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miracleonice87 · 4 years ago

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Cape Cod Confessions - Kevin Hayes

a/n: this one hit me outta nowhere and I blame my Philly loves @broadstbroskis and @princessphilly for enabling me 😉😘 (jk you know I adore you.) writing this one actually made writing feel fun again. I'm grateful for that. also hey, I'm writing for Kevin Hayes now! keep that in mind for the next prompt list lol.

warnings: I think just swearing. also heads up, this is an OC. I like them and I ain't sorry.

word count: 4.4K+

_____

The familiar scene in the yard of Kate’s parents’ summer home on Cape Cod would normally fill her with contentment and peace, as all her family and closest, lifelong friends were gathered together in celebration. Her brother was marrying his college sweetheart in twenty-four hours, and Kate had every reason to be happy.

Today, though, after not being part of such an occasion for many months due to work obligations back in Seattle, Kate felt strange pangs of guilt and discomfort. Days like today made her wonder why she had ever left Boston in the first place.

And seeing her childhood best friend Kevin manning the grill, his nieces and nephews hanging from his long limbs as he promised them he would play with them as soon as the food was finished, made her wonder why she had ever left him in the first place.

How she had ever left him in the first place.

Kate was still lost in her own thoughts when, from across the lawn, she heard a shrill scream, followed by an ecstatic, “Auntie Kate!”

Her goddaughter Neila’s voice was unmistakable, and Kate set her purse on the grass just in time to catch Neila on her running jump, all the way from her Uncle Kevin straight into Kate’s arms. Pure joy flooded Kate’s soul as she caught Neila, giggling, and held the little girl to her chest.

“My beautiful Nene!” Kate exclaimed, kissing her cheek. “I missed you!”

Neila pulled back, pushing her hair away from her face. “I missed you, too,” she said sincerely before throwing her arms around Kate’s neck again.

A moment later, Neila wriggled out of Kate’s hold and turned toward the crowd of family and friends on the patio.

“Auntie Kate is here!” Neila announced, eliciting chuckles from the adults. Except for one — Kevin, whose eyes had already been glued to Kate since his niece’s initial squeal upon discovering her arrival. He’d turned his back on the grill to find his niece holding onto Kate’s hands and hopping backwards in an effort to pull her to join the party on the patio.

Kevin looked on as Kate threw her head back in laughter, and he felt the sort of distinct happiness that he only found when Kate was near. He couldn’t stop staring, mesmerized by how radiant she looked in her lilac sundress, with her curls thrown over her shoulders… that is, he couldn’t stop staring until his brother clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Steaks are gonna burn, Kev,” Jimmy said loudly in order to bring Kevin back down to earth. Kevin simply nodded and turned back to the grill. Jimmy’s eyes traveled to where Kate stood reuniting with her immediate family, and a soft smile found his lips.

“She looks beautiful, no?” Jimmy spoke into Kevin’s ear, more softly this time. He was always more than willing to publicly embarrass his little brother when it came to an array of subjects. But Kate wasn’t one of them. Jimmy wouldn’t dare.

Kevin only nodded, again. Jimmy squeezed his shoulder, then scooped up his little son in his arms and headed to see his old friend.

Kate’s parents, her older brother Patrick, and his fiancée Joelle had just finished taking turns greeting her with hugs when, over her brother’s shoulder, she spotted Jimmy carrying Beau.

“Baby Beau!” Kate gasped, holding out her hands as Beau smiled and reached out for her. “Who let you get this big?!” she questioned as she took him in her arms. He simply giggled and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Hello, Kathleen Paige,” Jimmy greeted, using her full name as he had for Kate’s entire life, no matter how much she had hated the Irish moniker as a young kid.

“Hi, J,” she replied fondly, leaning in so that he could wrap her in a hug and plant a kiss to her forehead. “Your boy is getting way too big,” she told him, tickling Beau’s belly and making him laugh.

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy said. “How are you? You look great.”

Kate glanced downward, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Thanks. I’m okay,” she replied uncharacteristically dryly, switching Beau to her other arm. “It’s good to be home,” she added without elaboration.

Jimmy nodded in understanding.

“It’s good to have you home,” he agreed, then tilted his head toward the house. “Kristen’s inside. She can’t wait to see you.”

Kate beamed at the mention of Jimmy’s wife, one of her closest friends for years now.

“I can’t wait, either,” she said, just as Beau reached back toward his dad, making them both laugh. “Here, take your mini me. I’m gonna go finish my rounds,” she told him as her eyes flickered in search of the younger Hayes brother.

Jimmy retrieved his son and smirked down at her, his own eyes dancing.

“You do that,” he encouraged, teasing in his tone.

Kate rolled her eyes, but, just as Jimmy had anticipated, she headed straight toward the barbecue next, passing at least a dozen other people who had been waiting to see her.

“Hey, grill master,” she said, her hand gently coming to rest on Kevin’s back.

Her touch took him by surprise, and he nearly fumbled the tongs in his hands as he turned to greet her, his tall frame towering over hers.

“Hey, Katie girl,” he spoke, and Kate realized just how much she had missed that voice speaking those very words. She could only grin like an idiot.

Kevin pulled Kate in, his arms crushing her against his chest, and she hugged his waist as she felt his heartbeat against her ear.

“Missed you,” she said simply.

“Missed you, too, Kate,” Kevin said, his voice rumbling against her cheek. She pulled back to look up at him with a relieved sigh as he grinned at her.

And in that moment, she finally felt some of the contentment and peace she’d been searching for.

_____

Hours later, after the cookout lunch and the rehearsal dinner, when the attention-commanding nieces and nephews had long been put to bed, Kevin found Kate where he’d always found her on summer nights at the Cape — down at the boathouse, her feet dangling above the water, her short stature prohibiting them from actually being submerged.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he found himself saying — immediately followed by an internal monologue of, God, Kevin, why are you so fucking lame?

Despite his pathetic attempt at humor, Kate still smiled up at him.

“I knew you’d find me eventually,” she replied, letting her gaze drift back across the water.

Kevin hummed in response as he set down the pair of beers he’d brought and took a seat on the dock beside her.

“I’m surprised you’re not with the girls,” Kevin said. “They’re up there poppin’ bottles in the kitchen.”

She laughed softly at the thought. “Nah, just needed some time to think,” she told him.

Kevin nodded, knowing not to press any further if Kate wasn’t feeling forthcoming.

“Well, I come bearing beers,” he said, offering her one of the bottles.

With a grateful sigh, she murmured a “thank you,” and accepted the cold beverage. And that was just another item that fell somewhere in the middle of the long list of reasons why Kevin adored her — because she never needed champagne or an apple martini or a Mai Tai. A beer that matched his always suited her just fine.

Kevin was smiling at the thought, and when Kate caught him, he quickly saved face by lifting his bottle in the air.

“A toast,” he announced. “To Pat and Joelle.”

She nodded, lifting her beer toward his. “To Pat and Joelle,” she echoed, clinking the neck of her bottle against his. “Cheers.”

Kate took a long pull, looking back across the cape, and after a few silent moments, Kevin casually reached for her ankles and swept her legs atop his lap, his free hand resting on her shin. It certainly wasn’t anything unusual — anyone who knew Kate and Kevin and their relationship knew that they had always been affectionate with one another. (So much so, in fact, that on many occasions, Jimmy had muttered, “Jesus Christ, just fuck already.”) But it had been so long since he had initiated such a gesture that Kate would have been lying if she said her breath didn’t catch in her throat a little.

She sniffed and made work of picking at the label on her bottle, trying to act as cool and collected as possible.

“You look great, Katie,” Kevin eventually piped up, interrupting the silence and making Kate feel somehow more nervous and more at ease all at once. She tucked her chin to her chest with a breathy chuckle. “I mean it,” he added earnestly. “I should’ve said it before, but… anyway, just wanted to tell you now.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, and Kevin had to remind himself to breathe as she shot him her famous pursed-lipped smile, pushed to one side of her mouth.

“Thanks, Kev,” Kate said softly. “You do, too.”

“How’s work?” he asked, assuming that he’d be posing a simple, run-of-the-mill question, one that might lighten the mood and give his heart rate a chance to slow a bit.

But Kate snorted, lowering her bottle from her lips after a swig. “What work?” she asked cynically.

Kevin’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

She cleared her throat, turning to face the full moon instead of him. “The magazine shut down,” she finally admitted. “It’s been almost a month now, I guess.”

And for once in his life, Kevin was speechless.

Kate had started working for the small, independently-owned Pacific Northwest tourism magazine five years ago — the publication was the whole reason she’d moved to Seattle in the first place. She was so proud of her photography that was featured in each issue, and so was Kevin — though Kate didn’t know it, he had subscribed to the magazine after her first photo was featured in an issue early in her time on staff. And since the monthly magazines were mailed to his place in Philly and not in Dorchester, he realized that he would have had no way of knowing about the shutdown if it weren’t for Kate directly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kevin asked gently, concern evident in his tone.

She shrugged. “Not something I really felt like talking about this weekend,” she replied, rubbing her hands along her upper arms to warm them from the cool ocean breeze. “Not necessarily something I was all that proud of.”

Kevin’s heart sank. “But it isn’t your fault, Kate,” he said, squeezing her calves. “You didn’t have any control over the magazine going under.”

She heaved a sigh. “I know, but…” she began, tipping her head back wearily, “it just feels like everything’s crashing down around me in Seattle. Half a dozen of my friends have moved away in the last year, my freelance clients are dwindling seemingly by the day because everybody and their mother think they can be their own photographer, and now the magazine’s gone. It just feels like I’m failing at everything, Kev. Failing at life.”

“Hey,” Kevin said firmly — immediately. He nudged her chin with his thumb so that she was looking straight at him, those sea blue eyes of his suddenly the only thing she could focus on, as all of her self-doubt was washed away, even before he continued to speak. “You are not failing. You’re 28 years old. This is just a part of growing up, Kate,” he assured. “This shit happens to everyone. Remember when I got shipped to Winnipeg and then to Philly so quick? I went through the same shit. I felt like nobody wanted me, like I couldn’t do anything right. But it got better. It always does, Katie. Especially for people with as good a heart as you.”

Kate sniffled, wiping at a lone stray tear with her knuckle.

“Thanks, Kev,” she said softly, followed by a few more quiet sniffles. “You’re the best. Reasons why I love you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Kevin’s brows lifted and his eyes widened as he looked at her, wondering if he’d just heard her correctly.

As with the physical touch, it had always been this way with Kate and Kevin when it came to their long-simmering feelings for one another. One of them would slip up and say some shit like “I love you” or “you’re so hot” or “come home with me,” and then try to play it off or walk it back, while the other person was left reeling, unsure of whether or not the other had truly meant what they’d said.

“I mean, you know, like I—”

“I love you, too, Kate,” Kevin said without hesitation, not walking anything back, interrupting Kate’s hopeless stuttering.

She glanced at him, taking a few chugging sips of her beer, and shook her head.

“No, you don’t,” she asserted flatly. “You’ve had a lot to drink. So have I. It’s a wedding weekend and we’re—”

“No, Kate,” Kevin insisted. “I mean it. I-I love you.”

And Kate suddenly felt really dizzy, like, really dizzy, and not because of the alcohol or the day she’d spent in the sweltering July sun. Dizzy like her best friend since diapers had just fully admitted that he love loved her in a manner far more sincere and more convincing than all those other times before.

“I… I gotta go to bed, Kev. Big day tomorrow,” Kate said abruptly. She drew a deep breath, swung her legs out from beneath Kevin’s hold, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before pushing herself up from the dock and heading for the steps. “‘Night.”

_____

“You did what?!” Jimmy asked on the golf course the next morning, coughing as he nearly choked, not because of his cigar smoke, but due to pure shock upon hearing his brother’s declaration.

“I told her I loved her,” Kevin said. “And she told me I was just drunk, and I told her I wasn’t, and then she went back to the house.”

“I think I need to lie down,” said Keith Yandle, Kate and Kevin’s mutual lifelong family friend, as he dramatically took a seat in the golf cart.

Jimmy stood slack-jawed in front of Kevin, waiting for more.

“And?!” he finally prompted.

Kevin shrugged. “And I haven’t talked to her all morning,” he said, earning groans from Jimmy, Keith, and Noel Acciari, another longtime member of the crew. “But I don’t regret it. And I’m bringing it up again tonight.”

“At her brother’s wedding? What, are you nuts?” Jimmy accused.

“No, that’s perfect,” Keith bellowed. “You know how girls get about weddings. All gooey and shit. Just get her a couple drinks at the reception. She’ll cop to loving your sorry ass, too. We all know she does. This has only been about three decades in the making.”

Kevin hated to admit it, but Keith was right, and he knew that Jimmy knew it, too, as Jimmy stood with his hands on his hips, sighing as he exhaled cigar smoke.

“Alright, fine,” Jimmy said, putting his hands up and rounding the golf cart to take the driver’s seat. “That’s not your worst idea ever, Yands. And you know what, Kev? I’m proud of ya. I wasn’t sure ya had it in ya.”

Kevin let out a singular chuckle and adjusted his golf hat.

“Neither was I.”

_____

“He said what?!” Kristen said loudly from the makeup chair as Kevin’s sister Justine squealed in the hair chair next to Kate’s.

“He told me he loved me,” Kate replied incredulously, still not convinced that last night was anything more than some fever dream. “Like, actually loved me. And I didn’t say it back. Because I’m an asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” Kristen assured firmly as Justine waved Kate off. “He caught you off guard, that’s all. You’ll have plenty of time this weekend to make it up to him,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Justine flung out an arm and squeezed Kate’s elbow.

“Wait, are you gonna say it back?” she asked in a sharp whisper.

Kate just pursed her lips, smiling crookedly.

_____

“Jesus fuck,” Kevin muttered as Kate walked into the narthex of the church to be lined up for the walk down the aisle. Noel elbowed him in the ribs.

“We’re in a church, bud,” Noel muttered. “You’re gonna get struck down, and I’m gonna be standing next to you when it happens.”

Kevin barely heard him as he watched Kate approach her brother, who let out a “wow” at her appearance and pulled her in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Wow was putting it lightly. Her hair was left long and curled, save for a few pieces pinned back from her face, and she donned an elegant, v-neck, pale blue bridesmaid dress that appeared to have been designed just for her. Her makeup, though simple, was flawless, accentuating her strong features, making her hazel eyes, in particular, impossible not to notice.

Kevin had never seen Kate look more stunning in all his life. And that was saying something.

Kate turned toward the groomsmen next, her eyes immediately locking with Kevin’s, despite Jimmy’s wolf whistle and Noel’s “damn, Katie.”

She shot them both an eyeroll before refocusing on Kevin.

“Hi,” she said dumbly.

“Hi,” Kevin repeated. “You look beautiful, Kate. Perfect.”

There was that pushed-to-one-side, pouted-lip smile that made Kevin’s pulse race.

“Thanks, Kev,” she replied. “You look really handsome.”

Kevin gave her a grateful smile, then took a step closer to her.

“Can we talk later?” he asked, softly enough that he hoped no one else could hear and then subsequently give him shit for asking such a middle school question. His breath against her ear sent shivers through Kate, and his low tone made her mouth go dry.

She nodded, looking up at him doe-eyed and unable to form a single word. He nodded, too, and before she knew it, he was reaching for her hand, brushing a soft kiss against the top of it, and giving it a quick squeeze.

Kate didn’t have a chance to overanalyze his actions because the wedding planner quickly marched through the group, announcing that Patrick and his groomsmen needed to make their way to the altar for the start of the ceremony. Kate stepped forward to pull her older brother in for one last hug and a few whispered sentiments, then she smiled shyly at Kevin, smoothing her hand over his lapel as she passed, unaware of the knowing smile that Jimmy and Kristen shared watching the two of them.

_____

Back at her parents’ house for the reception, Kate was well on her way to a hangover for her flight back to Seattle tomorrow. Naturally, she’d been seated next to Kevin at the head table, and though the two of them hadn’t yet found time for an actual conversation, they each knew it was coming, which only increased the number of trips they’d both already made to the open bar.

After the meal, Pat and Joelle were invited to the dance floor in the middle of the yard, beneath twinkling string lights and the glow of the moon, and the strains of “Marry Me” by Train came over the sound system, filling the salty air with the peaceful guitar melody.

Kate’s jaw dropped just slightly, but enough for Kevin to take notice.

“That asshole,” she whispered.

Kevin held back a laugh at her reaction to this significant, romantic moment in her brother’s life.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“This is my wedding song,” she told Kevin incredulously, putting her hand to her chest. “I’ve said that since I was, like, in middle school. He knows that.”

Kevin wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or how breathtaking Kate looked or the feelings he’d long been pushing down finally bubbling over, now that he had let his little confession slip last night, but he suddenly heard himself say, “We can use it, too. Nobody’ll remember by then.”

Kate stiffened in her chair and snapped her head toward him.

“What?” it was her turn to whisper.

“Oh, come on, Kate,” Kevin said, sipping his whiskey casually. “Let’s not kid ourselves. That’ll be us up there someday.”

And there was that goddamn smile of hers again — Kevin knew she was trying so hard not to pull a full-on, megawatt grin, which was fine by him because he was perfectly happy with this version. Preferred it, actually.

She cleared her throat and shook her head.

“Don’t hold your breath, Kev,” Kate replied lightheartedly. But her tone was… less than convincing, some might say. Even less convincing was the way she almost imperceptibly leaned closer toward Kevin, whose arm rested loosely around the back of her chair.

And at that, Kevin smiled into his glass.

_____

Somehow, even in the midst of her own brother’s lively wedding reception, Kate still found her way to the boathouse. Kevin hadn’t even bothered to look for her elsewhere — once he noticed that she’d disappeared from the dance floor, he grabbed two Boston Lagers from the bar and headed for the dock.

She smirked when she heard his footsteps.

“Want some company?” he asked on his way down the wooden steps.

“Only if it’s you,” she replied, the flirtation evident in her tone.

Kevin smiled, pleased with that answer, and took his familiar spot next to her.

“Nice day, huh?” he asked, again pulling her legs across his lap before nudging the second beer into her hand.

“Really was,” Kate replied, clinking her bottle against Kevin’s for yet another toast.

They sat wordlessly for a few minutes, staring out at the water, listening to the laughs and chatter and music from the party up in the yard.

Eventually, Kevin cleared his throat, drawing Kate’s attention.

“Listen, Kate, about last night,” he began, but Kate’s anxiety spurred her to interrupt.

“No, it’s okay, Kev,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “You don’t have to explain—”

“No, I do,” Kevin insisted. “I-I don’t know if you’re getting it.”

She frowned. “Getting what?”

Kevin opened his mouth, looking into her eyes, then closed it again with a humorless chuckle.

“I meant it,” he finally said. “I said I loved you. And I meant it.”

Kate couldn’t break from his gaze despite the flipping sensation in her stomach, and despite the warmth creeping up her neck. The intensity of his stare was foreign to her — she was so used to happy, joking, jovial Kev, who never took anything too seriously. Even his earlier comment about their supposed future wedding reception had been tinged with sarcasm.

There was no ounce of him that was kidding now. That much Kate could see.

“You’re perfect for me, Kate,” Kevin continued. “You always have been.”

She blinked, tucking her loose waves behind her ear.

“Kev, I—”

“Wait, wait,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head before taking a long pull from his beer. “Listen, you gotta let me finish, because it took me this long to get this far. Okay?”

She nodded. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on hers.

“I love you, Kate,” Kevin said. “I love you in the worst way. The most real way. Not just some fleeting, fling-type shit. I mean, I want it all with you. Everything. The whole fuckin’ thing. Ring, wedding, babies in little ‘13’ jerseys. Nice house, a dog. Picket fuckin’ fence. I want what our parents have. And our siblings. You’re the only person I wanna share that with. Ever.”

Kate was crying now, blissfully unfazed that her mascara tears might stain her pretty makeup. Though, they didn’t, because before they could, Kevin’s thumbs had wiped them away, and after rubbing his fingers together, he smoothed his thumbs along her cheekbones.

“And I’ve always known it,” he continued. “But it took you going away and coming back for me to work up the balls to say it.”

Kate hadn’t flinched this whole time, Kevin noticed. In fact, her eyes grew brighter and her soft smile a bit more noticeable with each word he had spoken. But she had yet to utter a word. He studied her in anticipation.

“You gotta say something, Katie girl,” he said nervously. “I’m dyin’ here.”

But there was little left for her to say, she realized, and so instead, she leaned in, cupped Kevin’s neatly-bearded cheeks in her hands, and kissed him like she had never kissed a single soul before. And Kevin kissed her back, his relief evident in his tender touch, in the way he exhaled softly against her mouth.

As soon as Kate pulled her lips from his, hers curled into a breathless smile, and she leaned her forehead against his.

“I love you, too, Kevin Hayes,” she whispered, her fingers combing through the hair at the back of his head. “I’ve loved you since forever.”

“Be with me,” Kevin blurted, as if he actually needed to. “Like, officially. I wanna do this with you.”

She nuzzled her nose against his and circled her arms around his neck.

“Oh, we’re doin’ this,” Kate told him, beaming. She pressed a kiss between his brows and whispered, “Can’t get rid of me now.”

_____

Three summers later, in her parents’ yard on the Cape, Kate twirled around the dance floor to “Marry Me” by Train with a tall, reddish-brown-haired, blue-eyed boy from Dorchester, the very one she had loved since she was a little girl, long before she even fully understood what love was.

But now, Kate knew exactly what love was, because she knew Kevin.

Her newly dubbed husband leaned down to speak softly into her ear as her song continued to play.

“Remember that night we finally got together, when Pat and Joelle had their first dance here?” Kevin asked. “And I told you, ‘someday it’ll be us up there,’ and you told me not to hold my breath?”

Kate hid her face in his chest and felt her face warm, chuckling bashfully. Her recoiling only caused Kevin to hold her tighter and press a kiss to the top of her head. His thumb and forefinger found her chin and angled her face toward his.

“I’m glad I held my breath, Katie girl,” he said, his voice low.

Kate nodded, her eyes damp with unfallen tears. “I’m glad you did, too, Kev,” she said.

#kevin hayes #my writing #kevin hayes fanfiction #kevin hayes fanfic #kevin hayes fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey art #nhl fanfictin #nhl writing #k. hayes #k hayes

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eggxeggxegg · 4 years ago

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Latest compilation - Wholesome angbang: the story’s all off + heir of angband + 3rd age canon divergence

This is what I’ve got so far. I’ve compiled existing ideas together and added/expanded some new ones. You might also notice I changed my mind on a few things from before (and I’ll probably do it again in the future too lol).

What covers the re-writing of the silmarillion will parallel canon, and it will be in the fashion of Melron writing down the tales never told in efforts to get the story straight. What happens afterwards during the third age will be in the manner of actuality and completely diverges from canon.

Melkor is actually a rather gentle person, albeit a chaotic disaster. He cares quite a lot, and it pains him that despite giving it his all, he ruins everything he touches and can only create corruption. Eru illuvatar gave him the self awareness of the role he was forced to play - the antagonist, and this causes him great sorrow, anger, and bitterness. For the type of character I’m imagining, it’s a blend of 10th & 11th doctor (doctor who), Jimmy McGill (better call Saul), and Delores (westworld). We only ever see melkor (and this is true with Mairon as well) as he is to his enemies. It is not known what he is like behind closed doors. the person he shows to his enemies is much different than who he really is. I was thinking about the 10th doctor (doctor who), and how terrible he must be in the eyes of his enemies and how frightening he becomes when he gets angry. I mean, do you remember him at the end of waters of Mars? But we know that he is a loving, gentle, compassionate person who cares an awful lot and carries much grief and guilt. I was also thinking how the 10th doctor would give his enemies a chance first to walk away, and then when they refused that’s when he would destroy them. That made me think about what happened with hurin and maedhros (and every other instance as well). melkor was actually honest in all his offers but the other side just didn’t believe him.

The dynamic between Melkor and Mairon is like that of Jimmy McGill and Kim Wexler (better call Saul). Jimmy is the more emotional and chaotic one, doomed to his fate of slipping down the lawless path of becoming who he will be in Breaking Bad. Kim, a strong and independent character of her own standing, is the practical, logical one who has a strong work ethic, and in the end has fallen to the dark side to join Jimmy on his slippery slope [as of season 5]. They are lovers and partners in crime.

