sure enough, it as, Adrien realizing it was his father. He never called unless...oh no…

Did...Did he notice?! Already?!

Quickly getting up, Adrien dumped the book he was reading into his bag and knocked the chair down. While picking it up, his bag slid down his arm and hit the floor.

Apologizing to Marinette about having to leave her alone, he quickly ran to his locker to grab his coat in case he needed to go out.

Calling his father back, Adrien couldn’t even let a word out.

“Adrien. Come home. Now.”

---

Amira blinked for a while as she still took in what had happened just seconds ago. Shrugging it off, Amira continued to look at her data when Tikki flew out of her jacket.

“Tikki!” Amira hissed, making sure no one had seen her. “What do you think-“

“This!” Tikki shouted, Amira going under the desk to see Tikki attempting to lift up a heavy book more precisely, the book Adrien was reading. “We have to bring this to Master Fu!”

“Master Fu? What would he be needing a book like this?” Amira asked, lifting the book and opening up its contents. “It’s just a bunch of-”

She stopped as the page she decided to open up was one that showed a man that resembled Hawkmoth, his armor grandiose yet too loud. Seriously, wings?

Amira looked at the image, she traced the glyphs with her fingers that were near an image of what she assumed the Butterfly miraculous looked like. “Butterfly.” Amira read, only then did it click as to why these glyphs looked so familiar.

“Amira! How do you know how to-”

“I’ve seen this before Tikki.” Amira quickly closed the book to look at its cover, the crest staring back at her. It looked just like it! “Tikki...what exactly is this?” Amira asked, feeling as if she just stumbled upon Pandora's Box.

“I can’t tell you here.” Tikki said, looking around. Amira nodded, stuffing the book into her school bag before running out the library and back home, the cold no longer a worry.

Fumbling to find the correct key to the apartment, Amira hated how cold her fingers got as she pushed the door open. She quickly bolted up the stairs and opened up the apartment door before rushing over to her room.

Thankfully, Wally wasn’t there, allowing Amira to focus at the hand at task.

As Amira set the book down, Tikki flew out to inspect the book, opening it up and flipping each page.

“Tikki. Explain what this is, now.” Amira demanded, opening boxes she never unpacked before. Small trinkets looked back at her, causing her to close them back up and open the next. Where was it?!

“R-Right.” Tikki said, flipping over to a page that showed different forms of the yo-yo. How did she forget its many forms? “This grimoire is a book of spells that not only enhance your abilities, but unlocks the abilities of us kwamis. It also contains information about the other miraculouses and how to use them. Of course, only those who know how to read the Guardian’s language could decipher the spells and information.”

“Guardian’s language?”

“It’s a special language that is only passed on from one Guardian to another, a language which only they know. Not even us Kwami know. A precaution on the Guardian’s part.”

Amira hummed in response as she gave up looking at the boxes and started to rummage through her desk, tossing papers, notes and books around, stopping when she found the thing she was looking for. “By the way Amira, how do you know how to read the Guardian’s language?”

Amira showed her an old journal, placing it right next to the spellbook. The front of it had the same exact crest as the grimoire.

“My brother adored learning languages, even the obscure ones. Whenever we would have a day off from school, he would go to our father’s library and stay there all day.” Tikki watched as a soft smile formed on her face as she said so. “I remember the day he deciphered the entirety of this language, a language that had stumped researchers for years. You wanna know how he did so?”

Tikki nodded. “He noticed that the translations among the various attempts to decode the language were right. But he noticed that that was just the first layer of the text.”

“Layer?”

“The entire language is encrypted.” Amira said, flipping through the journal. “Depending on which part of the grimoire you were looking at, the code would change. The grimoire was created this way to not only test the fluency of the Guardian, but to also prevent it going into the wrong hands.”

Tikki was left in awe.

“And he did that all by himself?” Tikki watched as Amira showed her the widest grin she had ever seen on her.

“You bet! You should’ve seen the look of satisfaction when he tried to teach me how he used different dialects of Chinese, Arabic and other Native American dialects to ensure his translations were correct. Of course, I didn’t really capture everything he told me. After all, he was the linguist and I was just the student.”

Tikki softly sighed when she saw Amira talk dearly of her brother, a smile on her face that showed her true nature.

Taken by the flow of the discussion, Tikki had forgotten about the reason why they took the book in the first place.

“Amira! We have to get this book to Master Fu! He needs to see this!”

“No.” Amira quickly rejected, getting up from her seat.

“No? Amira, Master Fu-”

“I can’t give him this book just yet. Don’t you realize how valuable this is?”

