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jonesyjonesyjonesy · 2 years ago

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Wildflowers (pt. ixx)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: nsfw, exhibitionism

a/n: well, i know it's been a while, but life just kind of goes goes goes when you're not looking, doesn't it? thanks for your patience. if you feel inclined to leave a comment or a word or two, it would be much appreciated. love you all.

pt. ixx, ground ivy

"You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

“You love it. Now put this on.”

I eyed the white dress hanging on the end of Pat’s finger. “I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“Oh, criminy. Don’t act like you’re dragging a trolley around.”

I blushed, spinning my arse toward the mirror and running a hand over my dress to show off the curve. “It’s deceptively large, Pat.”

“Julia, I’ve had two children,” Pat scoffed.

“And it doesn’t show.”

She huffed. “Put the bloody dress on, would you?”

I snatched the dress out of her hand and went behind the dressing screen in the corner of the guest room.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a tennis dress, love,” she piped.

“Why’s that?” I asked, voice muffled through the fabric of the dress as I pulled it over my head.

“Oh, you just give off that sort of tennis playing girl feeling. Don’t you think?”

I was not about to admit that I played quite a bit in school. I’d given up the sport altogether while I was with Nick. I hated being stuck with the girlfriends and wives of his barrister friends who were mostly vapid (and that, I thought, was a rather generous assessment). “I feel like that’s not a compliment.”

“No! Of course it is. You’re very elegant. Posh, even.”

I groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m only telling you what’s true.”

I straightened out the dress before coming out from behind the screen.

“Oh, Julia, you look darling.”

I turned to look in the mirror. It did fit rather nicely, showing off my assets, but also the pudge of my arms I didn’t particularly like. I pulled at the fabric to lay flatter on my stomach. “Posh is how I’d describe my mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I laughed. “It is.” My mother was the textbook definition of the word, made even worse by the fact we were not wealthy by any means, but right on the cusp of upper middle class, which made her feel entitled to pretension. “Well, I guess it’ll do.”

“Yes, more than do.” Pat came up behind me and fluffed out the skirt. “You should keep it. Looks better on you than me.”

“You know, if John had given me some forewarning this would be happening, I’d –”

“Don’t be too upset with him. The planning was very last minute, what with the children and John – my John – he always bristles against leaving for too long, the blessed thing. And plus there was the whole issue of Miranda and –”

My ears perked up. I hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. “Miranda?”

Pat’s eyes widened innocently. “Oh yes, I had planned on inviting her. An extended date for John. Thought I’d try again with her since things didn’t seem to…work out between you.”

I blinked. “Why didn’t you then?”

Pat smiled. “Well, John told me he wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.”

“Said he was preoccupied in…other ways,” Pat said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Immediately, I was struck with ire. Didn’t John know the old adage ‘loose lips sink ships’? “He told you?! Are you serious?”

“No, he didn’t. But you just did.”

I gaped and tried to recover, but all that came out of my mouth was stuttering nothingness.

“To be fair, John isn’t the best at keeping a secret when he’s had champagne. I had to suspect when we were at Jimmy’s and I asked after you and instead of answering he just giggled.”

I balled my hands into fists.

“Julia,” Pat said in a girlish drawl, leaning her arm on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to tell her the honest truth: that it felt too complicated to tell. If I had thought Montreux was hard to explain, the past month would have been even more difficult.

Though I desperately clung onto the days leading up to John’s departure, my fingernails left no marks in the passage of time. Between managing the girls and balancing my emotions whilst also providing my usual ministry toward John (physically, emotionally, desperately), time was not on my side and before I knew it, it was the first day of school.

It helped that everyone was in good spirits. I could smile along, laugh, and enjoy life the way we had been in those twilight days of summer.

When I was alone with Annie, though, I was able to divulge my fears and secrets. She had either gotten over her resentment or pitied me enough to lend me an ear. Either way, I was grateful for it. I needed somewhere to pour out my feelings. I couldn’t taint John’s excitement and delight at the idea of “getting back at it”, as he put it.

It still didn’t make much sense to me after all the time he’d spent avoiding being goaded into returning to the madness of Zeppelin. But I had no place to question it.

I was just the lover.

Although…it was not lost on John that our time together was waning. He was exceptionally attentive when he could be. The moment we returned home from dropping the girls off for their first day of the school year, he shepherded me into the studio to sate his growing desire.

“Tomorrow…” he muttered. A cigarette hung from his mouth as he lazily buttoned up his shirt.

“Tomorrow, what?” I asked, moving at a much more sluggish pace, having to recover from being ruthlessly shagged.

John tugged his belt closed. “Bonzo and Pat are going to be popping by.”

I widened my eyes. “Popping by?”

“Relax, Julia.” He handed me his cigarette as he headed over to the piano. He was moving awfully fast these days. “Pat’s been nagging me for a visit and since we’ll be heading out on Wednesday, it just made sense for them to come down a day early. Then we can take off together.”

I took a drag of the cigarette, picking up my underwear from the floor. John began to play a tune as if I wasn’t even in the room. “They’ll be spending the night?”

His eyes flicked up to me and he smiled. “Yes. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

I suddenly felt exposed with my sleeve hanging off my shoulder. I readjusted it and rested my elbows on my knees. “I haven’t spoken to Pat since we were in Montreux.”

“She won’t hold it against you. You’ve been preoccupied.”

I giggled. “I suppose so.”

John’s playing paused. He jerked his head toward the bench. “Come sit.”

I ashed the cigarette and went to the piano, sitting tentatively on the bench next to him. The studio was cleaner than it had been, mostly because I’d forced him to tidy up. No clothing on chairs or errant stacks of records.

John went back to playing, something quieter. “You’re off, Julia.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“You think I haven’t noticed.”

I couldn’t respond because it was true. Perhaps I had misjudged him.

“Are you scared?”

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded, unwilling to answer him verbally.

“Because I’m leaving?”

A child. I felt like a child as he tried to coax out an answer from me. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a deep breath, forcing a smile.

John stopped playing again. He didn’t look up from the keys.

I had considered that I should ask. But I was always too afraid to utter those words. If I asked where we were going, I was worried John wouldn’t know or, worse, decide “nowhere” was the answer. “I don’t want you to worry,” I said, softly touching his wrist. “I know it will be hard for you to be away from the girls.”

This wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t my truth.

“Yes, but I know the feeling. I’m not looking forward to it, but I remember it somewhat,” John replied. He turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with mine. “Besides, I know they’re in good hands.”

My heart sang. I would take every win I could, even if it wasn’t the thing I needed. It was better than nothing. “I’ll take good care of them.”

John started to trace his fingers along the back of my hand. “Is that what you need to hear? That I am confident you’ll take good care of them?”

I needed to hear so much more than that. But I could not bring myself to ask. “That’d be nice.”

He smiled. “I am confident that you’ll take good care of my girls.” Then, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I trust you completely.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “How far we’ve come.”

“Very far. And you better get out of here before either of us ‘comes’ any farther,” he said, pushing me away playfully, hand against my sternum.

I laughed and tumbled off the bench to my feet. We both had work to do. John started playing again as I headed for the door but spoke before I could slip out. “You don’t happen to have a tennis skirt, do you?”

I turned around with a bewildered look. “Pardon me?”

“A tennis skirt. For tomorrow.”

“What do you mean a tennis skirt for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be playing tennis tomorrow per Pat’s request. Naturally, you’ll need a tennis skirt.”

This man left me more and more speechless by the minute.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” John stopped playing and notated something on the sheet music in front of him. “It’s no matter. I’ll tell Pat to bring something for you.”

“Right. Tennis.”

“Don’t get in your head, Julia,” John teased with a smirk.

“Not in my head at all.” Very much in my head, thank you for noticing. I opened the door and said wryly, “In fact, if you’d refer to me as Billie Jean King for the rest of the day, I’d much appreciate it.”

John laughed, “Alright, Billie Jean. If Battle of the Sexes is what you want, it’s what you’ll get.”

Now, here I was in Pat’s white tennis dress, having shown my whole hand to her because I didn’t see through her trickery. “I don’t know. It’s very tender.”

“So, didn’t anything happen at Montreux?”

I rolled my eyes. “Pat –”

“If you don’t answer the question, I’m just going to assume, you know.”

I smiled at the memory of that first kiss.

Pat batted me on the arm. “You little tart! You know how badly I’ve felt all this time thinking I’ve made things awkward, and it turns out you were just being secretive?”

“I’m sorry,” I said through laughter. “I’m sorry, you know, it’s just so…tender.”

“Tender sounds perfect.”

“Yes, but that’s not how I mean. I mean that it’s tenuous.” Tender and tenuous.

Pat narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know where you stand, then.”

“God, you’re good.”

She shrugs. “Just been around the block. You know I’m awfully old.”

I didn’t know how old she was but “awfully” was not how I’d describe it.

“Anyway.” She gave me her arm to take and guided me out of the guest room. “We’ll figure out where you stand today. Mark my words.”

“Don’t do anything stupid or obvious, Pat. We’ve never been around other people. I’m sure we’re going to pretend like nothing has been happening at all.”

Pat snickered. “Please, it doesn’t take a genius to spot two people who want to tear each other’s clothes off pretending they don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off.” Then, she tossed her blonde hair back and sniffed. “Besides. I’m not obvious.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.

The two of us tittered and made our way out to the terrace where the Johns were waiting in similarly matching white tennis sets.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Pat exclaimed and bounced over to Bonzo, leaping into his lap and spreading her hand across his broad chest. “Just suits you, I think.”

“Don’t lie. I look like a meringue,” Bonzo grumbled.

She patted her hand on his stomach. “Don’t be silly.”

John was standing near the edge of the terrace, his foot up on a stone to tie one of his shoes. I was avoiding looking at him to hopefully put on an air of distance, although that seemed rather silly considering three of the four of us knew what was going on. And it was doubtful Pat hadn’t been talking to her husband about it.

So we’re just going to posture until someone keels over and dies, are we?

“Well, shall we?” Pat asked excitedly.

“If we must,” Bonzo said, pushing himself up to standing with her still in his arms.

She laughed and squirmed out of his arms. “Oh, no you don’t.” She picked up their racket bag from the table. She really could have been at Wimbledon. The whole look suited her. “Let’s go.”

Bonzo followed his wife off the terrace toward the tennis court.

Strings of a racket entered my visions. “Got one for you.”

I followed the contour of the racket, held by a hand I knew so well, up his arm, and finally, looked into John’s sapphire eyes. “Thank you,” I said, delicately taking the racket from him.

John glanced at the court where Pat was already practicing her swing and Bonzo was imitating her. This was met with riotous laughter from her. “You look nice.”

“John.”

“What? I mean it, the little skirt,” John teasingly glanced down at my bottom, “suits you.”

I sighed. “That’s not…Pat already knows about…” I crooked my finger and gestured between the two of us.

John feigned shock. “What? Did you tell her?”

“I said nothing.” One little white lie wouldn’t hurt. “Apparently you spilled the beans while you were drunk on champagne at Jimmy’s.”

I started for the tennis court; John quickly caught up with my stride. “Now, just a second. I did not ‘spill the beans’. I did nothing of the sort.”

“How would you remember if you were so drunk?”

“I’d certainly remember if I told people about –” John mocked the earlier move of my finger.

“Don’t move your finger like that at me!”

“You did it first!”

“Yoo-hoo!” Pat called out, waving her hand excitedly. “Are you going to just stand there gawking at each other or come play?”

“We’re coming! Goodness, you’re as impatient as a calf on a tit!” I shouted at her.

Bonzo guffawed. “Yes, that’s about right.”

I touched my mouth softly, mortification setting in.

“Calf on a tit, mm?” John asked with a humored waggle of his eyebrows.

“Sometimes the farm just comes out,” I grumbled. “Especially when I’m annoyed.”

“Julia…” he admonished. “Don’t be cross with me.” Then, to my surprise, he wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close. “If they know, they know. Makes it more fun, doesn’t it?” He capped off his public display with a soft kiss to my cheek.

I was stunned. I was absolutely ready to disdain him for a long while before I had to be my sweet self. Now, he was kissing me out in the open.

“Let’s have some fun before I go, shall we?”

He was smoother than butter and yet I was the one melting.

“Fine,” I replied and kissed him again, this time on the lips. If he wanted to have fun, I wasn’t taking any prisoners.

From the court, I could hear the hollers of the Bonhams. Brought me back to my school days when everyone was daring one another to kiss over an empty bottle of ale.

“By the way, those suit you,” I said, eyeballing the tiny white shorts doing a poor job of concealing his package.

I walked away before he could respond, wiping my lips clean of his spit. “You didn’t see any of that,” I said to Pat as I approached her.

Her eyes gleamed. “Definitely not.” She popped her hip up against mine. “What do you think? Mixed doubles?”

“No, no, I promised Julia a battle of the sexes and that’s what it will be,” John announced, swinging his racket over his shoulder as he brushed by me. “Johns against Janes, come on, mate.” He patted Bonzo on the chest and the two walked to the other side of the court.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, aren’t they?” Pat murmured.

She had a point. Big lumbering John and the smaller, more skittering John. A dynamic duo, an attraction of opposites. I hadn’t seen them play, but I’d heard. You’d be daft not to recognize their enigmatic fusion, full of power and nuance, neither one ever too much or too little.

Perhaps it had been predetermined by their biology.

“We’re serving first!” Pat cried out.

“Ladies first,” Bonzo conceded without any fuss.

Pat prodded my hip with her racket. “Want to serve, or should I?”

“You do it. I’m too rusty. Need to warm up.” I moved to the front of the court.

John and Bonzo mirrored us, John taking the front of the court and Bonzo the back. I got myself in a ready position and gave John a sly smile. “Best of luck.”

He blew me a kiss, sticking the racket out in front of him.

Game on.

“Alright, boys! Watch out!” Pat cried out before throwing the ball upward and elegantly serving the ball over the net, the pop of the tennis ball echoing over the court.

The ball went straight to Bonzo who crudely volleyed it back to me. I backhanded it over the net, right past John, quite literally sending him back in a tailspin; that’s all it took to earn us the first point.

“Rusty, are you?” Pat cackled.

I cocked my hip to the side and smiled. “Some say it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Or riding something else, eh?”

We both snickered. This was going to be fun.

It quickly became apparent that I had no reason to be worried about my rustiness. Not only was Pat an adept partner, but our opponents were as laughable as the Three Stooges. Practically a slapstick routine how big and little John tripped over one another, darting back and forth, nearly running smack into one another and the ball bumbling between them.

“For God’s sake, could you try at all?” Pat cried out when we'd just surpassed them at forty-love.

“You takin’ the piss or what?” Bonzo said through heaving breaths. “Didn’t you see me running back and forth around here or –”

“Oh don’t be breathing like you ran to Waterloo and back!” Pat snipped in return.

I couldn’t help laughing. Their rapport was so easy, endearing and needling in the best way.

“I tried,” John (my John) said, leaning up against the net post.

Pat went to him and touched the little curl of his hair at his jaw. “All you��re trying to do is make sure the ball doesn’t hit you square between the eyes while you admire Julia’s tits.” She yanked the lock of his hair playfully.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Someone’s got to keep you in check. I know Julia’s too sweet on you to do anything about it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ll go again. Try harder.”

Pat waltzed back to her spot on the court. I should have known she would be competitive.

“You heard her. Try again. And harder, while you’re at it, hm?” I said, emulating Pat’s attitude.

John and John gave each other a look, resigned to their fate. “If I have a coronary…” Bonzo droned.

“I know mouth to mouth,” John replied, shoving him off to the back corner. Before I could return to my place on the court, he caught my eye and smiled. “You’re sweet on me, hm?”

I glanced back at Pat and cocked my head to the side. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

And with that, I flounced back to my spot on the court, more smug than I probably deserve to be.

The second match went just as poorly except with less balletic antics. They had Pat and me in stitches the way they were stumbling about. We didn’t have it in us to finish the match – wanted to preserve their integrity – and Annie didn't have it in her to continue watching the massacre from the window. She interrupted us with a trayful of aperitifs (an ale for Bonzo, sherry for the rest of us).

I suddenly understood why people liked to play tennis. There was a whole lot of standing around and chatting. A lot of lazing about in the sun, cheeks blushed with alcohol, veiled and not so veiled, teases thrown around.

It felt even better to be at the elbow of a man I was coming to adore much quicker than I could make logical sense of. I liked being eyed over John’s glass of sherry and enjoyed the playful touch of his hand from time to time.

“How’ve you got a whole court in your backyard and you’re that daffy at tennis, Jonesy?” Bonzo asked, a mustache full of foam.

“I’m a busy man,” John replied. The sherry glass looked like a delicate spider web between his fingers.

“Yes, been keeping very busy…” Pat smirked.

John let out a knowing laugh. “Compared to Jimmy’s dart playing, I think I’m a competent tennis player.”

“A caterpillar would be a competent tennis player compared to Jimmy at darts,” Bonzo added with a shrewd smile.

I knocked back the rest of my sherry. “Well, John, I had my battle of the sexes. Maybe we ought to mix things up so your ego isn’t too bruised by the time the day is out.”

“Me? An ego?” John clutched his heart. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” Bonzo laughed low and patted his friend on the back. “Come on. Take your girl, I won’t be hurt.”