In the beginning, eru illuvator created the ainur and gave them singing lessons. Mairon often ditched his lessons and hid in the void. Melkor also hung out in the void and saw this beautiful unflickering flame: mairon. But mairon was always just out of melkor’s reach.

The reason melkor was hiding out in the void was because he was searching for something to fill the vacuum of darkness inside him — a fire greater than him that couldn’t ever be put out. And when he saw mairon, Melkor knew he had finally found what he was searching for.

Mairon is a mighty spirit of fire, twin to Arien. The balrogs are of the same kin, lesser in rank but greater warriors. Mairon at first served vana alongside arien before transferring to aule. Mairon quickly became aule’s highest journeyman, like what eonwe is to manwe.

Melkor adored Mairon from the start. And for a time it was unrequited. Imagine melkor on his knees gazing in reverence at Mairon, and mairon is like, okay yeah cool cool I got to get back to work now (Mairon was called the admirable because he had a very strong work ethic). But it grew into a friendship, which blossomed into deep romantic love. When mairon left the ainur and openly declared allegiance to him, that was them eloping.

This was when they produced an offspring. Though mairon often presents as male, mairon is gender fluid and bigender. Mairon is the mother and melkor is the father. It is known the valar cannot beget, so it came as a surprise when a child was given to them. I shall refer to the kid as melron for a lack of a better name to give them. Melron is very powerful, perhaps as powerful as his father in his prime, but that power is untapped because they are rather unambitious. They enjoy the simple things in life, very much like a hobbit. They were very close with their parents and were raised with much love and care. As a child they were kept secret from the ainur and as they grew up they enjoyed the anonymity, so you would not have learned of them from the lore of the eldar.

Melkor always regarded mairon as his equal, and in fact considered mairon to have a greater value than himself. Mairon was the one who held him down, and melkor knew he needed mairon more than mairon needed him. Mairon brought the order within melkor’s chaos. everthing melkor did, mairon had a part in. While mairon could (and did) stand quite well on his own without melkor, Melkor functionally could not. And in the end, when his bleeding wounds couldn’t heal, his damaged foot made it hard for him to walk, and his fear became debilitating, he was incredibly indebted to mairon for picking him up each time he fell.

After his chaining in the halls of mandos, Melkor sued for pardon and to go back home to angband. Parden manwe allowed, though he was refused to leave Valinor. And so in bitterness melkor stayed. He never forgave the valar for the sundering of him from Melron, as melron was a very young child when he was taken away and when he returned they were nearly full grown. When feanor first saw him walking among the elves in valinor, there was an allure to the way it was clear the fallen vala longed to be somewhere else. There was something in the way he scowled at the noldor in contempt that made feanor want to impress him, to have melkor glance his way. He made the silmarils partly in mind to show off to melkor. And melkor did see them and him, but it was a look of distaste. This in turn made feanor furious, and fueled his own obsession with the jewels he made. Feanor convinced himself that melkor wanted the silmarils for the vala’s own personal gain, because that’s what he wanted to see. And when melkor indeed stole the silmarils and killed finwe, feanor flipped his shit. Feanor’s loathing for melkor was grown from the seed of once being infatuated with him.

Melkor stole the simarils mainly as a gift for mairon, but also because he was pissed off feanor got the credit for the concept of the silmarils when mairon had thought it up ages before. Derived from his short time serving vana, Mairon was well adept at agriculture and developed these great underground greenhouses in angband. The grow lights he used were magnificent stones imbued with light he nicked from the two lamps. And as the light from the trees are derived from the light of the lamps, the greenhouse grow lights are the same as the silmarils in essence. All the pretty stars shine for you my love, Melkor told mairon. (From the simarillion I directly quote, “the silmarils of their own radiance shown like the stars.”) After seeing what efforts it took melkor to get the jewels for him, mairon put them in a crown he forged for melkor to wear. Melkor promised he would always wear the crown, and he never did take it off.

When Beren and Luthien arrived at angband in their quest for a silmaril, melkor actually offered a deal where he would let them have one in exchange for a song for sleep. Melkor calculated that splitting the silmarils up would make it more complicated for feanor’s side, and also melkor is an insomniac and hadn’t had a good nap in ages. And so beren & luthien agreed upon the deal. But Beren broke the deal, as he tried to take all three.

The treatment of melkor after the war of wrath was cruel on the valar’s side. He groveled and surrendered, begging for peace and pardon. But they cut off his feet lest he attempt to flee, bound him up once again with the chain of angainor, beat the beautiful crown mairon made for him into a collar, dragged him as a mere criminal to aman where he was judged and his body executed, and then as an unhoused spirit was thrust out into the void. The events of the two sons of feanor taking the remaining silmarils from eonwe, Sauron seeking eonwe & doing obeisance, and Melkor made captive to be taken to aman all happened at around the same place and time and indeed overlapped.

It was only after melkor was sent into the void that mairon realized he never told melkor, never explicitly said the words, that he loved him. And with him gone, he discovered that though he could cope without him, but he didn’t want to.

melkor willingly became weaker in order give away his power to strengthen the world and others. So naturally he transferred much into mairon. And mairon tranferred that into his ring, so as to have a piece of melkor still with him. The ring corrupts people beacuse melkor can only create corruption. Like in elven culture, mairon wears the ring on the index finger of his right hand to indicate marriage. The engravings are actually wedding vows and whoever translated it to the common speech had it wrong. I haven’t figured out what precisely happened with the whole rings of power business - I’m thinking there were aspects that were actually genuine as opposed to deception, but there was a con involved as well. All in all, it was very complex but I think celebrimbor was largely at fault.

Also, I haven’t finalized what actually went down in akallabeth, but it was complicated as well. It’s not clear cut who exactly was in the right and who in the wrong, as both sides had a fair share in the mess. But I do know tar-mairon was not in his temple laughing evilly when numenor fell, he was amongst all the citizens who were left behind, most begging him to save them. But all he could do was helplessly drown with them as the great waves ate the island, feeling that it was all his fault.

Mairon’s appearance was always beautiful, not some false guise he put on to deceive. Whether he was annatar, tar-mairon, alone where no one else could see him, it was the same appearance. He shape shifted into other things, but this was his default appearance he wore on arda. The name sauron the abhorred was one of those ironic titles. Melkor was also stunning in his own right as well. In their private life both still looked the same as before, and it was only to their foes that they decided to permanently put on frightening hues once they decided it had more advantage. Melron can attest that both Melkor after the darkening of valinor and Mairon after the fall of numenor could still look beautiful if they wished to.

For both the fair forms of Melkor and Mairon they look very similar to elves: tall, long hair, slender in frame, and androgynous in appearance. But with a more supernatural element. Melkor has straight, darker than jet black hair that spills to the floor. It has no shine; it absorbs all light. Think of vantablack. His skin is neon white, like spectralon. And his eyes burn like blue hyper giant stars. His face has very sharp features. He’s strikingly beautiful, but also absolutely frightening to look at straight on. Mairon’s hair is the multidimensional white, yellow, orange, red of fire and molten metal. It flickers about him like flames, defying gravity. His skin is pale gold and his eyes glow like filaments in an Edison bulb. His facial features are delicate, intricate, ornate. He’s entrancingly beautiful; you are the moth and he is the flame. You’d look at him forever, even though you’re burning your retinas out. Melron resembles both of their parents in equal measure, such as having the beginning half of their hair pour down like ink in the manner of Melkor’s while the ending half is fiery like Mairon’s.

During his fight with elendil and gilgalad, mairon expected to lose. He’d never been much of a warrior. He forged swords, didn’t fight with them. He was much better behind the scenes, making plans and using words as his weapon. Also, he wasn’t even wearing armor. (In the books, there wasn’t any mention at all that he wore frightening armor. Only that he was tall, gave off deadly heat, and his hands were charred and uncovered). It was a last minute oh shit my side is being slaughtered, I need to help them. Armor takes awhile to put on, and he didn’t have time. He grabbed the closest sword he could find and gave it his best shot. Gilgalad and elendil only died because of getting fatal burns.

And so Sauron is defeated by elendil & gilgalad and then isildur cuts the ring off. And shortly after isildur looses the ring in the river. And now this is where melron comes into play and canon diverges. They’ve been there, hiding away from the spotlight either on the sidelines, behind the scenes, or hidden in plain sight. They fetch the ring from the river and has since been wearing it for safe keeping until Sauron is ready to come back. Those who have the 3 eleven rings can’t detect Melron’s presence, and with the one ring “lost” they put theirs on, unknowingly keeping melron in the know. So how does this change things? Gollum, bilbo, and Frodo never become ringbearers for starters. And there’s no fellowship to destroy the one ring. I also think it would be cool if Melron crosses paths with Aragorn, and they actually become close friends.

#wholesome angbang: the story’s all off #sauron #mairon #morgoth #melkor #angbang #spawn of angbang

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jacquiesims · 4 years ago

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Viper Canyon - Chapter Seven

‘Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”’

TW: Violence, Death

October 1852

Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”

The three passengers that remained exchanged glances of relief. They were exhausted and starving – the journey had not been an easy one like the last. The party had seen illness, death, attacks from the natives, injured animals that Elijah was forced to put down, and worse.

Jacob and Alice Sawyer were siblings from Pennsylvania who had travelled westward with Jacob’s business partner, Harry Dunn. The two men had been barbers back east and Alice helped run the home they all had shared.

It seemed strange to Elijah that the three of them would come together to Viper Canyon, most men wanting to make a name for only themselves, but stranger things had happened. Most of the bachelors that Elijah escorted came by themselves but it wasn’t unheard for siblings to travel together.

And yet he was still thankful for the skills the men brought along with them – they’d treated Elijah to a haircut and the occasional shave on the trail, and even he had to admit that the prospect of a proper trim and clean shaven face by a trained hand was appealing. He wondered absentmindedly how long it would take for the men to open their barber shop.

Jacob, Alice, and Harry waved goodbye at Elijah as he forged on home, leaving the party behind at their selected plot of land.

He would be back to check on them, certainly, but at the moment, he was eager to get home and rest in a proper bed in a clean set of long johns.

Meanwhile…

The Yates Bank had been open on Main Street for two months exactly.

Mr. Yates, a benevolent man, had made his fortune several times over in foreign trade and decided to move westward with his family in hopes of enriching his coffers in a new economy. He had done just that – many who came across the country needed loans to see their visions of frontier life to fruition, and the Yates Bank had nearly made back its upfront costs of construction in interest already.

John Williams had finally settled into his position as teller at the bank. He’d tried his luck in the mines, but after several weeks with no luck he opted for the safer option of a salaried job under Mr. Yates and his son, who were both fair employers.

John smiled as a young woman came through the front door. The wind behind her carried in the subtle smell of her perfume and his heart skipped a beat. He was instantly struck by her beauty – he’d never seen her around Viper Canyon before, and he would’ve certainly remembered if he had.

“Good day, miss,” he said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”

The woman seemed to have not heard him. She looked around the lobby, eyes lingering on the expensive drapes and well-crafted furniture.

“Madam?”

She blinked her large brown eyes, finally turning towards John.

“Lovely waiting area,” she remarked flatly.

John’s brows knit together. “Yes. It is. Mr. Yates has very fine taste. Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

“Especially fond of the draperies,” she said, taking slow strides toward the teller’s desk. “Do you know who happened to make them?”

“Er…” John was confused, but he tried his best to oblige the woman. “I believe Mr. Yates had them commissioned from an interior designer in Aridia, miss.”

She scoffed.

“Is there anything I can help you with today? We provide loan and investment services, money conversions, and we have some lovely iron safes in the back for sale if you’d like to have one of your very own at home…”

“Well, what about the money?” She asked. “I’m interested in keeping my savings in this bank. They’re much safer here than at my home. Where do you keep it?”

John was relieved, glad the woman was actually interested in doing business. “Our money is kept on the top floor in an extremely secure vault, miss. Only Mr. Yates, his son, and I know the combination,” He added with pride.

“Lovely,” she said. “Could I see the vault?”

“Well,” John fidgeted, “We don’t really allow customers on the second floor unless they have a meeting with Mr. Yates, for security reasons, you see.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I have to see the vault before I know if I want to keep my money here.”

John felt put on the spot. He’d been explicitly trained by Mr. Yates to never let someone up on the second floor unless he was expressly informed that the individual was allowed up there. But if he let the woman go without seeing the vault, then he would almost certainly lose her business. Surely Mr. Yates would praise him if he secured another customer for the bank – by the looks of her frock, she was well-off indeed.

“I’m sure a little peek won’t hurt,” John said with a smile. “Mr. Yates and Mr. Morris are out for the afternoon, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. If you would follow me, miss.”

“Thank you,” the woman said gratefully, following John as he unlocked the door towards the back room.

John stood in front of the vault door.

“Here it is, ma’am. As you can see, it’s an absolute stronghold of security. No one is getting in here without the combination.”

The woman looked the door up and down. “There isn’t any security? No one watching the door?”

John waved his hand dismissively. “There’s no need, really. The vault door is state of the art. Mr. Yates had it brought all the way from New SimCity – and it cost a pretty penny, I might add. I assure you, this door can withstand a blast from dynamite, even!”

“Dynamite, you say?”

John beamed, turning towards the door and giving it a firm knock. “Yes, the manufacturers assured us – AH!”

He turned back around to see the woman brandishing a revolving pistol, the barrel pointed squarely in his face.

“Open it.”

“Miss! Is this really necessary?”

She sighed, growing impatient. “Open the damned door.” To make her point even more painfully clear, she pulled back the hammer of the gun with her thumb, resounding a sinister click.

Cold sweat began to pour down John’s pallid face.

“If you open the vault and let my men take what we like, I’ll spare your life. If you don’t, I’ll have to settle for…”

The woman swirled the gun around in her hand, making up her mind, before pointing it at the tip of John’s shoe.

“Making due with a few of your toes.”

John struggled to speak. “I…miss, please – I can’t…”

“I said open the door, you idiot!”

At the rage in her voice, John’s trembling hands opened the vault door. Horrible, icy guilt swept over him as the woman stepped inside, never letting the barrel of her gun stray.

“That’s more like it,” she smiled. “Nobody needs to get hurt. Just do as you’re told.”

They stood there for a moment, John trembling with fear, until he heard the door downstairs open and heavy feet rush into the waiting area.

“Fantastic work, Rose!”

John was suddenly in the company of several terrifying looking – yet cheerful – men. They began to fill their bags with all the cash and finery in the vault. The woman watched, hand steady as she kept John at gunpoint.

“Don’t take it all, boys,” she said. “Leave the people with a little.”

One of the men piped up. “Can I take the vase? It’d look lovely in the parlor, Rosie.”

“Oh, sure, love. Don’t get too greedy, though.”

John’s blood moved in his veins like slush as the men carried their bloated bags downstairs, leaving the vault nearly entirely empty. The woman’s eyes never left his pallid face.

“Jimmy?” She called.

The smallest of the men – if he could even be called a man, John thought he was more of a boy if anything – strolled over to his mistress.

“What do you need, Rose?”

She smirked. “Take care of this one for me, will you? You know how I feel about witnesses.”

“But-but!” John choked. “You said if opened the door!”

“Don’t be a fool,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “You really believed the word of an outlaw?”

The boy cracked his knuckles, looking at the cowering teller fiercely in the eyes. John’s gaze drew along the deep, dark scar that marred the boy’s face.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He spat.

John tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat to no avail. “Nothing! I, er…”

“Ugly scar, ain’t it? Got it from a man…who kind of looked like you.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” John whimpered.

The boy grinned darkly. “I reckon I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I like feeling the struggle.”

“Please!” John cried. “Please, don’t do this!”

The woman scoffed again. “Do you really want to spend the last moments of your life begging for mercy like a coward? You sad little man.”

James reached out with both hands, but before he could grab John’s neck, the man threw up his hands in surrender.

“Please, just shoot me,” he sobbed. “Let me die an easy death, please at least grant me that!”

The woman considered John for a moment. An odd expression crossed her face before she chuckled.

“A lady never dirties her own hands.” She nodded towards the dark-haired boy. “Jimmy.”

The boy grabbed John’s taut neck was a terrible force, tackling him to the ground. The teller thrashed horribly against the brick floor, choking for breath. Stars appeared in John’s eyes, he clawed at the boy’s hands for relief but his grip was like steel – blood vessels began to crack open in his eyes as his vision grew black and distorted.

Rose stood back and watched, sliding her pistol back into her skirts.

John’s body lay limp on the vault floor.

“Lovely work,” she said to the boy.

He stared at John’s unmoving corpse on the floor, expression unchanging.

The woman approached him from behind, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s back.

“Let’s get back home,” she said quietly.

The boy nodded and followed her out of the bank to the waiting getaway coach outside.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Eight

(More characters introduced! There are so many...I know the plot seems a bit all over the place but things will all come full circle eventually. Thanks for reading!)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon story #Viper Canyon #viper canyon: chapter seven

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fallinallinshawn · 4 years ago

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Autumn Days Series || Mendes Triplets Fic (Part 1 - The Autumn Equinox Tradition)

Summary: You spend your favourite season with your three best friends. [Friends to Lovers au] [Werewolf au] [Choose Your Own Ending]

Warnings: none? (Raul says dumbass, lol)

Word Count: 2.2k

Moonlight gently streams through the sheer curtains covering your bedroom window, bathing your room in a soft silver glow. You nestle into your blankets; sleep is just beyond your reach.

Taptaptap. Taptaptap. Taptaptap.

The noise against your window happens in rapid succession; three quick taps, three times in a row. You do your best to ignore it and roll over, hoping to let sleep take you away. The tapping continues and you realize two very important things: one, is that there’s only three people in the world who throw rocks at your window like that and two, is that they’re not going to stop until you acknowledge them. You groan, it’s well after midnight and you have no intention of leaving the warm comfort of your bed.

Buzz, buzz.

Your phone goes off next, dinging three times. You sit up, slowly blinking your eyes open, and grab your phone from its place on your bedside table. You press the home button and your phone lights up, the time reads 12:45 AM. With an irritated sigh you tap on the group of iMessage notifications; sure enough, they were at it again. Your phone screen opens to the group chat you have going with the Mendes brothers.

Y/N and the Menbros

RM: We know you’re awake in there. Get up!

PM: You have 2 minutes to get out of bed or we’re coming in!

SM: Your 2 minutes have expired, Buttercup!

You glare angrily at your phone. Before you can reply, the latch on your window is jimmied open and Raul hoists it up. Three bodies tumble into your bedroom, landing on the floor beside your bed with a loud thud! You reach across your bed for each of the stuffed bears the boys had given you for Christmas when you were nine; you throw the bears at them, hitting all three square in the face as they stand.

“Do you have any idea what day it is?” Peter asks exasperated. He throws his hands up in the air before settling them on his hips, the grey bear clenched tightly in his left fist. His glasses have slid down his nose a little, and you can’t help but giggle at how much he resembles their mother when she used to scold the four of you as children.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s not like you were sleeping anyway,” Raul chides, leaning against the windowsill. He holds the black bear loosely by one of its ears.

“Y/N, it’s the Autumn fucking Equinox!” Shawn tells you pointedly. He leans his head down and softly noses the brown bear’s face.

You shake your head with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m friends with the three of you.”

The triplets heave a collective sigh of annoyance when you don’t respond, and wait for you to offer up the usual excuses as to why you won’t be joining their adventure. In truth, you don’t have a reason not to go this time, you’d simply forgotten what day it was. You consider getting up and changing out of your pajamas, but decide to let the brothers stew for a few more minutes.

“I really was trying to sleep,” you say, “I had a long day and I’m exhausted.”

Their reactions to your words are instant. The three of them share a look of guilt. They return your bears to the bedside table and turn to head back through the window, silently bidding you goodnight.

You hold out as long as possible before falling back against your pillows in a fit of giggles. “Oh, man, you should see your faces!” You clutch your stomach; your sides ache. “You look like a litter of kicked puppies!”

The boys growl low, then launch themselves toward you. Within seconds you’re at the bottom of the pile as three pairs of hands attack your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

“Say uncle, Y/N,” Shawn commands. Their fingers continue to dig into the flesh of your torso, they don’t let up.

You squeal, kicking against them. Your laughter rings out around the room. “Never!”

“Say uncle, and we’ll stop.” Raul rolls out from underneath Peter, just enough to pin your shoulders to the bed.

You clamp your jaw shut, grit your teeth and shake your head.

“Just remember, you did this to yourself!” Peter admonishes. He shares another quiet look with his brothers, and the three of them flop their large bodies across you and each other, one by one. The added weight of them is ridiculously heavy, it’s impossible for you to wiggle free now.

“Say uncle, dumbass.” Raul’s voice is muffled by Shawn’s chest against his face, but you can tell he’s smiling all the same.

You wiggle once more then submit to their playful assault. “Okay, okay! Uncle! Get off of me!”

Peter, Shawn, and Raul roll off of you and stand up again as if nothing happened. They each wear foolish grins of triumph on their faces. You sit up, shaking your head. Boys.

“What was that for?” You ask with a pout. You’re not angry, not even close, but you want to see how long you can guilt trip the three rambunctious wolves in front of you. It’s petty and childish, but it makes you giddy inside all the same.

Shawn shrugs. His chocolate curls are wild, he’s let his hair grow and it only adds to his charm. “That was for calling us a litter of kicked puppies.”

“And for guilting us into leaving without you, though unsuccessful,” Peter adds quickly. His glasses were misplaced in the pile, and he leans comfortingly into Raul’s side. He seems unbothered by the fact that he can’t quite see any of you clearly in the dark of your room.

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t drag you with us? Really?” Raul tips his head to the side, studying you with soft eyes. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket; hair slicked back in his signature style, though one curl rests above his left eyebrow.

“I certainly hope not. It is the Autumn fucking Equinox, after all,” you mock Shawn’s earlier tone and scrunch your nose up. Autumn is your favourite time of the year, and you’ve been waiting for today in quiet anticipation. “I really did have a long day, it must’ve slipped my mind by the time I finished studying.”

The boys say nothing else; instead they move around your room quietly, they’ve done this before and they know exactly what they’re looking for. Shawn goes to your closet, he rifles through it in the dark for a few seconds, then turns back around with your black puffy vest in his hands. Raul’s at your dresser before you can even remind him where your favourite sweater and leggings are, he looks up at you with a smile, already holding the garments in his hands. Peter’s the last to move, even without his glasses he knows where he needs to go—in all honesty, he doesn’t really need them as much anymore. He pulls your brown boots from the shoe rack on the floor of your closet and sets them down in front of you, then softly pets a hand over your ears.

——————————

It began the year you met the Mendes family, when you moved in right next door at age nine. Your dad had been looking for a place for you two to settle down away from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors, and stumbled upon the quiet little hamlet you live in now. It wasn’t easy for him to run his apothecary and raise his young hybrid daughter, not without people offering their unsolicited opinions. So he found a small town that he hoped you would love, and the two of you moved at once.

You met the Mendes Triplets the day you moved in; you kept seeing the same face wearing different clothes, and couldn’t help but wonder why the strange boy kept changing. What could he possibly be doing that got him so dirty every time you saw him? It wasn’t until the wind picked up that warm autumn afternoon, that you finally had your answer. Your hat was blown from your head, leaving your cute little ears on display for the world. Your ears were the least of your worries—(“That’s a brand new hat you just stole!”)—you chased your hat through the gate to the backyard, and stopped as the wind carried it over the fence, into the backyard of the neighboring house. You stood there contemplating whether you really wanted to bug your dad to go next door and demand your hat back or if you could live without it, but before you could make your decision, a small head of chocolate brown curls popped over the side of the fence.

“Hey! It’s not nice to throw things over the fence!” The small boy scolded in a gruff tone, his face twisted in disgust. He held your hat in his tiny fist.

You blinked up at him in stunned silence; how rude. Just then, another head appeared over the fence, this one too with the same brown curls, though unruly. He shared the first boy’s face, but he looked kinder.

