#through deep breaths it’s ok jim doesn’t know the half of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starryknight09 · 4 years ago

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Unforeseen dangers ch. 8

Summary: As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

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“And the end result is H2O2.” Mr. Eldridge said as he finished writing the chemical reaction on the chalkboard. He was the only teacher that still insisted on using a tool from ancient times instead of switching to the less messy whiteboard. “Any questions?”

Betty raised her hand and Peter and Ned shared a knowing look. She always had a question.

“Yes Betty?” Mr. Eldridge asked. Even the teacher couldn’t keep the slight exasperation out of his voice.

“So, when we’re balancing the equation—”

“Peter Parker report to the office please. Peter Parker to the office.” The overhead speaker interrupted.

“Dude, what’d you do?” Ned whispered.

Peter frowned. “Nothing. I don’t think?”

“Peter.” Mr. Eldridge prompted. “It appears you’re needed in the office.”

“Um, yes sir.” He mumbled and hurriedly grabbed his things, trying to ignore the buzz of the class around him as they whispered about him.

“Way to go Penis.” Flash hissed as he walked by.

Peter glared back. Apparently Happy’s threat at the beginning of the year was starting to wear off.

“All right everyone settle down. Settle down.” Mr. Eldridge said. “Now Betty, what was your question?”

The door closed behind Peter before he could hear whatever she’d been about to ask. That was one small blessing at least. He loved chemistry, but the class bored him to death since he’d known how to balance equations since early middle school. He tried not to complain too much, though, because at least it was an easy A.

Instead of walking straight to the office, he stopped by his locker and grabbed his backpack, stashing all his homework and books into it, before shouldering it and slamming his locker door shut. Chemistry was his last class of the day this semester and he had no plans to return for any more brain numbing torture after he was done with whatever this thing was.

He still had absolutely no idea why he was being called down to the office. Without meaning to, his mind drifted to the last time this had happened, when he’d been tricked by Ross’s man into leaving with him and getting kidnapped. That definitely wasn’t happening again. He didn’t care if the president himself showed up and said he wanted to take him out of school. He was never leaving with someone he didn’t absolutely trust again.

It only took him a couple minutes to finish walking the short distance to the office. Once he was outside the door, he pushed it open without hesitation, but the sight that greeted him made him stop up short in the doorway.

Tony stood there, dressed in a white AC/DC t-shirt and black pants along with a suit jacket and red tinted sunglasses. His dad’s appearance at his school would be surprising enough, since only Morita knew of their relationship, but he wasn’t alone. Steve stood next him in khakis and a polo, looking grave, along with a nervous appearing Bruce in his usual jeans and purple button up ensemble.

“Oh good, Peter you’re here.” The secretary said as soon as she noticed him. “I was just about to call for you again.” She gave him a smile before addressing Tony, “He’s been all signed out, so he’s free to go.”

Tony gave her a nod.

“Uh…what-what’s going on? Is this something to do with the uh internship, um, Mr. Stark?” Peter stammered, catching himself from sounding too familiar at the last minute. He surreptitiously glanced at the receptionist, hoping she hadn’t noticed, but it didn’t seem like it. She was still staring at him with a weird, almost knowing, smile.

As his gaze swept back toward Tony, Peter noticed Principal Morita was there as well, standing in the doorway to his office with his arms crossed. Peter couldn’t read his face, but he didn’t seem too shocked to have three Avengers in his school. But then again, he had met Tony before.

“You don’t need to do that, kid. The cat’s out of the bag.” Tony said and stepped forward to squeeze his shoulder.

“What? What cat?” Peter looked past his dad to Bruce and Steve for any clue as to what his dad was talking about and how he was supposed to play this, but they both remained silent.

“You haven’t been on the internet recently? Or Tweeter? Or whatever it is your generation does these days?”

“It’s Twitter.” Peter automatically correctly. “And no. Mr. Eldridge has a really strict no phones policy in his classroom.”

Tony nodded and took a breath as if to bolster himself for what he was about to say.

“Why? What happened?” Peter asked, suddenly envisioning worst case scenarios. “Did someone get hurt? Oh god, did someone—”

“No no. Nothing like that.” Tony interrupted as he shook his head.

“Ok… Then what-why are you here?” Peter frowned.

“Listen.” Tony took his sunglasses off with a sigh and looked him in the eyes. “There’s no easy way to say this, but someone, somehow, and believe me I’m going to find out who, leaked your identity to the press. The news broke half an hour ago.”

He froze and his eyes widened. The first thought that crossed his mind was that his dad was talking about his superhero identity, but after a second he realized that wasn’t it. His dad was talking about his civilian identity. His identity as Tony Stark’s son, which meant…the whole world knew who Peter Parker was now.

“Oh.” He didn’t even know what else to say. His thoughts raced but all he could do was blink up at his dad.

Luckily, Tony seemed to understand his mental state. “Sorry buddy. I know this is less than ideal.”

“I just thought we’d have more time.” He said softly.

“Me too.” Tony nodded and let out a heavy sigh. “But we don’t. So, what we have to do now is get you out of here and then we’ll go from there. All right?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok. First, put these on.” Tony handed him his red tinted sunglasses.

He took them with a frown. “Why?”

“Because.” His dad said. “Trust me, they’ll help.”

Peter slid them on, confused.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded and heard Steve answer, “Ready.”

He looked over and watched as Bruce gave his dad a nod too.

Oh. Peter realized Tony hadn’t been talking only to him, but to Steve and Bruce as well.

“Ok, let’s go.” Tony said and headed for the door. Peter followed, Steve and Bruce right behind him.

“Thanks Jim.” Tony called out over his shoulder as he pulled on the door handle.

“No problem Mr. Stark. Good luck.” Principal Morita replied.

“I’m sure we’ll be in touch.” Tony said and stepped out. As soon as they were in the hallway, he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter could feel the pent up tension in his body. “I can’t believe this place doesn’t have a back exit.” His dad mumbled under his breath as he led them down the hallway toward the front doors.

Peter frowned.

When they got about fifteen feet from the doors, his dad stopped and peeled off his suit jacket while Steve took a few steps in front of them and Bruce stayed behind. Before Peter could ask what was going on, Tony draped his jacket over Peter’s head and shoulders, so Peter could still see out, but barely.

“Keep your head down until we get to the car.” Tony ordered.

“What? Wait. Why? What’s going on?” Peter finally asked, pulling the jacket off his head. None of this was making any sense to him.

Tony blinked and seemed to check himself with a small shake of his head. “I’m sorry kid. I figured you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Everyone knows who you are now.” Tony said slowly as if Peter might not have understood it the first time.

“Yeah I know. You said that.” Peter mumbled, still not quite getting it.

“Think about it. They know who you are, so how hard do you think it was for them to figure out where you go to school?” Tony explained slowly.

Peter’s eyes widened as he finally realized what his dad was trying to tell him.

“It looks like the red carpet out there.” Tony added with a wince.

“Oh.” That was a lot to process.

“Yeah.” Tony said with an aggrieved sigh. “You’re a Stark now, kid. Sorry.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He glanced back toward the doors and now he could see faint flashes of light through the frosted windows, probably cameras. He suddenly felt kind of sick.

Tony gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’m going to get you through this, ok? Just stay close to me. It’ll all be ok.”

Peter swallowed, his mouth dry. Right now it sure didn’t seem like it’d be ok.

“You ready?” His dad asked.

He nodded and tried to take a deep calming breath. He could do this. Spiderman did way harder things than this every day. It was just a stupid little crowd.

“Ok.” Tony said and made eye contact with Steve and Bruce. Peter realized then the reason they were here. For his protection. Besides Wanda and Vision, who’d gone off to Europe sometime after New Year’s, the Hulk and Captain America were two of the strongest Avengers.

Tony readjusted the suit jacket so it was over his head again and shielding his face as well as it could. Once his dad was satisfied with its position, he slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him tight to his side like he was trying to protect him.