Pat wrapped her arm around her husband’s bulging bicep as she joined him on the opposite side of the court.

I didn’t mind being John’s “girl” even if I usually abhorred being called anything but a woman. In the presence of the right man, diminutiveness feels safe and welcoming. In fact, seeing how John treated the girls in his life made me want to be one. A delicate little flower, nourished by his dotage and admired with tenderness. Rather than tenderized like a piece of meat.

“You better serve,” John said.

“So I can make up for your fumbling, hm?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Seems like I’m the Tin Man between the two of us, if we’re comparing rustiness.”

I touched his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I leaned in to kiss him and quickly spun away from him before our lips could collide. “Later.”

John guffawed as I slipped out of his grasp. “Later. Alright.”

I walked away with a spring in my step like I’d never felt. Whether it was the sherry or our attraction being witnessed, I didn’t know. I didn’t need to know. All I had to do was work the court with everything I had in me.

Looking at the length of the tennis court, I was suddenly struck with my reality. Julia Morgan, nanny, standing on a tennis court in the sprawling gardens of a Georgian manor house, sleeping with her employer.

If only the Bronte sisters had gotten a load of me.

“Alright, Julia. Give it a rip!” Pat shouted. She was taking the front of the court, counting on Bonzo’s width to control the back of the court.

I gave the white wooly ball a few bounces, then threw it up in the air and gave it my best serve.

Pop! The ball flew across the court. It thwapped the ground and bounced toward Bonzo.

“Got it?!” Pat yelped.

He backhanded it over the net. “Got it!”

“You have to say, ‘got it’ before you get it!”

I couldn’t concentrate more on the conversation. I skittered up the court the moment I saw John whiff it. “Mine,” I grunted and knocked the ball back over the net. Pat and I kept a good volley with the Johns contributing now and then, until I sent the ball to the back corner, and it bounced out of bounds.

“Oo! Fifteen-love to Julia. No thanks to John!”

“I helped a little.”

“Yes, you did, darling,” I cooed, pinching his cheek.

The game was more interesting than boys versus girls, but still ended up being Pat and I doing most of the work which is, when you think of it, sadly true to life.

However, with the alcohol running through our systems, even Pat and I went silly some of the time. Tripping over ourselves, skipping around the court, throwing our heads back with laughter The score went out the window, and we all did a feral, gameless dance.

“I think we’ve won,” I said after several bouts.

“No thanks to me, hm?” John murmured, coming up behind me and stealing a kiss.

I latched a hand onto the breast of his shirt. “Certainly not.”

“I’ll allow it only because you’re sickeningly adorable together,” Pat said with a long, heavy sigh. “I’m awfully tired though. Will you be gutted if we call it quits?”

I wanted nothing more than to retreat into the house for a shower and a number of other things. “No, I think it’s about time.”

“We need a catnap before dinner,” Pat said and then tucked her mouth behind her hand to whisper to me, “At least he does.”

“Are you talkin’ about me over here?”

“Never.” Pat smiled at him innocently and batted her lashes.

Bonzo eyed her and then swiped her legs out from under her and threw her over his shoulder. “Likely story.”

“Oh, you brute,” she sighed dreamily. “See you two at dinner!” Pat yelped, hanging over her husband’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, attempting to wave goodbye.

John and I both laughed and watched them go off. I smiled surreptitiously at him, touching the lapel of his tennis shirt. “Well, should we follow them?”

He cocked his head, almost confused. “You all finished?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to play more?”

“Oh, I just thought –” John picked up the tennis ball from the ground and popped it in the air, catching it right back in his palm. “You and I could have a go.” He placed the ball into my hand. “Thought you could teach me a few things.”

“John, my skills cannot be taught,” I teased.

“Mm, can’t they?” He stepped up to me, toe to toe. He might not have been much taller than me, but when he acted cocky, he managed to tower. “Humor me, Julia.”

Damn him. So pretty and intoxicating. And so little time left. Less than twelve hours before he’d be gone. I pointed to the other side of the court with my racket. “Alright. But don’t be upset when I beat you.”

“Trust me, Julia, it will be an absolute honor to lose to you.”

I smiled to myself and crossed to my position on the court. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are, Billie Jean.”

“Watch and learn, I guess,” I said through a giggle. I’d gained a lot of confidence in my serve since the last game. My body remembered the pattern, the reach and the arc.

The ball flew across the court. John was on his toes, fast and precise with his movement. I was impressed. He might have been the Tin Man to start, but his joints had clearly been oiled. However, with a final swing of my racket, I managed to make the point. John ran to catch it but stopped short of the sideline. “Damn. Thought I had you,” he called out.

“You get the idea. You want to serve now?”

John smiled in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“That was just a practice,” I said with a casual shrug. “Besides, you’ll have to keep up with my technique,” I said, springing on my feet and swinging my racket playfully.

John laughed. “Oh, Julia…”

“What?”

John retrieved the ball and sighed. “I’m going to miss you.” Bounced the ball a few times. “That’s all.”

My heart fluttered. “You’re trying to distract me.”

A childish grin spread on his face. “Is it working?”

I set myself up at the back of the court and watched John ready his serve. A few bounces of the ball, tossing his hair out of his eyes, rolling his shoulders back. Throw and…

I wasn’t prepared for the strength of his serve. The ball flashed like lightning across the court. I didn’t even see it before it hit just before the baseline and out of bounds. “Bloody hell!” I screeched.

“Sorry!”

I looked at John. He still wore a hapless sort of expression. “What was that?”

“Luck, I guess?”

I collected the ball and tossed it back. “Alright. Fifteen-love, huh?”

“Is that my first point of the day? Goodness…” John mused as he readied his serve again.

This time, his serve was powerful, but I was quick this time and hit it right back onto his side of the net. John leapt up to meet it, smacking it back toward me. It whipped past my ear and out of my reach. I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Coincidence?” John said with a shrug.

I wasn’t so sure. “Thirty-love.” I threw the ball back his way.

Sure enough, his serve was quick and exacting. I was prepared though, and we were able to volley back and forth. Each time I hit the ball felt more and more out of my reach. I was having to take longer strides and leaps to get to it. And eventually, John made the kill shot, sending the ball off the court.

I stopped to catch my breath, placing my hands on my knees. “What…the hell…”

“Maybe I just needed to warm-up.”

I glanced over at him, breath still heaving. The fucker didn’t even seem plussed. He was smiling ear to ear. Almost like a maniac. “Are you hustling me?” I called out.

John frowned. “No, how would I be doing that?”

“Because you barely managed a point all afternoon and now it’s forty-love.”

John grabbed a new ball and readied himself for another serve. “I assure you, Julia, I haven’t been doing anything of the sort.” He bounced the ball waiting for me to be ready. Then, he lifted his head, sneaking a smirk on his face. “Besides…if I was hustling you, we would have had to have made a bet, wouldn’t we?”

I didn’t have time to argue the semantics of hustling before he thwapped the ball back over the net toward me. I had to think fast on my feet, just as I’d been doing all day. However, whereas I’d been at the top of my game all day, John had been storing his up for later. The sneak.

To the surprise of no one but my past self, John won with one stroke, leaving me with nothing but an aching elbow and sweaty brow. The ball whipped past me, bouncing off the court and into the grass. I turned to look at it, looking almost like an egg that had dropped from a nest.

“A fluke.”

My whole body went rigid at his voice.

“Shall we try again? Just to see?”

Growing up with two brothers, it was impossible for me not to be competitive. Wedged between the two of them in the birth order, I was always pushing myself to keep up. I knew I could wipe the floor with them.

And this would be no different. “Your luck is running out, Jones.” I grabbed the ball from the lawn and prepared to serve.

“Do your worst, Julia.”

My worst, or should I say best, fell short.

Fell really short.

Because John…well, if I hadn’t been the one losing to him, I would have said he was stunning. For a casual tennis player at least. He was quick, direct, agile. It seemed like every move was planned out before it happened, even though there was no way he could have known.

The final point had me stumbling toward the net like an idiot. I was Tweedle Dee and Dum wrapped into one.

He’d tricked me. And now he was just rubbing it in my face.

“What a surprise, huh?”

I stared at his pristine white shoes, hoping I could set them on fire with my gaze alone. “You…hustler.”

“I can’t be a hustler if –”

“Don’t.” I glared at him.

John still smiled stupidly.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.”

I let out a guttural shriek and dropped my racket to the ground. I’d known enough children in my life to know what made a good tantrum. “You hustled –”

“Ah, ah, ah,” John taunted, wagging his finger.

I huffed. I didn’t even want to look at him. It didn’t matter that the only people who knew my foolishness were John, myself, and God.

“You fooled me.”

John grinned. “That’s the word!”

I gaped at him. So he admitted it. I wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer. I turned on my heels and stalked back to the house. Through his childish antics, the entire day had been tainted.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I heard John run after me. The metal of his racket hits my hip bone. He looped his arm around me, grabbed the metal of the racket, and pulled me flush to his pelvis. I gasped, struggling to continue walking. He only pulled me tighter. “Are you really so cross at me you’re going to throw a tantrum?”

I tried to wriggle, but with every step forward, he pulled harder. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and felt his hot breath slide across my face. “Yes.”

“Really? You’re going to ruin our…” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Wonderful day because…” my jaw.

“John…”

“…of your pride,” he murmured into my neck before pressing his lips to the delicate skin.

I couldn’t deny how he melted me. I couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when his mere touch made me feel like this. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” John mumbled and tightened the racket even more. I could feel his hardness up against my backside.

I grabbed the racket and tried to push it away. “I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled darkly, sliding his mouth up to my ear. “Are you?”

I didn’t have time to respond before he nibbled on my ear lobe. I let out a moan despite myself. “Fuck…”

“I knew you couldn’t be mad for too long.”

With him leaving tomorrow, there was no way I could be mad for too long. After all, I wanted him to come back to me. To adore me all the same. “I hate you.”

John sighed, pleased. “I know.”

I raked my hand through his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. The moment our lips collided I knew I was done for.

John dropped the racket, one hand grabbing for my chest and the other sliding under my skirt, knocking up against my wet panties.

“John, not here,” I said breathlessly between kisses.

John bit down on my lower lip, pulling away. “Why not?” His hand on my chest caressed my breast eagerly, thumbing at my nipple until it stood erect through the fabric. “We’ve done it outside before.”

I looked in horror at the house. Thinking about all the life inside. “But the house –”

John’s hand threaded into my underwear, fingers dipping inside me. My legs went weak. “What about the house?”

“I…” All words left my brain as he pulsed his fingers inside me.

“What are you scared of?”

“They’re…” I tried to swallow. “In the house, there are people –”

John shoved his fingers deep inside me, thumb skimming my clit. I let out a strangled whine. “So what if there are people in the house?” he said through gritted teeth.

The feelings were so intense that I had to drop to my knees, grass breaking my fall. John didn’t let me go for a second. As the house loomed, my pleasure grew. It was so wrong and perverse.

And it felt so good.

John began to push my underwear down, further and further until I could feel his bare cock against my ass. “John, they’ll see!” I said in an urgent whisper.

His fingers curled around my chin, jerking my head back to look at into his eyes. Almost completely black, edged in blue.

Who was this man? What had gotten into him? Only weeks ago he had been whimpering in my arms, terrified of coming too fast. Now he was…an animal.

“Listen to me, Julia,” he said, each word tight with consonants. “I don’t care if anyone sees.”

I gulped.

“Because that house,” he said eyes flicking toward the house momentarily, “is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can do who I want. You understand?”

I nodded, completely hypnotized.

John’s finger traced the outside of my mouth. “The house is mine; the court is mine, the ground under you is mine.” He kissed me softly. “And Julia?”

“What?”

“You are mine.”

I couldn’t respond before John forced me down onto the grass, pushing himself inside of me. I cried out in surprise, the stretch sending a shock of warmth through my body. His hand pressed into my upper back, keeping my chest tight to the ground while my ass stayed in the air.

John made quick work, fast and hard.

And despite all the terror, the fear that someone was looking through a curtain from somewhere inside, I loved it.

I loved every second.

“Did you hear me?” he grunted through his teeth. “You’re mine.”

I moaned, feeling blades of grass fold into my lips.

John continued to mercilessly thrust, doubling over my back. I could hear every one of his breaths, his spit moving in his mouth, whimpers tucked deep in his throat. I dug my fingers into the dirt, clinging for dear life as my body was rocked back and forth with electric pulses from his cock buried inside me.

John’s fingers curled around my hips, so hard it was almost painful.

Nothing was pain, though, when I knew how much he wanted me.

I turned my face into the Earth and let out a huge, plangent cry. My whole body tightened with impending euphoria.

John let out a pathetic grunt. “Oh god, oh my god, I – ahh!”

My orgasm caught me off guard; my cunt clenched around him as warm, angry pleasure sent me spiraling.

As I reveled in pleasure, John pressed himself up against my back and with each final thrust, he grunted, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re –” John cut himself off. Even he couldn’t stay composed when it came to his desire. “O-oh.”

And then he came, deep inside me, his seed feeling hotter and more desperate than usual.

I could feel his heart pounding into my back like a drum.

John’s head drooped beside mine; he kissed the crest of my ear tenderly, as if he hadn’t just fucked me without repentance out in the open.

His words echoed in my head. You’re mine. It seemed so simple, just two words. But I had no idea what that meant to him. Which part of me was he claiming? My body? My heart? He could have all of it, but I didn’t want to give it away and look rash.

John rolled off of me with a sated sigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said, following suit and flopping onto my back. I looked down at my dress. White splotched with green. “Oh god, Pat’s dress.”

“I’ll buy her a new one,” John sighed. He reached out and pulled on my skirt. “Besides, this looks too good on you to get rid of.”

I gave him a small, bashful smile. “It’s probably nearly time to get the girls from school.”

“Oh, them. Forgot about them.”

“Shut up,” I snipped.

He laughed through closed lips.

“I’ll need to shower before I go to get them.”

“No, no. I’ll get them.” John pushed himself up to sitting with a heavy sigh, collapsing over his chest.

I giggled. “You sure you’ll make it?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Not to worry.” He got to his feet and dusted off the few blades of grass from his white shirt and tiny shorts. “Are you coming?”

My whole body felt like a part of the earth. I couldn’t leave it now. “In a minute. I’ll be up in a minute.”

John put his hands on his hips. “You’re not still cross with me, are you?” he asked, eyeing me.

I waved my feet back and forth. “Oh, of course I am.”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for it later then, hm?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, considering his expression. That sneaking little smile. Deep dimples. It broke my heart knowing tonight was our last night for a while.

John blew me a kiss. “I’m off.”

I kissed the air, too tired to even motion backward.

John sauntered up to the house.

“Change before you go,” I called out after him.

No response. I was bathed only in the delicate sounds of nature.

I could lay there. Forever, maybe. Let the worms devour me until I became a part of the earth. Then I wouldn’t have the question if I was John’s. I’d be a part of the ground that would belong to him.

Then, he could never get rid of me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have that kind of time. I had to get myself in proper shape for the girls when they got home. I scurried upstairs to the apartment, narrowly avoiding a collision with Annie, stripped off my clothes, and jumped in the shower, washing off the tramp and stepping back into the role of Madonna.

I could be both for him. While he was away, I could take care of his children, keep his home. And then when he returned, I could tend to him. All his needs.

He’d be a fool to let me go, wouldn’t he?

When John returned with the girls, we corralled them into the kitchen where Annie had set the table with lemonade and tea cakes. They stuffed their faces while they excitedly talked about their day at school.

The Bonhams joined us shortly after to the thrill of the girls. Pat doting, Bonzo teasing. John and I of course retreated into our respectable distance. After all, a confirmed romance is one thing, but involving his children would be another. However, I couldn’t ignore the prolonged glances through dinner, the tiny smiles exchanged over dessert, and the graze of his hand on my neck as he passed behind my seat.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

Bloody hell, that meant something, didn’t it?

Evening turned into night. Pat and I took care of bedtime while the Johns retreated into the studio, already chomping at the bit to get back to the music. While I was dreading John’s trip, their excitable chatting over what was to come let me know it was right.

Pat and I stayed up for several hours gabbing away, catching up on every little thing since Montreux. I was pleased to be able to call her a friend.

However, when midnight came and went and there was no sign of our respective male companions, Pat had had enough. “What are they getting up to down there anyway?”

“Any number of things.”

She got to her feet and went to the door to the stairwell. She listened for a moment and then huffed. “I don’t even think they’re playing anymore! What on earth do they have to talk about?”

I giggled.

“I want him to get to bed. otherwise he’ll be grumpy in the morning and we’ll have to wake him up with smelling salts.”

“I’ll do it, I’ve got a lot of experience interrupting John in the studio.”

“Mm. Well, I’ll go with you in case my husband gives you grief.”

I tiptoed down the stairs, with Pat at my heels. We could hear the muffled conversation of men through the gap in the studio door.

The closer we got the more words we could make out.

Pat shot ahead of me and cocked her ear toward the door.

“Are you listening?” I whispered.

She put her finger over her mouth to silence me and pulled me close to her. “We can have a little fun too, can’t we?” she said, lips so close to my ear she might be kissing me.