“Raul! It’s rude to yell at the neighbors!” This boy, you realized, was the rude one’s twin. He turned to you with a soft smile. “Hi, I’m Shawn. This is Raul. Who are you?”

“Y/N. And I want my hat back,” you stated firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. You narrow your gaze at Raul. “Your brother’s rude.”

Shawn grinned sheepishly as yet another boy joined him and Raul over the fence. Smaller than the other two, he offered you a soft smile and looked at the boys next to them. They were all brothers, that’s why you’d seen the same boy in different clothing all afternoon—they were triplets. Shawn ruffled the smaller boy’s hair. “This is Peter, he’s the youngest.”

“Hi,” Peter replied shyly, leaning his head into Shawn’s palm. “Raul, give her hat back. We’re nine, how old are you?”

“I’m nine, too. Do you guys live here?” You smiled back at Peter, the first smile you’d given any of them, as Raul dropped your hat over your side of the fence.

Shawn’s eyes traveled up your face to rest on top of your head, his smile widened. “Hey, look—you’re a wolf, too! Like us!” He pointed to your ears with the sweetest little smile, you couldn’t help but return.

“Well, sort of,” you began quietly. Your gaze traveled to the ground; you flattened your ears. “I’m only half of a wolf. My ears are like this all the time, Daddy says they’ll probably go away when I get bigger.”

The triplets noticed your embarrassment and shared a silent conversation; Raul rolled his eyes, but nodded his head in approval. In the next instant, Shawn helped Raul over the fence, who then turned around and grabbed for Shawn. Once both boys were firmly on the ground, Shawn stood on Raul’s shoulders and pulled Peter over with them. Now, all four of you were standing in your backyard. The boys crowded around you, each one wore varying expressions of awe and concern.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Peter cooed gently, placing a tentative hand on yours.

“Yeah! You don’t have to be embarrassed, we like your ears,” Shawn assured you, looking to Raul next.

Raul puffed up his chest. “If anyone ever has anything to say about it, you come and find us. We’ll beat them up for you.”

You looked up, replacing your frown with a beaming smile. “Thanks! Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The triplets each held their left pinky out in the middle of the circle. “Friends for life!” They exclaimed as you hooked your pinky with theirs.

“Hey, I have an idea. Maybe we can ask your dad if you can come over to our house for the Autumn Equinox?” Shawn’s excitement was hard for you to ignore and you tipped your head to the side slightly.

“That’s a great idea, Shawny! You can run with us tonight!” Peter squealed in delight.

“We’ll protect you, Y/N, we promise. You’re part of our pack now,” Raul said. He looked between you and his brothers, grinning with pride.

As Peter softly pet his hands over your ears, you considered leaving your hat at home.

——————————

You’re pulled out of your trip down memory lane as Raul incessantly snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to Y/N. Where’d you go just then?”

You shake your head and smile up at the oldest Mendes boy. “I was just remembering the first time we did this, the day we met. It feels like I’ve known you guys my whole life.”

“To be fair, we met when we were nine, and we’re 19 now. You basically have,” Shawn tells you with a chuckle.

“Get dressed,” Peter says, “we have an Autumn Equinox to run!”

The first day of autumn, when day and night are the same length, the beginning of your favourite season. You’re going to spend it running wild and free until sunrise with the three boys who stole your heart on your first day as their next door neighbor. The boys with the same face—Raul and Shawn and Peter Mendes, the Menbros; your best friends.

All three of them smile at you knowingly; this is tradition.

Yay, the first part in the Autumn Days series is here!

I’ll keep it real with you, chief, I love writing this series more than I love writing I Know Your Heart.

I know, I know. Scandalous! But don’t fret, IKYH is going to be completed! I’m just going to do it alongside this one.

I can’t wait to see all of your reactions to the official beginning of Autumn Days.

Oh! And please remember, none of my stories can be reposted anywhere outside of tumblr without my consent.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged. Remember to leave a like, comment, and reblog if you love it!

-Aurie <3

#shawn mendes fanfiction #mendes triplets fic #autumn days series #shawn mendes werewolf au

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shionnes-imeris · 4 years ago

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HacyWeek Day 2: ‘Butterfly Effect’

prompt is: angst.

read on ao3 or under the read more!

"Let her go, Mags."

Macy knew her sisters meant well. Their comfort might be what she needed right now, but it wasn't what she wanted. For that reason, she was glad when Mel spoke up, gently pulling Maggie - sweet, loving Maggie - by the shoulder, and nodded to Macy that they would give her whatever she needed right now. If that was space, then so be it.

Macy nodded back, and turned to climb the stairs, to the refuge of her bedroom.

With a force she hadn’t consciously meant, Macy slammed the door behind her, once she reached her room. Adrenaline, from finally, finally, putting an end to the Faction – and the nightmares they’d created - coursed through her veins, but soon it wouldn’t.

She dreaded it, especially now that she was alone. For the past 24 hours it felt like that rush, stopping the Faction and their plans for magic, was the one thing stopping her from falling apart. She and her sisters had been too busy recruiting every witch they knew of, so that they might stand a chance. Ruby, Layla and her coven, even Abigael and Celeste, though all three all been loath to ask for the latter two's help.

Still, the impeding fight was the only thing that had kept her mind off of the inevitable truth that she’d have to face. Now that it was over, truly over, it was there, and clear as day.

Harry was gone.

Really gone.

Jimmy went rogue – back in the Faction's control, and compelled to obey them. When knocking sense into his other half hadn't worked, Harry had known what he had to do. Macy only wished she'd realised sooner.

'On his own terms', Harry had said. He couldn’t kill Jimmy, who was more than determined to kill them first, and vice-versa, so there was only one option. He’d done it before Macy could even blink, could even think of anything to say to stop him.

As quickly as he was there, he, and Jimmy, were gone. Mel had shouted, Maggie sobbed, and Macy did…nothing.

Now, she sat on her bed, taking deep breaths in and out; thinking that she should be used to this by now. Everyone she loved eventually left her. It was her curse, she supposed.

Grief was the price of love, and every memory, thought or reminder added up to a thousand pinpricks piercing at her heart. All Macy really wanted was to sleep, to forget for a while, but she didn’t think she’d even be able to do that. Even a sleeping potion Mel had remembered from the Book of Shadows had only given her an hour or two's respite the night before.

Harry's absence had only been a painful reminder when she'd woken back up, and so Macy had then thrown herself into what had to be done, with an even more intense fervour than before.

Now, in the clear morning, of a magical world no longer until threat, Macy wondered if it really had only been a week ago she’d spilled her heart out a then-amnesiac Harry. Her feelings were laid bare, for him to see, and once his memories returned, he’d made it clear he still returned them too.

The walls, the ones she’d professed that he’d melted, were well and truly gone.

But wasted time was wasted time, and, now – in the cold light of a day that was really just beginning - the time they’d had together didn’t make up for the months they’d spent dancing around one another. The misunderstandings, and close calls, the (in hindsight) stupid jealously they’d both exhibited.

Months they could’ve had, together, if only a million things had worked out differently. Like some sort of magnified Butterfly Effect, Macy thought bitterly.

If she’d arrived at the command centre a few minutes earlier, or if Harry hadn’t kissed Abigael. If Harry hadn’t left the command centre after that particularly stormy argument (you know damn well how I feel about you), or if she’d gone after him, instead of to Julian and Aspen, in her stubborn anger.

If only they had both stopped being so stubborn altogether and simply admitted how they felt, that little bit earlier…

Logically, Macy knew there was no use crying over what-could-have-beens, but she couldn’t help it, as she looked down at her shaking hands. It wasn’t until she really focused, that she realised she was wracking with sobs that she couldn’t stop. She brought one shaking hand up to her mouth, trying to suppressing the cries as best she could.

It was overwhelming, and it burned; the price of a love lost far too soon.

Steady hands she’d become used to – Harry’s - weren’t there to comfort her right now. Her sisters loved her, and they wanted to help her through this, but they carried their own pain with his loss. Macy had no right to ask them to carry this, too.

It wasn’t just pain, after all. It was guilt, and regret, too. It was knowing, deep in her heart, that they should have had more time. And it hurt.

There was a light tap on her door, but Macy ignored it, hoping that Maggie or Mel would give up and go away eventually. But the knocking continued, incessantly so, and Macy sighed. She wiped at her eyes – she hated crying – and cleared her throat.

“It’s open,” she said, quietly.

Maggie, with wide and puffy eyes, poked her head around the door.

“We just wanted to see how you were,” she said, softly. “Mel’s making tea, if you want some, to try and help us sleep. She doesn't think we should rely too much on that sleeping potion, not that it worked very well."

“I’m fine,” Macy replied, shaking her head. “You two go ahead.”

Maggie tilted her head, and opened the door a crack further.

“It’s okay, you know?” she said, now standing in the room, instead of peering around the door. “You two were…”

“I said I’m fine, Maggie,” Macy repeated, regretting, all of a sudden, the harsh tone her voice took on.

She wasn’t the only one grieving. They had all been close to Harry, just in different ways.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Macy added, shaking her head, and holding out a hand to her sister.

The last thing he’d want was for her to push her sisters away, especially when they just wanted to help.

But if Maggie minded, it didn’t show in her face. Instead, she just looked sad, as she grabbed Macy’s hand and squeezed tightly.

She shook her head, and went to open her mouth, as if to say something else, when both of them heard Mel’s voice from downstairs.

“Mace! Mags!”

Maggie let go of Macy’s hand, first out of the room, but with a look back to her oldest sister that said they would pick up this conversation soon, whether she wanted to or not.

Before Macy could even stand, Maggie had backtracked into the room, looking at Macy, wide-eyed and confused.

“Mace, you have to see this.”

Macy wanted to argue. If it wasn’t something urgent – a demon attack or something of equal importance – then she didn’t care, not right now. And she didn’t see how they could bring themselves to care either.

But Maggie rushed forward, tugging Macy to her feet and almost dragged her towards the door.

Maggie may have been small, but her strength couldn’t be denied.

“Maggie, I-“

But Maggie was unrelenting, turning her head, and looking up at her with pleading eyes, that shone with something strangely different from the earlier sadness. Something that told Macy to trust, and follow where her sister led.

“You’re going to want to see this,” Maggie insisted. “Now.”

#hacyweek #charmed #harry x macy #hacy #caitlin's fics #i haven't posted a fic directly to tumblr in YEARS so this is kinda scary lmao #more to come tomorrow! (yes it's a follow up to this!)#charmed (2018)#otp: i don't want to waste any more time not being with him #probably would recommend reading on ao3 cause the formatting hasn't carried over properly and i cba fixing it

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punkcupcakestyles · 6 years ago

Text

Love Song

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

Catch up!

I had messed up, I knew that much, or at least a part of me, the smart one, knew it. The other part was reeling in excitement, a smile plastered on my face as I kept replaying the kiss in my head.

God, that kiss.

I could remember every second of it, the sweetness of his lips, and the eagerness of his touch as he explored, with nails scraping lightly on my skin as his fingers dug on the curves of my body.

We had kissed until our lips were swollen and there was no more air in our lungs.

"Sorry," He had chuckled as he broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at me. His fingers were caressing down my arms, so softly that a million goosebumps rose at his wake, and I couldn't help but let out a shaky breath. His lips were as purple as mine, swollen with the kisses we had shared, and his cheeks were pink flushed, giving him a boyish look that only added to his already ridiculous charm.

"S'okay," I whispered, the warm fuzziness of the kiss still buzzing on my kiss. I could feel it on my chest, as my heart thumped in somewhat joy and somewhat guilt. It made my fingers prickle and my brain to jump from one memory to the other, still uncertain that it hadn't been just a fickle of its active imagination. Real or just my imagination, I was never going to have a kiss like that again.

But then again, it hadn't been just a kiss, it was a moment of complete abandon, one where I had let curiosity win the battle, and allowed myself to go far beyond from where I was supposed to go.

I wished I had kissed him a little more, with those butterfly kisses you see in the movies, with my hands cupping his face and his own fingers tangled in my hair. It would've been a lot nicer that way. But instead, I had untangled myself from him and went to sit right by his side, my fingers slipping from his as he allowed me to go.

It was easier to breathe that way, easier to think too, without the temptation of his cherry lips so close to me. I smiled shyly and my fingers knotted in my hair, bringing it behind my ear, in a clumsy attempt to give myself something to do.

"What I said earlier was true, y'know?" Harry finally said, breaking the air that was filled with tense electricity, the same one that was bubbling in my tummy and prickling on the tip of my fingers. His words made me look at him, deep into his eyes this time, and to notice the curiosity that was burning in them. "I can play by your rules."

"I thought what you said earlier was that we could be friends."

"That too. I'd really like that too. I just...I just got a feeling they're important to you." His smile was sincere and shy, his little dimples popping out on his face as he cast down his gaze. What was I supposed to say, anyway?

"So, no more kisses?"

"We can figure that out." His smirk grew and I realized just how stupidly easy it was for him to jump from a sweet boy to the dashing man he actually was. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth and leaned just a little bit, enough so his breath fanned over my skin and I could smell his cologne. "We just need to behave," he whispered, a secret for both of us to keep and break.

"I behave, Styles," I whispered back. "Maybe you should be the one to stop smirking and...kissing me."

"I'll try my best. Can't promise anything, though."

"You're an idiot," I giggled for a second, before inhaling deeply as I licked my lips. For the first time that night, I failed to look him in the eyes. "It's not about sex, you'know?" It wasn't. I had no idea what it was about, though. I just needed those rules, that security, that sense of control, the idea of being in charge of something, of anything, really.

"You don't have to explain why they're important, Sof, I just know that they are. That's enough, innit?" He said, and the sincerity in his voice made me smile, and look at him as his fingertips brushed lightly over my hand, a simple touch meant to reassure me. "What?"

"Haven't met many guys like you, Harry," I said. "I still can't figure out if that's a good thing."

"It's a sad thing for sure."

"It is," I chuckled, even if there was not much to laugh about. His lips were sweet and soft when they met mine in a quick kiss, fingers cupping gingerly around my face as he pulled me closer. Just a second, not long enough to get lost in him, but able to make my breath hitch.

"That was the last one," he whispered as he broke the kiss.

"You promise?"

"I can't," he smirked in response. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Now? It's almost day!"

"I know, but I, uh, I need a minute alone. Or maybe two," he replied bashfully, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize what he meant. When I did, I looked away from him, so I could hide the flush on my cheeks.

"Go."

15 minutes had gone by and Harry still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Time was my enemy, really, cause it gave me the opportunity to think, to dwell on the awkwardness and regret the things that didn't happen, and the ones that weren't going to happen. The more I thought, the more nervous I got, dry mouth and thumping heart.

The shower finally stopped running and I could hear Harry as he rummaged through the bathroom, getting ready to come out. I closed my eyes and let myself slid into the covers, pretending to be asleep when I heard the door open. A sigh echoed in the air, a couple of steps and a door closing again. The lights were off and I was alone in bed.

Harry had left.

***

- INFO YOU NEED TO KNOW -

Name of the show: The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon

Host: Jimmy Fallon

Time slot: 11:35/10:35 C

Location: New York

Who will be featured with you?: Saoirse Ronan and John Legend.

Sketches: You’ll be participating on either Box of Lies (he’ll give you an object and you either lie your ass off or tell the truth about it, while he tries to guess); Dance Battle (there is a dance move generator); or Egg Russian Roulette (literally, you’ll be cracking eggs over your head).

You’re gonna be wearing an Elie Saab black dress with a plunging neckline (it’s already picked, Midge loved it). We would very much rather if you didn’t play the Egg Russian Roulette. We’ll see what we can do.

Jimmy Fallon laughs a lot. Try to ignore that.

If asked about Harry, divert. We’re still not talking about it.

We’ll leave to New York at 3. Be early.

I left a new script at your place this morning. I would like to touch basis with you on the plane, see if it’s anything that interests us. (I wonder where you were 🤔)

We’re having dinner with Harry and his friends tonight. We’ll be arriving at the hotel at around 9ish, so you won’t have a lot of time to get ready. I left a couple of outfit options as well.

BTW, we need to talk.

***

Maybe I could still make it. After all, it was only 12:15, which left me a little less than 3 hours to go home, take a shower, pack, and get across town to board the flight.

I wasn’t going to make it.

Diana was gonna kill me.

I was dashing through the room, picking and piling the few things that belonged to me onto the bed, and sighing in desperation when I realized they would simply not fit into the ridiculously tiny purse I had with me.

There was no way I was putting on the dress I had the night before, I wasn’t looking forward to being seen on it as I left Harry’s house, or to have my picture taken as I did what it would look like a “walk of shame”. Instead, I had decided to keep on Harry’s clothes, even if his sweatpants felt tight around my ass and the upper part of my thighs. My hair was dangling dangerously from a top knot, threatening to fall apart if I moved too fast and my eyes were puffy from the lack of sleep.

God, let there be no paparazzi outside his home. I wasn’t photo-ready anyway.

“You look nice.” The voice startled me, making my heart jump before I turned hastily to look at him. There he was, leaning onto the door frame, as he wore a clean black t-shirt and black jeans, and he leaned onto the door frame.

Harry smiled in satisfaction at my reaction and slowly walked into the room. It was only then that I noticed the pink suitcase he was carrying, one that looked exactly like the one I used for short trips.

“Is that mine?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Diana called, asked if you were ready for the trip. I told her you were. Then I woke up Sam, called your sister and asked her to pack your stuff, and Sam went to get it,” he explained. “Perfect plan, innit?”

“Y-you talked to Cat?”

“Yeah...I know you said “no families”, but uh…”

“Thank you,” I replied softly before he could explain himself any further. He had saved my ass, after all.

I realized I wanted to kiss him, lightly and sweetly. A tiny peck on his cheeks, or a quick kiss on his lips, anything to have him close once more, to feel his warmth, and get a chance to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck. That was something I probably shouldn’t do.

Harry brought the suitcase over the bed and sat next to it. It was pink and soft, covered everywhere with the bright orange logo of the high-end brand. It had been the first stupid purchase I had ever made after I had made sure we had a roof over our heads, food on our table and Cat was enrolled in a private school, all expenses already paid for. My mom was slowly coming out of her haze and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again. So I had bought it, a way to celebrate myself and the fact that we had peeked out of the darkness.

“What are you wearing?” Harry drawled, as I started to look for something to change into. My cheeks blushed, pink and hot, and I looked at him with a shy smile of my own.

“I, uh, didn’t want anyone to see me wearing the same clothes. I didn’t want the rumors.”

“So you decided to wear my clothes instead? That’s a great plan.”

“I didn’t think about that,” I smiled. I finally found a V-neck white tee, and a pair of light blue jeans that would be comfortable enough to travel in. “Where did you sleep?”

I wondered if the question had come off accusingly, or if it was as casual and carefree as I had intended it to be. Either way, I realized I shouldn’t have asked it.

“A guest room...”

“Oh.”

“I figured you wanted space. Didn’t you?”

I nodded in response, which was easier than to say what I was really thinking. Like it would’ve been nice for him to stay, or that his bed was too damn big for just one person.

I didn’t know if he quite believed me, a curious glint burning in his eyes as he looked at me. If he didn’t, he didn’t say anything, but licked his lips and remained silent as he let himself fall back on the bed. It shifted under his weight, and I smiled at him when he looked up.

“We should get our story straight, y’know?” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we should know our story, especially if we’re meeting my friends tonight.”

“Just tell’em the truth, Harry.”

“I really don’t wanna do that,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to look at the ceiling. He clasped his hands over his tummy and pressed his lips together, deep in thought.

“Ok, how about this?” I put my clothes down and climbed on the bed to lie by his side. “You saw me at a party, thought I was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, told Jeff that if he didn’t get my number you would burn down his house, and here we are!”

“That sounds like something that could happen,” he chuckled, turning to one side to face me. My smile widened as I looked at him and felt the soft tickles of his fingers as they snuck under my shirt. It was soft and sweet, meant to have me close to him and nothing else.

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

***

I had made it.

I was sitting on the leather chair, with my knees against my chest, as the plane got ready to take off. Diana, Jeff, Harry and I were the only passengers, and the two boys were talking as Diana sat in front of me.

“You know there’s a lot of actors out there that don’t travel with their agent everywhere?” I asked the blonde girl, who rose her eyebrow as she offered me a smirk.

“Consider yourself lucky, then,” she replied.

“I do.”

“Did you have time to check the script?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t.” I felt myself blush in embarrassment, as I looked at the way she rolled her eyes at me.

“Good thing I got a copy. See? Having your agent by your side is pretty useful,” she handed me a thick script, with a handwritten note on the first page, and the title of the movie written in bold caps.

“Dear Midge,

I think this would be perfect for Sofia, and Sofia would be perfect for us. Audrey wouldn’t have been Audrey without Holly.

To our new Holly.

Kisses,

B.”

“Breakfast at Tiffany's?” I chuckled in disbelief. “Are you crazy? This is one of the most beloved characters in cinema’ history.”

“I know.” She replied simply, a sweet smile replacing the sly one from before. “And they want you. This is a great remake. They’re gonna play Holly’s bisexuality and Paul’s homosexuality, which obviously wasn’t featured in the original one, she’s gonna be an actual scort, even smoke weed. You’re gonna be the Holly that Truman Capote intended her to be.”

“I’m gonna murder Holly,” I sighed. The script fell on the coffee table between our seats, and I got up from my chair to walk to the back of the plane, where they had coffee and snacks ready for us.

“Let’s do this.” I heard Diana say as she followed behind. “Read the script and we can talk about it later. The role is yours if you want it.”

It was time for me to roll my eyes at her.

I poured coffee for both of us and leaned into the counter as she stood by my side. For a second, it looked as if she had something to say, but didn’t know how; her lips rolled into her mouth and her eyes cast over the red coffeemaker. The silence upon us was suffocating, even for just a few seconds, and I cleared my throat to call her attention to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just…” There were very few times where I had seen Diana struggle with words. Each time was scarier than the other. “I talked to your dad.”

“You what?” We were well out of earshot, but I still hissed my words under my breath. My heart felt as if it could stop at any second, racing fast and strong as Diana shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“I, uh, he called, asked for you. I thought that, well, I’ve never heard you talk about him, so I decided to see him, find out what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing...He, uh, asked about you, about Cat, wanted to know you were ok. I made sure he was as comfortable as he could, and that he was able to go back home.”

“You gave him money…”

It was actually a relief, to see her doubt for a second right before she nodded. He wasn’t after me, or Cat, or mom. I could live with that.

“Yeah, Yeah,” Diana continued. “He didn’t want to, though. But I, I wanted him to…”

“Get the hell out of L.A.? Thank you, me too.”

“Yes, but he had this crazy story, y’know? About how you left home. Pretty fucking away from the standard ‘She always wanted to be an actress and we let her move to a corrupt city when she was way too young, so she could shoot her shot’ one.”

“D…”

“I don’t wanna know, Sof. We just need to make sure this doesn’t come out.”

“Yeah.”

“And please, consider the movie. We need a second Oscar,” she said in a loud voice, while she took both of our cups in her hands and turned to go back to her seat. “Better yet, win that first Oscar!”

I stood where I was, leaning against the counter as I tried to imagine what my father had told Diana. It could’ve been anything, even the truth. I was unable to move or even breathe, so I just stared at the group of people that were sitting in front of me. Harry was laughing loudly at something Diana had just said, while she sat primly on her chair. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and he leaned forward as his arms hugged around his own tummy. They seemed happy, far from the darkness that was pressing down my chest and making everything seem distant and bleak.

“Excuse me, miss? I need you to sit down, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” the petite flight attendant told me. She had popped out of nowhere, and I stared at her for a second, wondering how much, if any, of our conversation she had heard. She smiled shyly at me, but still, her firm hand guided me to my seat, repeating her order to everyone so they would sit.

Harry sat next to me and looked at me in surprise as I took his hand in mine. “Are you scared of flying?” He asked and I replied with a swift nod of my head. I wasn’t, I just needed something to anchor me to reality. Closing my eyes, I leaned back onto the chair and tried to focus on the loud thumps of my heart, counting them as Harry began to rub soothing circles on my skin.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

“We’ll fall together.”

“Literally.”

***

“So, let’s talk about sleeping arrangements,” Diana told me as the plane was landing.