“That’s exactly why-”

“It’s our greatest clue yet.” Tikki watched as Amira took out a little case from one of the boxes she had opened up earlier, popping it open to display a gadget Tikki had never seen before.

She watched as Amira got to work, placing the small gadgets on the spine of the grimoire, watching as the computer monitors began to display different windows.

It was then that Tikki figured out what Amira was doing.

“Amira...are you planning on-”

“Whoever had this grimoire has to be Hawkmoth. It’s the only plausible explanation. After all, whichever Guardian who was the one before Master Fu was foolish enough to leave the translations of the activation of the miraculouses on the book.” Amira pointed out, showing Tikki some faint mandarin writing under the glyphs.

Tikki continued to watch in silence as Amira continued to work on the bugging of the book.

“So...we’re not giving the grimoire to Master Fu, right?”

“Not this one at least.” Amira said, showing Tikki a device that resembled a phone. “I will be sending him a copy after I finish scanning the pages.”

Satisfied with the response, Tikki continued to watch over Amira until they had to head back to school for the afternoon classes.

When Marinette stepped into the classroom, she didn’t expect to see Chloé crying and sobbing. Sabrina was by her side, rubbing circles on her back as she whispered ‘there, there.’

Running and collapsing to her side, Marinette urged Chloe to look at her.

“Chloe, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s Adrien! His father isn’t letting him come back to school over a book! A stupid book!” Chloe threw herself onto Marinette, sobbing into her friend’s arms. “Stupid Gabriel! Adrien doesn’t deserve to be treated this way!”

“A book? Did Adrien tell you what it looked like?” Chloe wiped off the small snot off her nose.

“N-no. He only said how the book was a book of inspiration for his fa- where are you going?”

“I might know how to find it.” Marinette said, picking up her things. “Tell Ms. Bustier that I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

---

Amira looked at the book sitting on her desk, frowning at having to depart from it so quickly.

After calling Adrien, she was able to confirm that the book he had lost was indeed the grimoire. What were the odds?

“Are you really going to give it back right now? Why don’t you wait a while?”

“I don’t want Adrien to pay for something he didn’t do.”

“Well, he did take the book.”

“But then I took it away without his permission.” Amira fought back, picking up the grimoire and stuffing it into her bag. “He shouldn’t be punished for something he had no control over.”

“True.” Tikki said, watching as Amira slipped into a thicker jacket and wore a dress, something she rarely did.

“Ready to head into the lion’s den?” Amira asked Tikki, Tikki nodding, slipping into Amira’s scarf.

---

“-didn’t know it was yours, sir. I didn’t even think it belonged to Adrien until just moments ago.” Gabriel watched as the girl handed the book over to him, which he took too quickly for his liking.

While Gabriel thought nothing of this girl, something about her bothered him.

Perhaps it was the designer in him that screamed to grab a pen and pencil as inspiration had hit him. After all, despite working in the fashion industry, he rarely got to see models with an olive complexion.

Her neutral expressions were also camera worthy.

How would she look alongside Adrien during photoshoots?

Setting business aside, he focused back onto the matter at hand.

“So you took it home after finding it in the library?”

“Yes, it happened shortly after he got a phone call. It’s how I assume he left it there as he was in a hurry to answer it.”

Gabriel looked at her directly, trying to find any wavering emotions, only to find none. A child who wasn’t afraid of him. How odd.

“I see.” Gabriel said. “Seeing as Adrien didn’t actually lose the book, he will be free to attend school again. Thank you for returning my book.”

Gabriel watched as the girl curted, turning around to leave only to stop.

“I have a question and a couple of...suggestions.”

“Go on.”

“That book, I was wondering where you found it.” Gabriel watched as the girl took out a worn out picture, causing his eyes to widen ever so slightly.

In the photo, there was a boy with the same exact book in his hands, deciphering what seemed to be the contents of it. “Before my brother passed, he was researching texts that looked similar to the ones inside the book. So of course, I wanted to know if it was the same-”

“I found mine overseas while on a trip with my wife.” Gabriel cut off, wondering why he even told her that. “Since I bought it, I have never seen another copy of it, until now. Do you know what happened to your brother’s copy?”

Gabriel didn’t know what to expect when the girl shook her head.

“Most of his research along with the book disappeared in the fire that took my brother a year ago in Gotham.” The girl said, frowning as she told him. “The only thing I have left from him is this photo.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Gabriel softly said. “Now, you mentioned suggestions.”

“Right.” The girl composed herself. “I left a few translations in the book based on what I remembered from my brother’s notes. But my main suggestion is for you to be more lenient with Adrien. Take it from a child who was also homeschool for half her life.