“It’s going to be loud, but just remember, keep your head down until we get to the car. Ok?”

“Ok.” He whispered in response.

“Let’s go.” Tony said and they started walking, quickly closing the remaining distance to the doors. Peter could hear the cacophony of noise behind them now that he was listening for it. His dad was right. It was going to be loud.

They stopped at the doors and Steve touched his ear. “Sam? Clint? Rhodes? We all clear?”

Wow. Apparently more Avengers than just Bruce and Steve had come to get him.

“We’re clear.” Steve told Tony after a few seconds.

“Ok. Time to go. Straight to the car.” Tony said and Peter’s heart fluttered in trepidation.

“We’re coming out.” Steve said, pressing at the comm in his ear again.

Then he opened the door and they stepped out into absolute chaos.

Even with the sunglasses on and his face partially covered by his dad’s suit jacket, he was still blinded by all the camera flashes. And everyone was screaming. Questions. Accusations. It was like an all out assault upon his senses. His head spun with it, along with the realization that this was all for him. They were here to take his picture, not his dad’s or the Avengers. His breath caught in his throat and it took all his concentration to keep putting one foot in front of the other as his dad led him straight towards the car.

“Step aside. Let us through.” Steve said as they passed through the mob.

The distance to the car was only about thirty feet, but it felt like it took an eternity to cross it. Luckily, the crowd parted for them, but even so, Peter still got jostled.

“No comment.” Tony kept saying over and over again in his cold media voice as everyone yelled questions and screamed for his attention. His dad clutched him tighter, obviously trying to shield him from it all.

Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see the hordes of news hounds lined up, hoping to get a piece of him. A good picture of him right now would probably be worth a pretty penny. No doubt that was the reason Tony had tried to keep him as covered up and as hidden as possible. The thought made his gut churn. This was worse than anything he’d imagined when he’d thought about what it’d be like to be outed as Tony’s son. Was getting in and out of school going to be like this everyday?

Finally, they made it to the car. He heard Steve open the door and Tony ushered him in, Steve and Bruce following right behind. The door slammed shut with a definitive thud, and the commotion quieted slightly, but Peter could still hear it. Tony was quick to yank the jacket off his head, but he kept his arm wrapped around him.

“You good?” His dad asked, trying to peer down at him, but Peter was still pressed too tightly against his chest for him to really see.

He nodded. But it was a lie. He wasn’t good. He was so far from good it wasn’t even funny.

The car started moving, but at a glacial pace, with the horn honking every other second.

“Get out of the way asshole!” Happy yelled from the front and the horn blared again, a long three second squeal. Peter winced and glanced up. Happy was driving and Natasha sat in the passenger seat, twisted around to look back at them. When she caught him looking at her, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Hey squirt, you ok?” She asked.

He just blinked at her.

“Peter?” His dad asked him with a nudge, trying to get him to sit up straighter so he could see his face.

“This is crazy.” He blurted out without thinking.

“Yeah it is.” His dad agreed and this time when he nudged him, Peter pulled away and sat up. “But you’re all right now. They can’t see through these windows.”

They were in his dad’s bulletproof Bentley with the deeply tinted windows. Outside there were people and more people as far as the eye could see. Peter recognized all the media crews with their official logos and huge cameras, but there were a lot of what looked like average people out there as well, holding up their phones in the hope of snapping a quick photo of him. The idea of some random stranger trying to take his picture seemed insane. He hadn’t done anything special, that they knew about anyway. He was just Peter. What was wrong with these people? How did his dad live like this?

Peter turned entreating eyes on him and asked, barely above a whisper, “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know yet buddy, but I promise we’ll figure it out, ok?” Tony gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He chewed on his lip and nodded. He wished he could pretend that his dad would be able to fix this like he fixed everything, and that everything would all go back to normal soon, but he knew that was a fantasy.

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same again, is it?” He asked. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it spoken out loud.

“No.” His dad said, his regret evident. “It’s not.”

Peter sighed and let his head fall back against the seat. As he closed his eyes, he tried to ignore the fact that his entire life had just irrevocably changed in the span of a single afternoon.

#unforeseen dangers #ch 8

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 4 years ago

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His Salvation ~ A John Winchester One-Shot

Summary: Based on SPN, S1, E21 “Salvation”. John gets threatened by Meg the demon if he doesn’t give the Colt to her. Meg threatens him, and harms Leigh while still on the phone. John tricks Meg by handing over a fake Colt. John, thinking Leigh (who’s the only woman to help him with hunting, with the boys, with coping with the loss of Mary, and also the woman he loves) is dead, goes to give Meg the Colt. On the way there, he gets a call from the hospital saying his wife has been involved in an accident. It takes him a minute to realize that Leigh’s actually alive since their secret code was to call each other husband and wife if they ever got in trouble. The search for the demon that killed Mary is put on hold. There’s never the car crash that happens at the end of S1, so John doesn’t need to make a deal with the yellow-eyed demon to save Dean.

Warning(s): Language. Angst. Threats - spoken, unspoken, well known, good, and bad. Violence. Fluff. Leigh’s a badass. Not beta’d, so...there’s that. I only have Grammarly used on this.

Author’s Note(s): Hey, y’all! I know it’s been a really long, hot minute since I last posted an update. Writer’s block is an absolute demon. Depression too. And with everything else going on this year, it’s just been crazy! But, here’s a John Winchester One-Shot! If I get enough feedback for it, I’ll do a part 2! But y’all gotta let me know! Hope everyone’s staying safe, staying negative from COVID, and that y’all have a Happy Holiday season! As always, I’m here, so feel free to reach out!

Word Count: 3,828 words

Relationship(s): John Winchester x Leigh Sullivan (OFC) [romantic].

Characters: John Winchester. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester. Demon!Meg. Mary Winchester (Mentioned).

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @sebs-padawan @cladd716

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Story Time:

John’s P.O.V. ~ Salvation, Iowa - 2006

“Meg.” Sam says into his phone, shock lacing his voice.

My head jerks up from where I’d had it resting in my hands after arguing with the boys, well Dean really, ‘bout them not being able to get me to answer the phone. I know I suck at phone calls. To be honest, I really can’t stand phones...they’re just too confusing for my 51-year-old ass, even if you’d never know that’s how old I am since I look like I’m in my late 30s, maybe late 40s.

I’d much rather use a landline than a cell phone. It’s a miracle the ones I do have even stay charged. I have Leigh to thank for that. She’s been my saving grace, my salvation for well over two and a half decades. Hell, maybe even longer than that. She helped me raise the boys after my wife, Mary, died when Sammy was six months old, even though she was just barely outta her teenage years herself.

She was 15 when we first met 25 years ago and she became Dean’s babysitter and later Sammy’s. After Mary died, Leigh was right there, willing to help me with the boys as I set out on the mission to find Mary’s killer. I’d never wanted to get her dragged into the lifestyle of a Hunter, but she insisted, saying someone needed to help take care of the boys.

And...after rescuing her when her parents were killed by a werewolf a few years later, she stuck ‘round even more. By that point, she was 22, and made it clear she was an adult and could do whatever she wanted which just so happened to stick with the boys and I. So, I did what I had to, and we learned the ropes of being a Hunter together.

After Sam went to college a few years ago, it was just Dean, Leigh, and I. We continued on hunting. Sometimes, Dean would go on his own hunts, but Leigh would always stick right by my side, hunting with me. Somewhere around the time that Dean was in high school, Leigh and I ended up together.

I was hesitant at first, considering I’d known her since she was a teenager, but she pointed out that she was only 10 years younger than me and had always had a crush on me. So, after a rough hunt and a night of patching each other up, we’d fallen into bed together. From that point on, we were together.

The boys approved even if Dean had been a little hesitant at first; he didn’t want anyone to take his mom’s place. No one would ever take Mary’s place, but there was no denying the role Leigh had in all of our lives. She’d been the one to calm me down after Sam left for college, something I’d always wanted for my boys, but after being a Hunter for so long, I was only worried ‘bout their safety.