I looked up from the script, which I had been reading during the whole flight, and quirked my eyebrow at her sheepish smile. Harry, whose head was resting on my shoulder as he slept, stirred just a bit in protest.

“What?”

“Well, Harry has an apartment in New York. We’re staying at a hotel in Tribeca and Harry would come and go as he pleases. Unless you want to stay in his apartment, he offered.”

“I’ll stay at the hotel.”

“That’s a good idea.” Diana smiled proudly.

Between landing and getting our things in the car, we arrived at the hotel at 9ish, just as Diana had predicted. What she hadn’t told me was the fact that there were going to be paparazzi waiting for me in front of the hotel. I glared at her as she offered me an apologetic smile, and without saying anything, she jumped out of the car, with Jeff following suit, to get our stuff.

Harry came out first and went to help Jeff carry our suitcases into the hotel. When it was my turn to come out, I just dashed to the entrance, getting into the hotel without answering or even acknowledging the insidious questions thrown my way. I wasn’t in the mood for them, or anyone really.

Diana and Jeff stayed at the lobby, while Harry and I got to the top floor of the hotel without saying a word. He stood right next to me during the whole ride, holding my suitcase on one and an overnight bag over his shoulder. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were puffy, revealing just how little sleep we had had the night before He looked tired, and somehow still managed to be the most handsome boy I had seen that night, week, year.

“You ok?” He asked as the elevator opened its doors and we were met with a pristine corridor. The hotel, that mostly looked like a remodeled speakeasy bar, was spotless and modern, with high ceilings and trendy decoration.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Wanna skip tonight’s dinner?” He offered, waiting for me to open the door to the room.

“I’m sorry, yes, I’m not in the mood for people. Do you mind?”

“No, please, get some rest” he reassured me.

I hurried to turn the lights on as soon as we got in, revealing a luxurious room with black and white furniture and a huge window that looked over the Hudson River. There was a huge TV, and a couple of warm blue blankets over one of the couches, and a bar table with whiskey and champagne on it. A giant sliding door lead to a private rooftop, with chairs to take the sun.

“Harry…Could you stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry #harry writing #harry smut #hs #harry styles one shot #writing #fake dating

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 6 years ago

Text

Words On My Skin (Part 24)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

A/n: Well, we know what happened at the cabin… but the reader doesn’t. Yikes. How does she deal with it? What does her dad know about what happened? Keep reading and find out!

Warnings: Y/n being a goddamn (drunk) mess…

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

If your father’s wavering voice wasn’t cause enough to be nervous, his shaking hands sure were. His trembling hand reached out to grab the drink your mother had just poured him – handing you yours, as well – and he threw it back quickly, leaning forward to grab the bottle your mother left on the coffee table to pour himself another.

“I… I was hunting in my deer stand.” He began, leaning back to get comfy on the couch and staring into his glass as you and your mother leaned in to listen. “It was… one of the weekends that we let you come up, and I let you fish by the river.”

“Alone.” Your mother muttered to you, tone laced with disapproving bitterness. “That’s why I never wanted you back there, again. You were unsupervised.”

“Well, Adira, it fucking bit me in the ass, didn’t it?” He snapped at her, throwing back the second drink and setting the glass on the table. “Can I fucking finish my story, or do you not want to know?”

“Carry on.” You mother waved him off, dismissively, crossing her legs properly in front of her.

“Anyways,” He continued, after a small pause, “Jimmy Stahl… Jimmy heard some screaming echoing through the woods. He was panicking, because he recognized the screams to be yours, and sent George – you knew him as Mr. Chomilo – to come get Frank and I… while he set out to find you.” He closed his eyes, and your mother quickly poured him a third drink, placing it in his feeble looking hands. The man looked twice his age, in just a matter of moments. “Stahl found you first. You were… you were covered in dirt and blood. Your jacket was missing, your shoe was missing… You looked… you looked like you’d been through hell.”

He took a small sip, before staring into his glass – as if reliving a nightmare – as he continued, “As I got closer to you, I could hear you screaming... You sounded so terrified.” He gulped, lip wobbling slightly, “I can still hear that scream in my head, nearly twenty years later…”

“What… happened?” You asked, voice thick as you tried your father’s tactic of calming down and took a gulp of the bitter, burning liquid – trying not to gag on it. The liquid warmed your belly, but also threatened your gag reflex. “What happened in the woods?”

“I heard a gunshot.” He whispered, still loud in the dead silence of the apartment. “The gunshot was… loud. I almost didn’t believe it was a gunshot at first… but then I heard you. You sounded… so broken. That scream nearly stopped my heart.”

“Oh, god.” Your mother’s face was pale, her hand covering her mouth in horror as tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh god.”

“When I found you… You were standing there… with a gun in your hand.”

“I… I…” You gulped, chest painfully squeezing as you tried to process what your father was telling you. “I shot someone?”

“Yes.”

No…

God, why couldn’t it have been your father that was the murderer. Why did it have to be you? That person probably had a family. That person probably had friends. That person… Oh god. Who was it?! Did you even want to know?

“I’m… Oh my god.” You shook your head, standing up and nearly dropping your glass as your palms became slick. Your heart was racing just as fast as your mind, the both of them nearly competing to send you into a panic attack. “I’m a murderer.”

“It was self-defense.” Your father shook his head, standing as well and placing his glass on the coffee table. “Honey, it looked like… he attacked you… because… he was HYDRA.”

No…

“He was HYDRA?!” You shouted, throwing your hands up, before dragging them over your hair in frustration. “All this time, you knew that my tattoo had to do with HYDRA, and you didn’t say anything? I- I had to find out by getting nearly kidnapped out of my apartment!”

“I didn’t know that at the time!” He defended, crossing his arms over his chest. “Back then, no one knew about HYDRA except what was in the history books! We all thought that Captain America defeated HYDRA in the forties! I didn’t know that your fucking soulmate would be HYDRA’s fucking assassin!”

“You mean HYDRA’s prisoner?!” You shouted, your immediate reaction to defend your soulmate. “Anyways, how the fuck didn’t you know that it had to do with my tattoo?! What did you think, all these years?!”

“I didn’t want to think about it, Y/n!” He yelled, voice cracking at the end. “I thought… God, I thought that he was trying to… I thought that he was trying to hurt you! You were so scared, and your clothes were torn… I don’t know! I assumed that he… Fuck! I assumed that he’d tried to take advantage of my baby girl!”

The silence was so thick, you could nearly choke on it.

“You… spent the last… twenty years… thinking that a man… Oh my god, dad.” Tears pricked at your eyes, as the thoughts of your father pushing himself away because of the guilt. Jesus Christ, your family needed therapy. Lots and lots of therapy. “What happened to the… body?”

“We took care of it.” He sat back down on the sofa, next to your mother – who had silent tears streaming down her face – and placed his head in his hands. “Stahl called his contact. We… we took care of it.”

“Fuck, dad. Jesus.”

Your entire body felt heavy. It was if someone just kept adding a weight on your shoulders with every word your father admitted. The grief and pain laced in his voice left a heavy hole in your heart. Your father had spent the last twenty odd years thinking that a man had tried to rape you. Fuck. No wonder he avoided you. Knowing your father… he blamed himself for trusting the man that had attacked you.

“I was worried about your safety.” He looked up at you, tired eyes barely meeting yours and lined with guilt. “I was worried that HYDRA was going to come after my baby girl, because an agent had died. He... had to have seen your tattoo. He must have known the translation, and what it meant.” He took a breath to steady himself, before continuing, “I swore my friends to secrecy. The contact gave us a story to tell, and… it was never spoken of, again.”

“What about me?!” You cried, tears flowing down your face as you lashed out – unable to help the feeling that you’d been betrayed by him keeping this secret from you. “What the hell did you tell me?! Why don’t I remember this?!”

“You didn’t remember what happened.” Your dad admitted, shaking his head and brushing his hands over his balding head, before sniffling. “We… The story was that you’d fallen into the river, and nearly drowned. The psychologist claimed that your mind blocked out the memory, to protect itself… so… we let you believe that.”

“But… I don’t even remember that.” A small, cynical laugh burst through you, as you wiped under your nose. “I don’t even… I don’t even remember that summer.”

“You don’t need to remember.” He snapped, jaw tensing in frustration. “Do you really want to remember that?! You were happy again! You weren’t plagued with the horror that we stumbled on! Let the past stay in the fucking past!”

Staring at your feet, you didn’t even know how the fuck to process any of this. What… what were you supposed to say to all this? How were you supposed to feel?

“I’m sorry, baby.” His voice cracked, breaking the palpable silence. You glanced up to see a lone tear slide down your father’s cheek. Your father, the toughest, bravest, scariest man you knew… was crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my god.” A sob escaped your throat, as your knees nearly buckled under you. The weight was too much. You… fuck. You killed someone. How were you supposed to live with that?! “Dad, oh my god.”

“Bo…” Your mother cleared her throat, sliding off the couch and kneeling in front of your crying father. “Oh my god, Bo.”

“I lied to you, Adira.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her and sobbing into her neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

What the hell?!

You’re a fucking murderer.

You murdered someone!

“I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…” You breathed, unable to catch your breath as your mind raced a million miles a minute. “I can’t…”

Backing up slowly, you grabbed your purse and coat in a daze, feeling like you were floating above your body – staring down at your hunched, broken form as you pressed the button for the elevator. You didn’t understand what was happening. What were you thinking? What were you feeling? Were you even feeling? What were you going to do?

There were so many questions, and you didn’t even know where to begin to answer them.

The ding of the elevator barely made it to your ears before you were shot back into your body, standing in the back corner of the elevator and hearing your parents calling out your name.

It felt as if someone had shot a dozen flaming arrows into your chest, watching as your skin bubbled and peeled away from the muscle and filled the cavity with acid. Your chest was burning, your breath was caught in your throat, and fucking hell did your fucking head hurt.

Sobs wracked your whole body as you slid down the wall of the elevator, feeling the slight vibration as it slowly descended back towards the lobby, and you landed on your knees – a sharp pain radiating from your sprained wrist. As your breaths increased in frequency, it felt as if your throat was beginning to close – the sensation similar to breathing through a coffee straw. You were light headed, watching as the floor blurred between every blink as you were unable to control the tears that streamed down your face.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer…

It was as if there was a recording, playing on repeat over and over and over in your head.

How were you supposed to live with yourself knowing that you murdered someone, but not know who it was or why it happened?

“Y/n?!” Caleb? Was that Caleb? “Y/n, what happened?”

“…I need…” Glancing up, you stared into his worried brown eyes, and shook your head. “I need to go home.”

“Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you up.” He leaned forward, his arms looping around your middle, under your armpits. “Up you go. Let’s get you to the car. Security’s dealing with the paparazzi.”

“I… Can’t go out there like this.” You stopped, leaning against the wall just outside the elevator. “Just… hold on.”

“Y/n, what happened up there?” He asked, running a hand through his disheveled, brown hair. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” You sniffled, a small, breathy chuckle escaping before you – unattractively – wiped your nose on your jacket sleeve. “Jerk.”

“I say it with love, buttercup.” He grinned, in an attempt to get you to feel better and focus on something other than what was bothering you. “You owe me an apology for your diva moment, by the way. I’m waiting for red roses and a trip to Disney World.”

“I can give you a shit apology and a hug?” You gave him a watery smile, holding out your arms. You felt out of it, like you were in the back of your own head, watching someone else have this conversation. “I’m sorry for being a grade-A dickwad.”

“Apology accepted.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, your purse in his other hand, and led you towards the door – where you could already see a security team attempting to keep the paps at bay. “Ready?”

With a nod, you closed your eyes, letting him guide you out the door and into the thunderous noise, even though you really weren’t ready.

“HEY!” You heard Caleb yell out, as a hand suddenly wrapped around your watch-covered wrist. You heard the beeping of the panic button being activated but continued to keep your head down and eyes closed. “BACK UP!”

Caleb’s arm was suddenly ripped from your shoulders, and you tripped over your own feet – eyes flying open as the ground suddenly flew up towards your face, and hands braced for immediate impact. Luckily, someone caught you, straightening you up. A small sob escaped you, breaking down the damn as you tried to cover your face from the public view. Another arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and forced you forward into the car, slamming the door behind you.

Caleb’s voice faded in and out as you tried to settle yourself down, but the task felt nearly impossible. You felt like a toddler who couldn’t get a handle on her own emotions, resorting to just… hysterics.

“Shhh… it’s okay, Y/n, we’re almost home.” You heard Caleb’s fake cheery voice that he reserved for bad situations, as he tried to console your sobbing form curled up in the passenger’s seat of your own vehicle. “We’re almost there, and we’ll get you back to your room.”

In a hushed tone, he spoke into his comms, low enough that you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

You weren’t really sure why you were so hysterical. It’s not like you remembered what your father was talking about. You didn’t have any memories of the cabin, nor of… shooting someone. To be honest, you were more confused about everything, and wished that you’d never opened the can of worms. You wished you never asked your father what happened… but… you were sort of relieved that you did.

It was a fucking mess.

Maybe you were hysterical because of the day you’d had?

It felt like everything was just… catching up with you. All the feelings that you’d tried to compartmentalize were beginning to surface, but you had no idea where to even begin to make sense of the mess. You could go at it like you would your paperwork: most important to least important. You could work your way from there? But… what was most important? What was least important? It all felt pretty fucking important!

Bad approach.

Maybe you should wait to make sense of it all until you could talk to Dr. Burson.

That would be a great idea.

Funny that someone who got a fucking bachelor’s in counseling doesn’t even know how to fix her own problems… you picked the wrong field, dumbass.

Well, helping people with their problems was a lot easier than dealing with your own.

When you opened your eyes, you were stunned to realize that you weren’t even in the car, anymore. You were in your own bedroom. The place that you’d been trying to avoid for days. You were seated on the end of the bed, your purse and jacket were placed neatly next to you, and someone had removed your shoes.

When in the hell did all this happen?

Shaking your head, you tried to clear out the sob-fog that was clouding your mind. Caleb must have brought you here.

Testing the water, you tried to stand, pleasantly surprised when your shaking legs were able to hold up your body weight. The room was warmer than you remembered it feeling the last few days, and you were glad that the bedroom felt safe, again.

Though, you still wished it was Bucky’s room.

You scanned the room, eyes landing on a bottle of wine you’d opened days ago but forgot to drink.

Do it.

With a shrug, you slowly grabbed the heavy bottle, before pulling a small throw-blanket off the bed and sitting on the ledge next to your window.

It must have snowed more since your hurried visit to your parents’ apartment, because the place was back to looking like a winter wonderland – versus a slushy mess. A fresh blanket of snow covered the entire grounds, and the cold radiated from the glass of the window, contrasting with the heat of the bedroom. It felt nice.

Pressing your temple against the chilled pane of glass, you quickly uncorked the bottle of sweet wine that had been a birthday gift from Wanda, a few months prior, and drank the tepid liquid straight from the bottle. Gulping down the wine wasn’t the best decision after the day you’d had, but… whatever.

It wasn’t like this brand of wine had that much alcohol in it.

It was like Arbor Mist.

It was basically juice.

When the bottle was nearly gone, a knock sounded at the door, pulling you from your thoughts – and the bottle – before you leaned your head back against the window. “FRIDAY? Who’s at the door?”

“Sergeant Barnes is at the door, Ms. L/N.”

“Fuck… Alright. Fuck it. Let him in.” You sighed, pulling another drink from the bottle as you heard the lock slide with a click. Wrapping the blanket more firmly around you, you ignored his presence, sure that you’d start crying again if you looked at his stupid… cute… face. “Long time no see, Barnes.”

Well… that was a little bitter.

He was silent for a moment, as you downed the rest of the contents of the bottle, dropping the bottle onto the floor loudly before closing your eyes and focusing on the cold glass to keep you grounded.

“What happened at your mom and dad’s?” His smooth voice cut through the silence, sending a pang of sadness through you, but also making your brain fuzzy. Unless that was the wine… the delicious wine. You should really buy more of that wine. What was it called, again? “Oh, Jesus. Did you drink that whole bottle of wine?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You whispered, opening your eyes but staring out the slightly fogged window. You lifted a finger, swirling your warm fingertip through the fog to make a small swirl. “Why are you here? Thought you were ignoring me?” A small pang of hurt strummed through the bond, and you huffed in annoyance. “You don’t get to be hurt by that, after you ignored me.”

“I wasn’t-” He cut himself off, breathing in through his nose and forcing his breath out through his mouth to calm himself down. “I wasn’t ignoring you or trying to hurt you.”

“Bullshit!” You swung around, equilibrium slightly off as your head continued to grow fuzzy and tongue thick. “Not ignoring me? Really? You were just too busy thinking that you were some sorta’ monster, or something? Right? Even though I’ve told you countless, multiples of times th-that I don’t ever think that of you?”

“Sweetheart, you’re drunk. Can we have this conversation in the morning, please?” He sighed, taking a step closer to you, picking up the bottle and setting it on the dresser – next to the rose he’d gotten you for your first date. “Come on, let’s just lay down.”

“I’m not even drunk.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You need to lay down.”

“I’m not gunna’ lay down, yet!” You pointed your finger at him, arm feeling like a million pounds. “Because you’re not the only monster, Bucky.”

His eyebrows pulled together, looking taken aback, and he crouched in front of you as you stared at a spot in the wall behind him, watching as the walls began to get blurry. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

You shook your head, the blur going away for a moment as you reached forward and brushed your fingers against his scruffy beard, loving the way that it felt prickly against your fingers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darlin’.” He smiled softly, eyes crinkling cutely in the corners, “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Improbably.” You stumbled over your words, before shaking your fuzzy head and correcting yourself, “Shit… that’s not what I meant to say.”

He reached up, warm fingers slowly coming to rest over your hand that was touching his beautiful scruffy face. “Why did you drink all the wine, sweetheart?”

You frowned, not wanting to talk about all the dark and twisty stuff. “To forget.”

“What do you need to forget?”

Pulling your hands away from him, you covered your face, worried that the tears were going to start again. If they did… they might not stop. “No.”

“Hey,” He leaned forward, wrapping his warm arms around your cold body and pulling you into his chest, “That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it, right now.”

“We still have’ta talk.” You mumbled into the softness of his tee shirt, turning your head so your ear was pressed against his solid chest, “You left me.”

“I know.” He whispered, arms tightening around you and nuzzling his face into the top of your head, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I woke up in the- in the hospital bed without you.” There was a slight crack in your voice, as the tears began to form again, and your head began to pound from your impending tears. “I thought you… I...” You pulled back, framing his face with your hands, thumbs brushing against the roughness of his face as you tried to maintain contact with his sad, blue eyes, “I don’t like that you… you hate you… because I could never hate you. I love you.”

He remained silent, eyes cast down to the side as he swallowed thickly, and you wished that you weren’t so… so drunk. That way you could feel what he was feeling, instead of the impending vomit that was sloshing around in your wine-filled belly.

Wait… vomit?

Ohhhhh, shit...

“Oh no…” You mumbled to yourself, as the vomit in question began to rise up into your throat. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

Wrenching yourself from your spot, you lunged for the bathroom, nearly sprinting before you threw yourself onto the floor in front of the toilet – wine and bile spewing from your lips. The puke made it on the toilet… not so much in it, though. The stupid toilet cover was down from putting on socks, earlier that day.

That was going to be a bitch to clean up.

“Woah… okay.” You heard from behind you, as you grabbed the trash can and continued to puke in it, so there wasn’t any more mess on the floor. You felt a warm hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles along the thin fabric of your tee shirt. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t chug the entire bottle, yeah?”

“Fuck-” puke. “-Off.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” He chuckled from behind you, quickly wetting a rag in the sink and handing it to you to clean yourself up. “Do you need a shower, or do you want to go to bed?”

“I dunno’.” You mumbled, the spins beginning to make you feel like you were riding the tilt o whirl from the county fair you’d gone to as a kid. “I think… I puked on myself, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Shower…” You mumbled, grabbing the bottom of your messy shirt, before pausing, “But… you haven’t seen me naked, yet… I don’t wanna’…”

“You can shower in your underwear, sweetheart.” He scoffed, quickly pulling your shirt over your head with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “I’ve seen you in a swimsuit, it’s basically the same thing.”

No… but… fine. Okay.

Whatever, right?

You leaned your back against the bathtub as he reached into your shower and turned on the spray, getting droplets of water on his shirt before turning back to you and crouching down next to you, “Pants off.”

“They’re leggings. Not pants.” You laughed, as he grabbed the hem and pulled them down your legs swiftly – discarding them, as well as your socks. “Leggings aren’t pants. My mom would freak out.”

“Up you go.” He hauled you up, not struggling in the slightest, even though you were practically dead weight. “Do you need help?”

“Mmmm.” You closed your eyes as you sat on the floor in the steamy shower, the cold tiles holding you against the ground as you leaned against the wall. “I’m glad my bra matches.”

He sighed, and you heard him shuffling around with your shower stuff, as you basically fell asleep against the wall for a moment.

Before you knew it, a warm towel being wrapped around you slightly woke you up, as you felt yourself being lifted from the shower. “Bucky?”

“I’m right here.” He replied softly, warm breath washing over your face, as you tried to open your eyes against the harsh lighting of your bedroom. “Do you think you can get dressed for bed?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, eyes squinting against the light as he set you on your feet in your closet, handing you a large tee shirt that you’d stolen from him. “Can… you get me water?”

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. Sit down if you get too dizzy, okay?” He commanded, voice getting further and further away. “I’ll be right back.”

When you heard your door click shut, you tried to hurriedly take off the soaking wet sports bra, getting frustrated as the stupid material clung to your skin and rolled. It took you four tries before the stupid thing rolled off your skin, and you threw it in the hamper in a huff – tossing your underwear in, just as angry.

Stupid fucking thing.

Thankfully, the tee shirt slid on easily and smelled like Bucky, calming you down slightly as you pulled on a clean pair of underwear, discarding your pajama shorts onto the floor.

Fuck pants. No. Not wearing them.

The dizzy came back, so you sat down on the floor, leaning your back against the frame of the closet and placed your head in your hands.

Oh god. You just puked in front of Bucky… and he had to shower you.

Why the fuck did you do that?

What was WRONG with you?!

You were a fucking hot mess.

…you needed help.

A small sob bubbled over, as the guilt and embarrassment came crashing down on top of you like the whole building was falling. Hot tears fell against your hands, burning your eyes, and your body tensed up. Your skin burst into goosebumps, as the cold air – versus the steam of the shower – seemed to seep into your bones.

Unsure why you were crying so hard, the intensity of the sobs just kept building and building.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey…” You heard Bucky’s panicked voice, as he rushed over to your hysterical state on the floor, scooping you up into his lap and pulling you against his chest. “Shhh. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m not.” You sobbed, voice hoarse and thick, as you stained his new shirt with tears. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Then be a mess.” He whispered against your clean, wet hair, hand brushing along your spine soothingly – up and down – trying to get you to calm down. “I’m right here with you.”

That opened up a can of worms you weren’t sure Bucky was prepared for…

Full-on breakdown mode was initiated.

Ha. Like it wasn’t, already.

You weren’t sure how long you were both on the floor, but you were glad he was there. You both had a lot to talk about, and – though you were drunk and hysterical – you were finally able to let yourself feel it. You’d been compartmentalizing for so long, that you felt like a 2 liter of pop that had been repeatedly shook up, on the verge of popping off the cap and exploding everywhere.

Well, your cap had finally popped off.

Fuck, this was gunna suck in the morning.

Part 25

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I know a lot of you haven’t been getting notifications for WOMS, among other fics...

Let’s see if this “Roblogging my taglist” thing works this time LOL

If not, I’ll try something different!

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 years ago

Text

You Say It Softly//9//Drifting Closer

Jim runs into some ghosts from his past.