Resentment isn’t a pretty thing. While they’re easy to hide, they aren’t the easiest to control once they spill. With Paris’ situation...well, you know the rest.” Gabriel let those words sink in, something in his head clicking. “Well, I hope to see Adrien at school tomorrow. And it was nice seeing you Mr. Agreste, although, this wasn’t my first time seeing you.”

Dumbfounded, Gabriel watched as the girl left his home, wondering what she meant by those words.

He walked back to his office, placing the grimoire back into its place before taking it back. He pressed some hidden buttons on the portrait, feeling the ground below him submerge.

---

Wally flinched when the hatch to Amira’s room swung open.

“Hey! Did-” Amira pressed a finger to her lips before gesturing towards the monitors, taking a seat in her chair and putting on some headphones.

Wally watched as Amira’s map of the Agreste residency started to map out, watching as a red dot began to go below ground.

“Holy shit Amira.” Wally whispered, grinning like a madman. “You fucking did it...and without me!” He whined, Amira ignoring it as she watched the dot come to a stop.

“So that’s where you have been hiding...Hawkmoth.”

---

Amira yawned as she made her way up the stairs of the school.

How she regretted staying up with Wally. She is never letting him take over the Beetle ever again. He treated her camera as if it were some type of toy! The nerve!

As she made her way to her locker, taking off her coat as she walked, Marinette couldn’t help but notice the buzzing around her and within the halls.

She also couldn’t help but notice the name Lila being said in every sentence she heard.

Lila this, Lila that. Just who was this Lila?

“Lila? That’s the name of our latest transfer student!” Alya said, putting her coat into her locker. Guess she said that out loud.

And a transfer student? It’s already December for crying out loud!

Picking up a few books, Alya showed Marinette a video, or rather an interview where the girl reminisced about her meeting with Ladybird.

Marinette watched with disgust as the new transfer student blabbered about events that didn’t happen, even going as far as saying that the two were good friends by the end of their supposed meeting.

“When did you say she arrived in Paris?” Marinette asked, closing her locker and placing her lock.

“Seriously? You still place a lock on your locker? Come on, we’re grown! We can trust-”

“Trust is earned, not given. And you didn’t answer my question. When did she arrive?”

“Just yesterday! Which is why I thought it was so cool that she got to meet Ladybird-”

“How do you know she even met Ladybird? Not even you have and you’re the only reporter in all of Paris that even dares to approach Ladybird during and after a fight.”

Alya pursed her lips as she looked at her phone.

Marinette was right.

How come she didn't get to converse with Ladybird despite their many encounters? Why hasn’t she yet got to get an exclusive interview with Ladybird while Lila got one on her first day in Paris?

That wasn’t fair. “And even if it was true, doesn’t it seem a little odd? There wasn’t an attack yesterday, meaning that Ladybird was on patrol and we all know Ladybird never talks with civilians while she’s out on patrol. She even told you it herself when you encountered her the second time all those months ago, or did you already forget?”

Alya felt herself bringing her head down, remembering the time she got akumatized into Lady WiFi.

She had tried to go after Ladybird, trying to find out her identity as the next big scoop for her blog - Ladyblog.

After days of tracking her patrol route, Alya decided to track down Ladybird which ended up with the vigilante scolding Alya for disrespecting her space, invading her privacy and for endangering herself.

“Perhaps Lila-“

“Alya. Are you really going to accept Lila words just like that? Whatever happened to being a reporter that would one day rival Lois Lane herself?” Marinette reminded her, hating herself for remembering that rant from months ago. “Will you really blindly accept the words of a person without doing any type of investigation?”

Alya looked at the video staring back at her, Lila’s laughing face looking back at her. “If that’s what you want to become, then by all means, go ahead. Just don’t expect to be receiving any internships anytime soon.”

Alya watched as she felt the locker room, leaving Alya with herself.

Did Marinette really not believe in Lila’s words?

She wasn’t one to harshly comment about people without knowing them, so why this time?

What in Lila’s interview had bothered Marinette?

Having found a new goal, Alya quickly grabbed her things and headed towards class, the gears in her head spinning as she thought of a way to devise her investigation.

“-and he even wrote a song about me!” The way Lila’s voice became a pitch higher upon ending her sentence irked Marinette, the girl rolling her eyes at the girl’s tale.

“Welcome to the club.” Nino told her as she walked past his desk.

“Club?”

“Seems like only us five don’t particularly like her.” Sabrina elaborated, taking out her notebook for their first class. “Something about her stories just doesn't sit right.”