That was why I didn’t want Sam to go to California, to Stanford. I felt if he were there, I wouldn’t be able to protect him as easily from the things that go bump in the night. But, Leigh calmed me down, telling me that Sam was an adult now, and could make his own choices as well as being able to protect himself since we’d taught the boys a lot of what we knew.

The only reason Leigh’s not here, with us, with me, is because she went to see our friend and fellow Hunter, Caleb up in Lincoln, Nebraska, and help him with a case. The boys and I are working a lead that, hopefully, brings us closer to finding Yellow Eyes, the man, well, the demon responsible for Mary’s death.

Both Dean and I stare at Sam as we listen to his conversation with Meg. A woman who’d befriended Sam when he and Dean had a spat outside of a small town in Indiana a while back. She made her true colors show when she’d tried to have them killed. Only...she ended up falling out of a seven-story window.

There’s no way a human could’ve survived a fall like which means...she’s not human...she must be...fuck. She’s a demon. I get pulled outta my thoughts when I hear Sam’s voice and feel his eyes on me.

“My dad. I don’t know where my dad is.” He says.

I raise a brow, running a hand over my face and letting out a sigh. I stand and walk over to the motel window, looking out of it for a moment before turning back to Sam in time to see him holding his phone out to me. I sigh again and take it.

“This is John.” I say, my voice deep and empty of any emotions.

“Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood…”

My heart tightens in my chest at her words. Jim was a close friend, fellow Hunter, and a priest. He was also murdered yesterday. I found out from Caleb when the boys and I were heading up here to Salvation, Iowa. Jim’s death...hit hard. It wasn’t ideal to get close to anyone, not in our line of work, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

“...Still there John-boy?” Meg’s voice cuts through the phone again.

“I’m here.” I ground out.

“Well, that was yesterday. Today, I’m in Lincoln.”

My heart tightens again.

“Visiting another old friend of yours.”

My lungs stop working.

“She wants to say hi.”

My knees nearly buckle as my stomach drops to my chest. No. No. God-fuckin’-dammit! No! I take in a breath, trying not to give away the turmoil currently going on inside me. ‘Specially not when I hear her voice through the phone.

“John, whatever you do don’t give…”

I hear Meg shush Leigh and my heart breaks.

“Leigh?” I let out in a deep breath, trying my best to keep my emotions from being relayed to Meg.

The boys both jerk their heads up and look at me, worry and confusion on their faces. I blink and close my eyes for a second.

“You listen to me.” I tell Meg. “She’s got nothing to do with anything. You let her go.”

“We know you have the Colt, John.” Meg replies, her voice even.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Oh. Ok. Well, listen to this.”

My brows furrow and a moment later, my whole world comes crashing down. The sound of a knife or something equally sharp slashing through something followed by the sound of Leigh gasping and clearing drowning in her own blood fills the phone. I slump against the wall, my knees barely holding me up at this point.

“Leigh. Leigh!” I somehow manage to yell, nearly crushing the phone against the side of my face.

“Save the boys, husband.” I hear the love of my life croak out as she bleeds to death.

My heart breaks at the title, something I’d dreamt ‘bout hearing her call me for the last few years, but hadn’t happened, and was really just our code word we’d use when we were in a tough situation and wanted to let each other know everything was gonna be ok. Except. This time. It wouldn’t be ok.

Not as I hear the sounds from Leigh slow.

“You hear that?” Meg taunts. “That’s the sound of your friend dying. Now, let’s try this again. We know you have the Colt, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we’re concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties.”

I growl. “I’m gonna kill you. You know that?”

She laughs. “Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure. So, this is the thing. We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They’ll all die. Unless you give us that gun.”

I take in a deep breath, not saying a word as I listen to her words and try my damndest to hear any sign from Leigh. Something to tell me she’s still alive. But I know...I know it’s not possible. Leigh’s dead. The love of my life. The first woman I’ve let myself love since Mary. The woman who helped raise my sons.

The badass woman who I was gonna ask to marry me once I’d ganked the evil son of a bitch that killed Mary. The only woman who had somehow broken down all the walls I’d built up. She was dead and I’d failed her. Failed to protect her. Failed to...fuck. I’d failed her. And I couldn’t fail her anymore by letting Meg and her demon friends kill more of mine and Leigh’s friends or any other innocent person.

“I’m waiting, Johnny.” Meg says. “Better answer before the buzzer.”

“Okay.” I sigh.

“Sorry? I didn’t quite get that.”

“I said okay. I’ll bring you the Colt.”

***

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Lincoln, Nebraska

After Meg slit my throat, and I managed to croak out a few words to John, everything got darker with each passing second. By the time Meg hung up the phone with John, I’m barely holding on. I can feel my heart barely beating and breathing is almost impossible, but I refuse to give up. I refuse to die like this.

So, I make it seem like I had. This ain’t the first time I’ve faked my death. But it is the first time I’ve faked it while being alone. Meg being in the room doesn’t count. I mean being alone by not having the Winchesters nearby. Just barely holding on, I hold my breath and keep my eyes open, staring right at Meg.

I want her to think I’m dead and for her to stare right into my eyes as she does. I watch, not moving, not blinking, barely conscious, as she tosses the phone on my lap, and sneers at me.

“What the hell are you looking at?” She hisses before walking outta Caleb’s office.

I wait for a solid 15 seconds, even though it feels like an eternity, to make sure she’s truly gone before I force my thumb to press five buttons on my phone, hoping it’s right. A second later, I hear the call connect as it starts ringing, the noise amplified by the speaker. Another second passes before I hear the call truly connect.

“911. What’s your emergency?” The operator asks.

“Ambulance.” I croak out. “Now. Please.”

“Ma’am? I’m sorry. I need you to repeat that. Can you speak up?”

“Ambulance. Now.” I try to say louder.

“Ma’am? What’s your location?”

I try to get the address to Caleb’s out, only hoping the operator can make sense of it. I know my GPS is turned on, so hopefully, she can trace it.

“Ambulance.” I manage to get out once more.

It’s a miracle I’ve managed to hang on this long, let alone get this much out. But, of course, every miracle ends at some point. As soon as I get the word, everything goes black.

***

I come to, briefly, to bright lights, loud noises, and a bunch of people standing over me.

“My husband. John Winchester. Call him.” I say, hoping it’s loud ‘nough.

One of the people standing over me says something, but I don’t hear him. Everything goes dark again as I pass out again.

***

John’s P.O.V. ~ Lincoln, Nebraska

Getting outta my truck, I answer my phone without looking at the caller ID. I don’t care who’s calling me. Not anymore. Everything’s numb. Yes, I have my sons, but for the second time in my life, I’ve lost the woman I love. The boys warned me that this was a suicide mission. There’s only one reason Meg would want me to come alone with the Colt, but I told them I didn’t care.

Sam looked at me with understanding in his eyes since he knew what I was going through from where he’d lost his girlfriend, Jess, a few months ago. Dean tried to argue with me, but I just gave him a look and he shut up. We arranged for me to bring Mega a fake version of the Colt in order to buy the boys some time so they could finish out the hunt and finally kill Yellow Eyes, once and for all.

I flip the phone open and press it to my ear as I stare up at the warehouse where I’m supposed to be meeting Meg.

“What?” I say into the phone.

“Is this John Winchester?” The man on the other end says, making me tense up.

“Yes. Who is this and how did you get this number?”

“Your wife. Your contact was in her phone.”

I furrow my brow. “My wife?”

“Yes, sir. Your wife. I’m sorry to tell you that she’s been attacked, but she’s at Bryan Medical Center West Campus.”

“Wait. What? My wife? Attacked? She’s alive?”

“Yes, sir. She is. She’s in surgery now.”

“I’ll be there soon!”

With that, I hang up my phone, feeling my heart beat faster in my chest.