Smut Warning

more of these two at the link in my bio!

send me any thoughts about these two and ideas for future parts!

special thanks to @and-shes-not-even-pretty for her help on crafting the plot of this part

Leah was gently roused from sleep by the sound of the front door opening and closing, William’s infectious giggling echoing off the walls. She smiled. This was her favorite way to wake up. Her three-year-old as her alarm clock. Following his laughter was Jim trying to shush him at the same time as he was chuckling himself. They must have just gotten back from their morning walk with the two balls of white fluff that had recently come into their lives. The vet had said they were a Samoyed mix but of what, she couldn’t tell. Every morning, Jim and William would wake up and take the dogs for a walk. Sometimes they stopped for a little treat from the cafe that was along the route like a chocolate croissant and then on the weekends, they would stop at the food trucks along the beach and grab breakfast. The sound of foil rustling in the kitchen made her stomach grumble and she figured she should grace them with her presence.

“Did my little loves get breakfast all ready for me this morning?”

“Mommy!” William’s little feet carried him over to her quickly, jumping up and down in front of her as a signal that he wanted to be picked up. She did so, his arms wrapping around her neck and squeezing her tightly against him on impact. “Got you a ‘rito.” Leah chuckled at his pronunciation of the breakfast burrito she enjoyed so much from one of the food trucks.

“Why thank you, little prince.” He squirmed his way down from her hip, grasping her hand and leading her to the kitchen table where Jim was filling a sippy cup with apple juice and two mugs with coffee.

“Papa, I got her!” Jim looked up with a smile. It felt good to be happy. Having Leah in his life had always felt like a blessing he didn’t deserve but now adding William to the mix made him over the moon.

“Good morning, Papa,” she whispered as Jim pressed his lips gently against hers.

“Morning, Sugar.” Leah hummed with happiness as she let her hands drift around his waist and down to his butt where she took a generous squeeze. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“I’m just so freaking excited for my burrito!” She pumped her fist into the air before sliding into the corner booth where William was already sitting and happily munching on some breakfast potatoes. “How were the doggies this morning?”

“Ollie pooped a lot,” William said as though it had been the most exhausting feature of his little life thus far.

“Our little prince picked it all up though,” Jim added. Leah motioned towards her chin to signal to him that he had egg yolk dripping off his.

“Daddy showed me how!” When Jim and William had come home with the two dogs in the middle of the night, Leah had been adamantly against keeping them. Maybe when William was older they could get a dog. She was certainly not ready to bring in two dirty, wet abandoned puppies for more than the time it took to get them cleaned and to the shelter. Not one to normally disagree with his wife, Jim put up a full court press to keep the puppies. He showed Leah how their son had already bonded with them and to lose them would break his heart. He explained how it would help make him a better person to have something to take care of. Something to have responsibility for. When one of them, now named Nana after the dog in Peter Pan, climbed into her lap and tucked itself onto her shoulder and promptly fell asleep, she acquiesced. But only with the condition that Jim and William handled the things that came out of the dog. Leah wanted nothing to do with it. And, so far, the two of them had been handling it swimmingly.

“That’s good, my love. The doggies love you so much,” she replied as she gently stroked his soft, brown curls.

“I love them too!” After all the talk of the dogs, William asked if he could go play with them. He ate his apple slices in record timing before slipping down the booth and under the table to go and see what they were up to in the living room.

“How did we get blessed with the sweetest little baby boy in the entire world?” Leah was peering over the top of the booth to see William doing a puzzle while resting his head on Ollie’s tummy.

“Cause he’s half sugar,” Jim teased as he closed the distance between them, pulling down the top of her robe so he could press kisses to her shoulder.

“You’re a little extra lovey today.” He had gotten a little handsy under the covers with her that morning before William had awoken and was ready to walk the dogs and get breakfast.

“Been feeling extra grateful for you lately.” The ebb and flow of Jim’s mood was natural, as it would be for any human being, but they tended to hit higher highs and lower lows than the average person. A few weeks ago had been a low for Jim. There were still days when he woke up and his mind tried to play tricks on him. Tell him that he would need a substance in order to get through. Therapy helped. Having Leah and William there helped. Even having the dogs was helping. Jim knew there was no cure for his addiction. Only management.

“I’m so proud of you, Jimmy.” Everyday. Leah tried to slip in how proud she was of her husband. He fought hard to be the husband and father that he was today. And he was damn good at both.

“Couldn’t be half the man I am today, Sugar, without you and our little prince.” She blushed and smiled as she always did when Jim offered her a compliment before cupping his cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

“He’s also half you, Sprinkles. The half of you is what makes him run down the beach butt naked. Your DNA makes him incapable of eating dessert without smearing it all over his cheeks.”

“That’s…” Jim struggled to find an argument against her point, “true.”

“If you want me to make that sweet potato hash tonight then we have to make a grocery store trip,” Leah said around a biteful of her breakfast.

“We?” Jim was shocked. Leah hated the grocery store more than anything. She loved baking and cooking but dreaded making the trip for the ingredients.

“Yes, we. I was home late like every night this past week. Today and tomorrow are family days.” He knew that she had been shouldering some guilt. A pediatrician at the local hospital was on maternity leave and Leah had been asked if she could cover some of her shift. It had meant missing bathtime and bedtime for a few nights. “I feel awful you’ve been having to do it all alone. I feel awful that William said he missed me the other night.” Jim hadn’t meant for that remark to hurt her feelings. He thought she would find it sweet that their son missed her.

“You’re helping other parents have more time with their bubs. Saving them and making them feel better. Me and William will always be here waiting for you. And maybe in the next year or so...another little one can be?” Jim thinks he had stronger baby fever than his wife. Nothing made him happier than being a dad. William started preschool soon and Jim was preemptively missing his presence around the house.

“I think another little one could make an appearance soon,” she whispered back as he dropped his forehead to hers.

“You gonna make a baby with me, Sugar?” The smile on his face was so wide it hurt. The days of Jim feeling inadequate and incapable were fewer and further between.

“Well, I do make beautiful babies and I have no other options currently for someone else to make them with…” Jim dug his fingers into her side for a tickle punishment. Her laughter echoed around the kitchen, William running in to see what all the commotion was about.

“Tickle monster?”

“He’ll get you too!” Jim roared as he moved to reach his son.

“No, Daddy! I have to-” William’s warning went unheeded as Jim’s fingers nestled into the perfect tickle spot. But he wasn’t laughing. Leah watched on in horror as her son’s eyes widened and then a dark spot bloomed on his blue shorts.

“Jim! Stop!” She pushed him aside, grabbing William under his arms and sprinted to the bathroom as fast as she could. He was now sobbing in her arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” William had been a natural at potty training. He was so excited for preschool and he knew that he needed to use the potty before he could go. This was a minor setback and it devastated him.

“It’s ok, bubba. Even Mommy pees a little when the tickle monster comes.” It was true. Who didn’t leak a bit in the throws of laughter? “How about we get in the shower and get all clean?” He nodded and sniffled in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. William was embarrassed. So badly he wanted to be a big boy for his mama and papa. Leah helped him get all cleaned up and wrapped in his hooded fish towel.

“Daddy! Special delivery!” he called with a smile. It was something they always did after bathtime. Whichever parent hadn’t bathed him, he would call to come and pick him up and whisk him to his room to put on clothes. Jim came in from where he was cleaning up the kitchen from the mess that had been made and quickly lifted his little bundle of love.

“Daddy is so sorry, little man. He should have been a better listener.”

“I love you, Daddy.” He pressed his little forehead to Jim’s neck, snuggling down as a way to accept his apology and express his love. Leah fell back onto the bathroom floor with a sigh as the two disappeared up the stairs to put on a different outfit for the day.

“Being a mother is exhausting.”

----

They listened to “Baby Shark” on repeat for the entire ride to the grocery store. William had a stuffed shark that Medina had given him not long after he was born and he said it was Sharky’s favorite song so they had to listen to it. Leah and Jim sang and danced the whole ride, Leah watching William move Sharky’s fins in time with the beat through her mirror.

“That song might be the death of me,” Jim mumbled under his breath as they got out of the car.

“I know. But it makes him so happy.” Long gone were the days of her and Jim sharing earbuds so he could play her a new indie song or sitting on the beach with his speakers and softly making out to The Neighbourhood. Now they were singing the Paw Patrol theme song.

“Can Sharky come?” William asked as Jim lifted him out of the car.

“Of course, buddy, just make sure he doesn’t let go of your hand.” Jim didn’t want to think about what would happen if Sharky got lost during the trip. They made their way over to the line of carts, William begging to use the one that looked like a car.

“Let me wipe it down first.” Leah reached into her bag and pulled out her emergency stash of Clorox wipes and meticulously cleaned the car. William looked up at his father with eyes that said she’s crazy. Jim just shrugged. “Okay. Disinfected and ready for a driver.” William slid in happily and then poked his head out to look at his father.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“Buckle!” William had been trained to always ask for his seatbelt and to make sure he was always secure in any vehicle. Jim smiled, dropping to one knee and pretending to buckle in his boy. “Sharky too!” Jim leaned over and buckled in the stuffed shark.

“Ok now we are safe and ready to drive.”

----

Jim pushed while Leah had her arms looped through his. She was in charge of crossing things off the list as he put them into the cart. William was steering the car calmly at the end of each aisle, silently honking if someone was in front of him and making a ‘vroom vroom’ sound on occasion.

“Let’s see, all we have left is munchkin’s cereal, brown sugar and butter.”

“Baking aisle comes first so let’s-”

“Mommy? Daddy?” The cart paused as they both went around to the little car and peered inside. “I have to go potty.” Eager to never repeat the incident from this morning, Jim quickly scooped William and Sharky into his arms.

“Grab the cereal on your way back!” Leah called after them. She laughed at the image of her husband speed walking through the grocery store with her son and his stuffed shark. She meandered through the baking aisle, throwing in a bag of chocolate chips to munch on later, before making her way to the refrigerated section.

“Leah?” She looked in horror at the source of her name.

“Heather! Hi! How are you?” Maybe one of the last human beings she ever wanted to see again in her life. Jim’s ex. The girl who always blamed Leah for her life being ruined after their breakup. The girl who kept Jim at all those parties that almost killed him.

“I’m fine. Were all the normal carts taken out front?” She was pointing at the car attachment.

“No, my son-”

“Son? You have children?”

“Just one. You?”

“Not yet. We are trying though.” She flashed her hand so Leah could clearly see the two rings that sat on her finger. Leah looked down at her own hand and realized her rings weren’t on. She must have forgotten to put them back on after the impromptu shower that morning. “Not married?” Heather wore a smirk on her face. Like she had won.

“Actually I am. Just not wearing my rings right now.” Her hope was that she could end this conversation and run away before Jim found them. She didn’t know what seeing Heather would do to him and she didn’t want to find out.

“Did the whole doctor thing end up working out for you?”

“Yes-”

“Tossed Jim aside to be a doctor, right? That’s what I heard.” That caused Leah to take a visible step back from Heather. It was one thing to seem snide over her lack of rings but it was an entirely different beast to bring Jim into this. To imply that Leah had thrown him out with the trash after his overdose in order to pursue a material interest. Her heartbeat quickened and her fingers began to twitch at her sides with the urge to attack and protect. Jim was the man she loved. Would love forever. The man who had given her William, the most precious gift in the world.

“Whoever told you that was extremely mistaken.” Leah gripped the handle of the cart with white knuckles in the hopes it would stop her from lashing out any further. As soon as she made the move to leave the conversation, she heard Jim’s voice.

“Little man wanted the one with Spider-Man on the box, which are honey nut, but he promised me he would eat them.” William and Sharky were on his hip, Jim setting them down once he saw who was with his wife.

“Heather.” He looked as though he had seen a ghost. In a way, he had. She was a relic of his past. A past he had happily buried as soon as he left that rehab facility all those years ago. A past he hadn’t thought of since he had reunited in Stanford with Leah. It had been buried under the love he had for her and his son. The love he had for the potential of their future together.

“Hi, Jim. It’s so good to see you.” Leah wanted to throw up as Heather put on the fakest smile known to man and embraced Jim in a hug. “You’re even more handsome than I remember.” As if he was sensing the tension, William instinctively gripped Sharky a little closer and moved to hug his mother’s leg.

“Yeah you look...you look like you’re doing well.” Jim felt a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

“I am, thank you, but I guess not as well as you two.” There was venom in her voice as she said it. Like she had lost all hope upon seeing that the two of them were still together.

“We’re happy,” Leah replied stoically, her hand resting protectively on top of William’s head.

“And who are you?” Heather crouched down to be at the same level of the little boy.

“I’m William...and this is Sharky.” He held out the stuffed toy, offering her his fin to shake. Fortunately for her, she shook the shark’s hand and introduced herself to Sharky as if he was as human as the rest of them. Leah might have slight her throat by the butter if she had disrespected her son and his imagination in any way.

“We better get going,” Jim murmured as he urged William back into the car, “he normally naps soon and-”

“Of course. Hopefully I see you around again. It’s nice to see you’re doing so well...both of you.” Her expression had softened a bit. Heather couldn’t deny that the way Jim and Leah looked at each other was the stuff of fairytales. And William was the cutest little boy she had ever seen. Perhaps they were meant to be together.

“You okay?” Leah asked once Heather was out of ear shot. She wrapped her arms around Jim’s waist as he turned to face her, his hands lightly cupping her cheeks.

“I have you. I have William. There is nothing I miss about what she represents.”

“I love you so much, Sprinkles,” Leah whispered as she pecked his lips gently. Their little bubble was broken as Sharky came tumbling out the side of the car. Jim bent down and looked to see William asleep at the wheel. He chuckled and waved Leah over before taking out his phone to snap a cute picture.

“Guess we should head home.”

----

William was sound asleep on Jim’s shoulder as Leah pushed the cart out of the store to head back to the car.

“Daddy?” He looked down to see his little one blinking slowly as he was momentarily woken up.

“You can go back to sleep, munchie, Papa’s got you.”

“What’s that smell?” Jim sniffed his own nose at his son’s question, the smell of a cigarette registering quickly. He looked to the side to see where it was coming from and, for the second time that day, wished he had been anywhere else.

“Jim Mason. How crazy to see you here man.” It was Chad. He took one step towards the little family and then stumbled as if he had walked into a curb. Instinctively, Jim took a step back and put a protective arm in front of Leah.

“Leah, take William.”

“Jim-” The look in his eyes scared her. There was a flicker of the old Jim in it. She was worried that Chad was one step further into his past than Jim might be ready to handle.

“Go start the car. I’ll be right behind you.” He could tell that Chad was high or drunk or somewhere on the spectrum of both. First and foremost, he needed to protect his wife and son. Chad wouldn’t go anywhere near them. He wouldn’t let him threaten his happiness ever again.

“Damn. You’re still with Leah? Fucking wild.” Hearing her name come out of his mouth made him seethe. “Your son looks like you. Guess you can be sure she didn’t fuck someone else for him, am I right?” Jim clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. He ran through the quick mental exercises his therapist taught him when he felt his feelings boiling over into too much.

“Chad. If you ever see me, my wife or my son out in public ever again, do not speak to us. Do I make myself clear?” All that was returned to him was a blank stare. Jim felt haunted by the lack of life behind his eyes. How Chad looked like a dead man walking. He was struck by the idea that that had been him. He must have looked like Chad. Medina and Leah must have looked at him and seen that same hollow look on his face. It made him sick.

“Yeah, dude, I got it.”

“Chad? Jim? What’s going on?” He looked to see Heather exiting the store, her arms embracing Chad once she got close enough. It was as Chad’s ring caught Jim’s eye that he began to put the pieces together.

“You two are…” He thinks Heather looked ashamed for a brief moment. “Well, congratulations. I hope you’re happy.” Abruptly, Jim turned on his heels and tried to keep steady as he walked to join Leah and William in the car. The world was spinning ever so slightly but it was still dizzying.

“You okay?” she whispered. Leah had been sitting behind the wheel in case some sort of quick getaway was needed. William was sleeping peacefully in the back with his cheek resting against Sharky.

“Ready to go home,” he replied while his gaze stayed locked straight ahead. She could tell that the double encounter from his past had had an effect on him. Maybe more than either of them had ever been prepared for.

----

Jim carried a still sleeping William into the house, tucking him into bed before going to help Leah carry in the groceries and put them away in the kitchen.

“You got the rest of this? I think I need to make a phone call.” His knuckles were white around the circumference of his phone. Leah thinks he looked as though he was going to have a panic attack.

“Okay...okay...is everything okay? Are you okay?” She was gripping the new container of salt as tight as Jim was his phone.

“Just need a little reset, I think. Going to call Paul. See if he has a minute.” Dr. Paul Jackson was Jim’s therapist from back when he went to rehab after the night on the beach. Along the way he had become more than just a therapist to Jim. Had become a sort of father figure to him. A hybrid uncle and grandpa to William. Leah knew Paul would have more than a minute for Jim.

“Tell him I said hi,” she smiled softly. She kept the smile on her face until he was on the back porch with the door closed and then it dropped from her face. She couldn’t show that she was worried about him. That wouldn’t help anyone. But calling Paul meant that he was in need of some tough love and advice. That he had been shaken to his core enough to reach out for help. Leah decided to give him all the space he needed by heading upstairs to crack open a book.

----

She looked up as her husband walked into their room and set her book to the side. Jim collapsed onto his side of the bed and began to place kisses up her arm and across her collarbone and on the side of her neck.

“How was Paul?” she asked as her eyes closed with the bliss of Jim’s lips against her skin.

“Good. Said he misses William. Wants to get together for dinner soon.” He was methodically pressing kisses to every bit of her face, propping himself up over to get the right angle. If phase one of Jim bouncing back was a phone call with Dr. Paul, then phase two was trying to feel the love he and his wife shared in the most raw form possible. Leah reminded him that he was human. Allowed to have bad days and feel off and didn’t need to shoulder the burdens of the world on his own.

“Okay, we can plan that.” She moved upwards to make sure his lips landed home on her own and she took control of the kiss. “We don’t have much time. Little prince will be up soon.” William had a way of sensing when his parents were in bed together. His mind immediately went to snuggle time and there was nothing he loved more than snuggles.

“You’re right. Let’s get you naked.” Jim made quick work of Leah’s jeans and underwear, his own bottoms following suit. Since William had learned how to leave his room and open their door, they had taken to having sex half-clothed. Only when they were completely alone did all of it come off. Leah pumped Jim in her hand as they continued to kiss sloppily. She swallowed his moans hungrily and relished in the feeling of the tight grip he had on her hair.

“Gonna make you cum so fast,” she teased as she let go and went onto her knees, swinging one leg over his cock.

“Fuck, Sugar, you know what the sight of your ass does to me.” Reverse cowgirl was kryptonite for Jim Mason. The view of his wife’s perfect bottom bouncing on his cock, watching his length shine with each movement of her hips, set every nerve ending on fire for him. He was frozen with anticipatory bliss as he watched Leah guide his cock into her, the fit perfect and snug and the things epic poems were written about.

“Oh God you feel so good, Jimmy,” she gasped out as she began to move herself up and down. He rested both hands on her cheeks, squeezing and pulling them apart as she bounced on him. Teasingly, he pressed the pad of his thumb to her other entrance and gently massaged the area. He watched her shudder with a gleeful smirk on his face and her pace picked up at the added sensation.

“Fucking gorgeous. This beautiful ass is all mine.” Her head fell back her hair was cascading down, Jim sitting up and pulling it into a ponytail. He used his new leverage to expose her neck and began to suck hickies onto her skin the way he did when they were back in high school. “Going to cum so hard for you, Sugar.” Leah had known exactly what she was doing when she chose to ride him backwards. The first time they had ever done so, Jim had come within moments. He claimed the sight was too much for his mind, body and soul to handle. With the looming threat of William waking up down the hall, Leah had figured the quicker, the better.

“Fill me up with your cum...please,” she panted as she felt her own climax swelling within her. Jim thrusted up in time with her for the last view seconds and both of them stilled before falling forward slightly with desperate moans. He placed kisses to her back as she tried to catch her breath.

“Every time with you, Sugar, feels like the first time. I love you so goddamn much and I never want you to forget that.”

“Promise you I won’t,” she laughed as she fell backwards against his chest. The settled into a slow and lazy kiss when the door to their room was flung open.

“Mommy? Daddy? Snuggle without me?” William looked like he had just suffered the worst betrayal as he stood in their doorway with Sharky and his blanket. Leah opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. She could still feel Jim’s cum dripping down her inner thigh and she didn’t know how to get off of him and attend to her son without somehow scarring him for life.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab another blanket for mommy to snuggle under with you?” Jim said as he held Leah still. Any movement of her hips at this moment would surely coax a reaction out of him.

“Okay!” William happy ran off to the linen closet down the hall to grab their fluffy snuggle blanket.

“Move quickly!” Jim ordered as their toddler disappeared. Leah lifted herself off of him, running to the bathroom to pee and wipe herself down, Jim taking the washcloth after her and pulling back on his boxers.

“Daddy, I need help!” William called. He was grunting as he struggled to climb onto his parents bed.

“I’ll be there in one second buddy!”

“Hey,” Leah whispered as Jim made a step towards the door, “I love you.” The craziness of their life would never dampen the connection she felt to her husband. There was no one else on this planet she would rather be on this crazy ride with.

“I’m in love with you,” Jim whispered back as he placed the softest of kisses on her lips.

“Daddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Jim muttered as he went to the wiggling little boy and helped him up onto the bed.

“Yay!” William clapped as he fell back against the pillow and spread out two blankets on himself. “Mommy!” He made grabby hands in her direction as she joined them in bed.

“I love you so much, my little prince,” she said as she held him tight against her and placed quick kisses to the top of his head.

“Love you, Mama.” Jim rolled over so he was facing the two loves of his life, resting his hand on top of Leah’s and smiling widely. Everything felt right. His world was at peace.

----

“James Philip Mason!” Jim looked up from the slime he was making with William in horror at the tone his wife was using to call him from the upstairs.

“Uh oh, Daddy,” William said as he added more glitter to the concoction. William may be young but he was wise. He knew his father was in some sort of trouble.

“Keep mixing until I come back, okay?” He waited for William’s nod before he bounded up the stairs to see what he had done wrong. He took the stairs two at a time and found Leah standing in the bathroom with her hands on her hips.

“You remember when we talked a few days ago about having another baby?”

“Yeah?” His first thought was that she was going to backtrack on her decision now. Jim would be upset but he would understand. It was her body and her choice. He’d wait as long as it took for her to be ready. Even if she never wanted another kid, he’d be happy. He’d be okay.

“I know we said in a little bit…” she pulled something out from behind her back, “but how does nine months feel?” Jim was frozen for only a minute before he surged forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around.

“You make me so fucking happy. Nine months sounds perfect.”

“Mason, part of four, sounds perfect.” He nodded in agreement.

“Welcome to the tribe, little peanut.”

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @aveiangdon @ticklish-leafy-plant

@and-shes-not-even-pretty @langdonslove

#jim mason #cody fern #the tribes of palos verdes #tribes of palos verdes #duncan shepherd #michael langdon

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 7 years ago

Text

All Grown Up

One-Shot from the “My Eyes” Universe.

Spoiler-y (and confusing) if you haven’t read the series.

My Eyes Masterlist

Request: Anonymous

Prompt: Could you do a one shot on Frankie accidentally walking on in her parents doing the dirty (age 16-17)?

Pairing: Dad!Bucky x Fem!Reader; Frankie

Words Count: 1,917

Y/N and Bucky sat on opposite sides of the living room couch, facing each other with their legs crossed. She had just told him a funny story and Bucky clutched his stomach from laughing so hard. Out of all the women he had met in his life, he’d never found one that had as much personality and sense of humor as Y/N.

Meanwhile Y/N still found it the biggest accomplishment to make Bucky laugh. She remembered when Steve was still alive, it was rare to see even a smirk grace Bucky’s lips. Once they were together and happy, she took it upon herself to bring a playfulness that must have been rare with couples back in the 30s & 40s.

Their relationship held a lot of darkness. It was built on the death of someone they both loved very dearly. But that was why Y/N realized they needed to keep as much fun in their relationship as possible. And after all these years together, it was vital.

Bucky’s laughter slowly quieted and he stared at her lovingly.

Y/N sipped some of her wine to get away from his gaze. After all this time, she couldn’t help but squirm and blush when he looked at her like that. “What are you staring at, mister?”

“Will you marry me?” He asked softly.