I wasn’t above eavesdropping. In fact, it seemed like a fun little game for two adult women having something resembling a slumber party.

Oh, but how wrong I was.

“You’ll keep quiet about it, won’t you?”

“Who would I even tell?” Bonzo could be heard asking.

“I don’t know,” came John’s voice. Quieter. Nervous even. “Robert, maybe.”

“Don’t be thick, Jones. We don’t talk about your extracurriculars,” he replied with a deep chuckle.

“Ah, right.”

“Besides, what would be the harm in anyone knowing you fancy Julia anyway?”

Pat and I exchanged a look. My heart started to pump in my chest. He was talking about me.

Making sure I was a secret.

“Because…I don’t know if I even fancy Julia.”

Pat grabbed my arm.

Luckily, Bonzo was there to defend my honor. “You’re mental. The way you two were acting out there today.”

John didn’t reply. Pat and I leaned closer to the door in case we missed him whispering.

“She’s a pretty thing, she’s good with your girls, what more is there to it?” Bonzo continued.

“Alright, well, it’s not that I don’t fancy her, I guess. What I mean is…”

There was a long silence. I would have liked to jump into it and never be heard from again.

“It’s all been moving so quickly. And –” John cleared his throat. “You know, I still think about her all the time.”

That “her” was not me.

That “her” was Mo.

“‘Course you do, mate.”

“My mind just gets so…scrambled up.” Another pause. “And I need to get that all straightened out before I move forward with anything.”

Pat took that moment to pull open the door. I darted out of view, wringing my hands in the skirt of my nightgown. “Well, you two might as well just marry each other how long you’ve left us cold in bed, huh?”

I hurried up the stairs and left the chastising to her. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I leapt into bed and tucked myself under the covers.

Of course he wasn’t ready. How could I have been so foolish? Men never, ever say what they mean. They say what they think and don’t bother to evaluate whether they should say it. They feel entitled to every stupid thought that pops into their head.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

By the time John crept into bed and slid his arms around me, I was not in the mood to indulge his impulses.

“You’re tired?”

“Mhm.”

He kissed me softly at the base of my skull with the lips that had just had the audacity to denounce me behind closed doors. “Goodnight, angel.”

For the first time since finding out he was leaving, I couldn’t wait for him to get out of my bed.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side , @thepinklovewitch, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @montereypopgroupie, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54, @leveeisbreaking (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #john paul jones x oc #wildflowers #wf #john bonham #pat bonham #julia morgan

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julians-muscles-and-tits · 2 months ago

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#trailer park boys #julian #randy #smokey #for all the Randy x Julian shippers out there 💜💛#was bored af when i made this lol #also sorry Julian’s arm looks weird i couldn't crop Bubbles arm out of the picture lmao #tpb julian #randy x julian #randy/julian #ever since I wrote the fan fic “Late Lot Fees” I've become obsessed with this small TPB ship lmao #john paul tremblay #pat roach #tpb art #fan art #tpb #tpb randy #my art

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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months ago

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The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim.

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you.

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face.

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes.

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father.

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight.

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner.

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand.

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does.

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son.

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom.

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours.

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go.

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours.

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer.

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #feyd rautha fic #feyd x reader

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finelinevogue · 2 months ago

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under wraps

summary - you and andrew are on a talk show together & you are also in a secret relationship

word count - +1k

pairing - andrew garfield x actress!reader

🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿• 🍿

“Andrew, have you ever met Y/N?”

“I-um - yes! Briefly.”

“Where?”

Well that was a long question that would have to be answered with a lot of lies.

Going on chat shows where you and Andrew were both on at the same time were rare, but when it did happen it was very difficult to keep your relationship a kept secret.

You and Andrew had been dating for 7 months now and were doing well to keep it under wraps - which you both wanted to keep that way for as long as possible - but going on live chat shows was always a risk.

You’d both set up all your fake stories ages ago so that when you got asked questions like he’d just been asked, it would be okay.

“I believe - this is going to sound so douchey to say - but I believe it was at Paul McCartney’s birthday party last year?” Andrew looked to you for confirmation.

It was even harder to keep everything under-wraps on this chat show as you’d been placed next to each other on the chat sofa.

It was nice to be sat next to your boyfriend.

He smelt great and he was an immense comfort to you - as he is clearly a huge, global, mega-star whereas you are best-known for your role as a main character on a well-known British TV show.

It’s always a little nervy being sat next to the big names in the leagues, but Andrew always had a way of being the bridge and bringing everyone together.

“Oooh la-di-daaa!” Graham Norton - the host - teased. “Paul McCartney! You have gone up in the world.”

The audience and the rest of the celebrity guests laughed - including Florence Pugh, who was here to promote her new movie that also starred Andrew, Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, who were here to promote their new movie.

“Paul was also there.” Andrew pointed out, to which Paul nodded along.

“And Pedro?” Graham prompted.

“Oh, Paul McCartney doesn’t know who I am.” He said, which got a laugh from the audience. Once the audience had died down he spoke again, “But, Madonna however….”

After people had quietened down, Graham returned to asking questions.

“Y/N. You’ve got your new series of ‘The Lovely Life’ coming out.” Graham said.

Andrew started clapping immediately, prompting other people to start clapping with him and giving you a cheer or two.

You blushed slightly as you took note of the celebrities clapping for you, inching ever so closer to Andrew to try and hide the endearment.

“Brilliant show.” Andrew commented - as if he doesn’t tell you that every day you go to work and every other day of your life.

“Thanks.” You smile, giving him a few extra words of kindness with your eyes as you look at him lovingly.

“But it’s not really a show about lovely life, is it Y/N?” Graham asked.

“No, no it’s not.” You sighed.

“Have you seen it, Pedro?” Graham asked.

Pedro pushed his glasses up his nose a little and focuses his body to face you as he speaks, “No. I apologise, but no I haven’t.”

“That’s okay.” You smiled at him, feeling no untowards him.

Some of the audience gasp.

“Oh no.” Florence laughed.

“What? What did I just say?” Pedro looked alarmed, sending you into a giggling fit.

“You’ve just burned the hearts of the UK. Cancel culture will be coming for you.” Paul answered for his friend, patting him in the shoulder solemnly, making everyone laugh and you shake your head at how overdramatic it was.

“No, no!” You shook your head, not wanting to upset Pedro or anything even though it was all in jest.

“How dare you!” Andrew bellowed beside you, also sticking up for you and your programme as a joke.

You leaned back on the sofa, covering your face with your hands as you tried to let the couch swallow you whole.

Once everyone had calmed down again Graham returned to asking questions.

“Y/N, do you want to tell us a little bit about this new season?” He asked.

You crossed a leg over the other, making sure your flowy dress didn’t flash anyone as you did.

“I’m not sure how much I can say, but my character - Ruby - does not catch a break this season! She is back with her ex-boyfriend Jake but there’s also, maybe, potentially, someone new too. Obviously she still is in a lot of trouble from last season so we get to see a lot of that story brought over into this season too.”

“Do we find out if Ruby did kill her dad?” Florence asked, on the edge of her seat.

“To that I will say… The answer has already been revealed.”

That caused the audience and the celebrities to gasp. You giggled as you watched their faces - Andrew’s in particular because he’s constantly asking you questions like that but never gets an answer.

Andrew is super passionate about the work that you do and is constantly encouraging you to try new things and different types of acting. You wouldn’t be as confident as you were today had it not been for Andrew showing you how amazing you really are.

“I have no idea whether this show is streamed in America–.” Pedro said.

“It’s not.” Andrew cut in.

“Well then I will just have to stay in England for longer to binge your show, Y/N. I’m hooked already!”

“Thank you.” You smiled kindly.

“Now, Andrew and Florence. Your new movie is coming out in January, am I right?” Graham asked.

“Yes. January the first.” Florence answered.

“I’ve always wanted to know whether as actors you find it difficult to do intimate scenes with one another - ‘cause I imagine they’re quite intense but it’s also not someone you’ve built an intimate connection with let’s say.”

“Well Florence and I were lucky in that we really trusted one another and felt safe with each other in that space, so I don’t think either one of us felt uncomfortable, right?” Andrew answered, prompting Florence for a response.

“Yeah and I think also there’s an element of knowing in the back of your mind that this is a piece of work that we’ve committed to, and we want to do it well. We have to look convincing to do the job well, which then helps make the acting look more convincing as well.” Florence answered.

“Well you’re very good actors because from the trailer alone you look like you’re a fully committed couple.” Graham laughed, causing other people to agree.

“We’re in a platonic relationship in real life.” Andrew grabbed Florence’s hand to gesture their friendship bond.

You smiled as you watched them.

At the beginning of your relationship, it had been a little difficult to adjust to dating someone who is so high profile in comparison to you. Now, you’re feeling more and more confident within yourself and your own worth each day which makes seeing on-screen chemistry with Andrew’s co-stars easier.

Yours and Andrew’s relationship was - just like any other relationship - built on a pillar of trust and you were very fortunate that you had a lot of trust for each other because you respected each other.

“Well your chemistry is very convincing.” Graham said.

“That’s because we’re great actors.” Florence smiled - earning a cheer from the audience.

No amount of Graham’s meddling would cause Andrew’s gaze to shift from yours.

Once people had settled back down you noticed Andrew’s hand sitting on the chair next to his thigh.

You convincingly, pretend to tuck a hand under your own thigh, pretending like it was a comfort thing, and ever so slightly reached out your pinky finger to touch Andrew’s.

He clearly was on the same wavelength as you because you felt his pinky finger stretching too.

The comfort alone when your pinky fingers grazed each other was warm and lovely. You tried your best to not let your reaction visibly show, but it was hard not to slightly smile or blush when Andrew made you feel so much. So so much.

#andrew garfield fanfic #andrew garfield fic #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fic rec #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield graham norton #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x female reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 4 months ago

Text

too soon to tell you I love you!

Ewan Mitchell x f!reader

a/n: another random Ewan oneshot, as a result of @seamaiden indulging my delusions 💛

main masterlist

It's not often that you bump into one of your favourite actors at the pub... or he bumps into you.

It is just another night out on the town, and your mates managed to convince you to have a couple of drinks out in Covent Garden.

There's a really good pub you haven't been to apparently, but you know your friends, and they would think a pub is stellar as long as there is free-flowing alcohol inside.

It's a pub, you typed in the group chat, what could be so special about it? I kinda want to stay in tonight.

It will be special cos we'll be in it, one of them replied.

And that was the end of it. No room for negotiation when a night out is involved, but you adore your close-knit band of rascals, so you're hardly fazed.

The three of you are snug in a booth, the first round of drinks already imbibed and wreaking havok in your livers.

"Another round, guys, c'mon," Paul says, slamming his hands down on the wooden table, ever the charming instigator.

"You want another, you be the one to fetch it," Gracie smirked, wagging a finger at him.

"But I got this one! Lay off me, mate. It's someone else's turn now, that's how the system is, let's be civil about this—"

"Oh my god," you cut him off with a teasing laugh, "you really will say anything to get out of getting another round, won't you?" You share a conspiratorial wink with Gracie.

Paul gapes like a blubbering fish. "Hey! But I got the first round—"

"Alright, alright, drama queen," you stand from your seat, patting his shoulder in a mock comforting manner, "I'll cover this round."

"Huzzah! I love you!"

You roll your eyes fondly. "Oh, get a grip. I'll be right back."

It's a Friday night, so traversing the cramped confines of the pub feels like walking into a battefield. You have to shimmy past patrons filing in and out, those standing around tables like flocks of flamingo instead of sitting as they should, lads too focused on the match on the telly to notice when you first mutter excuse me, pardon me.

Then someone, much to your increased annoyance, bumps right into you from behind. You're thrown off kilter when you feel an elbow shoved in between your shoulder blades, making you step on your own damn foot.

You turn sharply. "Hey, watch it—"

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"I... I..."

"Are you okay?" he asks. His sharp, angular face and intense, piercing gaze make him instantly recognizable. He has that quietly powerful presence, standing a bit taller than you expected, with striking cheekbones and the slightest smirk playing at his lips, framed by the littlest bit of dirty blonde scruff.

"Here, come on." He gently tugs at your arm, his other hand occupied with a full pint. You let him pull you away from the warm, inebriated bodies and into a more secluded corner to the side of the main bar. "Much better, eh? Sorry, I didn't think you could hear me back there. Pub's proper packed tonight, innit? But... yeah, I'm sorry for bumping into you like that."

"It's... not a problem."

"Really?"

You nod, forcing a smile, your throat so constricted you can barely form a coherent sentence.

"Well... I, uh... how about I make it up to you anyway, huh? I could get you a drink? And your mates too if they're around?"

"Yeah, they're..." You raise a hand and wave at your table, but they're already keenly watching you, intrigued looks on their faces. You'll never hear the end of this later. Or ever.

"Is that them?" He waves politely, smiling in amusement. He knows that they recognise him, and how could he not, when they're practically gaping in his direction.

And finally— "Oh, uhm, I'm... Ewan, by the way." You shake his extended hand, introducing yourself in turn.

"Nice to meet you," you croak, "and... uhhh... I actually—"

There's a spark in his eye, and either it's the ambient lighting or his cheeks turn flushed. "Do you watch the show?"

"Yes. I'm a huge fan of yours..." you exhale in relief, a weight off your shoulders as if some secret is finally revealed, but then you hear your words again. "...and the show! I mean, I love the show—"

"Thank you," he grins, saving you from blabbering on too much. He leans forward and nudges your upper arm in a friendly gesture. "Thank you so much, really. I'm glad to hear it."

"So can I ask what's it like to film—"

"You here with just mates or a boyf—"

"Oh, you go ahead," you quickly say, but he blurts out, "Sorry, what did you say?" at the same time. Again.

Just two cluckering hens unable to speak to each other.

Feeling your composure returning, you hold a finger up, telling him to listen for a moment. He laughs softly at your faux stern expression, and the sound is so warm and genuine that your attempted seriousness melts away instantly. You could so get used to that.

"I just wanted to ask, and I hope you don't mind, what is it like to film the show? To be Aemond?"

"Oh, it's an absolute dream," he starts, turning his gaze away for a brief moment as one does when they're tapping into a memory. His blue eyes are cast in another direction, and you're grateful for the momentary reprieve. You catch yourself letting out a shaky breath, no longer arrested by those magnetic orbs of his. But only a few seconds pass before you already miss gazing into them.

You get a hold of your thoughts, and tune in to his words as he continues, "Aemond has become very dear to me... Well, he's definitely a part of me now! And the cast is just the best group of people to work with and I couldn't be more grateful so... Who's your, uhh, favourite character then?"

"Well," you shrug, "you could say he's standing right in front of me!"

"Oh really? And why Aemond?" He places his pint down on the bar and takes a step closer, leaning against the varnished mahogany ever so casually. You have half a mind to chug his pint in order to deal with the intensity of simply being this close to him.

What can you say? Because he's the most beautiful boy you've ever seen? Because he's your tortured little war criminal who is precious and can do no wrong? Because you want to be his ladywife and consumm...

You decide none of those are usable.

So you jump into a brief explanation of how Aemond is a compelling character, a mix of ambition and vulnerability, constantly at odds with others and even himself.

All the while, Ewan stares at you intently. All the while, you pray that your heart won't stop.

When you finish, the smile that is already present on his lips stretches even wider. "You're not just saying that because I'm here, are you? Like, you wouldn't say Criston is your favourite if it were Fabien you bumped into tonight?"

You give a sardonic nod, a slight smirk playing at your lips. "Sure, Ewan. I can easily reuse everything I've said and apply it to Criston Cole. Is Fabien with you? Maybe he can bump into me, and we can start the whole thing all over again."

"No way," he says smoothly, "you're mine."

Your prayers didn't work. Your heart stopped.

He clears his throat, ears reddening. "I mean, you're on team Aemond, come on now. You must prefer him over Cole."

"Well, I do."

"So there, you are mine," he cheekily repeats. Shy then brazen. Embarrassed then flirty.

Just who is this man? You've seen dozens of interviews, heard many a tale of fan encounters, but with every passing second, you feel as if you're discovering someone new altogether.

And it's the type of exciting that stirs you at your core.

"Sorry, am I keeping you from company? I don't want to monopolise— "

He hurriedly shuts that down. "No, no, it's okay. I'm just here with my brother and..." A group of lads erupts in cheers at a goal. "...girlfriend."

"Oh," you mumble. Your heart did start working again, only to clench uncomfortably in your chest. "Well, you should get back to your girlfriend. It was really nice to meet—"

"Wait, hold on," he pleads, reaching for your hand to stop you from turning away, "Not my girlfriend. My brother's. I'm kind of third wheeling them actually. But he's only in London until tomorrow so he wanted to meet me anyway."

"Oh. Okay—"

"I don't... I don't have a girlfriend."

"Uhm, okay," you offer a small smile, unable to deny that his statement gave you some ease.

For no particular reason.

It dawns on you that his larger, rougher hand is still caging yours. When you finally lift your eyes to meet his, a gentle smile plays at his lips, his gaze unwavering.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone meant only for you. "Listen, could I—"

Something flutters in your peripheral vision, distracting you, albeit you thought it impossible to have your attention diverted if you would ever meet Ewan.