“She’s alive.” I whisper to myself. “My fuckin’ badass girl. She’s alive.”

I glance around, spot a water tower on the roof of the warehouse, and after checking my pockets for the rosary beads, I head up there. I bless the water, turning it into holy water. If Meg’s a demon, she’s gonna fuckin’ pay even more for what she put my girl through. After blessing the water, I head inside the warehouse.

I make my way to one of the large, empty rooms, knowing that’s where Meg’ll be. Guess I’m early. She’s not here yet. Fuck. I just want to get this over with. Looking around, I realize I can rig something up to put the water lines on a makeshift timer. So, I do. Then, I scrawl out a note, telling Meg how sorry I am I missed her, even though it’s not true, and that I hope she rots in hell.

That part’s true.

Once I have the note written and the timer set up, I lay the Colt on the floor with the note, and then book it back to my truck. Even if this isn’t how I wanted things to go with Meg, I don’t give a shit. Even though I haven’t slept in two days, and am running off of straight caffeine, I don’t give a shit. Leigh’s alive, and I’m not gonna waste another minute not by her side.

I tear outta the warehouse parking lot, rushing to the hospital. As I drive, I call Dean.

“Dad?” He asks. “How’d it go with Meg?”

“She’s alive.” I blurt out, talking ‘bout Leigh.

“Meg? You left her alive?!”

“No! I didn’t see her. Something came up. I left her a note. She might come for y’all…”

“Left her a note? Why? What came up?”

“I got a call from the hospital. Leigh...Dean...Leigh’s alive.”

“She is?!?! What? How?”

“Yes. She is. So, I’m heading to the hospital. I’ve got to be by her side. But. I wanted to let you know. In case Meg shows up.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for her, dad. Don’t worry. You stay with Leigh. We’ll come as soon as we’re done here.”

“Thanks, son.”

Our conversation ends a few moments later. I pull into a parking spot at the hospital a few minutes later. As soon as I’m parked, I have the keys outta ignition and in my pocket as I rush outta the truck and into the hospital. I take a deep breath once I’m inside, trying to calm my nerves. The last thing I need is to appear even more outta it than I already am.

I run my fingers through my already messed up hair and then down my face, taking another deep breath in. When I’m done, I walk over to the nurse’s station.

“Excuse me, miss?” I say in what I hope is a soft, non-shaky tone.

The young nurse looks up from her computer. I give her a small smile.

“Yes, sir?” She asks, blushing a little.

“Hi. I got a call. My wife...she was attacked...they said she was here?”

“Wife? What’s her name?” Her fingers resting on her keyboard.

“Leigh Sullivan.”

She nods and quickly types my girl’s name into the computer. Whatever she sees on the screen has her eyes widening more than the Grand Canyon. My heart falls deeper into the pit of my stomach.

“What? What is it?” I ask, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Nothing, sir. I just...your wife, sir…” She starts.

I swallow deeply, expecting the worst. “Yes?”

She looks up at me. “Sir, your wife is one of the most badass women I’ve ever heard of. To survive having her throat slit and still making a 911 call? I respect her.”

I let out a deep breath. “So she’s still alive?”

“Oh! Yes. I’m sorry. She is. She’s outta surgery now too.”

“Thank fuck. Can you tell me what room? I got a badass woman to see and tell her she’s loved.”

The nurse smiles. “Of course, sir. She’s in room 214.”

“Thank you.”

I give her another smile and then head to room 214. Standing in front of the door, I urge myself to try and calm down. The last thing Leigh needs is to see me panicking. Slowly, I open the door and step inside. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, I take everything in. The Hunter in me looks for anything unusual.

Seeing nothing outta the ordinary, the normal part of me focuses on the figure lying in the hospital bed. My heart breaks as my feet shuffle forward. Leigh’s lying there, hooked up to a bunch of different machines with a thick band of gauze ‘round her neck. Aside from that, she looks like she’s peaceful, almost as if she’s just sleeping.

I slump down in the chair next to her side, and immediately take her small hand in both of my much larger ones. Bringing it to my lips, I kiss her knuckles, not paying attention to the tears rolling down my cheeks. It’s been years since I’ve cried. I haven’t allowed myself that luxury. But now...I can’t stop it.

I don’t want to. I thought I’d lost Leigh, but my girl...she’s a fuckin’ fighter. I hold her hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Leigh? Baby, I’m here.” I tell her, my voice shaky and full of emotions. “Wake up for me? I wanna see those beautiful eyes, that stunning smile, and hear you tell me that I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. So, wake up? For me? Please?”

When she doesn’t respond, I place another kiss to her knuckles. I didn’t really expect her to wake up. Not right now at least. She’s been through hell. She needs her rest. Hell, I need my own rest too, and I end up falling asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair, Leigh’s hand in mine, and my head by her hip.

***

Over the next week, I stay by Leigh’s side. The boys eventually show up a couple of days later, looking just as exhausted as I do. Dean tells me that he killed Meg, says it was payback for what she’d done to Leigh. Sam stays by Leigh’s side, holding her other hand. Four days after the attack, Dean looks at me.

“Dad?” He starts.

I look up at him. “Hmmm?”

“You should go shower, get something to eat, get some actual sleep.”

“I’m not leaving her, Dean.”

“I know, Dad. But, you need to take care of yourself. You haven’t really been sleeping, and I know for a fact that you haven’t taken a shower in nearly a week. You’re starting to stink. We both know that Leigh wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

I sigh. “I’ll take a shower in the bathroom there.” I point to the bathroom attached to Leigh’s hospital room. “Can you go get my bag from my truck? The one with the clothes, not the guns.”

Dean nods. “I’ll do that. And I’ll run out and get some food too, while you shower. Sammy can stay with Leigh.”

I run a hand over my face, nodding. “Fine. But I won’t take a long shower. I don’t...I just gotta be here when she wakes up.”

Both of my boys nod in understanding. Dean leaves the room while I stand and look at Sam.

“I won’t leave her side, Dad. Go shower. You stink worse than that hunt we were on when all the showers in the town stopped working ‘cause of the monster.” He says.

Unable to stop the small, soft chuckle that escapes my lips at his words, I nod. I lay a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort before I lean down and place a soft kiss on Leigh’s forehead.

“I’ll be right back, baby. Your old man’s gotta go get cleaned up so you don’t ditch his ass when you wake up.” I whisper, half jokingly.

She doesn’t respond, but I don’t let it crush my hopes. Not any more than they’ve already been crushed. I make my way to the bathroom, and turn the shower on. While I’m in there, Dean cracks the door.

“Dad? I’m putting your bag by the door here.” He says.

“Thanks, son.” I call out as I wash my hair and beard.

He just let out a grunt in response and the door shuts once again. Dean’s always been more of the silent type unless he’s being a smart ass, but when it comes to him hurting, he’s always been more silent instead of letting his emotions completely show. After I’m as cleaned up as I can be in a hospital shower, I step out, dry off, and tug on a pair of semi-clean jeans, an old tee, and one of my plaid button-up shirts that Leigh loves the most.

I open the bathroom door and glance toward the bed. I see beautiful hazel eyes staring back at me.

“Leigh.” I rush over to her side.

I lean down and gently capture her lips with mine. After a few seconds, I pull away and look into her eyes.

“I love you, Leigh.” I whisper.

She smiles slightly with droopy eyes. Even when she’s like this, she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.

“You don’t have to say anything but I wanted you to know.” I smile widely. “I’ll say it forever if you’ll let me. Get some more sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I kiss her forehead as her eyes close. Yep. I’m definitely proposing soon.