“Oh my goodness!” Y/N practically screeched in laughter. “You haven’t given me a proposal in so long! I forgot how entertaining they are!”

Bucky set his beer on the coffee table and crawled toward her on the couch. Then he carefully took her wine glass out of her hand as well. He gently gripped her hips, holding her in place. His lips found her collar bone first. It was peeking out from her baggy flannel that actually belonged to Bucky. Then his lips danced up her neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to marry me, doll?” He hummed and finally kissed her lips. “Y/N Barnes…it’s a sexy name.”

She huffed at that. “Yeah… Well, I’m old with two kids now. Sexy isn’t really my thing anymore.” But she happily intensified the kiss.

“Oh, I beg to differ. Especially when you wearing my clothes.” Bucky gave her a devilish smirk and he undid the top button of her shirt.

“Someone’s getting handsy…” She breathed.

“We have the house to ourselves. Frankie’s spending the night with Jimmy at the compound…” Bucky was already down a few more buttons.

Y/N could barely think straight as she faintly nodded and wrapped her legs around Bucky’s waist, pulling his groan closer to her. Soon their clothes were coming off.

Raising two kids, enhanced ones at that, was exhausting and time consuming. Bucky and Y/N’s relationship was still filled with love and … desire. But it was just hard to find time for themselves like they could before Frankie was born. Their relationship started with a kid already in the picture. But their daughter was definitely more of a handful than Jimmy ever had been.

Soon the living room was filled with soft moans and grunts. Y/N’s breathing became heavier and quicker. Just as she was about to reach that point, the front door flew open.

“Mom! Dad! Jimmy got called out onto a mission so I figured I’d come home and sleep in- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Frankie screamed out. In her panic, her telekinesis power had a mind of its own and flung a pile of newspapers into the air to obscure the traumatizing view in front of her.

“Oh my god!” Y/N yelped in embarrassment and shock.

“Are you two seriously having sex on the couch!?” Y/N screamed with her back to them. “I sit there!”

Y/N, not really knowing how else to handle the situation, just started laughing uncontrollably. Meanwhile Bucky, still a man of the past (no matter how long he lived in the future), was bright red and covering his face with his hand as embarrassed groans came from the back of his throat.

“I am deeply disturbed and I am going back to the compound.” Frankie mumbled. “Hopefully there’s a bottle of bleach there I can pour all over my eyeballs. Too bad Wanda went on the mission too, maybe she can make me forget I ever saw THAT.” Without waiting for a response from her parents, Frankie slammed the front door behind her.

The tension in Bucky’s shoulders lessened when he heard the sound of Frankie’s Honda Cafe Racer roar to life and speed away.

“You know…she gets that sailor’s mouth from you.” Bucky mumbled.

“Guilty.” Y/N giggled, now having Bucky’s flannel on her again. “You're really mortified right now, aren’t you?” She playfully poked him in the nose.

Bucky nodded with a dazed look in his eyes. “Did we just traumatize our daughter into a lifetime of therapy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You really think Frankie doesn’t know about sex, Buck?”

Bucky glared at her. “I’d like to think that she doesn’t.”

“She’s 17 Bucky!” Y/N laughed at his ridiculousness.

“Wait, is Frankie having sex with someone!?” Bucky cried out.

“Calm down. I’m not about to discuss our daughter’s sex life with you. I promised it would remain a mother/daughter conversation.” But she saw how desperate Bucky was looking at her. “When you need to know about a guy in Frankie’s life, I’ll tell you. Deal?”

He nodded grumpily.

“Should-Should we go to the compound and talk to her?” He asked softly. Now the guilt was seeping in. The situation was probably more embarrassing for Frankie than them.

“No. We should give her some space. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Y/N shrugged. “Unless…you want to be the one to talk to her.”

“Look, I respect your whole sex-positive and progressive thing. It’s one of the things I love about you.” Bucky sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “But I’m stuck in my old ways, no matter how long I live in this time period. And when I say ‘old ways’ I mean parents didn’t talk about sex with their kids back then and we all pretended it didn’t exist.”

Y/N scoffed teasingly at that. “Well, that’s why kids get pregnant at 15, Bucky. But I understand.”

“When did she get so grown up?” Bucky sighed. It took half a glimpse for Frankie to comprehend what she walked in on. What happened to his little, innocent girl?

Y/N pat his shoulder. “It happens fast, Buck.”

Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Has she ever had a boyfriend?”

Once middle school came around, Frankie got closer to her mother. She would always be a daddy’s girl. But there was just some things Bucky wasn’t equipped to handle when it came to being a pre-teen girls in middle school.

It was hard to see some distance grow between the two of them. But he understood that Frankie now had things in her life that she wasn’t comfortable talking to him about.

“No.” Y/N stated firmly.

“How are you so sure?” Bucky pushed.

“Because she’s picky, like her mom. Well, picky is not the right word. She knows her worth and she refuses to settle.” Y/N smiled, thinking about the few times she’s seen her daughter around boys her age. “There’s not a boy at her school that doesn’t have a crush on her though.” Bucky growled. Y/N laughed at his response and jumped off the couch. “But she’s not interested.”

“Why not?”

Y/N cringed, knowing Bucky wasn’t going to like the answer. “Well, she’s like me in that way too.” He narrowed his eyes, not following. “She likes older guys.” Y/N giggled at Bucky’s horrified expression. This was almost too much fun.

He was clearly deep in thought and going into crazy, over-protective dad mode.

“Bucky!” Y/N snapped, bring him back to reality. “Do you want to keep talking about our daughter’s love life? Or do you wanna finish what you started…in the bedroom…with the door locked?”

That finally brought Bucky out of it. He grinned and stood up from the couch. Before Y/N could predict his actions, he threw her body over his shoulders. She yelped out in surprise when he added a slap to her butt.

“James Buchanan Barnes, did you just smack my ass?!” She screeched.

“You bet I did, doll.” And he carried her up to their bedroom.

Bucky was covered in sweat, having just got back from basically running a marathon. He’d been off active duty for so long, but his body never showed any indication of it. He finally started showing some small signs of aging: some grey in his scruff and little creases around his eyes. But people were still frightened by his strong stature and threatening posture. Somehow just by looking at him they knew he had the ability to kill them in seconds.

Bucky stopped abruptly in the doorway when he saw Frankie sitting at the kitchen counter with her phone in her hand and a coffee mug in the other.

Her whole body froze when she saw him.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about it. Mom already gave me a speech. I’d really prefer if we pretended it never happened.” The words rushed off Frankie lips.

Bucky just nodded and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable.” His words were so quiet and unlike him.

Frankie couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “Sometimes I wish you and mom didn’t love each other so much. Why can’t you be like all my friends’ parents?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow in amusement. “And what exactly are they like?”

“Oh you know. They barely tolerate each other. Probably haven’t had sex in years. Their kids have just completely desexualized them at this point.” Her tone was sassy, but her words were true. “A couple of my friends once told me they’ve never even seen their parents kiss…” Her face dropped, suddenly realizing that it was actually sort of sad.

“What about kissing?” Y/N practically danced into the room. Without getting an answer, she kissed Frankie on the forehead and then spun to Bucky, kissing him on the lips. “You get two,” laughing before kissing him again. She disappeared from the kitchen just as quickly as they arrived.

Bucky saw his daughter’s expression change. “Do you really wish we were more like that?”

Frankie gave him small smirk. “No. Without you and mom, I’d probably think love is dead. I’ve never seen any of those other dads look at their wives the way you look at mom.”

She downed the rest of her coffee and put her mug in the sink before heading out of the kitchen.

“Hey Frankie?” Bucky said hurriedly.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever do want to…talk…about you know…” He stumbled over his offer. Why was it so much easier to talk to Jimmy about this stuff? Because he’s a boy, an annoyed voice reminded him in his head.

Frankie looked utterly amused. “Dad, I can stick with mom on this certain area. But I appreciate you saying that anyways.” Then she chuckled. “Jeez, she was right: you really are old-fashioned and uptight about sex.”

Bucky groaned.

“Sex!” Frankie yelled, loving the reaction it caused from him. “Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex!” She chanted as she ran up the stairs into her room.

I thought this request was hilarious. If you didn’t pick up on it, my parents are definitely the opposite of Y/N & Bucky. lol

Thanks to anon for requesting it. Keep ‘em coming peeps!

#my eyes universe #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dad!Bucky #dad bucky #parent!bucky #parent bucky #fluff #marvel reader insert #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel fic #one shot #drabble #frankie barnes

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yourcroweater · 7 years ago

Photo

C o r r u p t

Chapter 2

A/N: this takes place in the first episode of season 5 of SoA. Chapter 3 will be set in episode 1 and 2. I’ll be taking some liberties when it comes to the time-line, I hope I don’t make a mess out of this lol. The lyrics are from Dark Nights - Dorothy

Tag list: @sam-samcro @telford-ortiz-teller @telfords-glasgow-smile @jaaxsoadeaanspn @i-was-made-of-nutella @dolphingoddess81 @i-am-the-luna @teller-telford-old-lady @dmagicreality @meggzz21 @i-like-it-heavy-so-i-can-panic @enjoy-the-destruction

“don't send me no angel, this city's too cold

cause I need a man with a black heart of gold

don't give me no lover, if he ain't got the stones

cause I need a man who will fight for his own.”

The sun was setting by the time I passed the Charming welcome sign. It hadn’t been hard spotting Charming in a map. Making my way there wasn’t hard either. It was an hour and a half drive through the I-580 according to Google Maps but I made it in a little less than an hour on my bike.

I would have left first thing in the morning if I wasn’t so damn tired. Those corpses Jimmy left for me took forever to clean up. Pieces of brain scattered everywhere -- I even found some on a far back wall -- and I had to make sure there was no evidence left behind.

I had taken an extremely long and necessary shower once I got to my loft, at almost 7am. I crashed on my bed totally naked afterwards, almost 9 in the morning then, still partially wet from my shower.

My whole body was sore from dismembering and carrying body parts and it took me forever to find a comfortable position in bed and finally sleep. I woke up at 4pm still feeling like shit. I tossed and turned all throughout my sleep and I hardly felt rested. This time, I blamed the nightmares on too much wine and on Taco Bell’s fat filled food -- but I knew better. I pushed it to the back of mind though. I could wallow in guilt later. Meeting my real father was more important than rethinking my sins.

Still, the guilt spoke louder and I found myself praying Our Father as I took the turn to leave I-580 and enter Charming town. I would have held the cross on my necklace if my hands weren’t on the clutch. My faith helped me constantly with my line of work and I always calmed down a little when I prayed. It would be good if I could find a church in Charming. I didn’t need to confess. Sunday mass was enough for me.

This time, however, I got a tad too distracted with my praying. I lost my grip on the bike for a second and I swayed on the street, earning several warning honks from cars. The honks startled me and I brusquely tried to straighten the motorcycle. A van had been trying to pass me on the right and when I swerved back into my lane it hit my side, sending me and the bike sliding against the road.

I landed on my side with my bike pinning me down. It took me a second to register the pain and start cursing. My left leg, the one under the bike, burned like a motherfucker and my left shoulder took most of the impact for my body. The car behind me hit the brakes, putting me face to face with its front bumper. There was big sticker on it that read ‘Jesus is my car insurance’. I doubted Jesus would cover the wreck if the guy had ran me over.

It was so ridiculous and ironic that I started laughing. God really had my back. I removed my helmet and threw it to the side still laughing.

“God fucking dammit,” I muttered to myself as I chuckled.

I looked down, trying to see the damage and wondering how much strength I would need to lift my Harley. As I tried to sit up so I could wiggle out from beneath the bike, I noticed three men jumping from their own Harleys and running my way. Bikers always helped it each other when it came to road troubles. Drivers rarely gave a shit, like the van driver who just took off after I went down.

“Hey hey, hold on,” called the first man ahead. He removed his helmet, revealing a mass of blonde hair.

I stopped moving so he and the other two men could lift my motorcycle.

“One, two, three,” the blonde guy counted and they pulled it up. I breathed out in relief once its weight was off me. The man with a big belly — made of beer and fried food, I supposed — kicked the footrest down so my bike could be propped up.

The third guy strode to me, offering me his gloved hand. I couldn’t see much of his face because the setting sun was right behind him, making him a silhouette. I grabbed my helmet with one hand before letting him pull me up to my feet.

I cursed under my breath once I was up. Pain flashed from my knee to my thigh and I stumbled. The man that pulled me up put his arm around me so I wouldn’t fall and I swung my arm around his shoulders so I could rest my weight on him.

“Ye okay, lass?” He asked. I looked curiously at him, trying to put a face to the Scottish accent, but the sun was in my eyes.

“Can’t say for sure,” I replied. I twisted my body a little so I could have a look at my leg. There was a mixture of red, black and grey and it took me a second to realise it was blood, asphalt and the colour of my jeans. It wasn’t gushing blood but it looked ugly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, had worse before.”

“What happened?” Asked the blonde.

“I got distracted, it was my fault,” I explained. “Is she alright?” I pointed at my bike.

The fat guy checked it out from behind his blue sunglasses. “Yeah, she’s good. You took most of the fall. There’s a few scratches but we can fix it for you.”

Before I could say anything, the driver from the Crown Vic, the one with Jesus insurance, honked loudly at us. Fair enough, we were standing in the middle of the road but I had had an accident and I was hurt. I leaned past my Scottish saviour so I could give the driver my middle finger. The driver honked again and there was a collective raising of middle fingers from all of us this time and a loud “fuck off” from the fat guy.

“C’mon, let’s free up the road for that shithead,” the blonde said, nodding at the Scotsman and helping the other guy steer my Harley to a close lay-by.

I half limped, half hopped my way there with the aid of the man at my side. He was a few of inches taller than me, three or four inches I would guess, and he had to lean down a bit so I could rest my weight on him. I stole a glance at him -- actually, several glances, especially when I realised he was pretty good looking.

“Sit down,” he told me as he unhooked my arm from around him. I did as he said and sat down on my bike, hanging my helmet on the clutch and immediately looking up at him. He removed his sunglasses and met my eyes. I assumed my brain got overflowed with endorphins because I stopped feeling pain. Yeah, he was that hot. Mind numbingly and pain numbingly hot.

I noticed how hot the blonde guy was when he jumped off his bike but he was far too pretty for my taste. I liked my men ruggedly handsome, older and -- well from now on -- Scottish.

I stared at him and he stared right back. He had scars across his cheeks, I noticed -- hard to miss actually, and somehow it made him look sexier. It added to the whole dangerous and mysterious vibe he put out. He had a kutte on over a brown button-up shirt and I could read the patches if I squinted enough. Sons of Anarchy, Sgt. At Arms, Redwood Original. I stopped staring for a second so I could have a quick look at the other two men. All of them wore kuttes and the blonde one had a President patch. Rescued by a motorcycle club. Neat.

I turned my gaze back to the Scotsman. He tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting mine as a lopsided smile played on his lips. He was watching me with interest. In fact, I’d say he was checking me out. Good. I wasn’t being discreet about it -- when was I ever discreet with my flirting? Never, that’s when. I was laying on the ground a minute ago and here I was, lusting after my rescuer. And oh, there was a lot to lust after according to his tight jeans. I tried not to stare too hard at his crotch but it was difficult, especially because I was sat and he was right in front of me.

I managed to unglue my eyes from his junk and meet his eyes with a smirk. The blonde man cleared his throat. He was trying to hide his smile but he wasn’t being very good at it.

“Sorry. You said you guys can fix my bike for me?” I asked, trying to brush off the flirting.

“Yeah, there’s only a few scratches. We can paint it over at T-M but it’ll ruin the original paint job,” the guy with the blue glasses stepped forward as he spoke. He had long greying hair and a beard.

“T-M?”

“Teller-Morrow Automotive, our auto-shop,” the Scot supplied.

I felt all blood leave my face.

Of fucking course. I came to Charming looking for my real dad, knowing his name, where he worked and that he was criminal. And now I was face to face with bikers, probably criminals, who owned the place my father worked in. I knew I was bound to meet some uncomfortable truths about my dad but actually realising how close to it I was, scared me. Not only that, but I was flirting with some guy who could very well be my dad. He looked old enough.

Jesus. What if he was my dad? That would be extremely weird. But he couldn’t be my dad. My mother said I looked like him and I had nothing in common with the Scotsman.

I had to just get on with it and ask.

“You happen to know an Alexander Trager then?”

At first they stared at me, their eyebrows twitching as if they expected me to say more. When I didn’t, all three of them shifted on their feet while exchanging looks. None of them reacted to the name as someone would if they heard their own name, which calmed me a little.

“What’s yer name?” The Scotsman crossed his arms over his chest, all traces of his flirting gone.

“Giulia,” I said. He cocked his right eyebrow in response, prompting me to say more. “Giulia Lucchese.” He looked at the other two and they shook their heads. “Look, I get that you don’t know me but I just wanna talk to Trager.”

“Why?” the blonde asked, his baby blue eyes piercing mine.

It wasn’t hard to tell they were suspicious of me. I would be too if some stranger came around my town asking for a friend of mine.

I took a deep breath before opening my mouth.

“Because he’s my father.”

Blondie and Scot raised their eyebrows and Blue Sunglasses let out a chuckle. Life would be a bit easier right now if I at least knew their names. It’d be nice to be on first name basis if they were gonna judge me.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Blondie said, running a hand over his face. “Unbelievable.”

“It’s not that hard to believe, Jax,” Blue Sunglasses scoffed. “It was bound to happen. The way Tig fucks around... I knew some lost kid was gonna pop up someday,” he shook his head to the sides, laughing. His eyes analysed me and he stopped laughing as if he just realised something. “You said Lucchese?” I nodded. “Ain’t that fucking great?” he looked up at the sky as if he was cursing God.

“What?” I asked along with Scot and Blondie (or Jax).

“Lucchese, as in Bianca Lucchese,” my eyebrows shot up upon hearing my mom’s name. “Remember her, Chibs?” Blue Sunglasses stopped so he could look at Scot. Chibs was his name? I doubted it, probably a nickname.

“Shit. Aye, I remember her. But now she’s… Fuck. Tig sure chooses them well.” He smoothed his greying hair back with both hands, looking frustrated.

“What?!” Jax shouted, his blonde eyebrows furrowed. Apparently he wasn’t a fan of being kept out of the loop. I was right with him in this one.

“Ye were a kid, Jackie boy. Ye don’t remember her. Bianca, yer mum,” he eyed me for a second, “was drivin’ on 580 when her car broke down and she called T-M fer a tow. Tig and Bobby went to pick her up…” he stopped and looked at Blue Sunglasses, who I deduced was Bobby.

“Bianca was real pretty. Italian accent. Tig was onto her the moment she spoke,” Bobby explained, rolling his eyes. I leaned forward, my injured leg long forgotten, eager to hear the details of how my mother and father met. I knew nothing, I’d take any information those bikers had to give me. “We fixed her car but she stayed in Charming for a month because of Tig. Bianca broke things up because Tig was divorcing Colleen and then she left to Oakland. Pregnant apparently,” he pointed at me. “Since Giulia is here now.”

“So? What’s the problem?” Jax asked.

“Bianca’s married to Jimmy Cacuzza now. Which makes her,” Bobby pointed one fat finger at me again, “Jimmy’s stepdaughter and italian mob.”

“No I’m not,” I replied instantly. Took me a second to realise they knew Jimmy Cacuzza. More than that, they knew he was mafia. The name meant something to them and right now it meant trouble. At best they had a good relationship with Jimmy and my, well, existing put them at odds. “Yes, I’m his stepdaughter but I have nothing to do with the mob.” Okay, I was sorta lying. “Look,” I stood up, ignoring the flash of pain that coursed through my leg, “until yesterday I didn’t know who my father was. I came here to get to know him, I don’t want to cause any problems. You guys clearly have, uh, a relationship with Jimmy and I don’t wanna get caught in between that. It’s not my fault who my mom fucked or who she got married to,” I shrugged. “I just wanna meet my real dad and if he doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I’ll just go back to Oakland if that happens. But I’m not leaving until I get to at least see him.”

For a moment we all stared at each other. The sun had finished setting, leaving the California sky in a purplish shade. With the sun gone, the wind started picking up and the blood on my leg became cold as it dried. Headlights from cars passing on the I-580 were the the only source of light.

Finally, Jax nodded.

“Fine but you only get to talk to him after we’re sure you’re his daughter.”

“I’ll take a DNA test if you want me to,” I replied, sitting down again. I could have leaped in joy but my leg stopped me from doing that and I was not doing that in front of badass bikers. “I want to be sure, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Until then, you’re not leaving our sight,” I was sure he was using his threatening voice, yet it had little effect on me. I just stared back. “Can you ride?” He looked from my leg to my bike.

“I’m good for riding but I should probably get this looked at later,” I said.

“My old lady is a doctor, she can check it out for you,” he walked to his bike, a Dyna Super Glide, and picked up his helmet. “You follow us out,” he commanded. No shit he was President, the man ordered people around like it was nothing. He could’ve said it nicely and I would follow them out anyway.

I was getting up to swing my leg over my Iron 883 when Chibs stepped forward, grazing my shoulder lightly with his hand.

“Yer leg’s still bleedin’. Ye have anythin’ to tie around it?” He frowned as he looked at the wound.

I could have drooled at this point. Not only was he hot, he was also caring. He was actually concerned about my leg. Yeah, he was making me horny with only that and that was a good skill to have.

“I have an old shirt in my saddlebag, you can use that,” I managed to say, pointing at the studded saddlebag attached to my motorcycle.

He bent down so he could open the saddlebag and retrieve my old over-sized Ozzy Osbourne shirt. I usually slept with it but apparently I wasn’t using it tonight, since it was going to be covered in blood. He united the two sleeves before squatting down in front of me. He wrapped it around my leg, staring dead straight into my eyes with his eyebrows arched. I bit my lip to stifle my smile as I watched him.

“Not how I imagined you going down on me,” I quipped. His hands stopped for a moment as he looked up at me, a grin appearing on his face. Bobby and Jax laughed as they mounted their bikes and then Chibs chuckled too. He finished tying my shirt and made sure the knot was secured.

“No need for a DNA test, Jax,” Bobby told him but he was looking at me. “After that one, she’s definitely Tig’s kid.”

Jax nodded, chuckling as he started his bike and soon his and Bobby’s laugh were drowned out by the Harleys’ powerful engines. I meant to ask what he meant by that -- was my dad a horndog like I was? -- but Chibs still had my attention.

He offered me my helmet after getting back on his feet and then leaned forward and gave me a wink paired with a smile. On top of everything else, he had dimples. To say my panties were soaked would be an understatement.

“Try to keep up with us, love,” he told me before turning his back on me and heading towards his own bike. His kutte had a nice design on the back with a reaper and an AK-47.

I tilted my head, my eyes fixed on his ass as he strode. Nice junk and a nice ass. He alone was reason enough for me stick around awhile. But I came to Charming with a purpose and that was to find my dad -- not a lover. I wouldn’t complain if it happened, though.

#sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy fanfic #soa fanfic #chibs telford #jax teller #bobby munson #tig trager #gemma teller #clay morrow #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tara knowles #opie winston #corrupt #jessica de gouw

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stunudo · 7 years ago

Text

Come Around Again

A Criminal Minds Fan-ficiton

Featuring: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Setting: Late Season 12

A/N: Happy Smuturday! This was a requested follow up to New Around Here. I ended up giving more backstory than usual. I hope you like Hotch in witness protection as much as I do! xoxo Stu

Jimmy had called you early the next morning, apologizing once again for leaving you like he had. He was such a devoted father, you couldn’t be angry about needing to pick up his son. You reassured him that he was still in your good graces, teasing that perhaps next time you would even let him into the bedroom before he was called away. The call ended quickly as it was the start of the Sunday Brunch crowd and you helped your servers bring out orders each week.

Your mind eased back to the chaotic rhythm of the work. The day proceeded with a slightly easier smile on your face, after the impulsive night you had shared with the new single dad in town.

Aaron (now Jim) had felt guilty walking out on Y/N like that, but there was no way to send Jack home with the Marshals without a painfully obvious phone call. He hated to think that he had regressed to disappointing women because of his work, even after leaving the BAU behind. He promised himself he would make it up to Y/N, sooner or later. Jack had been withdrawn since moving across the country, but Aaron thought the sleepover was a good sign that his son had been making new friends.