But it was. You turn to see Paul waving an arm frantically at you, likely having waited far too long for his precious pint. Gracie, bless her, tries to get him to simmer down, reaching across the table to slap his arm. Her hand comes into contact with his skin, resulting in a smack loud enough to reach you across the pub.

"Ow!" Paul yelps.

"Leave her alone, mate!" Gracie snaps.

You can't help but laugh at their antics. When you turn to Ewan again, you lose track of what you were going to say, as he's watching you with an unexpected softness, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"So..."

"Hmm?" How Aemond of him.

"I think I should do my duty and fetch those guys a round," you sigh, jutting a thumb at your table.

"Oh, I'll get it," he quickly offers. "Don't worry about it, darling."

"Are you sure? I really can—"

"Wait here," he murmurs, his voice so close to your ear that a shiver ripples through you, goosebumps prickling along your skin in response.

You watch as he effortlessly navigates the line, his steady confidence drawing your attention as he orders three pints when it's his turn. You can't help but wonder how no one else has recognized him yet. Luck must be on his side, the footy match on the screens rendering everyone oblivious to the presence of a celebrity in their midst.

Their loss, your gain.

The aforementioned celebrity gestures to you with a tilt of his head, and you weave through the crowd idling by the bar to reach him.

"Here, hold this for me, darling," he says, handing you his own half-empty pint. He balances a full tray with both hands, heading to your table, where Paul has most likely turned into a dry husk.

"Thank you for buying a round!" Gracie exclaims, bouncing slightly in her seat. "You are Ewan from House of the Dragon, right?"

Ewan smiles, shirking slightly under the attention. "Yeah, and hey, I'm just doing my part," he replies with a friendly shrug.

As they gush about House of the Dragon, you try your hardest to disappear into your chair, feeling your cheeks heat. Paul, however—of course—has other plans.

"So, Ewan, you have to know that my friend here—" He gestures dramatically toward you. "—has the biggest crush on Aemond. I'm talking full-on obsession, really.”

"Oh my god, Paul!" you groan, burying your face in your hands, mortified. "Why would you say that?"

Ewan chuckles, and you peer at him to find him leaning back, a smug yet handsome look on his face. "An obsession, you say?" he teases, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

You shake your head, laughing despite your embarrassment. "Okay, okay, that's a severe exaggeration."

Ewan says with a grin, looking between you and your friends. "I'll have to be on my best behavior, then, won’t I?"

"Oh, absolutely," Gracie replies. "If you mess this up, you'll ruin Aemond for her forever!"

Ewan raises his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "No pressure, then! But, I hope you don't mind if I steal her away for a while," he says, turning his gaze back to you, his tone softening. "I'd really like to sit and talk to her more."

Alys Rivers has got nothing on you.

"What about your brother?" you ask.

"Oh, I see him all the time," he says, all nonchalant, standing from the booth and offering his hand for you to take.

"Are you sure? I don't—"

"Oh my god, just go with him, mate! You know you want to," Paul groans loudly, then he throws Ewan a wink, adding, "You two would look so cute together, you know?"

You're about to chastise him for yet another pert remark, when Ewan replies, "Oh, yeah, I know."

As the night wears on, he recounts behind-the-scenes stories from filming, your shared laughter echoing in the back area of the pub. You lean in, captivated by the way he animatedly gestures, and by the absurd fact that you're casually talking to Ewan Mitchell.

Your Tumblr moots are going to have an absolute field day with this if they found out.

"You wouldn’t believe how many takes it took me to get that scene right with Vhagar," he says, shaking his head.

You can't help but laugh, picturing the scene. He watches you with a look that sends your poor heart fluttering.

The pub has just announced last call when he places his hand atop yours on the table. "Listen, darling... can I ask for your number? I would really love to see you again sometime."

Does he even have to ask?

"Uh, yeah, of course!" When you hand him his phone back, his fingers brush against yours, purposefully lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Brilliant," he says, glancing up at you with that charming smile. "I'll text you right now so you know it's really me."

True to his word, it doesn't take long before your phone buzzes in your pocket. You're met with a notification that an unknown number sent you a message—

Hey, beautiful. How about you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night? – your obsession, apparently

Your head shoots up, and you lock eyes with Ewan, who is already laughing to himself.

"Ewan! Are you kidding me?" you exclaim, but surrendering to the humour of the whole thing, laughing with him.

"Please say yes, darling?" he tilts his head, pouting adorably, drawing nearer to you.

Yes. Of course. Most certainly.

"Well... since I'm obsessed with you, I guess you already know my answer."

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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fashionteahouse · 3 months ago

Note

Hii! Your work is amazing!

Could you write a Reader x Paul story? The idea is that the reader is Jacob's friend, and he takes her to meet the pack. Paul has an imprint on her but keeps it a secret. Meanwhile, the reader becomes very close to the boys without knowing they are shapeshifters. At some point, they start arguing about Jacob suffering because of Bella. The reader then comforts Jacob, saying how sweet and loving he is and that he should find someone who truly loves him back. This makes Paul jealous. If it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a long story? I’ll leave the ending to your creativity—I absolutely love it!💓

heyy thank youuu 💜 and sure I would love to ! hope you enjoy :)

where do we go - paul x reader

"I can hear your stomach growling from here." Jacob pokes at you.

Nudging him, you tell him, "Just wait, yours will rumble like thunder in just one moment."

He chuckles at this and focuses back on the road with one hand on the steering wheel.

"This rides really smooth." you compliment his newly constructed ride. The rabbit he had been working on, was finally finished.

"Thanks." he says with a big smile.

Pulling up to the small but friendly looking home, you get out the car and adjust your slightly wrinkled clothes from it being pressed against the seat belt.

"Come on." he says impatiently. You wave him off, knowing that it was due to his hunger. He takes your hand and guides you into the home. You were shocked at the fact that he just opened the door and walked in like it was his own home.

A long, dark haired woman sets a platter of food in the middle of the table and looks over and smiles, "Just in time, Jacob. You brought someone." she states as she looks at you with a crinkle in her eye.

You wave with a friendly smile.

"This is Emily. Emily this is Y/N." Jacob says and you both say hi again.

"Are you hungry?" she asks.

"Hell yeah, I'm hungry." a boy says as he walks in and plops at a seat at the table.

Emily rolls her eyes and tsks, "Not you. I'm talking about Y/N." she says.

"Yes. Everything looks so good." you say and comment.

Jacob tugs your hand and sits you down next to him.

"This is Jared." Jacob tells you and you nod.

"I could've told her that." Jared replies back and this makes you smile a bit.

More people started to file into the room, conversations were thrown as people settled into their seats. They introduced themselves. You kept note of their names. Quil, Embry, Seth, and Sam.

"Where's Leah and Paul?" Sam asks as he grabs a fork.

"They said they were coming." Embry says as he wastes no time with digging in.

The door opens as you were in the middle of defending your growling stomach, Jacob tells the table how loud it was growling earlier.

You look and see a tall woman with short hair walk in with a muscle covered man.

You almost drooled at the sight of him but decided to keep your mouth occupied by chewing.

"We have company?" Leah asks as she takes a look at you and sits down with her own plate.

You both exchanged names.

"Can you hand me that?" you hear a rough voice.

"You should say please." Jacob says. You still hand it to him, you took it as an opportunity to look at this person who to you, was eye candy.

His eyes were like a spell. The talk that circled around you was muffled and didn't register in your ears as his warm fingers plucked the syrup bottle from you. His eyes went down to his own plate. You missed the sight but thought it was just a silly crush.

Paul on the other hand, didn't know how to feel. He liked the life of not being tied down. He loathed the idea of imprinting, he felt it was glamorized brainwashing. He didn't speak for the rest of the time at the table.

You and Leah wash the dishes as Emily clears the table.

"Are you going to be around more often?" Leah asks as she rinsed the cup under the warm water.

"I hope so. You guys are fun." you say with a smile.

You join the others in the living room, Jacob pats a spot next to him.

Paul did have questions. He wondered if Jacob had finally gotten over Bella Swan. He wondered if you were taking her place. He wondered how you two met. So, that's what he asked.

"How do you know Jacob?"

He didn't care how it came out, it was itching him to know. He watched closely as you looked at Jacob and giggled before saying, "Do you want to tell him or should I?"

Paul sighed softly to himself with impatience. He wanted to know the answer but you and Jacob laughed with each other as if you two shared an inside joke. Paul wanted to know how Jacob made you bubbly like that.

"Just tell him." you say, feeling nervous at Paul's intense and focused gaze.

"She used to work at a cookie shop. She would hook me up with the leftovers." Jacob shrugs.

"You still work there?" Quil asks, he wanted to be in on it.

"No, not anymore." you say while shaking your head.

"Why? He got you fired?" Paul asks again.

"No." you say in a small voice as you look to him.

"It was good while it lasted." Jacob says as he then starts to hold your hand.

"Everything can't last forever." you say to him with a small smile.

Since that day, you came over more often. You guilty started to prefer Sam and Emily's over Jacob's garage, even though you two shared great memories in such place.

Some days you would see Paul. Some days you don't. It didn’t bother you too much, you found yourself enjoying the quirks of each pack member.

You all were on the beach. You joined in on a soccer game. You had fun even though it was supposed to be competitive. Falling in the sand didn't matter to you.

You pant and sit down next to Leah, feeling tired.

"How come Paul didn't join us?" you ask. It was a nice day and everybody was in high spirits.

"Who knows." she replies.

"Oh." you say.

Paul walked the pathway to the beach. He could hear and see everyone from a distance. His ears opened as he could hear you and Leah speaking. He had conflicted emotions as seen you sitting next to her, he dreamt of you, two nights in a row.

"Is Paul antisocial or something?" you ask her.

Leah chuckles but shrugs and looks over, she sees Paul making his way to the sand covered beach.

Seth comes over and begs you both to play again. You get up as you watch Leah get up.

Paul just sat on the fallen log that distance from him and the group. He watched as you all had fun.

He didn't stay long. He found himself watching over you and he felt the spiked feeling when you looked over at him a few times.

Jacob wrapped his arm around you as he walked you back to his car. The sky was dark and you were yawning.

This time, you went over and Sam and Emily's with Leah. Walking in, you were happy to see everybody. Everyone got up and greeted you or gave you hugs.

Everyone except Jacob and Paul.

You walk over to a sulking Jacob, your face was masked with concern as he wasn't his usual sunny self.

"Hey Jake." you say softly.

"Hey." he replies back.

You didn't push it, you made sure to stay close. Paul watched as you brushed your arm against his, he secretly wanted you to do the same for whenever he was moody.

You eat some cookies that Emily had made, you offer him one. He shakes his head. You follow him out of the door and sit on the porch swing next to him.

You both sit in silence as the swing slowly rocked back and forth and the sounds of birds chirping was what filled the silence.

You look at him.

"Who did it?" you ask him. He shakes his head as he stares ahead.

"It's nothing. Really." he says. You're not convinced.

Dinner had came as you all enjoyed the cooked meal.

"Don't tell me you're still upset at that chick." Quil says as he takes a look at Jacob's slow paced eating.

"What chick? He wont tell me anything." you say as you put your utensil in your mouth.

"Bella Swan." Paul says. It was sneaky, but he didn't care.

"What did she do this time?" you ask Jacob and rub his arm.

"I just don't get it, why does she keeps pretending like she doesn't have feelings for me as well?"

"Well, how can you know for sure?" you ask.

"Come on, Y/N. The whole time her precious boyfriend was gone, she came to me for comfort. I saw the way she would look at me, let me hold her hand, and everything." Jacob says.

Embry snorts, "He still holds onto the fact that she told him he was sorta beautiful."

Snickering filled the table as they tease at the fact that he used to never shut up about it when it happened. Jacob just didn't have it in him to laugh a long with them. He genuinely felt frustrated and strung along. You didn't laugh either, you hold his hand that was resting on the table.

"I say to don't keep wasting your time on earning her love. If it was meant to be it would've happened."

"Thats the thing, it was going to happen. Had her boyfriend not come back."

"Jake, if she ran off with him at the opportunity presented, did she really love you enough?"

Jacob shrugs in defeat. You tug at his hand to get him to look at you. He does.

"Shes not the only girl in the world. As someone as sweet as you are, the right girl will come around. You're so loving and just so full of love, you will easily find someone who will love you right back. Just open your horizons." you say to him closely, you wanted him to grasp onto what you were saying.

"Is Y/N trying to shoot her shot?" Jared asks humorously.

Laughs circle around you tell him to shut up through your own laughter.

"Let me be there for him." you say as you take a look at your friend. He cheered up a bit, you didn't want him to get out of character for someone who didn't treat him to his value.

Paul didn't have an appetite anymore. He watched the interaction and felt something foreign enter his body. Jealousy. He was used to people being jealous of what he had, not the other way around.

"You don't want any more?" Emily asks Paul as he rises to empty his plate.

"I got full." he simply says. He takes a last glance as you continued to rub the back of Jacob's hand.

He goes outside and does what he does best, phase.

His mind wouldn't stop. Fantasies and realities began to mix with each other.

He huffed out through his snout as he bared his teeth at the thought of Jacob and you becoming an item.

"Paul? Did you imprint?"

Paul groaned at the distraction of his brain, not giving him a clue when Sam phased in. He shifts out and books it toward his home. He did a lot of thinking in the shower.

It shocked Emily and Sam when Paul decided to come over earlier than he usually does.

Sam gives him a look. Paul ignores him. He didn't need a pep talk, his mind was focused on one thing.

You and Jacob came in hand in hand and you both were softly talking to each other.

"Y/N."

You jump at the sound of Paul's voice saying your name. It was unexpected and you couldn't lie, you liked the way that it sounded.

"Yes?" you answer in a small voice.

"I need to talk to you." he says and steps forward.

Jacob clutched your hand tighter before moving you back a bit.

"For what?" Jacob questioned.

"I'm not talking to you." Paul coldly says.

"Jacob. It's alright." Sam speaks up and nods to Paul.

You say to Jacob, "I will be back, okay?”

He nods but you still saw the uncertainty.

You and Paul walked away from the home. You expected it to be awkward but it was comfortable. You kept glancing at him, his face was focused, as if he was thinking.

"I wont bite." he says as you two stop near a tall tree. You then saw the handsome grin that was displayed on his face.

"What's this talk about?" you ask warmly.

"I want to see you more often." he states.

"I do see you." you say.

He chuckled a bit, "No, I mean. I see you and you see me."

Your stomach drops. You had to make sure you weren't dreaming.

"W-why?" you ask, in a cracked voice.

"Never mind. I will back off if you and Jacob are a thing." he says.

"No!" you say louder than meant, "I mean.. Me and Jacob, we're just friends."

"The way you were talking to him, I would've thought you had a crush on him." he says in a somewhat teasing tone.

You shake your head, "I just really care for him. People who are in my life mean a lot to me." you say.

He nods.

You bring your own smile.

I mean. You're sort of beautiful." you say in a small voice. The look he gave you almost made your knees buckle.

"Sort of?" he asks.

You playfully roll your eyes a bit as you then look down, "You know what I mean." you whisper.

"So, where do we go from here?" you then ask.

"Wherever you want." he simply says.

As you two walk, he didn't want to tell you the imprint. He kept picturing the crash that would come down on your world once he tells you that you would be bound forever to someone like him.

You come back in and Jacob immediately, is in your face, this makes you laugh.

"I'm still alive, Jake. Calm down." you laugh. He just hugs you. Paul ignored the narrowed eyes that were darted his way.

You didn't come over on this particular day. You and Emily decided to spend the day together.

Jacob confronts Paul.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing, think again."

"Or what?" Paul simply asks.

Jacob steps forward, "Stay away from her. She doesn't need to be tainted by you."

Paul steps forward as well, "Or what?" he asks again. It was one thing for him to think it in his own head, it was another thing for someone to say it directly to him.

"You will see." Jacob states and walks off.

Paul shakes his head at the younger boy, he was in for a surprise.

You come into the home with Emily, Paul stayed hoping to run into you.

"Where's Jake?" you ask Sam who was moving towards Emily.

"Billy called him to come home." he states.

"Oh." you say. Before you could fully tun your body fully around, you heard, "You're not going to stay?"

Paul looked right you, expecting an answer.

You shrug. You watch him scoot over in the sofa, leaving some room for you to clearly sit down.

You slowly walk and have a seat.

He gets comfortable and doesn't care that his arm brushed against you. To be honest, you didn't care either.

Your mind was in a daze as it constantly thought how nice it was to be around Paul.

"Did you hear me?"

You look up.

"You weren't listening?" Jacob asks with a wrench in his hand.

"Sorry." you say whispering and shaking your head a bit.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'm just distracted that's all."

Jacob sighs a bit and suggests something, "Lets walk around or something. You've been cooped up in here with me."

You chuckle and rise up. The rain had stopped, leaving the air to be humid.

You soon find out that Jacob had been taking it one day at a time.

"You wont get over her overnight but, at least it's something." you say and take his hand to comfort him.

"I know." he says.

You noticed his walking slowing down. It wasn't until you looked ahead and your heart started to work extra hard to beat.

You see Paul's eyes flicker down to you and Jacob's conjoined hands.