#His Salvation #John Winchester One-Shot #John Winchester Fanfic #John Winchester #Supernatural One-Shot #Supernatural Fanfic #SPN One-Shot #SPN Fanfic #Supernatural S1 E21 #SPN S1 E21 #Supernatural 1x21 #SPN 1x21 #Jeffrey Dean Morgan One-Shot #Jeffrey Dean Morgan Fanfic #JDM One-Shot #JDM Fanfic #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM

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hollyxqx · 5 years ago

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playing with fire // yoongi // 03

↪ PARING: Min Yoongi x Reader ↪ GENRE: angst » smut » idol!au » enemies to lovers ↪ SUMMARY: Yoongi hates you. Or at least he thinks he does. (AKA the one where you work for BigHit and Yoongi is bad at feelings). ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.3k ↪ WARNINGS: heavy angst | sex | oral sex (both m&f) | secret relationships | jealousy | mild possessive behaviour

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

Yoongi kept his head low as he walked into the Big Hit building, tugging the brim of his cap down to keep a low profile. There were fans waiting outside and he didn’t want to start a frenzy. He had a big day ahead, it was the first official day back at practice and he was ready to work.

He had a looming pit of nerves in his stomach. Nothing too unbearable but definitely enough to keep him on high alert. He was going to have to see you today and he didn’t think you’d exactly be thrilled since he spent the last two weeks ghosting you. Suffice to say it was a cowardly move and he knew it which is why he was apprehensive. You were always so professional at work so he knew you wouldn’t do anything crazy but he worried anyway.

He greeted the staff as he walked, bowing out of reflex, barely even registering any of the faces as he went, mind elsewhere. The first thing on the agenda was a meeting to go over the schedule for the upcoming weeks. It was standard procedure meaning the entire team would be there. Which meant he was going to have to face you sooner than he thought.

With a heavy sigh he entered the conference room.

Immediately his eyes fell on Jin and Namjoon sitting on one side of the round wooden table. He made a beeline for them. “Morning.” He muttered pulling out a chair for himself and sliding into it, slinging his rucksack on the ground between his knees.

“Yoongi,” Jin smiled at him. “You are more scowl-y than usual today.” The older boy teased.

“Hyung just stayed too late at the studio last night.” Namjoon offered. Yoongi was instantly thankful that he didn’t have to come up with an excuse for himself.

“Something like that.”

Slowly the remaining empty seats around the briefing table filled, the rest of the band and staff taking their respective places. Yoongi could hear your voice somewhere on the other side of the room and he stared at the table with even more intensity. He hadn’t even looked at you yet like the coward he was. He felt guilty but he reminded himself that this was for the best.

“Here you go oppa.” You were suddenly on his right handing Jin a bottle of water and the printout of the upcoming schedule. He wrinkled his nose at the familiarity with which you spoke to Jim. Oppa?

Since when were you and Jin on such personal terms?

“Joonie.” You smiled at the white haired boy, giving him his printout. That meant Yoongi was next in line. His heart rate quickened.

When you reached him however, you said nothing. You didn’t smile or even make eye contact. He deserved that, he guessed.

You returned to the opposite side of the room and he finally snuck a glance at you. As always you looked great and as it did the first time you met a wave of annoyance flashed through him. Why did he have to be so attracted to you? It always got in the way of his rational side.

Sejin began talking but Yoongi was only half paying attention. He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t written on the paper in front of him anyway. His eyes were still on you.

As if you could feel his burning gaze suddenly you looked up, eyes locking with his. The blank look you gave him stung a bit, he couldn’t lie.

He let out a deep breath. This is just the way things were going to be now, he supposed.

***

The first dance practice back is always the most brutal, especially for someone like Yoongi who hated exercise. Even after the first four hours he was struggling, but he was grateful for the lunch break they were allowed to take.

Back in the early days he became accustomed to skipping this time of the day, but since debut it was a little luxury BangTan allowed these days.

As usual you were on lunch duty. Yoongi realized this meant you’d be forced to speak.

“Namjoon if you make us order from that shitty pork place again, you’ll be banned from eating all together.” Jin’s voice broke Yoongi’s thoughts. He looked over at him playfully punching the leader on the arm.

“It’s not shitty! Get some class Hyung!”

Yoongi was taken back to the first meal you had, the place Namjoon had insisted everyone eat. You had hated it too. So had he.

“There’s a great chicken place I like, what about that?” You suggested to the room, looking at everyone except Yoongi. It was subtle and he was likely the only person who caught it but caught it he did. It made him weirdly enough want you to look at it him.

“Y/N and I went there last night.” Jin spoke.

Well if you and Jin were hanging out one on one that oppa comment from earlier suddenly made a lot more sense. He didn’t like it but it made sense. Surely it was just platonic? Entertaining the idea of anything else made Yoongi feel hot and strange. He really didn’t like that.

“Is that OK with you?”

Yoongi blinked in surprise. You were actually addressing him. He nodded mumbling a ‘yeah sure’ in response. You gave him what could only be described as tight smile. There was no warmth behind it whatsoever.

You gathered everyone’s orders and excused yourself to go and pick them up. Everyone else made themselves comfortable on the sofa in the far corner of the room. Yoongi joined them, plugging in his phone to charge. Jin was sitting next to the plug socket and before he could stop himself he was pressing him for information.

“You and Y/N seem close.”

He was using the same accusation Jin had used against him just a few weeks earlier. It pissed him off that Jin could be so hypocritical. He was allowed to hang out with you, be close to you but Yoongi wasn’t?

Really he was pissed off because there was a teeny tiny potential you might be dating or even worse, doing what Yoongi was doing with you but he was never going to admit that to anyone.

“Hmm?” Jin replied innocently, a mouthful of water. He swallowed and frowned at Yoongi. “Is that a question… or?”

“Yeah it’s a question. I seem to remember you accusing me of something similar.”

“Yeah. We are.” Jin sensed Yoongi’s defensive tone instantly and replied accordingly. Yoongi hadn’t meant to have come across like he was attacking the older male but it was too late now.

“That’s new.”

“Not really.” Jin shrugged.

“You dating now or some shit?” Yoongi muttered, tossing his phone a little too hard on to the sofa.

“What’s it to you?” Jin was looking at him curiously. Yoongi had to be careful, he was already revealing too much. It was hard when you lived and worked together with someone. He spent so much time with Jin, with all the boys that he was worried they would see straight through him.

“Makes you a bit of a hypocrite, no?”

“You said nothing was going on with you and Y/N.” Jin was standing now. “I knew you were lying.”

“I wasn’t lying!” Yoongi’s raised voice had attracted the attention of the other members. Calm down, he thought to himself but it wasn’t helping.

“Then why are you so worked up right now?”

“I’m not.” He said through gritted teeth, using every once of self control he could summon. He could feel Namjoon’s eyes on him and he tried to keep his face neutral. Namjoon could read him like a book. “I’m not.” He repeated, slightly calmer.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Jin said coolly. “If you must know, I’m not dating her. Pretty sure she’s seeing someone, so don’t waste your time Yoongi. Not that you’d have a shot. ”

Yoongi was pissed off.

Maybe it was because his comment hit a little too close to home. Yoongi knew you were better than him which was one of the many reasons why he was so reluctant to let you close to him.

“I don’t fucking care about Y/N. I didn’t before, I don’t now and I never will!”

The room fell deathly quiet at Yoongi’s sudden outburst. He looked around at his members faces but no one was looking at him. He followed their collective gaze to the door where you were standing, several bags of food looped through your arms.

You’d heard every hateful word he’d just said.

It didn’t matter how untrue they were. It didn’t matter that Yoongi struggled to care about people and get close to them. It didn’t matter that you had got dangerously close to breaking his wall.

You’d heard every hateful word he just said and the look on your face told him you believed them.

***

There was an undeniable tension over the next few days which only increased when Sejin pulled him aside to have a word about appropriate ways to speak to members of staff. Yoongi knew his manager was being kind about the situation, the way he spoke to him was not to scold him but just to prevent any out bursts in the future but it still didn’t exactly feel good. He was in trouble and he knew it.

You of course were ever the professional, not showing any sign that you were upset and Yoongi wondered exactly what you had said to Sejin to make him do this.