Apparently, Jack (now Jordan) had made friends easily, but his mind was where the social hang ups lingered. Today was a guys day, easy breakfast, kicking the ball around at the local park, a free day full of possibilities. Days they got so rarely when living in Virginia and Aaron traveled with his team. It would have been heaven, if they weren’t being surveyed in shifts by six highly trained government employees.

Monday brought the same regulars each week, you were not so subtly watching the clock for Jimmy’s daily arrival. If old you could see you now; running the family business and chasing after the only age-appropriate fresh meat in this forgotten college town? You chuckled lightly below your breath remembering, ‘life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.’

You had unconsciously made the decision that you would be joining the tall, dark and bearded man for lunch. If he didn’t mind, maybe it could be a regular date. But by quarter past one, Professor Spivey hadn’t shown up for his usual Tuna Melt lunch special and flirting session. You were trying to keep from worrying, but your self consciousness was getting the better of your reasoning.

Suddenly your phone buzzed atop your reserved for paperwork booth, relief flowing over you as you saw a series of texts from Jim. He had a department meeting and lunch had been provided, he humbly apologized. What a dork, you thought. You replied back, saying he owed you lunch and a date night now.

“Well, I better work on this debt or it’s going to snowball.”

“I’m perfectly happy paralyzing you with interest charges.”

“I don’t doubt it. Friday night, you and me.”

“Deal.”

Aaron was nervous as he got dressed for his date with the lovely Y/N on Friday evening. Jack was playing video games, but also watching as his dad put on one of the many suits that had gone neglected in the closest. He knew Aaron had been seeing someone, but he really didn’t want to meet her yet. Why bother? They were going to have to leave this town too, eventually. Jack was slowly being warped by the uncertainty of this life in hiding.

“I want you to take a break every so often. Too much time in one spot isn’t good.” Aaron told Jack somberly.

“Yeah, Dad.” Jack replied. “Have fun.”

“Okay, if you need anything, the Marshals can help.” Aaron explained. “My phone will be off while we are in the theatre, but I will check in during intermission.”

“Dad, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m here alone anyways.”

“Okay, buddy.” Aaron gave in. “See you in the morning.”

You hadn’t dressed up in ages, but the anticipation of a night of culture over your usual days of grease and coffee stains was welcome. You wore a simple maroon midi dress that you had from a wedding two years ago. It was solid backed, which was crucial as the rug burns from the previous weekend had yet to heal. You paired it with a large black shawl and double checked your make up before waiting apprehensively in your infamous foyer for Jim to pull up.

Ever the gentleman, he rang the bell and waited patiently for you to answer. Despite you staring at each other through the etched glass of the front door. You played coy and a devilish smirk rose through the tidy blanket of his beard. The play wasn’t until eight o’clock so you agreed to stop for drinks and hors d'oeuvres near campus. The Cosmo's went down smoothly as you started to prod Jim about his son.

“No, he’s great.” Aaron smiled, sipping his Scotch. “I didn’t think the tween years would be so brooding, but he’s been through a lot.”

“It seems like you both have?” Y/N hinted, gesturing towards her own torso, in regards to the assemblage of scars on his chest.

“It was a car accident, a few years back.” He added stoically.

“That doesn’t sound like such a long story.” She observed between squinting eyes. Aaron exhaled, she wasn’t missing a thing. He was going to have to be careful or she would notice the marshals at the booth behind him too.

“We lost, Jordan’s mom in the accident. It was my fault.” Aaron’s voice hitched, even in an inaccurate retelling the guilt seeped through.

“Oh, Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I just thought -” She shook her head, as if to clear an Etch-o-Sketch of ideas. “Never mind, I’m just glad that he still has you.”

Aaron nodded his thanks, finishing the bottom of the drink. “Are you ready for some theatre, it is just about time for curtain call?”

She nodded, gathering her small bag and re-positioning her shawl. Even in the dim florescent lighting, she was gorgeous. Aaron felt that deep hunger stirring within him once again.

The theatre department of the college did an extremely impressive production for such a small campus, within a small community, in the middle of nowhere. You were flush with pride with your town as Jim held your hand, out into the cool desert night. Jim was a theatre guy, you could tell by the comments he made and the unwavering attention he gave throughout the performance. It was refreshing meeting a smart and cultured guy out here, so far away from the bustling city of Atlanta where you used to live.

His dark eyes watched you shiver into your shawl on the short walk back to his car. He shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over your shoulders before he opened the passenger side door for you. It was all so formal, but you relished in the attention. You were hoping to show him just what he missed out on last time.

It was down right civil, you were proud of yourselves, giving and taking a proper tour of your two story home. Finally, making it up the softly carpeted stairway, you led the handsome professor into your usually lonesome bedroom. The large queen sized bed covered in a deep green duvet, accenting the richly stained headboard. It had been a romantic evening, and here you were, doing everything you could to keep yourself from dropping to your knees and sucking the climax from within him.

His athletic build was framed discreetly in the tailored shirt. You had left his jacket and your shawl behind, downstairs. Your thighs burned around your increasing arousal. Instead of hiding it, you slowly stepped out of your heels, your bare legs carrying you to the closet. As you bent to place them back on the rack, you felt Jim’s gentle touch draw up from your hip. His hand followed the seam of your dress, until he reached the zipper. His quiet mouth placing brisk kisses down your neck and across your shoulders as the dress fell away.

Jim sucked in his breath once he saw the damage from his last dalliance. “I’ve made quite the mess of you. Haven’t I?” His deep voice in a tone your couldn’t place without the nonverbal cues on his hidden face. He almost sounded worried.

You nuzzled his hair, “All is fair-” You slowly spun on your bare feet, clad in only a simple bralette and panty combo. Your arms instinctively clung to his neck so many inches above you. His belt and hidden erection biting into your bare flesh. “I was expecting much worse after your performance, last time. That angle on the stairs was masterful.”

“Is that a compliment or a challenge?” He growled before taking your sassy mouth in a mind altering kiss.

Aaron was finding it difficult from devouring Y/N whole. Her wit, her body and even the decor of her home was rapidly confusing his desires and his emotions. But for now, he knew what he wanted and he was not leaving until he felt her body give in to his ministrations. Last time they were together was rushed, savage. This time he planned to take his time, to cherish the time they had. Because he knew, it was all too fleeting.

He backed her nearly naked body into her bed, the softness of the quilt, no match for her skin. His strong hands grasped her waist, hauling her up the last few inches onto the waiting mattress. He watched her, watch him remove his tie, gently loosening the top few buttons and stopping. Then he unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them back as if he were going to check the oil or some other detailed hobby. He grinned at the sly confusion apparent on her elegant features.

“Now, Y/N, last time I’m afraid, I gave you the wrong impression about me.” Hotch began, tickling the inside of her knee with his finger tips. “I don’t like to have my cake, before I eat it.”

She purred in approval of his intentions, dropping back onto the green fabric, leaving her spreading legs hanging over the edge.

It had been too long. You didn’t even remember the last time you had been properly enjoyed, but his rough lips and strong hands put your past lovers to shame. The lone overhead light left you both exposed, his long form balancing on his knees, your toes clinging to the edge of the bed, framing his face. His left hand snaked up your body, finding the tiny front latch in the center of your chest and releasing you from your final article of clothing.

His sure hand massaged your nearest breast, pinching and pulling your nipple into submission. Your body responding to his every effort, the intense heat pooling at your core, all over his bearded face. Every motion left gentle scratches across your folds, exacerbating your stimulation tolerance. Your hips thrust back against him, demanding speed, his fingers responded with a double entry. The intense penetration rolled through you, your center throbbing as he lapped at your clit.

As he coaxed your further, your abs spasmed against your control. Your pelvis froze, your muscles tightening down, begging the climax forth. You moaned, threading your hands in his hair and back into your own hair. It was all so much, you couldn’t control it, but it wouldn’t arrive. Jim began teasing your rear entrance with his little finger, the gentle pressure overwhelming your quaking core.

“Oh fuck-” You whimpered as you fell apart. He cleared his throat and began thrusting his fore fingers inside of you, your walls cinching in, nearly immobilizing him. He laughed against your clit, the vibrations drawing out the orgasm. “Oh- fuck, yeah. Jiiiimmmmmmmmmm,” you moaned. Your voice deepening with the depth of the finish.

He was proud, smiling down at you, while his large hands rubbed your legs. He placed wet kisses on each quivering thigh. He unceremoniously wiped his face on the inside of his sleeve. You didn’t care, your body was a mass of immobility. You were frozen from shock, the orgasm had drained any desire you had to move, ever again. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” He did his usual deep chest hum-chuckle that melted you every time.

“Yeah. Just, give me a minute, I need my blood flow to regulate.” You whined as your tried to army crawl backwards to your mountain of pillows. You heard the clink of his belt and the light sounds of Jim finally removing his clothing, but you had closed your eyes, exhaustion hitting you like a freight train. The shivers danced over your body as his warmth curled around you. And you drifted off to sleep.

You woke to a warmth over your nipple, a pleasant yet, forceful sensation drawing you from slumber. Jim had let you doze off, but he was done being polite. His eager mouth was demanding your full attention. Your fingers clung to his short locks, the rough texture of his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. You sat up, keeping his face tight to your chest, his teeth nipping at the tip of your nipple.

His strong arms guided your to your knees, his mouth working its way up your cleavage and back to your mouth. He was so hungry, the faint taste of you coating his lips. You followed his lead, releasing his hair as he quickly rotated behind you. You dropped on to your palms, stretching out your back as your body prepared for his continued demonstrations.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N.” He whispered, as if surprised. His hands lingered on the rough scabs of the rug burn he gave you along your shoulder blades. They skated down the planes of your back, hugging each curve. Jim centered himself behind the crest of your hips, you dipped your head down, granting him better access. Your ass on full display, which he appreciated by rubbing each cheek with his calloused palms. His length was teasing at your folds, you pushed back, beckoning his entrance.

With his left hand, he took himself and gently rested at your core. He moaned lightly, grabbing each of your hips and drove into you. He pushed in quickly, but dragged back agonizingly slow. Each motion calculated to drive you insane. His stamina was impossible, his pace accelerating. His cock drilled through you as your body strove to catch up. Your walls shook around him, his length brushing every inch inside. After a particularly rough and quick patch, your arms gave out, your face buried into your blanket and pillows.

Jim’s fingertips dug into your sides, you pushed back with what little strength your had left, the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin masking his staggering breaths. Suddenly, his weight was pressing down onto your back, his throbbing cock releasing inside your battered center. He was hot and slick with sweat, but he was whispering the sweetest of nothings all the while.

“Oh god, Y/N, you feel so good.- I couldn’t hold back any longer, with you taking me so deep.” His whiskers were brushing on your scabs and it hurt, so your wiggled to your side, letting his sleepy face fall onto your chest. You played with his hair as he nuzzled your cleavage. Just like that you both fell back asleep.

Your alarm woke you both before dawn, early morning deliveries were a cruel symptom of your job. You quickly showered and got ready for the day in your unlit bedroom. Careful not to force Jim awake for long. You set the coffee pot for him and wrote a quick note. As you backed your car out of the driveway, you spotted that same dark SUV from last week parked at the very edge of your neighbor’s lawn. There where two men inside, one clearly sleeping and the other looking down at something in his lap. The image sat wrong inside your mind for the rest of the day.

Part 3: Around for Some More

@hgal

@rousethemouse

@dontshootmespence

@hotchnerfuckmeup

@cherry-loves-fanfic

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfictions #season 12 cm #witness protection #where is hotch #light dirty talk #hotch you bad boy #oh hotch #naughty naughty #hotch smut

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ladylilithprime · 7 years ago

Note

33 - Sastiel

33. Kiss in a dream

Part One

KNOWING THAT YOU are dreaming when you are dreaming is a rare occurrence for humans. For Sam Winchester, it happened every night ever since the Apocalypse when Lucifer began stalking his dreams and that shift of perception never quite went away. Sometimes he wondered if that ability to perceive when he was dreaming had contributed along with the hallucinations to his frequent doubting of reality when awake, but it was never enough of a concern to bring up. He promised himself that if it reached the point where he was having visions of the future in his dreams again, he would bite the silver-and-iron bullet and tell Dean, but his brother had enough to worry about after Purgatory without yet more drama from his failure of a burdensome little brother.

“Sam.”

This dream wasn’t anything special, not like the dreams he had of the Cage or other problematic memories that he was unable to shove aside and ignore while sleeping. It almost looked like a scene out of one of the Jurassic Park movies with its lush, dense tropical forest and a few strange birds gliding from tree to tree. It was surprisingly peaceful as far as his dreams went, even if he couldn’t remember when he might have encountered a scene like this enough to have recalled the sounds so clearly.

“Samuel.”

Sam turned at the more insistent pronouncement of his name, shivering at the Enochian intonations threading through that powerful voice, and his eyes landed on the by now familiar glowing figure with wings of azure and violet light. The greeting he meant to give Castiel died on his lips, however, when the figure seemed to compress and waiver under his gaze. He frowned. “Quit that.”

The figure went still, head angled in that familiar tilt of curiosity as seven blue orbs flickered in rapid succession like a furry of blinking. “Sam...?”

“Quit trying to project Jimmy Novak,” he said. When Castiel’s wings flared open in surprise, Sam gestured around them at the prehistoric landscape. “It’s not like you’re going to burn out anyone’s eyes here, Cas.”

“Physical harm is not the only kind I would seek to spare you,” Castiel said uncomfortably, his voice carrying a more noticeable echo of rumbling thunder and jarring cries of a hundred falcons screaming to the skies. Sam raised an eyebrow at the angel pointedly and Castiel relented, unfolding from the compressed state he - she? they? it? - had been attempting to fold into.

“I know you’re probably used to us calling you a guy because of your vessel, but is there a set of pronouns you’d prefer to use like this?” Sam asked curiously as he watched the unfolding. It was like looking at a bird hatching from an egg and an octopus swimming through coral, and yet completely unlike either one. The great head separated into seven separate heads, each with its own blue orb-like eye, which bobbed and twisted and wove around and sometimes through each other despite keeping one eye facing towards Sam at all times. The wings, too, were separating out from two mostly-distinct wing-forms into several dozen separate wings fanning open and folding together into new configurations that his eyes couldn’t even begin to track reliably even as the body lengthened and limbs formed and split and shifted until Castiel seemed to settle, half-twined around two massive trees with two of the seven heads sliding together and lowering so that Castiel could look at Sam with two glowing eyes.

“You may continue thinking of me as male,” the angel said seriously. One long and tapered limb that Sam thought might have been a tail swept around to settle between them close to Sam’s feet; Sam kept his eyes on the two Castiel had focused on him at the moment rather than glance down at the tail. “My time Falling had imprinted a certain level of gender identity onto my Grace that is in alignment with Jimmy Novak’s physical form. Jimmy is at peace in Heaven, ever since Raphael exploded me at the beginning of the Apocalypse.”

“Sorry about that,” Sam said, wincing at the reminder and finding it much easier now to look down and study Castiel’s tail. Up close, the limb was still overwhelmingly white, but also threaded with a multitude of shades of purple and blue, soft skin that graduated into scales which in turn sprouted silky-looking fur and then plumes of soft feathers in a line down what might have been considered the spinal track. “...You’re beautiful, Cas. It’s kinda hard to really see you out there, as bright as you glow all the time, but you are. Beautiful.”

“As are you, Sam,” Castiel answered, even as those massive, multifaceted wings shifted and flashed at the edges of Sam’s vision. “Even with the damage from Lucifer which I could not heal, your soul is... radiant beyond belief.” There was a hesitation, then Castiel added more quietly, “The guilt from seeing the damage I failed to heal is... troublesome at times. I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness for my part in the infliction of that damage, but I would offer you my apologies nonetheless.”

“Accepted and forgiven,” Sam said immediately, looking up at Castiel as the angel jerked backwards and all seven heads swivelled around to align themselves so that Castiel could stare wide-eyed directly at Sam with his full attention. “Castiel, I have never blamed you for the damage done to my soul. Never. Even when the hallucinations got so bad that it was killing me, I knew who to blame for my deteriorating state, and it was never you.” He bit his lower lip, looking up from beneath the fall of his hair. “Is... that why you ran before?”

“Ran... oh,” Castiel’s heads split again, leaving only two eyes to look at Sam once more as the others shifted and ducked and looked elsewhere. “When you reached for me, I was too surprised at first by the realization that you could See me, not just my vessel. And then you healed me of Naomi’s latest efforts to repurpose me--”

“Is that what those cracks were?” Sam couldn’t help but ask, blushing when Castiel’s eyes narrowed and his wings quivered faintly with the echoes of rustling leaves and wind-stirred chimes.

“It was,” the angel confirmed. “Naomi was not aware that you can see my true form or have the ability to utilize your soul to heal the damage as you did, or I doubt she would have permitted me to go to you. As it is, you broke through her control in time for me to prevent the deaths of several angels, for which I am also grateful to you.”

“Oh,” Sam said, blinking a little. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “So when you kissed me right before you flew off, that was... a thank you?”

“In part,” Castiel admitted, wings curving inwards. “It was also because... I have admired your strength and compassion and the beauty of your soul for some time, Sam, and when you healed me and utilized the power of your soul to do so.... I could not help myself. I--”

“Don’t!” Sam interrupted. He swallowed when Castiel flinched back and shook his head. “Don’t apologize, not for that.” Castiel may not have had human features to express emotion, but his body language (strange and fantastical as it was) still managed to do a decent job of conveying the angel’s dismay and skepticism. “Really, if you ever decide you want to do it again, I would be more than okay with that.”

“I see,” Castiel hummed. His tail twitched, curling like the end of a cat’s tail, and Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I believe that may be somewhat problematic given your insistence that I retain my true form in your dream.”

“Well, we can work with that,” Sam said, feeling something that could easily have passed for a stutter in his heartbeat. He thought he might even have been grinning as he lifted both hands and beckoned. “Bring one of your faces down here a moment?”

Castiel’s eyes blinked in asynchronous order, but the angel obliged, lowering the two heads currently aligned together down close to where Sam stood. Gingerly, Sam stepped over the tail and right up close to the angel, gently touching his hands to the smooth and glowing white surface before leaning forward and nuzzling his face into what felt like velvet glass, smooth and cool and soft and tingling along the edges as he pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss beneath and between Castiel’s incredible blue orbs. This close, Sam could even make out the folds of reptilian eye shields coming together and parting again as Castiel blinked. Sam smiled softly as he drew back again, one hand lingering on the approximate zone of Castiel’s gigantic cheek.

“You can get a more human-type kiss when I wake up,” Sam promised.

#kiss prompt drabbles #sastiel #supernatural #angelic true forms #dream mechanics #sam winchester #castiel #the rabbit hole just got deeper #rodiniaorzetalthepenquin

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chorusfm · 7 years ago

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Now, Now Announce New Album; Stream New Song

Now, Now will release their new album, Saved, on May 18th. Today they’ve debuted the new song, “AZ,” via Fader along with a new interview with the band: “We’ve never had a summer-feeling album before, and I wanted it out to come out in the summer,” Brad says, and Saved certainly does sound like prime festival-season music — the kind of album that’s all but guaranteed to propel Now, Now to greater heights of visibility than ever before. Ironic, perhaps, when considering that the pressures of impending success made the album nearly impossible to complete. You can stream the song below, along with the full press release. Pre-orders will be up soon. Oh, and don’t sleep on this band and album. Trust me on that one. Now, Now are thrilled to announce the release date for Saved, their highly anticipated new full-length album, due out May 18th on Trans Records. The Minneapolis duo comprised of KC Dalager and Brad Hale have been hinting at the follow up to their critically acclaimed 2012 LP Threads for the past several months. They’ve tempted their fans with the release of singles “SGL,” which landed at #1 and #7 on “Best Songs of 2017” lists for Idolator and NPR Music respectively, and “Yours,” on which Pitchfork say Now, Now accomplished “a hallmark of a great pop song,” on account of “its ability to inflate the most unassuming feelings into towering sound.” They also paid a visit to NPR Music’s “Tink Desk” where they recorded intimate stripped down versions of each single. Today, they share new single “AZ” along with an in-depth interview on the making of Saved with FADER. In the coming weeks Now, Now will perform at SXSW and set sail on the Paramore PARAHOY! cruise before embarking on a tour across the UK and Europe. All upcoming tour dates are listed below. The title of Now, Now’s first new album in half a decade begs the obvious question… Saved from what? They certainly didn’t seem like a band that needed saving after the release of their 2012 LP Threads. When the world last heard from Now, Now, they had made their late night TV debut with Jimmy Fallon, and landed tours and shows with bands including Fun. and Bob Mould, among others. For better or worse, the usual path for any band that seems like they’re on the cusp of a break through is to strike while the iron is hot. That is, to hurry back to the studio to work with a proven producer known for having a hand in a few big records. Bands and artists that find themselves in this situation are compelled to “go big, or go home,” and in Now, Now’s case they did just that, they went home. It might not have been planned that way, but that’s where they ended up– back in Minneapolis without a clear sense of how to move forward. Despite any success or acclamation earned up to that point, self-doubt set in, and a crippling writers block entrenched itself further. Weeks became months, and months dissolved into years, all while the band’s modest but fervent fanbase were left to speculate on social media as to what was behind the silence. At a particularly low point relates KC, “I felt like I was pursuing the wrong dream, that maybe something else would reveal itself to me.” She felt pressure from both herself and those around her so immense that it froze her. “It felt like everyone was mistaking how much I was obsessing over the album for not caring about the album, but in reality I was putting too much pressure on myself to be able to write. So it felt like everyone was angry with me on top of me feeling like I was ruining my career and disappointing myself.” As a result she reveals, “I had some very difficult conversations with myself and with people close to me who were worried about my happiness.” “I still carry a little bit of guilt for adding to that stress that KC is talking about,” reveals Brad. “After a year of people around us asking ‘why is the album not done, your career is about to just be over,’ I as well started to question my career choice, to question my talent, and I started buying into this idea that KC wasn’t working, even though I was right there watching her work. That’s something I’m embarrassed by and wish I could take back. But through that we got stronger as friends and collaborators, and I learned the hard way that the only reason we make music is for ourselves.” Following a few years of frustration and introspection however, the ice began to crack while tracking the single “SGL.” “The production on that song was completely different at first,” recalls Brad. “It didn’t have that main acoustic guitar part, and it never felt right. But one day I picked up an acoustic, turned off all the guitars we had already recorded and just played, and that came out. It felt so natural. It was also the first time I felt KC be excited about hearing the way her voice sounded. There was suddenly a new confidence in the way she sung her words.” As trying as it was for Now, Now, and as baffling as it may have seemed to those on the outside looking in, this intense period of self-examination ended up bringing us the record we have today. No doubt a better one than might have come to pass had they managed to turn one around more quickly. The pair that had met in marching band and begun writing and recording songs together over a decade ago as teens, hadn’t yet been forced to set aside time to discover themselves. It was something they needed to do before they could advance. Part of that discovery process involved their sound as well. “It took me a lot of time to explore different production techniques to really find what worked for us,” says Brad, who in between Threads and Saved further developed his skill set behind the boards through a solo record under the moniker Sombear and work with other artists. “Figuring out how to make my voice sound has been a pivotal piece of us finding our sound again too,” explains KC. “We also tried to keep everything as timeless as possible. We are very influenced by classic pop and classic songwriting, and were inspired by the power and sustainability those types of songs have.” The guiding principle on Saved they agree, was to trust themselves and to not turn away from anything just because it was too far removed from their past material. “I was definitely scared at the start of the process to go outside of that box,” says Brad, “but I wanted to so bad. Once we really followed our own vision is really when things started coming together quickly.” “I know it’s been a long road,” says KC, “ but I wouldn’t change any part of it. If we had put an album out right after Threads, we wouldn’t have gone through that period of self-discovery. I think we would’ve continued to stifle our emotions and hide the fact that we were struggling as much as we were. We needed to hit rock bottom. In order to rebuild and come back stronger than before. I think we might have made an album that was timid and vague and unchallenging. But I know that’s not what we were meant to do.” Saved is anything but “timid and vague,” boasting the most direct songwriting and transparent lyrics the band have ever written by a mile. “I’d never felt comfortable being myself. I always felt like I needed to hide behind something,” says KC. “‘Back to the heart of it all’ from the song ‘AZ’ is the most important conceptual lyric for this album. This is the most exposed I’ve ever been lyrically. I’ve never been this open.” It’s also no small coincidence that the lyric speaks to the pair’s return to their writing and recording roots as well. While they initially started out in the studio, after completing “SGL” they finished the rest of Saved while working on ideas and tracking the album in their basements together, just as they had on their first recordings back in high school. When everything was done, with a fair bit of relief they sent the record on to Andy Park in Seattle for mixing. The only people who know the full extent of the meaning behind Saved’s title are Brad and KC, but it’s clear to see that salvation for them, at least in part, involved escaping the constraints of their own hangups and insecurities. All so that they might be free to grow into the people and artists we see and hear today on their new album. After such an arduous process, “it’s been really validating to see people on the internet and hear people at shows say they feel like the new songs are exactly the way they hoped we’d go,” says KC. “We’re lucky to have fans that care not only about the music, but about us as people,” adds Brad. “It blows my mind to hear people tell us their different stories about how they found out about us. It’s those moments that really keep me going. We feel really lucky that people connect with our music in such a deep and personal way.” --- Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/news/now-now-announce-new-album-stream-new-song/

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winsister91 · 7 years ago

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Alone Time

Summary: Castiel and reader take some time alone on the drive back to Bobby’s.