You loosen your grip and put your hand behind your back. Paul is amused at this and even more amused at the somewhat hurt look on Jacob's face.

"Can we help you?" Jacob asks in an irritated tone.

You give him a look to tell him to chill out.

Paul doesn't seem effected by Jacob's cruel tone, just putting his eyes back onto you.

"How are you?"

"I'm good. You?" you say back.

"Better." he answers back.

"Come on, Y/N." Jacob says as he tugs your hand. You look over your shoulder to see Paul standing, looking at you as well as you walked away.

"What was that?" you ask Jacob as distance is great.

"You can't get close with him, Y/N." he says.

"Why not?" you ask.

"He's bad news." he says.

"Jake, that's not fair. I've been getting close with everyone."

"Just. Not him, okay? Please. You trust me right?" he presses.

"Yes. I trust you." you say and you seen the relief that washed over his face.

You stuffed your hands in your pocket as you watched the waves. You had agreed to go to the beach with Seth and Leah.

Seth picks up a stick, a worm was on it.

"Look, Y/N." he says with a smile, bringing the stick closer.

You squealed a bit, the worm looked nasty.

"Seth, Jesus. Leave her alone." Leah says.

Seth directs the stick in her direction, on the verge of laughing. Leah jumps back, "Seth, I swear!"

He continues his teasing as both you and Leah run a bit to get away from Seth who held the power to make you and Leah squirm.

You bump hard into something to the point, you emit an, "Oof."

Two strong hands hold your arms up, you don't even know what the wet sand felt like. You were grateful.

You look up to see Paul's face staring down at you.

"Sorry." you say and step back as if he was flaming fire. His face flashed a quick look of pining.

You turn around seen the stick on the ground and Leah has Seth in a headlock.

"Not so funny is it?" Leah says with a smirk.

"Lee I'm sorry. Come on, you have to admit that it was funny." Seth says.

"It will be funny if I make you eat this worm." Leah says.

You felt a hot hand touch your arm to make you turn back around.

"I haven't seen you around in a while." he says.

You shrug.

"You think I have germs or something?" he asks as he follows you on a large rock to sit on.

Softly chuckling, "No."

"Then what is it?" he asks lowly, his face was nicely placed close to your face. You didn't have to look over or up much, to see his face.

"I don't know." you whisper.

"Liar." he whispered back.

"Y/N, are you eating dinner with us?" Leah calls over, both herself and Seth looked ready to leave.

"I will feed you. If you want." Paul offers to you, only you could hear.

"Um.." you say to him and call back to Leah, "Sure."

You rise up. Paul's heart drops down.

"Getting cuddly with Lahote?" Leah asks you as you and her were in the bathroom taking turns to wash hands.

"It's nothing." you say.

"Sure." she says sarcastically.

Her mother, Sue, had good cooking. You made sure to compliment it and shes flattered.

Leah persuades you to spend the night.

You go with her and Seth in the morning to Sam's for breakfast.

You notice Paul wasn't there. Jacob engulfs you into a hug. You felt the difference in the room. You couldn't put your finger on it, his absence was very noticeable.

Emily wraps a plate as the boys teased each other in the living room.

"Who's that for?"

"This was for Paul. I was going to drop it off for him." she answers.

Before you knew what you were doing, your mouth opens, "I can-" you close it back.

Emily looks to you. "What were you going to say?"

"I can drop it off... If you want." you ask in a small voice.

"Okay!" she says and gives you the directions to his home.

You left before Jacob would notice you leaving. You still took small steps as you got closer to Paul's home. Your heart pounded so hard out for your chest.

The pounds weren't louder than the bang on the door you made from your knuckles. You clutched onto the plate that was under your finger's grip.

The door opened to a mouthwatering sight.

A shirtless Paul slowly pries the plate from your hands. He takes one finger to close your slightly opened mouth.

He chuckled as you regain your common sense.

"Tell Emily I said thank you."

You nod and go to turn, a warm hand jets out to you to turn you back around.

"You don't have to tell her right at this second." he says.

He opens the door wider, silently inviting you in.

You sit at his not so big table, as he eats.

"How come you didn't come over?" you ask.

"I don't know." he says.

"Liar." you whisper. A dark chuckle forms in his throat. He looks at you for some time with an amused look.

You look down as your cheeks feel hot. You heard him whisper something else.

"Pretty."

You then feel a soft brush on your cheek. Looking, you see it was the back of his finger. You felt sure. He felt sure. You didn't know how to explain it, it felt like this moment was always meant to be.

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prettypinkporkchop · 19 days ago

Text

Rowdy Neighbors

Paul lahote x fem reader

Description: you moved into your own home. Your life has turned calm and easy. One day, the empty house next door became occupied with Paul Lahote. His friends are always there and they're loud! They keep you up sometimes. You and Paul do talk often. He brings your mail to you on rainy days. He comes over to see if you're okay. He imprinted on you, but you have no idea.

Warnings: language, the end is cute as heck, Paul is such a gentleman

☆☆☆☆

You're on your couch with a throw blanket draped over you. You have your laptop open on your lap. You're relaxing and sipping some wine.

Your doorbell rings.

You smile, knowing exactly who it is. It's that sexy ass neighbor you got. You close your laptop and place it on the couch and stand up. You make your way to the door and open it.

There he is, smirking and leaning on your doorframe. He's shirtless even though it's 50 degrees out. "Morning, beautiful." He says.

You blush and nearly buckle your knees. "Good morning, Paul. Need something?" You move away from the door to let him in.

He shakes his head and doesn't come inside. "Nah, just came to ask a question real quick." He smiles.

"Okay? What you got?" You lean your head on the door, looking in his beautiful brown eyes.

He stares for a moment, seeming lost. But, he coughs and comes back to life. "My boys are coming tonight. Yes, I know you hate that they're loud, and I'm sorry. I can't control them..." He chuckles.

You just shake your head with a smile.

"Anyway, my question is, do you want to come hang out? We're gonna sit outside with a fire and music." He looks at you with hopeful eyes.

You stare into those eyes. The hope, the silent small beg.. you can't say no. "Yes. I'll join you guys. So, uh, any girls gonna be there?" You chuckle awkwardly. "I don't want to be the only girl."

He laughs, his chest moving. He shakes his head. "You're so adorable.. uh.." He looks down and chuckles. "There's gonna be a couple of girls. One named Kim and the other Emily. You'll love them." He bites his lip.

"Ah, okay! Well, I'm down to chill then." You tilt your head with a smile.

"Wow, there for the ladies, huh." He smirks. "You swing that way? Am I not hot enough for you?" He places a hand on his chest in fake hurt.

You bust into laughter, throwing your head back. "Trust me, Paul Lahote. You're.." You stop, blushing. You take a deep breath in and exhale. "I'm not there for them. It's just an added bonus that I can have some girl talk." You smile.

He stares at you, his eyes twinkling. His cheeks turn a small peach color, and he slowly smiles. "Y-yeah! I'll see you then."

----

You shove your hands in your hoodie, walking through the short grass to the house a few feet from yours.

The fire is up, and there's a group of people. The usual guys you occasionally see. The music is blaring, and it's constant hooting, yelling, a couple guys wrestling.

You spot the two girls sitting in lawn chairs and laughing. Perfect! You make your way towards them but Paul steps up.

"Beautiful, you made it." He smiles and wraps his arm around you.

You playfully lean into him and look up at him. "Sure did!" You smell his cologne and deodorant. "You smell good." You instantly jump at your own words and blush. It came out on its own. It wasn't up to you!

Paul chuckles and pulls you into him. He leans down to your ear. "Thanks, pretty girl." His breath hits your ear and neck.

Your eyes widen, and your heart picks up its speed.

"Hey girl! Over here!" One of the girls yells to you and pats the empty chair beside her. You notice the scars on her face, but you don't judge.

Paul lets you go. "Have fun." He winks and walks towards the loud group of guys.

You make your way over and sit down. "Hey! I'm-"

The girl with the scars stops you. "Trust me. We know! Paul never shuts up about you." She smiles and extends her hand. "Emily."

You blush and smile.. your heart flutters. You take her hand, shaking gently. You turn to the other girl. She pulls her beet away from her lips and holds out her hand with a cute smile.

You smile back, giggling, and shake her hand.

"Kim! I'm glad you came! Paul wasn't lying. You're stunning." She smiles.

You giggle again and shake your head. "You girls are beautiful. Thanks, Kim!"

Paul runs up to you and reaches his hand out. "Beautiful! Let me get you to meet everyone." He smiles.

The night went on, you've met all of his friends and had an amazing time. You haven't asked questions on why they're all shirtless in 40-degree weather. You also haven't asked about the tattoo. But you assume it's their native tribe symbol.

----

The next night, you're tired. It was a tough day with work, and you're so over it. You're freshly showered. You turn on your fan and heater, and you're now laid up in bed.

Then, you hear them. The loud music, the rowdy boys. You're too tired for this. It's keeping you awake. As expected, you get a bit cranky. You text Paul to 'please, quiet down.'

You hear the music die down to a point where you don't hear it anymore. You sigh of relief, and your phone buzzes.

Paul: Sorry, beautiful. I fixed it.

---

You walk inside your house after your shift. It's dark outside, and your house is dimly lit. You take off your shoes and get ready to walk into the bedroom when you hear something fall in the kitchen.

You pause. Fear.

You hear shuffling. Movements.

Your heart picks up, and you slowly take a step forward. You see some stuff scattered. You hear something move again in the kitchen.

You freak out and you slip your shoes on and run next door. You knock on the door. "Paul!" You call out in a panic.

Paul opens the door, and he looks down at you worriedly. He gently grabs your wrists. "Hey, hey.. what's wrong?" He asks.

"There's someone in my house." You whisper in fear.

He raises an eyebrow and his jaw clenches. "Okay, beautiful. I've got you." He walks out of his house and then walks through his yard toward your house.

You follow behind him cautiously.

"Hey, no. Go back to my house." He whispers to you as you both get to your porch.

"No.." You whisper back.

He sighs and then opens the door. As soon as he does, he smells it. He smiles and then chuckles. He walks inside, leaves the door open, and goes into the kitchen. Low and behold, it's a raccoon digging in your kitchen.

You slowly walk inside, in shock that Paul just walked in! "Paul!" You whisper yell.

"Beautiful, it's a raccoon." He laughs.

You walk into the kitchen to see him holding it. He turns around to the door that is beside your kitchen. He opens it and lets it outside. As he closes the door, he looks down.

Paul kicks the doggy door and laughs. "I'll screw that shut."

Now, you're embarrassed as hell. You sigh and cover your face. "God... thank you, Paul." You groan. You move your hands as he begins to clean up the mess. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time." You bend down, picking up jars and cans.

Paul chuckles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "It's not a big deal, beautiful. I'm just glad you felt comfortable enough to come get me." He smiles in thought.

After a few minutes of cleaning up, you both sit on the couch. You make him tea for his troubles and sit down beside him.

"Again, I'm sorry." You giggle awkwardly.

He shakes his head and takes the tea. "Don't stress over it. It made my night." He smiles and sips the glass. He places it down and looks at you again. He's admiring your features, and he reaches out to push your hair behind your ear. "If a raccoon is one excuse to get me to see you, I'm really not bothered." His eyes search yours.

His gaze sends you in a trance. Your breathing picks up. You can't look away. You feel as if you're being pulled closer to him. You didn't realize that you were leaning in until his hand grips your chin to stop you. Your eyes focus again, and you notice how close both of your faces are. His fingers send fire through you as they hold your chin.

"I want to kiss you so badly, but if I start.. I'm afraid I won't stop." He looks in your eyes.

"Then don't." The words did not even try to stay in your mouth.

"I have to leave in a minute." He whispers. He has to go out and patrol, but he can't tell you that. And he knows that if he kisses you, his instincts as a shifter who imprinted will not be able to stop. He feels like he's lost control in this moment. He's so stuck on what to do.

You nod your head and pull your face out of his hand. It felt like hell doing that. "Where do you have to go?" You ask.

"Work." He smiles softly and caresses your cheek.

You lean forward and gently press your lips on his. He is shocked as the connection sparks like electricity. It was as if your kiss fixed a circuit in his brain. One hand finds your waist while the other moves to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. His lips move with yours, slowly opening and closing but not using too much tongue. He knows if the kiss escalates, Sam is going to chew his ass.

But, you decide to be kind and let the man go to work. You pull away and press your forehead on his. "Go to work, Paul. When you come back," you look in his eyes and smile, "I expect a date." You giggle.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead. "Deal."

#twilight #embry call #jacob black #paul lahote #jared cameron #seth clearwater #sam uley #leah clearwater #twilight wolfpack #quil ateara #paul lahote x reader

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crazyk-imagine · 25 days ago

Text

Outbursts and Understanding Each Other

Pairing: Jacob Black x Uley!reader

Characters: Jacob Black, Uley!reader, Paul Lahote, Jared Cameron, Embry Call, Leah Clearwater, Seth Clearwater, Quil Ateara V, Brady Fuller, Collin Littlesea

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Paul being an idiot again, it got cuter, Jake had a brain, Emily is an angel, Sam and Emily are my fav, Embry just wants his imprint, Paul is such a big brother here, love writing for the wolfpack, reader knows about imprint history, reader worries about Jake not having feelings for her, Jared is an idiot, Emily is that mom

Word Count: 2,431

A/N: Okay my fellow readers, I did it. I finally sat down and did part two

*will be edited at a later time

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

It was a hard few days after, well, learning that you were forever bonded to him.

You didn’t quite know what the right move was or if you should consider dating Jacob, even though he had clearly been in love with the whitest girl in Forks.

You gulp as you take a step back. “Could you,” you sigh, not wanting to lose it on the guy when he’s been nothing but nice to you since this whole thing happened. “Jake.”

He wasn’t paying attention and stepped closer to you again, wanting to get more bacon on his plate.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Jake! Would you please get out of my way before I declaw your paws!”

Jared glances back at the two of you, with a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth.

Paul doesn’t do anything to hide his amusement, much to Jacob’s chagrin. “Looks like the princess finally showed off her claws.”

He pats his pack mate’s shoulder, “glad it wasn’t your face that took the brunt of it.” Paul steps away, grabbing the muffin off your plate as he goes to sit down.

You shake your head; definitely not your finest moment. You don’t want to look at him because you don’t want to see his disappointment.

Jacob clears his throat, “we’re going to go outside.”

You open your mouth to argue as a piece of toast is shoved into your mouth.

“I bet that’s not what she imagined getting-” Paul doesn’t need to turn around to know his alpha is staring at him. He bolts out of the chair before anyone can take a breath.

“Paul, get back here.”

The hot head shakes his head as he shifts mid air, running into the woods.

Emily shakes her head sighing.

Jared nods, “I know. I don’t know why Paul thinks he won’t be reprimanded for saying things like that. I mean clearly, she’s going to be the dom over Jake, not the-”

He sheepishly smiles at the angry face his luna is making. “I didn’t mean it,” he sprints out the door. He looks over his shoulder and calls out the her, whining, “don’t call my mom.”

She smiles, picking up her landline, punching in the numbers. “Hi Mrs. Cameron, it’s Emily.”

A sad wolf howl can be heard from the side of the house.

You let him drag you out, unsure of what else to do as you feel down about how you behaved a few minutes ago. You pull the piece of toast out from your mouth. “If you’ve brought me here to kill me, just do it already.”

He scoffs, “I’m not a leech.”

“Oh, he has a heart, how wonderful.”

He rolls his eyes, “would it kill you to act normal?”

You immediately nod, “yes it would and how am I supposed to act normal when none of this is normal.”

He opens his mouth to say something when he realizes you’re right. “Okay fine, maybe none of this is normal but that doesn’t mean you need to act like it’s the end of the world.”

You scoff, “I’m not.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe,” he crosses his arms.

You can’t hold this in anymore.

“You know what, Jake. I’m tired. I’m so sick and tired of this- everything is so crazy and wrong and I,” you close your eyes, not wanting him to see you cry.

You lower your head, holding your breath, trying to keep yourself together.

He can sense your sadness and reaches for you, placing his hand on your arm.

You hiccup, taking a deep breath.

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer; his body heat warming you in a second.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, to calm yourself enough so you could talk to him without losing control of your emotions.

You can admit sometimes it does help to have a good crying session, but not when you need to talk.

He can tell with how slower your back is moving under his hand that you've managed to calm yourself down. He doesn't say anything to not startle you or break your concentration. He won't do that to you.

“I'm scared,” you mumble.

“Scared of what?”

You want to pull back so you can look into his eyes but you're afraid he won't understand and squeeze him tighter. “This isn't real.”

He opens his mouth to respond and stops, letting your words sink in. He can understand where you're coming from with him being in love with Bella for more than half of his young life but he also knows that this is real. Yes-

He sighs, lowering his chin to rest it on top of your head. “I know this doesn't seem real but it is. My love for Bella has nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

He squeezes you in a tight hug and pulls back. “I know things are all happening fast but I want us to work. You know, I- I can be whatever you want me to be. I can be a- a friend or a brother or more. I don't care as long as I can be in your life. We haven’t known each other long but I do know that I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone that wasn't my family or, now the pack.”