It was late that night and Yoongi was alone in one of the practice rooms that had a piano in it. Inspiration had struck him and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot and get the riff recorded as soon as possible. He was so lost in the music that he didn’t hear the practice room door open and you enter. It was only when he saw your reflection in the mirrored wall he stopped.

“Fuck!” He shouted. You’d scared him. And evidently by the way you leapt at his exclamation he’d scared you also. “Why are you creeping around?!”

“Sorry, I had to stock the fridge up for tomorrow.” You said quietly, pointing to the mini fridge in the corner. Yoongi didn’t realise this was a duty of yours as well. He never really thought too much about it but it made sense given how hard you worked.

“Carry on.” He sighed and turned back to the piano. He suddenly felt almost shy to play while you were in the room. He was always a little nervous to play in front of anyone but after everything with you it was definitely heightened.

He peeked at you in the mirror. Your back was to him as you bent down and stocked the fridge. He mentally cursed himself for checking you out again. He had a problem.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts he began to play. It was not the kind of melody he normally played which is why he wanted to get it down so quickly. He hummed along as his phone recorded the tune. He liked it so far but it needed more work. He made a note to head to the studio after her finished here.

“That sounds great.”

Your voice took him by surprise. Your eyes locked in the mirror. You’d finished what you were doing and were watching him, expression unreadable.

“Thanks.” He said quietly.

“I’m finished here… see you later.” You turned to leave, giving him a small nod goodbye. You were almost to the door before he stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You froze in your tracks.

“Yes?” You gave him what was clearly a forced smile. It never reached your eyes. “You need something?”

“To apologise?” He offered. You sighed audibly, carding a hand through your hair. You looked worn out and he fell like maybe he was making it worse.

“There’s no need.” Another forced smile.

He turned round on the piano chair so be was sitting with his back to the keys. “I’m sorry anyway.”

You nodded.

“You know why does it always feel like you have something to apologise to me for? It’s fine Yoongi. You don’t have to apologise to me ever again ok?” You were rambling slightly and Yoongi felt like this was a long time coming.

He deserved your anger, that much was true.

“All I ever did from day one was treat you nicely and all you did was push me away. Consider me pushed. Don’t ever worry about my feelings again. Goodnight.”

You didn’t storm out the room, you left quietly. Yoongi’s heart sank as you walked away. He only had himself to blame.

***

“Joonie?”

Namjoon raised his head from his phone screen to look at Yoongi, the blue light illuminating his quizzical eyes at the sudden change in Yoongi’s voice. The two men where the remaining awake members of BangTan, as which was relatively normal for them. Tonight they were laying around on the couches in the dorm, a hard day of dance practice leaving them worn.

“What’s up Hyung?” Namjoon asked.

Yoongi hesitated for a second. Namjoon was younger than Yoongi but he was smart and emotionally intelligent so he often sought the younger man’s advice. It was just risky to reveal the secret he’d been keeping.

“I need your advice. If that’s OK?”

“Anytime.”

Yoongi decided to rip the band aid off. Quick and painless. “I was sleeping with Y/N on and off for the entire tour.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped. “… and then once again after we got back.”

“Fuck.” Namjoon let out a huge puff of air. “You are joking!”

“Keep your voice down,” Yoongi hissed, checking the empty dark hallway to ensure no one had roused. “No. Definitely not joking.”

“Okay… “ Namjoon said slowly. “I think I would have been less surprised if you told me you were sleeping with Jungkook.”

“Joon.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon laughed a little. “It’s just… you hate her.”

Yoongi shook his head. “That’s the problem Joonie. I don’t. I think I just want to.” He admitted. Namjoon frowned.

“Ah, emotionally healthy as usual hyung.” He teased. “You like her? There’s nothing wrong with that, she’s nice.”

“I think I like her a lot though.” He said with a sigh, rubbing at his tired eyes with the heels of his palm. “How do people deal with this shit.”

“Well first off, they don’t act like a schoolboy pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes just to get any kind of attention.” Namjoon began. “Secondly you’ve never been good at this stuff.”

“I know. She heard me say I hate her, Joon.”

“Yeah…that was bad. I gotta admit.�� Namjoon agreed. “I can’t believe you had us all convinced you hated her while you were fucking! Jin was right.”

“Namjoon focus.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do now.” Yoongi confessed.

“It depends,” Namjoon paused, thinking. “Do you want to start dating her? Or just messing around again?”

“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully.

Yoongi really didn’t. He wasn’t capable of a relationship, was he? Did he want one? He found himself oddly missing your company and it scared him. The last time he felt this way about a girl it ended badly, hence the reason to throw himself into work.

“Sounds like you need to figure out what you want.” Namjoon offered as he stood. “Maybe it’s not too late for you after all hyung.”

***

Yoongi was drunk.

Bad drunk.

The kind of drunk where the room is spinning and he’s vaguely aware that he’s talking but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. The kind of drunk where he’s slurring and telling stories that no one asked to hear. The kind of drunk where he can see the worry in his friends eyes but he’s too far gone to care. It was his night off he was allowed, right?

He could hear Namjoon speaking, see his lips moving but be didn’t know what he was saying. The only sentence he picked up on was. “Sejin will kill us.”

Why would Sejin kill us?

Yoongi could feel himself being bustled into the back of a cab. Had time passed? He didn’t know. He didn’t know if it had but he was barely even aware of his own two legs stumbling beneath him.

“Yoongi, just stay still while I buckle you.”

It was you. He would know your voice anywhere. But where did you come from? It was just the boys tonight. No staff, managers or girls allowed.

“Y/N?” He slurred, squinting at you in the darkness. “Where’d you – hiccup- come from?”

“Joonie called me.” You said gently. He felt himself swaying in his seat and he leaned against you, slumping a little in his seat. “Hey, hey sit up. Don’t pass out on me.”

He could feel your arm slip underneath his elbow and softly move him up. He leaned his head back on the headrest, rolling his head to face you. He squinted one eye so his hazy mind could see you. “So pretty.” He mumbled. He reached out to touch your face, accidentally jabbing you in the eye.

“Ouch!” You yelled, taking his hand in yours returning it to your lap. Even in his drunken stupor it felt nice to hold your hand. He squeezed your hand tightly when you tried to pull it away. You sighed, letting him keep it there. “Just be careful.”

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he trailed off. “I need to go home.”

“I’m taking you don’t worry.”

“So nice. You are so lovely.” He sighed closing his eyes. “I miss you.”

“Jesus you’re so wasted.” You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Not long to go now.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed. “Shots.”

“I can’t believe the boys let you get in this state.” You said quietly.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Ill always look after BangTan. Promise.”

“See? Nice. Too nice. Too nice for me.”

“Yoongi that’s silly. Now shhh, you’re drunk.”

“No, it’s the truth.” He insisted, slightly louder, a wave of drunken confidence surging through him. “You are perfect. I’m sorry for lying. I don’t hate you. I like you. Lots….. “

That was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

***

The first thing Yoongi heard when he awoke the next morning was the sound of a shower running. He opened his eyes blinking a few times as the room came in to focus. Before he could even register where he was the sensation of a bag of bricks hitting his head came screaming through the morning. His head was pounding. How much did he drink last night exactly?

He looked around the room. It definitely wasn’t his room at the dorm but this place was familiar. The black bed sheets and wooden floor felt like a memory. Squinting in the glare from the morning sunshine he racked his hungover brain trying to realize why he recognized this room. Then it hit him.

This was your room.

Why was he here?

He took a peek under the covers. He was fully dressed at least, he even still had his jeans. That was a good sign at least, it means he didn’t do something ridiculous like sleep with you. Or even worse, get naked alone. God, why did he drink so much?

Slowly he sat up, clutching his head in pain. He fished in his jeans pocket for his phone, hoping to piece together some clues from the previous night. The last thing Yoongi could recall was buying a shot for himself and Jimin then doing them both by himself. He scolded himself another time. What a terrible idea.

He pulled out his phone and his stomach dropped at the many notifications that popped up. The first was a text from Namjoon.