“Doesn't sit right? Sabrina, they're ridiculous! Who brags about being Ladybird’s friend when she doesn’t even make friends with civilians? She made that loud and clear with Cesaire!”

“I see.” Marinette said, looking over at Lila, the rest of the class surrounding her and eating from the palm of her hand. “Where’s Adrien?”

“He said he’s running la-there he is!” Chloe squealed, latching onto him the moment he walked into the classroom. “Adrikins! I’m so glad you’re back!”

The group failed to see Lila look over at them, a faint blush on her face. Holy hell was that boy cute when he smiled.

“I suggest you stay away from them.” Someone told Lila, but Lila brushed the warning away.

“It may not look like it but they aren’t exactly the kindest of people.” Another voice spoke.

“You have Chloe - a bully, Sabrina - Chloe’s lapdog, Adrien - Chloe’s best friend and Marinette- Chloe’s friend.”

“What about the boy with the cap?” Lila asked, her eyes not leaving the sunshine boy among the group. He was...perfect...

“He’s a recent addition.”

Just as Lila was about to ask about more information about Adrien, their teacher walks in.

“Oh, I see everyone has met Lila!” Miss Bustier cooed, watching as Marinette made her way to her seat. The two made eye contact before Marinette huffed.

Ever since that humiliating first day of class, Mlle Bustier tried to bring Marinette’s behavior to M Damocles, only for him to do nothing.

Something about her father having donated a large sum of money that allowed the school to have more STEAM programs and of the sorts.

Ever since then, Mlle Bustier made sure to be wary of Marinette and made sure to never give her a chance to make a mockery of her teaching again. “Lila, if you would come to the front of the class to introduce yourself just in case someone hasn’t met you yet.”

Lila smiled as she grabbed her things and walked to the front.

“Hello everyone! My name is Lila Rossi! I transferred her from Italy due to my mother’s job as a diplomat. Since she’s a diplomat, we tend to move a lot.” The class cooed at that, Marinette, however, raising a brow. “I’d be happy to answer any questions about my-“

“What other places have you been?”

“Have you met anyone famous?”

“What are-“

“Class, class!” Miss Bustier raised her voice, making sure the class settled down before continuing. “Now, Lila will answer your questions one by one.”

“Thank you Mlle Bustier. As for where I have traveled, I’ve been to Spain, England, Achu and now I’m here. I met Prince Ali in Achu and I can’t tell you how marvelous it was being able to spend hours with him.”

Once more, the class cooed. Marinette remained unfazed, noticing how the girl lied with ease.

“Just recently, I was in Gotham. I even got to go to this year’s Gala!“

Lila noticed Chloe raising her hand. “Yes?”

“How come I didn’t see you then? Surely I would’ve recognised that ridiculous hairstyle of yours anywhere.” Chloe asked, earning a harsh warning from Mlle Bustier.

“You make a good point Chloe. I also didn’t see you there.” Adrien said, causing Lila to pale.

“Oh right, I forgot the two of you went to Gotham for Wayne Gala as well.” Lila heard Marinette say, her face neutral. “Weren’t you guys invited to stay at the Manor as well?”

Shit.

“Well, perhaps you didn’t see me because I was spending the entire night talking with Jason and keeping him company throughout the gala!” Lila said, placing her hands together. “Everyone was told that he couldn’t make it to the gala due to having other priorities the next day, but the truth is that he wanted to spend time with me before I had to head here.”

No one noticed the way Marinette stiffened, the way her eyes widened and her hands began to form a fist. Everyone was either too busy cooing or gagging.

“You’re lying.” Marinette seethed.

“I know it’s hard to believe it, but it’s true! Jason and I are the bestest of friends and M. Wayne is like a second father to me! All night, we were chatting away, Jason telling how he was the one who created the foundation in honor of-”

“Shut up.” Marinette said it loudly enough for the class to hear, causing them to turn to her direction.

“Pardon?” Lila said with a tilt of her head, wondering why exactly this girl was getting so on edge.

“I said, shut up.” Marinette said, her voice just above a whisper. “Shut up before you-“

“Marinette!” Mlle Bustier raises her voice. This girl wasn’t going to bully this poor girl on her first day of class! Not on her watch! “Apologize at-”

“No Mlle Bustier, let her-“

“You said you knew Jason...when did you meet him?“ Marinette said as she got up.

“We met when we were little, around 5 years old. M. Wayne-”

“Bruce Wayne adopted Jason just over two years ago.” Marinette cut off.

“5? I mean to say 12.” Lila corrected herself. “And like I was going to say, he told me he had been planning this for quite a-”

“He couldn’t have told you that himself!” Marinette yelled, getting up from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. “And don’t you dare claim that he did!”