He sucks in a nervous breath, showing off his pearly whites with his commonly new nervous grin. “I hope I didn't make things weird with that whole um-”

“Speech?” You interrupt.

He nods, “yeah that.”

You purse your lips to hide your amusement. “I,” you sigh. “I have more feelings for you than I thought I would, I'm not entirely sure what they are exactly. I know the bond isn't the whole reason why I feel the way I do but- I- if we're going to start, whatever this is going to be, this needs to start off slow. I don't just jump into things especially when it comes to starting a new relationship with someone.”

“So we're starting a new relationship?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes and smack him with your piece of toast. “God, you're just like a guy.”

“I am a guy.”

“Not right now you are. You're mister professing his love,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me.” He sits down on a rock nearby, patting the open spot beside you. “I don't want to rush into anything either and I don't want to mess this up... more than I already have-”

You stand in front of him, shaking your head. “You haven't messed anything up.”

“I did. If I didn't you wouldn't have screamed at me-”

“I didn't scream.”

He owlishly blinks. “My ears were close to bleeding.”

Your jaw drops and you smack his arm. “You're so dramatic.”

“Not always.”

You roll your eyes, “sometimes you are.”

He nods, “yeah, I’ll admit that sometimes I am.”

You take a bite of your toast.

“I don’t know how that thing has lasted this entire time.”

You shrug, “I don’t either but here we are.” You slowly lean against him, resting your head on his warm shoulder. “You’re so warm.”

“I bet he could think of another way to warm you up.”

You roll your eyes at Paul’s comment. “Go suck Jared’s-”

Your uncle, still in his wolf form, growls at the two of you.

You take another bite of your toast and look away. “He started it,” you mumble while chewing.

“Let it go,” Jacob advises. “Or else he’ll make you do things you don’t want to do.”

You shake your head, enjoying the scene of Paul trying to run away from his alpha as Jared is on the floor cackling with Embry and Quil joining after the man falls face first into the dirt.

Brady and Collin trail behind the two boys, confused at the sight before them.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here.” You sigh, throwing your head back against the couch.

“It’s not that bad.”

Your snaps towards Jacob, glaring at him. “I am sicker than- well you know.”

He stares at you with a deadpan expression. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

He nods, happy to see you finally agreeing with him.

“I’m a comedian.” You smile at him before coughing more, your sides start hurting more.

He carefully sits down beside you and hands you your cup of tea.

You breathe in the hot steam for a few minutes before taking a careful sip of the hot beverage.

He doesn’t stare at you (like you’d caught him doing a couple days ago, he doesn’t want you yelling at him again) and waits for you to ask him to set the mug on the table beside him.

He turns at the weight of your head resting against his shoulder and smiles softly at you as you close your eyes and breath in the steam.

His ears pick up on your slow breathing and he grabs the mug from you before you can drop it in your lap. He adjusts himself so you can lay on him, letting you use him as your “personal heater” as you said earlier.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken you out of the house and to the cliffs without a jacket the other day but he can’t deny, he likes you relying on him to take care of you.

He brushes away the few strands of fallen hair out of your face, studying your sleepy expression.

He thanks all the stars that aligned to make you his imprint, you are more than he could have ever wanted in a person. He knows now, as he listens to your breathing, his feelings for Bella are nothing compared to what he feels for you and will continue to feel for you.

He realizes he lied, he can’t be the kind of guy who’s like a brother or a friend to you.

He wants more; the wolf inside him needs more.

He would walk hundreds if not thousands of miles to be the only one to have a romantic relationship with you. He will wait as long as it takes until you feel ready to give your heart to him and chase off anyone he needs to.

He’s yours as you will (hopefully, fingers crossed) be his.

He can’t help himself as he leans forward and pecks your forehead, silently promising to spend his forever with you.

Extra

Jared walks into your room, searching for Jacob. He needs help with his bike, hell if he knew how to describe what was happening to it.

His jaw drops, surprised to see you bundled in Jacob’s hold. He creeps into the room, practically tip-toeing to the person he needs to talk to.

He bends down and pokes Jacob’s shoulder.

The shifter barely opens his eyes as he lifts his arm to smack Jared in the back of the head, who opens his mouth to whine but is stopped by his friend covering his mouth.

“Make a sound and you’re dead.”

Jared nods, thankful for his shifter healing abilities; if he didn’t have them, he’d have a headache by now. “I need a favor.”

“You need a lot of things.”

Jared rolls his eyes, “okay, that’s fair but I need you to look at my bike.”

“Why?”

“It’s making that weird noise again.”

"Describe it to me."

“No. You made fun of me last time.”

“Fine, if I promise to not make fun of you, will you help describe it so I can figure out your issue.”

“I,” he sighs. “Roo- reer- r-” He stops when Jacob snickers. “You told me you-”

Jared falls on his back and struggles to understand what happened.

The door slams shut up the two boys.

“I told you not to go in there,” says Emily.

“You told me not to wake her,” Jared corrects her.

“And how did that work for you?”

The shifter stomps his feet as he walks down the stairs.

Jacob cackles at his friend's behavior.

“And look what the cat dragged in,” she teases him.

“Hardy-har.”

“I told him not to go in, I knew she’d kick you two out.”

He shrugs, “I know, I mean it was kind of my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have messed with Jarhead.”

“Is that princess’ new nickname?”

“Paul, shut up with that stupid nickname,” you shout from inside your room.

“Hey your voice is coming back,” the hothead comments.

You roll your eyes and open your door, glaring at one of your best friends. “Paul Isabel Lahote-”

“My middle name isn’t-”

“I know your middle name isn’t a girl's name,” you huff. “But your dumbass won’t shut up about this and I can’t take it anymore. You need to shut up so I can feel better.”

“Screaming like that won’t help you.”

You take a step forward and he takes off.

Emily shakes her head, “you’re just like your uncle.”

“Runs in the family, Em.”

Jacob steps forward and blocks your path from Paul. “You’re going back to bed.”

“But-”

He shakes his head, “bed.”

You sigh, “fine.” You sadly walk back into your room.

“Jake, tell me what you did. I can barely get her to help me be my wingman,” Embry whines.

“No one can help that.”

“You all are so rude.”

“We never claimed to be nice,” you say, voice muffled because of the door.

“I’m getting that now. I don’t even know why I shifted now.”

“You had no choice.”

“Shut up.”

Emily shakes her head at the sight of her kids (yes, she’s officially claimed you all) messing around with one another.

Previously: Part I

Taglist

@kmc1989 @gilbertgirl13

#crazyk-imagine #twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #jacob black imagines #jacob black imagine #jacob black fanfic #jacob black fanfiction #jacob black #jacob black x reader #jacob black x you #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x uley reader #jacob black x uley!reader

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the-teufort-nine · 2 months ago

Note

Okay so I don’t know if you do part 2 requests…but if you do, an aftermath thing of the respawn fic would be sooo good.

I’m thinking it could be something w the ride home, or the few days after everyone gets home or maybe just the months after? And how the mercs treat the Chemist until everything is “normal” again?

If you don’t do part 2 requests that’s just fine!

The story is soooo good omg!!!

The Chemist Reader is back! This is part 2... OF THREE! That's right, I'm doing one more gn!Chem reader fic to finish off this little series. For now though, enjoy just over 9000 words of BLU Chemist and their attempt to get home!

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction PART 2: The Long Way Home

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort, Team Bonding | SFW, but it veers into talking about NSFW topics near the middle-ish to end| Cw: starvation, temp character death (yes, again!), vomiting, mentions of graphic death, mention of attempted date rape (nothing happens!!), self deprecation ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here! Plus, a familiar, friendly(?) face at the end...

Scenario: After getting rescued from their unfortunate Respawn spot, the BLU Chemist embarks on a road trip back to New Mexico with their team. Everyone wants their attention it seems, but are they really worth all this fuss?

The smell of Engineer’s truck was very similar to that of his workshop; leather, oil, and coffee permeated the air, settling over you like a well-loved blanket. It was a stark contrast from the bitter, sterile cold air of the base you’d ended up in, which was far behind you now. You’d woken up a short time ago, content to simply look out the window in comfortable silence while Engineer drove. You lifted your head from its place on your seatbelt as you felt the vehicle begin to slow, arching a sleepy brow at Engineer. The Texan lifted up his goggles and gave you a comforting smile as he continued to park his truck.

“We’re makin’ a rest stop. You up fer some McDonalds?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Predictably, you perked up, blanket slipping off your shoulders as you sat up straighter. Fast food had become a rare treat during your time working for Mann Co., and you weren’t about to pass on this opportunity. Engineer chuckled at your reaction and reached over to pat your leg.

“That’s what ah’ thought. Now, you stay right there, and ah’ll go ‘n grab ‘ya somethin’ tah eat.” Engineer said, before opening his door and stepping out into the darkness of the early morning.

As you busied yourself with readjusting your blanket, the door opened again, but it wasn’t Engineer slipping into the seat this time.

“Morning, sunshine!” Soldier greeted, pushing up his helmet slightly to look at you, “The grease monkey has tasked me with guarding you while the others retrieve breakfast!”

“Yeah? Well, I feel safer already.” You replied kindly, before yawning, “No one is dumb enough to mess with you, Sol.”

The man grinned and cracked his knuckles. “If you were not so weak, I would welcome the challenge! I have the strength of a thousand eagles coursing through my veins!”

You glanced down at your arms, missing the muscle that used to be there. You could barely hold the thermos Sniper had given you, let alone any sort of weapon. “Heh, yeah… guess I’m not going to be very useful for a while, huh?”

Soldier’s grin fell as he picked up on your despondent tone. Though he was far from being the smartest man on the team, even he could see that you were feeling upset. He looked at you, really looked at you, and realized that you were even frailer than he’d thought. You looked as though you were one strong breeze away from toppling over, and a surge of protectiveness shot through him. He’d failed you once, but he’d be damned if he allowed you to be hurt again.

“Wipe that sorry look off your face, maggot!” He lightly tapped you on the head, exercising more restraint than he ever had before, “We are a TEAM, and that means that we look out for one another! We will cover for your weaknesses until you have all your glorious strength returned to you, and you WILL get strong again!”

Soldier pushed a finger into your chest lightly, the pressure barely noticeable through your blanket and uniform. “You stared God in the face and then kicked him in the nuts! You clawed your way back from death and made Respawn spit you back out! The RED team will be crapping in their pants at the mere sight of you! Sun Tzu himself would be proud of you, son, and I am proud to call you my friend and teammate!”

Your vision went blurry as fat tears started to form in the corners of your eyes, but you were smiling as you wiped them away. That was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to you, even if it was more shouted than said.

“Thanks, Solly.” You sniffed, giving your friend the best smile you could manage, which prompted him to shuffle closer and throw an arm around you, drawing you into his side.

You let your head rest on the space just above his breast, turning slightly so your cheek was pressed against his jacket. He shifted his hold, letting his arm curl around your midsection as you made yourself comfortable. Soldier reached up and took his helmet off, setting it aside for now. Normally, he’d be loathe to leave himself so vulnerable, but he needed to prioritize your safety, which meant insuring that he had the best possible range of vision. What if some communist bastard, or, God forbid, a member of the RED team tried to sneak up on you two? He needed to be prepared!

It was just a little hard to give his surroundings his full attention, though, when he had you resting on his chest. Normally, any kind of touch he got was rough, even if it was a friendly shove or tight, squeezing side hug. This, however, was different; soft and warm and different in a good way. You were totally relaxed, letting your eyes slowly shut as you sighed contently, grateful for the extra warmth. You felt very small in his hold, and that fact made Soldier's stomach flip flop about. On one hand, it was pleasing to know that you felt comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him while you were like this, trusting that he would keep you safe. On the other hand, it was almost terrifying to realize how vulnerable you were in that moment, how easily he could feel bone, where there had once been a healthy amount of fat and muscle. He was used to seeing you as a strong, capable fighter, and while he was sure you could still whip up one of your crazy little mixtures that made people’s faces melt off, you wouldn’t have the strength to use it.

Well, he supposed he’d just have to throw it for you.

Lost in thought, he missed Engineer’s approach, and startled when the driver side door suddenly opened. He cocked his free arm back instinctively, but just as quickly lowered it when he saw Engineer, who was holding an armful of drinks, fries, and hamburgers. The goggle-wearing man chuckled quietly when he saw the situation his normally gruff teammate was in.

You were halfway wrapped around him, cuddling up close in your sleep. Soldier had allowed you to position yourself how you wanted, and you had all but put yourself in his lap, tucking yourself beneath his chin and nuzzling against the collar of his uniform. He awkwardly lifted you up, shuffling into the passenger seat as Engineer slid into the truck next to him, setting down the food wherever there was free space.

“Looks like someone found a comfortable spot, huh?” He joked, unwrapping a cheeseburger and handing it to Soldier, who bit into it hungrily, “Can’t exactly blame ‘em for wantin’ a warm place to sleep, ‘specially after what they’ve been through.”

Soldier hummed in agreement as he swallowed. “I want to let them sleep, but I also want them to eat. They're… worse than I realized.”

Engineer frowned. “Ah know what ‘ya mean, Solly, but the Doc says we gotta be real careful about how much we let ‘em eat at first.”

“What? Why?”

“ ‘Parently their body is gonna need time to readjust to havin’ food in it, and if they eat too much, they'll just throw it right back up.” Engineer explained, “Really, we should be givin’ em a protein shake or somethin’, but ah think they'd choke me out if ah told ‘em they were gettin’ McDonald's, and then didn't give it to ‘em.”

Soldier snorted at the mental image of you grappling with the Texan, but froze up when you groaned and shifted, eyes blinking open. You yawned and rubbed at your eyes, before freezing right alongside your friend when you realized the position you were in. You blushed and leapt back as far as you could go, cursing when the back of your head smacked against the windshield.

“SHIT!” You yelped, grabbing onto your aching skull as your vision faded in and out. A rush of nausea started tumbling up from your guts, and you all but vaulted yourself out of the car as coffee and hot bile splashed up out of your throat and onto the dusty parking lot ground below.

You gagged and spat, wavering in place as you fought to stay upright. Hands were suddenly on your back, steadying you and at the same time soothing you. The rough voice of your only Australian teammate reached your ears over the sound of your vomiting, and you instinctively leaned into his touch, grateful for the support.

“There ‘ya go mate, get it all out.” Sniper said softly, rubbing the space between your shoulder blades. “I'm surprised ‘ya made it this long without sickin’ up.”

“They alright?!” Engineer called from behind you, a tinge of panic in his voice.

“Yeah, just got a bit of an upset stomach!” Sniper called back, wrapping an arm around you as you finally finished getting everything out of your system. “Come on then, let's getcha’ lyin’ down, yeah?”

“But I'm hungry.” You whined, feeling your stomach growl at the loss of what little sustenance your coffee had provided.

“I know, Roo. I know.” Sniper said sympathetically, “But if ‘ya eat somethin’ now, yer just gonna yack it back up again.”

You grumbled and wiped at your mouth, straightening up as best you could as Sniper led you to his van. By this point, the others had returned from their journey to the holy golden arches, and had realized something was wrong. Scout, who was midway through his second hamburger, almost dropped the damn thing as he rushed over to your side.

“Woah, what the hell happened? I thought they was takin' a nap?” He frowned, before reaching over to fix a part of your uniform that had become uncomfortably tucked, “Yo, Chem, not to be rude or nothin’, but you seriously look like crap. You feelin’ alright?”

“Clearly not, garçon stupide.” Spy suddenly materialized from the darkness of the early morning, a cigarette in his mouth and a sneer on his face, “And I'm sure your incessant yapping isn't helping.”

“Your bloody second hand smoke ain't doin’ wonders either, Spook, so shut yer mouth.” Sniper growled, both to defend his friend and to piss off his teammate.

“Chemist, would you like to come and ride in style for a while? I assure you that it will be more comfortable than the laborer’s rusted box on wheels.” Spy asked you, pointedly ignoring both Sniper's statement and Engineer's affronted yell.

You thought for a moment, considering your options. You were probably less likely to make a fool of yourself in Spy's presence, especially since you were sure the man wouldn't tolerate your strangely intense need to be close to someone, but on the other hand…

“Can I eat my McDonald's in the car?” You asked finally. Spy wrinkled his nose.

“That disgusting American grease slop? Absolutely not.”

“I'm going with Sniper.” You said immediately, allowing yourself to be led away by the marksman, who was grinning in a borderline feral way at the stunned Frenchman.

Sniper showed him a very specific, very unkind hand gesture as he helped you up into his camper van. Heavy was sitting in the passenger seat, munching on a box of fries that you would kill a man to have right now. Demo was lounging on one of the kitchen chairs, but sat up when he saw you and Sniper approach.

“Finally managed to steal ‘em away from Engie and Solly, eh Snipes?” Demo greeted, though his face fell a bit when he saw how heavily you were relying on Sniper. “Ack, what's wrong, Chem? Not feelin' too well?”

“Something like that.” You murmured, head lolling slightly. Now that a bed was in sight, another nap really didn't sound too bad.

“Here ya go mate.” Sniper gently lowered you down, making sure not to jostle you too much, “Now, I know you want yer Macca’s, but I've got some Vegemite an’ toast and some hot lemon with Manuka honey that you can have in a bit, and it'll stay down much easier, I promise. Me mum used ta give me that when I was sick, and it did wonders fer me.”