Characters: Castiel x Reader (Sam, Dean and Bobby mentioned)

Word Count: 1013

Warning: Language, fluff

A/N: I wanted to write a lil something to celebrate Misha’s birthday. So here’s a silly, birthday themed, fluffy drabble/convo between Cas and Reader

My Masterlist!

~ Cas and forever tags are open! ~

Castiel taglist from @spnfanficpond . Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

You wake up. The car engine growls and the vibrations make your butt feel numb. Cas' eyes are fixed firmly on the road ahead. You stretch your arms out with a long yawn.

“Hey,” you say with a sleepy smile.

“Hello,” he smiles but stays focused ahead of him.

You look at your watch, squinting your eyes to see through the fog of sleep. It's 7.25 am. You'd been on the road for 24 hours now.

“Jeez, Cas don't you want to swap and take a break?” You ask slightly shocked.

“I'm okay, I find driving quite therapeutic,” he states, “I don't need to sleep either.”

“That's great but, why are we even driving?” you laugh, “You could just zap us back to Bobby's surely?”

“Yes. But I enjoy this... it allows us some time alone,” he nods. “You mean time away from Sam and Dean?” you chuckle.

“Their comments and supposed advice can get tiresome,” he responds bluntly, “Like how they said sanitary products would be a suitable birthday present.”

“They're just teasing babe,” you laugh and reassure, “And jealous, trust me. The only girls Dean can get are cheap skanks and Sam...he just keeps sleeping with monsters.”

You pull a grimacing face at that statement, causing Cas to stifle a laugh.

“Man,” you rub your eyes, removing little gunks of sleep from the corners, “I could murder for a coffee...”

“You would take a life for a caffeinated beverage?” Cas asks in shock and concern.

“It's a phrase honey,” you laugh, placing a hand on his thigh, “It just means I really want a coffee, and well...there's nothing around to provide.”

You gesture to the sparse, empty road stretching out over the horizon and breathe a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” Cas nods, “Would you please hold the wheel?”

With that, he vanishes.

“Shit!!!” you squeal, grabbing the steering wheel and trying to keep the car from swerving. You're so happy the road is so empty because you were doing a pretty terrible job from this position.

Unclipping your seatbelt, you jump into the driver's seat, taking deep breaths to slow your crazy heart rate. You ease on the brakes and pull over to a rolling stop.

“Cas!?” you yell to the thin air, throwing your head back into the headrest and gasping. You laugh somewhat too, “Where'd you go!?”

Minutes pass and you start to debate whether you should continue the drive and start worrying. As you motion to turn the key in the ignition, a breeze blows through your hair followed by the sound of fluttering wings. He appears in the passenger seat, two take-out coffee cups in hand.

“What the hell Cas?” you laugh, gesturing at the steering wheel.

“I got you your favorites, mocha with whipped cream and a latte with a hazelnut shot, I was unsure which you would have preferred in this moment,” he holds the two cups out, making you blush and laugh in disbelief simultaneously.

“You're adorable, thank you,” you coo, taking both cups and a little sip from each. Both are perfect, “Try not to fly off and leave me in the wrong seat of a moving car next time please?”

“I'm sorry,” he bows his head in guilt, “I didn't realize how long it would take the barista to formulate the drinks.”

You lean forward, planting a kiss on his lips. He hums pleasantly, kissing back delicately.

“C'mon, let's keep going,” you say cheerily, “I'm afraid you'll have to carry on driving. I got two perfect coffees to enjoy.”

“No problem,” he beams proudly. His hand touches your arms and in a flash, you have switched seats. You giggle, leaning back and sipping away at your cups of joe watching the world drive by.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“When's your birthday Cas?” you tilt your head curiously.

“I...don't have one,” he answers hesitantly, “You-you're not going to buy me tampons are you?”

You laugh, deciding not to dignify that with an answer, “Come on, I know you angels have been around a while but you must know when you were born?” “I wasn't...'born' per say, I was created,” he explains, “This was long before the concepts of calendars came to be known.”

“Huh... valid point,” you nod, “Well, we need to give you a birthday. I need a day where I can spoil you.”

“Why would you want to do that?” he asks confused, “That would degrade my current condition surely?”

You snort, coffee you had just drunk almost spurting out of your nose, “Another phrase, sorry. I mean...a day just for you. I can just celebrate the fact you exist and...thank you for it I guess?”

He narrows his eyes, struggling to understand.

“Just pick a day,” you order in a mock demanding voice, “When would you like a birthday Cas?”

“Well...Jimmy, my vessel, his birthday was July 10th?” he shrugs.

“No Cas that's his birthday! It has to mean something to you! How about...the day you first came to earth or something?”

“August 20th.”

“Is that when you came down?”

“It's the day I met you.”

You widen your eyes, a strange feeling strikes your chest. Like your heart just broke in the most adorable way. You don't know what to say.

“Is...is that okay?” he asks with a face of worry, noticing your silence.

“That's...perfect,” your voice breaks a little and lean over to kiss him on the cheek, “But...why?”

Cas stops the car, pulling back into the side of the road. He takes your coffees, placing them on the dash, and cups your face into a deep kiss. His lips are soft and gentle, moving over yours wondrously and leaving you feeling light headed. He looks at you, those cool blue pools of eyes looking deep into yours.

“I've lived for thousands of millennia, but the day I met you means more to me than any of the others.”

Tags! @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @for-the-love-of-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @mrswhozeewhatsis @idreamofhazel @ilovedean-spn2 @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @oldfashioncdvillain @your-average-distracted-waffle @drarina1737 @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobsessed @mysaintsinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold @melbelle45 @4401lnc @arcturuz @sofreddie @sis-tafics

#supernatural #fanfiction #spn fanfic #castiel x reader #castiel fluff #cas x reader #cas fluff #happy birthday misha

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battingforhours · 5 years ago

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England’s win at Newlands

December 2019 — January 2020

A regret of mine is that I don’t spend time writing about sport in the immediate aftermath of matches – an optimist would say it’s a product of a sociable and busy life, but the reality is probably one of laziness – but this sporting impasse brought about by the concerning coronavirus pandemic does afford the conditions to reflect and relive some of those experiences.

Watching five days of cricket in front of one of the world’s most iconic backdrops, with England sealing victory with less than an hour to spare, was truly magnificent. Hindsight and recent events have only served to sharpen the memories, and accentuate the array of emotions that sport – and particularly sport like that – brings you.

The road to Newlands was a long one – not least because the five travellers decided to begin the trip in Durban, pre-empting an east coast Boxing Day series opener. When the schedule landed Centurion with the First Test, the logistical impracticality of a trip to the Highveld meant that a Garden Route extravaganza was planned in its place.

Despite it halving the amount of cricket we’d see, this was probably the best forced outcome of the trip, as it opened up a whole week to travel along one of the great coastal roads in the world, stopping off at some mesmerising places along the way. Playing cricket on the beach on Christmas Day in the humidity of Durban was fantastic, as were the wildlife tours which included monkeys, birds and the Big Five around Plettenberg Bay. Knysna’s idyllic lagoon and rugged coastline provided a particular highlight. And all the way from east to west, plates were full of meat and not at all expensive.

Of the five travellers, three had family members resident in the Western Cape. Hermanus provided the venue for the first of the encounters, which beautifully combined friends and family with nostalgia for past visits, and provided invaluable insight into (white) South African life – not least when the braai was fired up and covered with assorted meats.

The tour party split into two separate family bases for New Year and Newlands – the university town of Stellenbosch tucked beneath the hills half an hour’s drive outside of Cape Town, and the leafy suburb of Tokai to the south of the city. The motorway between the two offered a humbling glimpse of the other South Africa, with a vast township extending into the plains. It was hard to escape feelings of guilt and awkwardness as the still stark societal divisions played out around us in everyday life.

New Year was marked with a picturesque walk from Constantia Nek to Kirstenbosch and back, with an ascent of Table Mountain on foot the following day – Cape Town’s beauty was obvious. Over the course of these opening days we caught our first sight of Newlands itself, a quaint oval beneath the hills. We’d made it.

Whilst there had been some lively debate about how to get five of us from two separate locations safely to and from Newlands, once again it was a generous relative who solved our problem by offering two car parking spaces at their flat a stone’s throw from the rugby stadium. This provided five days of security, peace of mind and stress-free travel. The travel plan worked like clockwork on the opening morning.

England won the toss and elected to bat, and we took our seats towards the front of one of the many blocks brimming with Brits. Given that tickets for five days came under £60 per person, it was little surprise that the local support was disproportionately outweighed by the visitors. As play began, so did the Barmy Army’s dawn chorus – Jerusalem. A stirring way to start.

Newlands is one of the best places to watch cricket in the world. Modest stands and grass banks packed with spectators, competitive action in the middle, all set against a stunning mountain backdrop. It offered a view that did not get tiring at any stage across the five days of cricket. In the slower moments of play, you could sit back with a drink (readily offered to every spectator by an army of coolbox-wielding salesmen) and bask in the glory of its setting.

The atmosphere and the backdrop were enhanced even further by the personal subplot of having not one but two Kent players in the England side, with the remarkable possibility of seeing them both at the crease together. Zak Crawley was making his first appearance of the series, brought in to open the batting for the first time after Rory Burns had managed to ruin his ankle playing football. Joe Denly was never supposed to have a Test career, being more of a one-day player, but he has by no means disgraced himself through his application and bloody-mindedness at the crease. He’d also outlasted the fashionable but hopelessly misguided pick that was Jason Roy – a triumph for Kent over Surrey, and for the principles of the old school.

Unfortunately, the dream of seeing the two at the crease together was ended rather abruptly by Vernon Philander’s tireless accuracy. Crawley nibbled and nicked behind. Sibley also fell before lunch, with Denly playing a solid hand in his role of number three batsman. After lunch, Root was bounced out by the impressive Anrich Nortje – he possessed as good a bouncer as he did theme music whenever he returned to the attack.

From lunch onwards, a promising position slipped away from England in an all-too-familiar style. Denly had once again faced over 100 balls but somehow conspired to miss a stock ball from Keshav Maharaj and was bowled for 38. It was a deeply sad moment for him, and indeed me… Ben Stokes played with ludicrous fluency on a pitch that had proven somewhat difficult to score on, but conspired to drive aerially to cover when well set on 47. After Jos Buttler nibbled at the pedestrian Dwaine Pretorius, and Curran misjudged a leave which caused a lot of pain to off stump, the tail withered away. However, the ray of hope amidst the despair was provided by Ollie Pope. With the late afternoon sun glinting behind the mountains, he played some wonderful strokes to reach a half-century before the close of play.

England finished the day on 262/9, a poor effort but one that could have been worse but for Pope’s unbeaten 56. No matter how perfect the holiday and the scenery, it’s always possible to feel annoyed at English batting collapses.

Day two began with another British export to South Africa in the form of Zandvlei ParkRun. Again, much debate about logistics had finally yielded a plan, with two runners trusting an advanced guard of three to save sufficient space on the grass bank that would be our viewing position for the next two days. Alas, we followed a local runner who didn’t know the route, which meant a run of 5km became 5.6km… Even so, a liberating experience.

England added little to their overnight score before Jimmy Anderson succumbed to Kagiso Rabada with the total on an underwhelming 269. In reply, three early wickets fell to give England cause for optimism, but Dean Elgar and Rassie van der Dussen countered steadily over the course of the afternoon to provide South Africa with a solid platform of their own.

With the crowd relaxed by the slow accumulation, suddenly came a defining moment in the match. Dean Elgar’s attacking instincts against spin prompted a fatal mistake as he charged Dom Bess, spliced his shot high into the air, and was caught at mid-off. There was much joy, and indeed some personal smugness after earlier voicing of disdain for Elgar’s approach against spin, and the potential for it to cause his demise…

South Africa’s promising position deteriorated drastically after Quinton de Kock provided a gift of his own, playing a hopelessly lazy shot to a slower ball which floated to mid-off. A trademark lapse in concentration.

The obdurate van der Dussen was prised out by Sam Curran, edging to the cordon, before the timeless Jimmy Anderson picked up two more victims in the slips just before stumps. From 157/3, South Africa had slumped to 215/8 by the end of the second day, thanks to a self-triggered collapse of their own.

Hordes of English spectators poured onto a multitude of coaches to return them safely to their hotels as we walked back to our borrowed garage for our drives home. We split once more, ready to do it all again tomorrow. But first, a motorway cruise to Stellenbosch for a relaxing family evening and a delightfully meaty dinner. Fire up the braai, Deon.

Rabada edged the first ball of the third day to Buttler, and Stokes caught his fifth in the slips to give Anderson a well-deserved five-wicket haul. The display of catching by Stokes on a pitch that didn’t always have great carry was truly mesmerising, and it was a delight to applaud Anderson from the field as he continues to operate in the highest class of seam bowlers in defiance of his age.

For the second time, the potential for a Kentish duo at the crease together for England presented itself. For the second time, Crawley was dismissed first. He played positively, striking a glorious driven boundary down the ground, but a repeat of the stroke yielded an outside edge. He departed for 25.

In a war of attrition, England emerged victorious, as Dom Sibley and Denly ground the hosts down. A brief moment of optimism for the hosts came when Denly, who had faced more than a century of deliveries once more, pulled a short ball from Nortjie to fine leg to fall in the thirties once again. But Sibley continued stubbornly, joined by his captain Root who assisted in pushing the score along and cementing England’s hold on the game.

By mid-afternoon, South African skipper Faf du Plessis had resorted to slowing the game down as his bowlers struggled to find a way through. This prompted the odd word of dissent from those remaining on the grass bank, where early excitement at a TV appearance had given way to a desire to cling to the remnants of shade.

Root did his usual trick of reaching fifty, stalling and getting out before reaching a century. He was caught in the slips, while Bess semi-succeeded in his role of nightwatchman by preventing Stokes from having to bat before the close – he was dismissed in the final over of the day, for a second duck of the match.

Two late wickets and a new ball due the following morning gave South Africa the smallest glimmer of hope, but they were 264 runs behind with Sibley unbeaten on 85 – a patiently compiled innings which was clearly unfinished.

That remaining hope was extinguished on the fourth morning thanks to a brutal Stokes onslaught. His full-blooded strokeplay gave the innings energy, acceleration and adrenaline as the scoreboard ticked rapidly and ominously upwards. It also took the focus away from Sibley, who played his first sweep shot of the innings to Maharaj to pick up the boundary that gave him his maiden Test hundred. The ovation for Sibley’s hundred from the whole ground was wonderful to be a part of.

We were back in the stands on this fourth morning, experiencing a mixture of awe and terror as Stokes wielded his blade and rained sixes down upon us. The contrasting styles of these two batsmen were working in perfect tandem. It was a morning where the sun shone on an ascendant England.

Eventually, Stokes holed out in the deep and ended his 258-throwback innings with 72 runs from a mere 47 balls. The rest would try to emulate him, but fail, as Sibley settled for red ink on 133. The acceleration had given England precious extra time to bowl South Africa out on a pitch that was slow but still offering some assistance, particularly to seamers bowling from the Wynberg End. The declaration came, with a notional target of 438, but more importantly a full five sessions for England to bowl at South Africa.

South Africa avoided the loss of early wickets this time, thanks to a successful review and some watchful batting. The partnership passed fifty, before a real ‘I was there’ moment occurred – Joe Denly took a Test wicket.

Substantial rough at one end of the pitch meant that spin operated from the Kelvin Grove and seamers rotated at the Wynberg End. Denly had been introduced after a period of passivity in the hope that this rough would prompt a mistake. The dismissal was a fuller ball, but Elgar pushed forward and the umpire’s finger went up with the appeal for a catch behind the stumps. Despite sending it to review, convinced he had hit the floor instead of the ball, the decision was upheld and the Man of Kent had his maiden Test victim. What a time to be alive.

Zubayr Hamza arrived into Test cricket with an excellent record but his performance at Newlands was unconvincing. He pushed forward at a fine Anderson delivery that left him and was superbly taken low down by Buttler behind the stumps shortly before the close. South Africa finished the day on 126/2 after 56 overs of obdurate batting, with Pieter Malan’s watchful innings and a successful venture as nightwatchman by Maharaj leaving England still requiring eight wickets to win the match on the fifth and final day.

To give the fifth day at Newlands its proper context, prior to the series there had been increasing noises about Tests being shortened to four days for financial reasons. It was reported that the ECB would be supportive of this – they denied as much in public, but their rigorous pursuit of the folly that is The Hundred meant that few trusted their intentions.

The match at Newlands had ebbed and flowed nicely, and the five days had allowed it to breathe. We witnessed a keenly fought opening salvo without time pressure, with England gaining the upper hand on the third day. A fifth day provides the time window required to push for final victory, and offers a tricky but navigable path to safety for the side hoping to draw the game. That fifth day is also a very handy insurance policy if the match is disrupted by bad weather, too.

On top of that, the fifth day is often released on general sale the night before, with tickets available on the gate, providing a level of access to people who are often shut out of the first four days. Although less applicable here, given how cheap the tickets were across the Test, it still remains true that a fifth day crowd is bereft of corporate ticket holders, and a real draw for the purist. Especially when a match goes down to the wire…

This (relatively) short report is incapable of conveying the long, drawn-out tension of that fifth day at Newlands. A quick scan of the subsequent paragraphs reveals all in a couple of minutes, whereas those six hours of cricket gave rise to a vibrant cocktail of emotions ranging from doubt, and dread, to dreamy delirium.

We’d picked a classical viewing position at long off for the final day, away from the Barmy Army as it belted out Jerusalem once again. It substituted the glorious backdrop of Table Mountain for a more practical view straight down the pitch.

Maharaj didn’t last long, blocking a ball bound for middle stump with his pad rather than his bat, but Malan and du Plessis reached drinks without alarm as England searched for a moment of inspiration to break the game open. As it turned out, it was a lapse in judgement that handed them the fourth wicket of the innings as Faf swept Bess hard, only to pick out Denly at square leg perfectly. The Man of Kent took the catch, turned to the crowd and gave it large in celebration. We responded in kind – given our patience in waiting for these breakthroughs, each wicket was celebrated with real vigour.

Malan remained a stubborn presence at the crease, ticking his score upwards slowly towards a maiden hundred of his own, but shortly after lunch he edged the new ball low to second slip where Stokes once again made no mistake. Sam Curran’s breakthrough reinvigorated the spirits of English supporters, but it was to be the sole wicket to fall in the afternoon session. Thanks to the stubbornness of van der Dussen, and the impressive restraint of de Kock, South Africa were 225/5 after 115 overs.

The brief break from the tension that tea granted afforded us one last opportunity to forecast the final outcome. Our nervousness was apparent, and thus the draw heralded favourite, but the predictions were barely authoritative The uncertainty surrounding the end result demonstrated how brilliantly the plot had unfolded across five full days of cricket. It was time for the final act.

English hopes diminished further in the opening overs after tea, as the tactical ploy of using Curran to bowl off-cutters into the rough merely fuelled de Kock’s fluency, and Anderson pulled up after two tame overs with what turned out to be a cracked rib. Denly returned to the attack, hoping that one ball landing in the rough might misbehave enough to break the partnership.

Denly dropped one short. De Kock’s eyes lit up. He pulled, hard. Straight to mid-wicket. Zak Crawley took the catch. Newlands erupted.

Just when it had seemed that de Kock had overcome his naïve instincts and avoided a catastrophic brain fade, he gifted his wicket away. Rather than combining with the bat, the Kent duo had combined with the ball and taken a crucial wicket. I could hardly hide my delight and amusement.

From the other end, a rejuvenated Stuart Broad pounded in as he has done so faithfully for his country for more than a decade. Finally, the pitch was offering the seamers some assistance, with a crack on the line of fourth stump threatening to cause deviation either way. Van der Dussen kept blocking, kept leaving, and kept resisting. Seeking inspiration, Broad moved Anderson into a leg slip position and angled his next delivery into the pads. Astonishingly, van der Dussen followed the ball behind his pads, edged, and was caught by the newly positioned fielder. Incredible. And as you can imagine, we celebrated hard again.

The game was well and truly there for the taking now. After one more searching Broad over, England’s talisman replaced him. His aggression with the bat and skill with his hands in the slips had set up a winning position. Would Stokes complete the three-card trick with ball in hand?

Stokes attacked the crease hard for his first two overs, eliciting the odd bit of assistance from the pitch without finding the outside edge. The fourth stump crack was ideally positioned for him in particular thanks to his wider release point on the crease.

The game entered its final hour, and still you couldn’t predict which way it would go. Thirteen overs remained, three wickets in hand.

Stokes kept charging in. Pretorius had looked vulnerable, and he succumbed to the pressure. The nagging line induced an outside edge which Root took superbly down low at first slip. Nortje walked to the crease, another potential thorn in England’s side thanks to his efforts as nightwatchman in the previous game.

Stokes attacked again. Nortje edged to a ludicrously close catcher at third slip. Zak Crawley hurled his hand towards the ball, palming it in the air. We gasped. It floated downwards, between second and fourth slip both thinking of diving after it, but landed safely in Crawley’s other hand. After the gasp, a cacophonous roar and limbs everywhere.

Two in two for Stokes, who could win the game with his hat-trick ball. Could England really do it?

The hat-trick ball was a full toss bunted back down the ground by Rabada for no run. Four more overs passed by. Surely not.

With nine to go, Stokes hammered his length again. The ball spat at Philander, took his glove and floated to gully. There was a brief moment of confusion as England anticipated a review, but Philander merely removed his gloves and went to shake hands. England had won by 189 runs.

The release of tension was extraordinary, giving way to giddy jubilation and a deep feeling of satisfaction. We had travelled to the southern tip of Africa to witness England’s first victory at Newlands since 1957, in the final hour of the final session of the final day of the game. “I swear you’ll never see anything like this ever again, so watch it, drink it in…”

England were worshipped as heroes as they lapped the ground and thanked the crowd. Philander was waved off on his own lap as he thanked his home crowd at the end of his final Test at Newlands. Stokes was announced as man of the match, and rightly so. It was a truly mesmerising performance, managing to have a transformative impact with all three disciplines at various stages throughout the match. As Mark Nicholas would say, he is some cricketer.

To think that some people want to get rid of the fifth day…

Reluctant to leave, we returned to our old friend the grass bank for a few final photos, and one last look at the wondrous view across the ground towards the mountains. Many others were doing the same, savouring the moment.

Upon our return home, the victors were treated to a celebratory braai. A chance to reflect on a wonderful time in South Africa, with camaraderie, exploration, family reunions and one incredible sporting occasion that we were lucky enough to be a part of. Cheers.

#cricket #newlands #south africa #england #test cricket #five days

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