“You weren’t there, so how-“

“Because he would never tell someone like you about it! Hell, even if he did show a liking to you, there’s no way he would’ve been able to.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Jason and I are good buddies!“ Lila cried out, tears pooling in her eyes.

Marinette could hear the yells behind her that told her to stop bullying Lila. To stop acting so jealous over her exciting life.

“Stop lying! Jason couldn’t have told you anything because he’s dead!” Marinette yelled, feeling her eyes sting.

How she hated how her body trembled and burned with rage.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard Tikki whisper to her to calm down.

But how can she? This harlot was using her dear brother's name for fame..she couldn't sit back and watch this girl do that.!

“And how would you know? You probably have never left-“

“Because unlike you, I actually knew him! I’ve actually met him! I was there when he got taken in by Bruce. The two of us went to Gotham Academy, because yes! I’m actually a Gothamite! And not only that, he was my best friend!” Marinette yelled, feeling her throat grow dry. “And I! And I was there the day he died during a villain attack in Gotham so don’t you dare say you knew him when there was no possibility in you ever speaking to him!”

Marinette marched down the steps and grabbed Lila by the collar of her shirt, Lila’s hazel eyes not being a challenge for her emerald ones. “So I suggest you shut your damn trap and stop lying to everyone in this damn room just so you could get a lick of attention!

Unlike them, I can’t be fooled by such trickery. You’re nothing but a simple con artist.”

Dropping Lila to the ground and grabbing her bag, Marinette left the classroom in a hurry, never turning back…

She never noticed the akuma that followed her hot in her heels.

Hawkmoth was busy looking at the translation left on his book, trying to decipher it when he felt a shiver run down his spine.

This emotion was strong, filled with both anger and grief, a negative energy so strong, he felt his knees buckle. He grinned at this golden opportunity.

He would have to thank whoever made this poor soul fester into such a wonderful monster just waiting to burst out. For this will be his greatest akuma yet.

Beckoning a glistening white butterfly, it sat on his palm, Hawkmoth carefully enclosing it between his palms. Oh how he could feel the raw power in this soul. This poor soul who wanted their enemy to feel the same grief she had been dealing with for months.

“Fly, my little akuma and make her our greatest creation yet!” He praised with predetermined glory, watching as his miasma covered butterfly slipped through his hands and out the window.

He waited as his akuma merged into the soul’s dearest possession, feeling the negative energy hit him in the face once the merging was done.

Just as he was going to introduce himself, the soon to be Victim spoke to him.

“I know who you are. I know what you want...but why should I let myself be used for your own gain?”

His own gain?

To think his gem was hidden from him all these months!

Letting out a cackle, Hawkmoth couldn’t believe his luck.

He could feel it in his blood.

Today was the day.

Today, he will get Ladybird’s and Chat Noir’s miraculouses.

Victory will be his at long last!

“My own gain? On the contrary my dear. I will give you the power to make anyone you touch feel your despair and anger at losing your loved one. All you have to do,” Hawkmoth let out a chuckle. “Well, you know the rest.”

Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina and Nino ran out the classroom in pursuit of Marinette, watching in terror as an akuma landed on her, not seeing what item the akuma merged into.

All they saw was their dear friend get enveloped by a hideous purple miasma.

A few seconds passed when the miasma dispersed and turned into fog, mist so dense you can barely see your own hands in front of you.

The four stuck together, staring at the place Marinette once stood, watching as an all white figure approached them.

They watched with beating hearts and held breaths as the figure was now a foot in front of them, staring at them with tears flowing down their pale face and bloodshot red eyes through her thin white veil.

“Li...la.” Marinette hoarsely said, her head tilting up to see Lila staring at her with wide eyes. “Lila.” She said with a smile.

Letting out what seemed to be a shivering wail, Lila pushed herself away from the railing and sprinted towards the other side of the school yard and fled, Marinette turning to follow her before a hand stopped her.

“Marinette.” Chloé whispered, making Marinette turn to her. “Is that-“

“I’m not Marinette.” The white figure said, clasping her hand with Chloé.

The group watched in horror as Chloé let out a heart wrenching shriek and collapsed to the floor into a sobbing mess. They backed away from the ghostly figure as Adrien and Sabrina crouched next to Chloe, who had curled up in pain.

The group now looked at the white figure, wary of her hands.

“If you are not Marinette, then who are you?” Nino asked, noticing that the edges of the veil were now black.

“Banshee. My name is Banshee...”

#maribat #amira wayne

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