“Sounds good.” You replied, not even really taking in what he said. He was talking about giving you food, and that was all your sleepy brain needed to know.

A woolen blanket was pulled over you, and a warm, calloused hand ran itself through your hair before slowly lifting your protective goggles off your head, setting them aside somewhere. The hand returned for a moment, gently pressing against your forehead, lingering there for just a heartbeat longer than maybe it needed to, before slowly retracting. You frowned at the sudden lack of touch, but there was little you could do to call it back.

Admitting you needed it was a weakness you weren't quite ready to voice yet.

“Come on now, laddie, time to wake up. Yer breakfast is ready.”

You groaned and cracked an eye open, blinking slowly at Demo, who was sitting on the bed. You pushed yourself up, eyes gravitating towards the tray your teammate was holding. There was a plate with two warm, buttered slices of toast topped with a thin layer of Vegemite spread, cut into four individual triangles, and a mug of what smelled like lemon and honey, just as Sniper had promised.

“Can I please eat that?” You begged, uncaring of how desperate it made you sound.

“Well, it ain't for ye to look at.” Demo joked, startling slightly as you snatched a piece of toast and practically all shoved it into your mouth. “Jesus! Slow down there, Chem! You'll make yerself sick again.”

You growled at the demolition expert, baring your teeth when he moved to try and reach for your hand. You hadn't eaten in nearly two days, your body had been robbed of anything it could feed off of, and Demo wanted you to slow down?

Hah, fat chance.

The Scot held his hands up in surrender, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. Also, he didn't feel like losing a hand, not when Medic was riding in a different car.

You scarfed down the Vegemite toast, your body rejoicing as precious, precious salt finally entered your mouth. Normally, you'd turn your nose up at the salty spread, but at that moment, that piece of toast may as well have been a gift from God himself.

If you threw this up, you were actually going to cry.

With that thought in mind, you slowed down, taking the time to carefully chew your mouthful before swallowing. You let what you ate settle before you dared to try and ingest anything else. When your stomach didn't turn, you reached for the mug, blowing lightly on the liquid before taking a tentative sip.

It was very warm, but not so hot that you couldn't drink it. The lemon washed away the awful taste of vomit that lingered in your mouth, and the honey soothed your dry throat like nothing else. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the warmth and comfort.

“Holy shit,” you croaked, setting the mug down as you turned to face Demo, “that tasted so good. We need to have Sniper make dinner more often or something, because he clearly knows what he's doing.”

“He said his mum taught him how to make it, and mums always know how to make somethin’ that makes ‘ya feel better.” Demo said, handing you another slice, “Now, slowly this time. I mean it! ‘Ya looked like a bloody wild dog just now.”

“Cut me some slack, D, I'm literally starving over here.” You said as you bit into the toast, “I think I'm allowed to have some bad table manners, yeah?”

“Aye, I suppose ‘ya got me there.” Demo conceded, though he still looked concerned, “ ‘m just worried about ye throwing it up before yer body can digest it.”

You nodded, chewing and swallowing what was in your mouth before replying.

“I know. I don't wanna puke again either. It's just-” You took in a breath, ignoring how even that simple action was harder than usual, “I'm so fucking hungry. I feel like my stomach is going to burn right through my abdomen, but I know I can't eat too much too quickly, or I'll just be sick again.”

Demo patted your shoulder, giving you a pitying look. “It'll be alright, Chem. The hard part’s already over. Ye survived the impossible and made it back to us, now it's our turn to help ya get back to yer old self.”

“Yeah.” You said quietly, looking at your reflection in the mug’s liquid. A gaunt, pale mockery of your face stared back. You could hardly even recognize yourself, and a small, dark part of yourself wondered if you ever would again.

“My old self.”

The next time you all stopped, it was well into mid morning. Sniper had pulled into the parking lot of a motel, Spy and Engineer following after him. Apparently, the only people with valid driver's licenses were you, Sniper, Engineer, Spy, and Miss Pauling, and you were all either exhausted or in no condition to be driving. Therefore, you were booking rooms at this dinky little motel so that they could rest and not kill all of you by falling asleep at the wheel.

It was Heavy that led you into the building, letting you lean against him for support. He’d offered to carry you, but you wanted to preserve some sense of dignity, if you could help it. Also, you figured it might upset your team further if they thought you couldn’t even walk. Pyro already looked ready to pounce everytime you wobbled, and you weren’t oblivious to the concerned looks Engineer and Spy were giving you.

“маленький химик will be staying with Doktor. He wants to do check up, to make sure there is not any hidden problems.” Heavy explained, before lowering his voice, “Heavy knows you are tired, but please go along with it. Doktor is very worried, even if he does not say it.”

“Don’t worry, Heavy, I’ll behave.” You promised, “I could do with sleeping a little less anyway.

Heavy nodded and led you to your room, handing you the key for it. You unlocked the door and pushed it open, smiling at Medic, who was unpacking various syringes and pills from a bag and placing them next to his Medigun.

“Ah, Heavy, Chemist, right on time!” he greeted, walking over to you two.

Quick as a whip, he pulled up your sleeve and injected you with a clear liquid. You yipped in surprise, rubbing the sore area as he withdrew the needle. “Ouch! What the hell was that?!”

“Magnesium Sulfate!” he replied cheerily. “I also have a shot of Thiamine and Potassium I need to administer before I give jou more vitamin tablets.”

“Couldn’t I just have taken a magnesium tablet?” You questioned in a deadpan voice, unnamused with your colleague’s method of getting you to take your vitamins. Heavy patted your shoulder one more time before leaving the room, likely to go and find his own.

“Ja, but zhis is much quicker, und I know it vill actually stay in jour body.” Medic waved one hand animatedly, the other one reaching for another syringe, “Herr Sniper told me jou vomited earlier, und that jou didn’t finish your breakfast.”

“I couldn’t. I felt full after two slices of toast and a couple of sips of my drink.” You groaned, flopping down onto your bed, “I didn’t even get to have my cheeseburger. It’ll be all cold and gross now.”

“I’m sure jou vill have another chance to get one.” Medic comforted as he jabbed your arm with another needle. You winced, but said nothing. “Ve are still about 10 hours away from zhe base.”

“We are?” You asked, sitting up abruptly, “Jesus, how far out was I?”

“The base jou respawned in was in Montana. Currently, ve’re somewhere in Wyoming.” Medic rubbed his chin, thinking, “To be honest, I have no idea how or vhy jou ended up so far away. Jou should have respawned in a much closer location, or not at all!”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense to me, either.” You said, rolling up your other sleeve as Medic produced the final shot, “Maybe that one was the last one that was activated? Are there… are there other RED and BLU teams that use them?”

Medic paused, considering.

“I… am not sure.” he said finally, gently taking your offered arm into his hands as he pressed the needle into your skin, “I haven’t heard of any other teams, but I suppose it's possible. It's as good an explanation as any.”

“Well, I’m glad it brought me back.” You said, glancing up at Medic, “I gotta admit, I was shocked to see you guys. I can’t believe you all drove to Montana just for me, especially Miss Pauling.”

“Vell, vhy vouldn’t ve? Jou vould do the same for any of us, ja?” Medic asked, putting a bandage over your injection sites.

“Well, yeah, of course.” You replied quickly, “But, wouldn’t it have been easier to just… get a new Chemist?”

Your eyes had flicked towards the floor, so you didn’t see the way Medic tensed up. The German curled his hands into fists for a few seconds as he took a deep, calming breath. “Vhat do you mean?”

“Well, there’s not really anything special about me. I mean, Scout can run faster than anyone, Soldier is completely fearless, Heavy is, like, the strongest guy ever, Sniper could shoot a bat out of the night sky, Pyro makes even the toughest men afraid just by breathing near them, Demo can make crazy explosives, Engie can make anything, Spy can be anyone, and you can successfully play God on a daily basis!” You said, listing off everyone’s skills, “And then there’s… me. I mix chemicals and throw them at people. Pretty much anyone could do my job.”

“Jou believe jourself to be disposable.”

You cringed slightly at Medic’s cold tone. “I guess. I might have said it in a nicer way, though.”

You watched as Medic took a deep breath in, said something quietly under his breath in German, and then walked over to his bag and retrieved a few vitamins before striding back over to you.

“Take zhese, und don’t move. I vill be back.” he said, before exiting the room.

You tilted your head and frowned as Medic closed the door behind him. You felt as though you had upset your teammate, but you weren’t exactly sure how. Nothing you said had been untrue, after all.

Popping the tablets into your mouth, you made yourself comfortable, positioning your pillows so they supported your back as you lay down. The covers of the bed were cheap and scratchy, but the room was slowly warming up, and you could deal with a little discomfort. After an embarrassing amount of time and effort, you managed to wiggle your way under the blankets. A TV sat on the dresser on the other side of the room, but you couldn’t see the remote for it anywhere. You’d have to ask Medic if he’d seen it when he came back from wherever it was he’d wandered off to.

About 10 minutes passed, and you were, annoyingly, beginning to nod off again, when suddenly your door opened once more. You leaned forward, eyes widening when you realized that everyone was walking into your room.

Soldier and Demo came in first, making themselves at home at the foot of your bed. Scout, a very tired Miss Pauling, and Pyro came in next. Scout was quick to drape himself across the middle of your bed like a cat, while Pyro flopped down next to you.

Apparently, your bed was the best seat in the house to your teammates.

Sniper and Spy followed after them, both exhausted men scowling at each other but refusing to disperse too far into the room, both of them determined to stay near you. Engineer, who was holding a cup of shitty motel coffee, claimed one of the plush, cigarette-scented seats that sat in the room’s corners after he walked in. Finally, Heavy and Medic entered, with Heavy moving over to sit on his companion’s bed. The large man shot you a questioning look, but all you could offer him was an equally confused shrug. You didn’t know what was going on.

“Docteur, I assume you have a reason for interrupting our rest so early into our stay?” Spy groused, reaching for his cigarettes.

“Of course, Herr Spy.” Medic replied, before turning to Miss Pauling, “Fräulein Pauling, vhy did you go to retrieve our Chemist?”

Everyone in the room turned to look at Medic with a look of confusion. Why would the doctor ask such a thing?

“Wh- because they needed help?” the raven haired woman waved her hands around, “Why wouldn’t I go get them?”

“Vould it not simply be easier for us to let zhem die und replace zhem?” Medic asked, and you winced slightly, hearing your own question spoken in such a way. You hadn’t used the word ‘die,’ but it had been implied.

At Medic’s words, the room erupted into noise, your team wasting no time in jumping to your defense.

“Yo, Doc, what da hell?!” Scout shouted, pushing himself up. He quickly turned towards you, holding his hands up, “Don’t listen to that guy, Chem. He must’a taken too much of his own stock.”

“Now where the hell is this comin’ from?” Engineer spat, roughly slamming down his coffee. “We would never just- just replace Chem! ‘Specially not when we knew they were alive!”

The other mercenaries shouted out various forms of agreement, some of them looking just about ready to jump the man.

“Doktor spent many nights contemplating shredding application forms for new Chemist.” Heavy added, sending his friend a questioning yet stern look, “You should explain yourself, старый друг.”

“I vas simply asking questions zhat our Chemist asked me only a few moments ago.” Medic replied calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. “It seems as zhough they believe zhemself to be disposable, zhat zhey did not deserve to be saved, because zhey believe zhat ve could replace zhem easily.”

The eyes that had been on Medic shifted to look towards you, and you shrank down as much as possible. You would have felt more comfortable if they’d pointed a loaded gun at your head.

“Chemist,” Miss Pauling started, “do you know why the Administrator sent me to recruit you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, the first reason is because the DNA sample I took from you proved that you were Respawn compatible.” she started, pressing her hands together, “The second reason is because when you saw some guy trying to roofie me in a bar, you stole his drink, spiked it with a specialized mixture that you created, and then you convinced him to chug it by betting him five bucks that he couldn’t. Do you remember what happened next?”

“He went to the bathroom because he didn’t feel good.” You recalled with a smile, “Then he melted.”

“Yeah, because you spiked his drink with something that, upon contact with stomach acid, turned into fluoroantimonic acid!” Miss Pauling exclaimed, “A regular person could never do that! Hell, even an experienced chemist couldn’t do half the things you do!”

“Jesus Lord Almighty!” Engineer chuckled, pushing up his goggles to look you in the eye, “Remind me to never make you angry.”

“Point is,” Miss Pauling drew your attention back to her, “You are not disposable. It would be easier to clone you then it would be to replace you, because you are smart, talented, and just as batshit insane as the rest of these bloodthirsty lunatics. No offence, guys.”

Your team nodded along with her words, giving you reassuring looks.

“She’s right! Yer absolutely cracked, but yer one of us!” Demo crowed, lifting his Scrumpy bottle to toast you.

“HUDAH HUDAH HUDAH!” Pyro cheered, wrapping you up in a warm, tight hug. You grinned and shoved your face into their shoulder, tears wetting your eyes as you nuzzled the blue material.

“Congratulations, you have learned what everyone here already knew.” Spy said, patting you lightly on the back as you lifted your head to peek back at him, “I will be taking my leave now. Do not wake me again unless zhe building is on fire.”

“I hate to agree with Spoi, but, yeah,” Sniper nodded, reaching over to ruffle your hair, “I’m about to drop ‘mself. I’ll see you all at dinnah.”

“Ah’ll see m’self out as well.” Engineer said, getting to his feet, “Get some rest, darl’. We’ll get you somethin’ decent fer dinner.”

“Any chance we can have a sleepovah, Doc?” Scout asked, breaking out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nein.” Medic said firmly, planting his hands on his hips.

“Worth a shot.” Scout sighed, giving you a fistbump as he slid off the bed. “Ey, Chem, no more talkin’ crap about my best friend, or I’m gonna have to lay down the hurt, understand?”

“YES!” Soldier agreed loudly, “IF I HEAR YOU PUTTING YOURSELF DOWN AGAIN, I WILL BEAT THE CRAP OUTTA YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!”

“Yes sir.” You replied, giving him a salute as Pyro reluctantly pulled away. They reached into one of their pockets and withdrew a box of matches that had been decorated with crayon. Pyro tucked it into your hands and pressed their gasmask against your head in an almost kiss-like way.

The rest of the team and Miss Pauling shuffled out of the room one by one, each of them waving goodbye or acknowledging you in some way before they left. Medic fixed you with a kind, if mildly smug look as the last of your team left.

“Do jou still see jourself as disposable, mein Chemiker?”

You didn’t quite understand what his last words had been, but you managed to infer that he was saying your name, so you nodded, smiling. “No. Not at all.”

Medic matched your grin with one of his own, though the doctor’s showed far more teeth. “Wunderbar! Now, let’s get zhe rest of zhose vitamins in jou! Ve have so many to get zhrough!”

By the time dinner had rolled around and your team had started to wake up, Medic had given you enough vitamins and nutrient boosters to kill an elephant. He’d also done a thorough examination of your insides, which included him setting the Medigun to low, switching it to automatic mode, and cutting you open from collarbone to pelvis. He had been quite happy to inform you that your organs had not been affected by your turbulent trip through Respawn.

Thank God you’d insisted on laying in the bathtub.

Engineer had knocked on your door as you were finishing getting dressed, and when you opened it, the Southerner revealed that he had gone out and found you something that you could both eat and that wouldn’t taste like garbage.

“It ain’t smoked brisket ‘n biscuits,” he commented as he set down a banana smoothie and a small fillet of salmon, “but I reckon it’ll do.”

“Engie, I could kiss you right now.” You warbled, close to crying.

The man flushed scarlet and rubbed at the back of his neck, but you were too focused on the food to notice. Engineer and Medic stepped out to get their own dinners, leaving you to enjoy yours.

The salmon was still warm, seasoned with a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon, and it yielded easily to your plastic fork. It went down easily and, more importantly, stayed down, even when you started to tentatively sip the banana smoothie. The smoothie was cold, smooth, and probably loaded in things that were good for you.

“I see zhat zhe laborer has finally managed to procure you a decent meal.”

You jumped slightly, scrambling to catch your drink as it slipped from your grip. Spy leaned against your doorway, arms crossed in a casual way as he watched you eat. He looked much more rested, the bags around his eyes having retreated.

“Do you feel sick at all?” he asked, arching a brow.

You shook your head. “Nah, Medic loaded me up with some stuff that's supposed to help me keep food down. You’d have to ask him exactly what it was, though.”

“Perhaps I shall.” Spy replied, “Come, mon féroce petit scorpion, you can finish your drink in zhe car.”

“But I thought I wasn’t allowed to have food in your car?” You questioned, wiggling forward towards the edge of your bed.

“I will make an allowance, just zhis once.” The masked man said, offering you his arm.

“Don’t want Sniper to scoop me up again?” You teased.

Spy’s nose wrinkled in displeasure. “Non. Zhe bushman does not look as zhough he got an adequate amount of sleep, and I will not risk your safety when we just got you back.”

“Awww,” you cooed, causing Spy to jerk his head away in embarrassment, “you big softie. I knew you loved me.”

“Dieu, sauve-moi de ma grande gueule et de mon cœur faible.” Spy muttered, pressing his free hand to his head.