Namjoon: 1.12am Hyung text me when you wake up Y/N came to get you bc no one else cud Drunk idiot

Namjoon 1.13am Don’t come home before 9, remember we are getting a dorm inspection And Not supposed to drink 🙄.

Yoongi swore out loud. After the first few drinks he completely forgot about the dorm inspection. The guys had definitely done him a huge favour. If he was caught by their company in this much of a state there would have been serious repercussions. Especially after being explicitly told not to drink the night before. He was still dieting because their comeback was close.

He was so engrossed between the messages and the embarrassment he didn’t even notice you enter the room. “You’re up.”

He looked up. You were standing in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed. You tossed the towel you were holding over a chair. Yoongi gulped, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh, yeah…um, morning.” He croaked. “Thanks for –“

“Don’t worry about it. Im happy to help.” You crossed the room and he tensed, embarrassment burning through up. He hoped he didn’t do anything too mortifying. “This is for you.” You handed him a glass of water from the nightstand, which he accepted gratefully.

“Um,” he coughed the awkward pause hanging in the air. He was very aware of your eyes trained on him. “Sorry if I… did… anything dumb last night.”

You gave him a knowing smile and his stomach dropped.

“That’s alright.” You gave a small laugh. Yoongi couldn’t help the groan that escaped and it only made you smile wider.

“I’m an idiot. Sorry.”

“We all talk shit when we are drunk, don’t worry. Just don’t poke me in the eye next time.” You teased. He looked at you dumbfounded.

“I did what?!”

“I think you were trying to be affectionate. You just missed.”

You were looking at him differently. You hadn’t looked at him like this since you had been hooking up. Your eyes were bright and sparkling. Excited.

“Oh god,” Another groan slipped out his mouth. “I’m so sorry. I don’t drink a lot so I can barely handle my booze.”

“Don’t worry, drunk Yoongi is nice too.”

He paused at your words, a little confused. You were definitely insinuating something but he wasn’t sure exactly what. Then the flashback arrived like an unwanted guest.

Your face. The cab. The words. The embarrassing confession. The stumble to your apartment. His face positively burned at the memory, heat creeping up from his neck.

“You were a gentlemen though,” You continued. Yoongi was sure he didn’t want to know what was going to come out your mouth next. “You told me you were going to keep your jeans on so you wouldn’t take advantage of me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Yoongi cried covering his face with his hands. “You’re a Saint, Y/N.”

He knew you weren’t mad by the way you were laughing at him. It didn’t help his embarrassment in any way but at least you weren’t angry. It was almost nice to hear you laugh.

“You need to get up, Joonie is going to be here soon.” You said once your laughter died down. “I’ll leave you to it, bathroom is there. Come to the kitchen when you’re done.”

You left the room and Yoongi along with it, him hoping he wouldn’t die of embarrassment in your bed.

***

Namjoon successfully retrieved Yoongi from your apartment. The drive back was not as awkward as Yoongi thought it was going to be, some of the tension relieved as Namjoon knew about his relationship (or lack thereof) with you. Yoongi was able to speak freely.

“I think I basically confessed my undying love for her.” Yoongi muttered as they drove. “Fucking mortifying.”

Namjoon just laughed. “I think it’s nice that you were vulnerable for once.”

“There’s vulnerable and there’s pathetic.”

“If you say so.” Namjoon shrugged.

“Girls like that don’t want pathetic guys Joonie.”

“Girls like what?” Namjoon scoffed. “You’ve spent too much time getting naked with her. I don’t think you know her at all.”

“I know her.” Yoongi replied, defensively. “I just fucked it up. She told me I did and then I went and… that last night.”

“Hyung I know you love being a tortured, broody artist and I love you for it but honestly… it’s not as bad as you think.”

Yoongi just hummed in acknowledgement.

***

The embarrassing flashbacks of Yoongi’s drunken admissions didn’t disappear over the next 24 hours and he groaned into his pillow every time his mind went to that dark place. He’d spent the day recovering from his hangover in bed, nothing on but the music floating through his Bluetooth speaker. This had been the worst one he had had in a while, seeing as he was someone who rarely drinks. It was likely he wouldn’t be doing it anytime soon either.

Unfortunately his stomach grumbled – loudly - interrupting his self pity session. Wearily he stood, pulling a hoodie over his naked torso and staggered towards the kitchen for some food, miserable because he had to stick to his diet. The drinking session had ensured that.

He could hear laughter somewhere in the dorm as he opened the fridge. He tried to ignore the ache it sent through his head, deciding to be pissed off at all the fruits and vegetables in the fridge instead. God, he wanted a fucking burger.

He reminded himself of how much he was going to be on camera soon and unenthusiastically made himself some chicken and vegetables.

“Look who has risen from the dead.”

Yoongi peered over his shoulder as he waited for his food to cook, Jin appeared as if out of thin air in the doorway. His arms were crossed as he leaned on the doorframe, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Yoongi managed a grunt in response.

“How do you feel?” Jin asked.

“Like a truck ran over my head.”

Jin laughed. “Serves you right.”

“Jin-hyung do me a favour and next time I go to take a shot, slap it out of my hand.” Yoongi replied.

“And miss out on drunk Yoongi?! Never.” Jin taunted, crossing the room to peer at what the younger man was cooking. Yoongi remained silent, trying not to think about his drunken antics. His silence didn’t stop his friend from continuing, however. “Was y/n pissed she had to come get your messy self?”

“If she was, she didn’t show it.”

“I can’t believe she did it after you said you hate her.” Jin scoffed. He opened the cupboard next to Yoongi’s head and grabbed a bottle of some spice Yoongi didn’t recognize. “Here, put this in with your chicken.”

Yoongi muttered a thanks, trusting Jin since he was a far superior cook and anything to make his meal less bland was welcome.

“We are lucky to have her yknow,” Jin said after a moment. “You would’ve been in deep shit without her.”

“I know.” He was exasperated almost instantly, his sore head making him grumpier than usual.

“All I’m saying is,” Jin began. “She might not be around us forever… so maybe you should appreciate having her while we do, no?”

Yoongi frowned. What exactly did that mean?

“Sounds like you know something I don’t.”

Jin shrugged.

“I know a lot of things you don’t, Yoongi.” Jin made his way back out the kitchen. “Flip that chicken over, its starting to burn.” He said as he left the room. Yoongi looked down, seeing Jin was right and did as he was advised.

***

The comeback was approaching rapidly.

Yoongi and the rest of BangTan were as exhausted as they were excited for it. On one hand he was desperate to perform in front of crowds again but on the other his body was suffering and promotions hadn’t yet begun. The doctor had prescribed painkillers for his shoulder but even that wasn’t completely helping.

He was irritable. He was tired. He was in pain. But he was going to endure, even if it killed him.

The bright lights of the practice room were giving him a headache and he dimmed them. He was alone, as usual, practicing extra. He often felt like he was the weakest dancer in the group. The ability had never come naturally to him so he made sure to work harder than everyone.Over the years the choreo had grown more and more complex, so he really had to work at it.

Today was what he classified as a difficult day.

He had them sometimes. Those days where things just didn’t click. Nothing worked, he tripped, made errors and top of all of that his voice was starting to grow hoarse. Just a perfect storm of fuck everything. The thought made him shout in frustration and kick the nearest object, his baseball cap, as hard as possible.

His phone chimed as he collapsed in the empty hall on to a chair. Curiously he fished it out of his pocket. It was rare he received texts after midnight.

y/n 00:19am Are you still @BigHit by any chance?

Yoongi’s brows furrowed at the message. It had been weeks since you’d texted him. Of course you had spoken in person but nothing beyond the constraints of normal work talk. Now this bizarre message was confusing.

Yoongi 00:20am Practice room C, almost done for tonight. Y?