“No idea what you just said there, pal.”

“Zhat is zhe point.” The Frenchman replied.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. I’ll just get Scout to translate for me later.”

Spy shot you a confused look as you stepped outside. “Scout? Please, zhat illiterate cretin doesn’t speak French! He barely speaks English.”

“That’s what you think.” You insisted, raising your eyebrows, “I’ve heard him singing in French sometimes. Sounded to me like he knew exactly what he was saying.”

Spy’s brow furrowed, and the two of you fell into silence as he helped you to his car.

The interior of Spy’s car was just as luxurious as you imagined. Black leather seats were warm beneath your touch, and it was kept immaculately clean. You felt kinda bad even sitting in it, let alone bringing any kind of food or drink inside, but Spy had insisted, so you took your offered seat, which was the passenger seat.

“What kind of car is this?” You asked, carefully laying the blanket Spy had brought over your lap, just in case some of your smoothie somehow managed to leak.

“She is a Bizzarrini 5300 GT Strada.” Spy replied, reverently running a hand over the wheel as you whistled, “Gorgeous, non?”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, “I feel like I shouldn’t even be in this thing, it’s so nice.”

“You cannot possibly be a worse passenger than Scout.” Spy said, a hint of humour in his tone, “I can tell you are being careful. Relax, mon ami.”

You nodded, smiling shly.

Suddenly, the back doors opened, and Pauling, Medic, and Pyro all piled into the back.

“Herr Spy,” Medic started, “If jou wish to avoid a confrontation with Herr Sniper und Herr Engineer, I suggest jou start driving. Now. Zhey are not pleased zhat you whisked zhe Chemist away.”

“Well, zhey can, as Scout so often says,” Spy grinned sharply as the two aforementioned men burst out of the motel, yelling in the direction of the expensive car, “‘suck my dick.’”

You whooped in delight as Spy peeled out of the parking lot, laughing as a rush of wind blew against your face. Through your delighted giggles, you managed to buckle yourself in, grinning so wide your jaw ached as you saw both Sniper’s van and Engineer’s truck fly out onto the dusty road after you. Pyro laughed right alongside you, while Miss Pauling and Medic struggled to right themselves after gravity smushed the small woman into the doctor’s side.

“I didn’t know you were a speed demon!” You cheered, shouting to be heard over the wind.

“I do not often get to indulge, but,” Spy’s eyes twinkled with excitement, “yes, I do enjoy using zhe power my vehicle affords me.”

He adjusted the mirror, the orange light of the setting sun glinting in its reflection. “But even more so do I enjoy zhe thrill of a chase.”

Sure enough, both of the other vehicles were steadily gaining, and if you squinted, you could see both Sniper and Engineer gritting their teeth and glaring at Spy’s car.

“Why are they chasing us?” You questioned, confused.

“Because I have something zhey want.” Spy replied, shooting you a sideways glance, “Or, rather, someone.”

Your face suddenly felt very warm.

Maybe you had been wrong before. Maybe you really could have asked Sniper to keep his hand on your head. Maybe you didn’t have to leap off of Soldier’s lap, automatically assuming he was uncomfortable.

Maybe your teammates would be just fine with you desperately seeking their attention, their touch.

‘WOAH THERE NELLY!’ Your internal thoughts threw up a great big STOP sign, whacking you on the head with it, ‘Let’s change THAT line of thinking right now!’

Jesus Christ you needed to reread the dictionary definition of a ‘professional workplace relationship’ because clearly you had forgotten what it meant!

Quiet, ashamed, and unwillingly thinking about calloused hands brushing against your skin like some Victorian-era harlot, you returned to sipping your banana smoothie.

It was still very good. Just like the salmon Engineer had gone well out of his way to get specifically for you.

Stop stop stop stop.

Or like the blanket Spy had picked out and bought for you because he knew you would be cold, or like the hot lemon with special honey Sniper had made you, because he thought it would make you feel better.

STOP STOP STOP STOP!

‘They’re racing for you.’ A silky, pleased part of yourself whispered, ‘They’ve been fighting over your attention since you joined them, it’s just become much more obvious now. You could go right up to any of them, and they’d be more than happy to give you some attention.’

S H U T U P

Suddenly, the car swerved, jerking you out of your inner torment. Your straw, which was still inside your mouth, jabbed into the back of your throat. You gagged on reflex, slapping a hand over your mouth as the urge to vomit washed over you. You grimaced, winced from the pain, and breathed slowly in through your nose as Spy swore out the window.

“Espèce de chauve-souris stupide et aveugle! Quittez la route avant que je décide de vous y forcer!” he snarled at a vehicle that had veered into the wrong lane, huffing as he leaned back. He glanced over at you quickly, his expression becoming more concerned when he saw the look on your face. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

You swallowed, and sighed in relief when your stomach settled again. “I’m okay. Just got a bit jostled.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

You waved Spy off. “No, I’m fine, really. Just, maybe slow down a bit? Just until we’re back in the country.”

Spy nodded and eased off the gas, Sniper and Engineer following suit.

“Zhat is probably for zhe best. Zhe last zhing we need is to start a police chase.” Spy conceded.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good.” You frowned, “I think at least half of us probably have warrants out for our arrest somewhere.”

“More than half.” Both Medic and Miss Pauling chimed in from the back.

You nodded, leaning back in your seat. You thought about that; about who might be wanted for what. It was a decent distraction from your previous thoughts, and you welcomed it. Turning to look out the window, you watched as the sunsetting twilight changed into a beautiful, starry night sky. Come morning, as long as things stayed on track, you’d be home.

Spoiler alert: things did not stay on track.

You had been making your way through Colorado when it happened. You and Spy had been listening to a local radio station while Pyro, Miss Pauling, and Medic snoozed in the back. You would have been asleep too, but something about the clouds that had rolled in made you nervous. Just as Spy had been reaching to change the station, a sharp, piercing alarm sounded out from the radio.

“Alert! A tornado warning is being issued for the Limon area! All residents are urged to seek shelter immediately! Please gather up all children and pets and make your way to a basement or interior room! Avoid all windows and objects that may prove hazardous if they fall! If you are in a mobile home, in a vehicle, or are outside, please make your way to the nearest secure building!”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Spy gaped, looking frantically at the sky. The darkness brought an extra level of danger, and you felt your heart leap up into your throat.

“Is there even anywhere to shelter out here?!” You asked, your eyes darting about as you stuck your head out of the window. All that you could see was a flat expanse of fields that stretched out forever into the dark.

“Whuz goin’ on?” Miss Pauling groaned, rubbing at her eyes.

“Oh, nothing much.” You laughed nervously, “Just, uh, a tornado.”

“Was? Ein Tornado?” Medic said blearily, sitting up.

“Oui.” Spy confirmed grimly. He reached over to the radio and tuned it to a very specific frequency. “Bushman, laborer, I assume you have received zhe same warning?”

“Yeah mate.”

“Same here.”

“I suggest we make a break for zhe nearest town. It is only about a mile away.” Spy offered, pressing down on the gas pedal.

“Not like we got many options. We’re sittin’ ducks out here.” Engineer’s voice crackled through the car speakers. “You lead, we’ll follow.”

You put your window up and tightened your seatbelt, glancing back at the backseat passengers. “Can you guys wake Py up? We’ll wanna be ready to go once we stop.”

“Jawohl.” Medic agreed, reaching an arm behind Miss Pauling to gently nudge the firebug.

Spy treated the dark road like it was a professional racetrack, the engine of his car growling like a wild beast as he shot across the asphalt. You kept your eyes trained on the sky, cringing when a flash of lightning revealed a green sky.

“Man, we really have just the worst luck, huh?” You muttered.

“It is starting to seem that way.” Spy growled, his gaze anxiously flicking between the road and the ever worsening sky.

“What do we do if we get to town and there’s nowhere to hide?” You asked.

“We keep driving and pray we can get ahead of the storm.”

You gulped audibly.

Soon, the silhouettes of buildings came into view. As you passed the town sign, hail started to pour down. The little pellets of ice crashed against the car, bouncing off the windshield and tumbling down the road as the wind swept them away. You peered out into the storm, searching for a suitable hiding place.

“There!” You exclaimed, pointing towards a small, rundown mechanic shop. The sign was in pieces and graffiti covered the garage door, but the building itself looked stable.

“It will have to do.” Spy said, pulling off the road.

You hopped out of the car once it came to a stop, grunting when a powerful blast of wind pushed you against the vehicle. Strong hands suddenly gripped you, and you found yourself pulled against Miss Pauling, who was going her best to dig her heels into the ground. Medic and Spy came up on either side of you, helping to buffer the wind as Pyro ran to the side door, axe in hand.

Your little group of four made it to the door just as Pyro managed to break the lock. The arsonist let you in, holding the door as the rest of your team made a run for safety. The inside of the mechanic shop was dark and dusty, but the thick concrete and steel was a source of comfort.

“Is everyone alright?” Engineer asked, dusting hail off his shoulders.

Everyone made various noises of affirmation, fixing their own outfits and looking around the place. Scout skittered over to you and Pauling as a loud thunderclap rumbled outside, the runner not so subtly positioning himself next to you.

“Jeeze, you sure this place’ll hold up?” He asked, nervousness leaking into his voice.

“It’s better than being exposed outside.” Miss Pauling replied, before gently taking your hand, “Come on, Chem, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

You followed dutifully, Scout trailing along behind you. Miss Pauling managed to find some milk crates after many minutes of blindly feeling around in almost complete darkness before you remembered that you had been gifted a box of matches, and the three of you set them up in the middle of the room. You took off your blanket and shucked off your lab coat, laying them across the crates to act as a cushion. You could feel the chill of the shop creeping into your bones, but you ignored it, settling down in between Demo and Heavy.

“We’ve got some absolutely shite luck, lads.” Demo frowned, glancing towards the barricaded side door, “We could’a been near home by mornin’ if this damn tornado hadn’t come outta bloody nowhere!”

“My thoughts exactly.” You murmured, “Hopefully it blows over soon. We don’t exactly have any supplies prepared.”

“Hrr yuh filn righh?” Pyro asked.

“Yeah, Py, I’m okay. I can’t eat for another few hours anyways.” You reassured the arsonist.

“You gonna be warm enough in here? It’s kinda chilly.” Scout said, shuffling a bit closer to Pyro, who was always a good source of heat. The pyromaniac let the runner lean on them, amusing themself by lighting matches that they kept producing from God only know where.

“I’ll be fine. I can suck it up for a bit.” You replied.

Medic tsked from somewhere to your right, and, after a few moments of shuffling, you felt something warm being draped over your shoulders. It was kind of heavy, and when Pyro lit another match, you caught a glimpse of Medic’s Class symbol on the arm.

“Thanks, Doc.” You smiled softly, slippin the coat on.

“Zhink nothing of it. Jou are lacking jour usual body fat, and thus require additional help to keep jourself warm.” Medic said matter of factly.

“Hey Chem, I can think’a somethin’ that’d help warm you up real fast.” Scout called in a teasing, flirtatious tone, the Bostonian laughing before someone’s elbow made its way into his gut at a rapid pace.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’d like to be fucked for longer than 30 seconds.” You shot back, smirking when a chorus of ‘Ooooohs’ sounded out from your teammates.

Scout made a ‘pshh!’ sound and crossed his arms. “Uh, first of all, it wouldn’t be ‘30 seconds’, prick, second; whaddya mean you “think” you’d wanna be fucked longer than that? You a virgin or somethin’?”

“Scout,” Spy hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “use what few brain cells you possess and display a modicum of decorum, please.”

Your face turned a lovely shade of pink as you laughed awkwardly. “Well, uh…”

“Y’ don’t have to answer him, Chem. Lord only knows that boy needs to learn to stop runnin’ his damn mouth.” Engineer added, shooting a pointed look at Scout, who threw his hands up, exasperated.

“No, it’s fine.” You rubbed at the back of your head, feeling sheepish, “I am. A virgin, I mean. People didn’t exactly want to bang the weirdo who spent most of their time putting bugs in formaldehyde and playing with a kids chemistry kit, and then I started working with you guys, soooo… yeah.”

The room fell into a tense, awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the howling wind outside.

“I would.” Soldier said suddenly.

10 heads turned towards the helmet wearing man.

“What?” he asked, not a trace of shame in his voice. “The Chemist is a brave, capable, AMERICAN teammate who I have personally witnessed melt THREE RED bastards at once! The only way they could be more attractive is if they were the Statue of Liberty itself!”

Spy started to say something, but Demo cut him off.

“I gotta agree with Solly there, lads.” He nodded sagely, “Not about the statue bit, but yer a bonnie sight, Chem.”

“Too right.” Sniper piped up, his blush almost invisible in the infrequent matchlight Pyro provided.

“Sacrebleu, are you all truly going to salivate over our Chemist like a pack of wild dogs right in front of zhem?!” Spy yelled, gesturing towards you.

You were doing your very best impression of a well cooked lobster while trying to process what was happening at the moment, and thus did not really take in his statement.

“Now Spy,” Engineer teased, pushing up his goggles slightly to fix the masked man with a knowing look, “don’t go acting like you’re any better than these boys. You’ve either been struttin’ around like a peacock or poutin’ like a kicked puppy ever since we picked Chem up, and don’t think we haven’t noticed you always makin’ sure their spice cabinet and bakin’ ingredients never get too low.”

“Zhat is because sending zhem to Teufort is a death sentence and you know it!” Spy hissed back, “Besides, are you just going to sit zhere and pretend zhat you don’t invite zhem to dinner in your sacred domain just so you can show off all your little toys?”

“Both Spy and Engineer act like school girls with first crush.” Heavy said abruptly in a flat tone. “Is embarrassing. Please stop.”

“Nein! Please continue!” Medic clapped his hands, giddy, “Jour conflict is like eine Seifenoper!”

Heavy arched a brow at the German. “Doktor is worse than them! Is always circling Chemist like shark, waiting to take bite!”

“Augh! Zhat is not true!”

The team dissolved into arguing around you, leaving you and Miss Pauling as the lone outliers. The petite woman stealthily nudged her way through the group of arguing men and Pyro and made her way over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You, uh, you alright?” she asked in a low voice.

“I-” You started in a hoarse whisper, running your hand through your hair, gripping the strands, “I could have been getting fucked this whole time.”

“What?”

You put your head in your hands and let your head smack against your knees. “I have been living on a base with nine mercenaries who have been, apparently, thirsting after me and I didn’t notice. I am a fool, P, a blind, horny fool.”

Miss Pauling awkwardly patted you on the head. “There… there?”

“I’m so stupid!” You bemoaned, “How could this day possibly get any worse?”

CRRRRRACK-BOOM!

Everyone jumped as something slammed against the side door. The top of a utility pole lodged itself inside the doorway, live power lines lashing about like angry snakes as powerful winds surged inside, throwing the wires around. One of the wires was blown towards you and Miss Pauling, and you shoved her back on instinct, eyes widening in terror as a flash of white filled your vision. A sharp, burning sensation rocketed through your body, a metallic taste filling your mouth, before everything went dark.

The world came back to you in a burst of dull blue and gray hues.

A gentle pulse filled your ears, vibrating in your chest until it slowly waned, leaving you sprawled on a concrete floor. You gagged as your stomach turned violently, and you had to push yourself up onto your forearms to avoid choking on your own vomit. You spat, face curling into a disgusted sneer.

Respawn never had left you feeling very good, but these last two times were really starting to make you yearn for a more gentle return to life.

Slowly, through sheer willpower and what little energy you had left, you managed to get to your feet. The air here was much warmer than your previous Respawn location, and it smelled faintly of… apples?

Confused, but determined to find a phone, you hugged the walls for support as you once again navigated an unfamiliar building, hand trailing across the blue corrugated metal. You weren’t afraid this time around, just pissed off. You had died again? Seriously?! You had been so close to home! You could have been getting boned in a few hours!

Okay, well, maybe not that last one, but still!

As you passed a window, something caught your attention. You stopped for a moment, looking out into the, thankfully, clear night. It was still dark, obviously, but you could hear the sound of birds chirping. Morning was approaching, but that wasn’t what was on your mind.

There were lights on somewhere in the distance.

If you were standing in a BLU base, then…

Gritting your teeth, you picked up the pace, making a mental note to thank Medic for giving you all of those shots and vitamins. If he hadn’t, you likely wouldn’t have even been able to walk.

A cool night breeze caressed your face as you stumbled outside, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, missing your blanket. It took a while, but you eventually made your way over to a homely-looking farmstead, adorned in a colour you usually hated to see. Taking as deep a breath as you could manage, you walked up the porch steps and approached the door, pulling open the outer screen door to knock on the solid wood interior door.

You stepped back a fraction as the sound of footsteps approached, your eyes drooping with exhaustion as the adrenaline that came with returning to life began to fade, leaving you with a mix of a pins and needles-esque numbness and an encroaching headache.

The door swung open, and you found yourself looking down the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun.

“Who the hell are-!” the voice of the RED Engineer held the same southern drawl as your Engineer, and his eyes widened in the same adorable way when he was caught off guard.

“Morning, friend.” You greeted, giving the man the best smile you could muster at the moment, “Do you have a phone I could borrow?”

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