He never received a reply. Instead around ten minutes later you appeared. A turn of events even he couldn’t have predicated. You entered the room almost hesitantly, peeking your head round the corner of the door, no doubt checking he was definitely in there. “Yoongi,” you said quietly. “You got a minute?”

He shifted in his seat, hopefully looking less like the worn out mess he felt he was. “Sure…”

You walked over to where he sat, falling down on the chair next to him. He waited silently while you fished through the plastic bag you were carrying. “Here,” You said, handing him a take out carton of ramyeon. “I brought you this, I know how guys give up eating time to practice. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Uh…” was all Yoongi mustered, taking the carton and chopsticks from you almost robotically. He wanted to refuse, he was on a diet but his stomach burned with hunger and he caved. “Thanks.”

“Eat,” You insisted. “don’t make me eat alone.”

He noticed you had joined him in this surprise meal time, grabbing some ramyeon for yourself. It only added to his confusion. Still, he happily tucked into the food.

“You’ve been practicing so late recently.” You stated, swallowing your food. Yoongi was surprised you’d been paying attention. Usually everyone was gone by the time he was here.

“I have to. I’m the worst at dancing. I can’t show anyone up.” He replied quietly.

“Best pianist though.”

“Best what?!” He choked on his noodles.

“Piano player.” You laughed out loud. “Sorry, I thought that word existed in Korean too.”

He felt a smile tug at his lips at the compliment. There was a few moments of comfortable silence, the first he’d experienced with you in a long time. All that could be heard was the sound of two people enjoying a meal. After a few moments Yoongi spoke.

“You didn’t come here just to bring me food.”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. He noticed you chew your food a little slower before swallowing hard, as if you were thinking carefully about your reply.

“You’re right.”

“How come you’re here this late y/n?” He asked.

“I was in a meeting with the directors and Sejin. It ran a little late.” You replied almost cryptically. Yoongi sensed you were working up to something. He placed his empty carton on the floor and turned in his chair, resting an arm on the back of it so he was facing you.

“And how come you came to see me? We don’t…” Yoongi didn’t know the right word. Hang out? Fuck? Argue? “… anymore.”

“I found out some news today. Jin told me you were still here and I just needed to talk to someone.”

“News?” Yoongi paused. “Good or…?”

“A little of both.” You gave him a sad smile and he started to fear what was about to come out of your mouth next.

“Tell me.” He said softly, having an urge to hold your hand in a comforting way. He didn’t. But the desire remained.

“As of the beginning of next month,” You took a deep breath. “I will no longer be working with BangTan.”

Yoongi froze slightly at your words. Did this mean you were getting fired? Was it because of him? Surely not, nobody in the company knew. His heart began to race a little in panic at the news. Next month was only two weeks away.

“What?” He replied, confused, almost as a whisper. You nodded solemnly, confirming your words. “Why?”

“Believe it or not, I’m getting promoted.”

“Promoted?”

“You know that rookie group Big Hit are intending to debut in 4 months? I will be their Sejin.” You said almost sadly.

“Ah, well. Congratulations.”

“Part of me doesn’t want to leave you guys.” You were looking directly at him instead of your food now. He couldn’t help but notice your eyes looking glassy. It was silent for a few beats, Yoongi felt speechless. He really hoped you wouldn’t cry. “Oh well, I learned a lot here and had fun. I’m just going to miss it, that’s all.”

He swallowed dryly. “You’ll be great.”

“It wasn’t my choice, you know. I’d stay if I could.”

Yoongi wanted to tell you that he wished you could as well but after everything he’d done he was sure the words wouldn’t mean anything to you. “Maybe it’s time to move on…?” He offered.

You looked away. “Maybe.”

“You can’t be Sejin’s assistant forever.”

He was trying to keep the tone light, friendly but by the look on your face he sensed he was making things worse. Why did he always fuck up with you? He was trying to do the right thing here.

“You’re right.” You sighed. “I’m sorry for disturbing you tonight. I just felt a bit down and didn’t thing anyone else but you boys would understand.”

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for the food.” He tried to give you what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

You made to leave, gathering your things together one by one. As you slipped on your jacket you spoke. “I’m gonna miss you guys so much. Even you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“Will you miss me?” You asked, in a small voice.

“Sure, Jin and everyone will.”

“That’s not what I asked, and you know it.” You tone was bolder now. “Will Min Yoongi miss me too?”

Yoongi swallowed yet another emotion. He wanted to say yes, yes of course. How could he not? You were like a light in his life that he didn’t want to put out. He wanted to say how much he liked you, how sorry he was for the way he acted, the way his personality was. The words were trapped in his throat.

But he couldn’t.

He’d been rude to you, messed with your emotions, ghosted you and then embarrassed you in front of everyone. It made him ashamed of himself. He wanted to give you what you wanted – reassurance – but he didn’t think he deserved to.

Too much time passed. He’d been silent for too long. You let out an exasperated sigh. “Why did I fucking bother? Goodnight Yoongi.”

You left the room, closing the door rather harshly behind on the way out and he remained there like a fool, kicking himself for once again making everything worse. He groaned out loud letting his head fall back against the wall. This truly was a difficult day.

***

As expected, the next day the hot topic of discussion among the boys was your departure. Sejin had told them in the van, on the way to the VLive awards show they were invited too. The only two people who were not shocked were Yoongi…and Jin.

“You knew already, didn’t you hyung?” Yoongi said under his breath as they sat beside each other.

Jin scratched the side of his face, sheepishly.

“Yeah.”

“How?” Yoongi muttered.

“I overheard Sejin talking a few days ago.”

“She told me last night, but –“

Jin cut him off. “I know.”

“I think I upset her.”

“Seriously?! What’s wrong with you?” Jin sighed. “You can’t just be nice to that poor girl?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and stopped talking, worried he’d say too much. He’d just have to talk to Namjoon later and hope there was some damage control that could be done.

***

Of course Namjoon scolded Yoongi for the way he had treated you. Yoongi expected it, however stupid it made him feel.

“There is nothing wrong with a good self help book, hyung.” Namjoon had suggested after Yoongi explained the situation, asking for advice. “Work out whatever issues you have, yknow?”

“That stuff is bullshit, Joon.”

Namjoon laughed, rolling his eyes. “OK then continue using me as your therapist then.”

“Ah, fuck off.” Yoongi smirked, throwing a pillow at Namjoon who easily dodged it. “You’re the only one who knows about the situation.”

Once again, Yoongi was seeking advice in another late night studio session with Namjoon. They’d hit a creative wall and mutually agreed to take a break and eat.

“I think,” Namjoon began, a mouthful of noodles muffling his words. “The only option you have left is to talk to her.”

“Everytime I do that I make it worse, Joonie.”

“No, I mean talk. Like, real talk. Be truly honest. Ignore all your natural instincts and don’t be yourself.”

Yoongi laughed at Namjoon’s teasing. “Great, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Namjoon replied earnestly. “Whatever it is that makes you wanna push her away, fight it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“True,” Namjoon hummed. “Worth a shot though, no?”

“I guess.”

“Here, practice on me. Pretend I’m y/n. What would you say?”

“What?!” Yoongi scoffed. “Absolutely fucking no way.”

“Come on,” Namjoon smiled. “I’m y/n. Hi Yoongi, why do you hate me so much?” He put on a stupid falsetto voice and Yoongi groaned in shame.

“Not helping.”

“Okay, okay.” Namjoon resigned in defeat, with a laugh. “I’ll stop. Think about what I said though.”

“I will.”

***

It took Yoongi nearly the entire time you had left working with them to summon the courage to have a real conversation with you. He’d almost done it several times but chickened out, embarrassed that he’d be completely rejected after hurting you one too many times. There had been a few almost perfect moments that he could have seized, but didn’t. He cursed himself every time.

Namjoon had been on his case almost daily, asking for updates. It frustrated Yoongi having to admit that he was a coward, again and again. It was time to just fucking do it. Consequences be damned.

After all, he was running out of time. You had mere days left with them. He decided to wait for the next available opportunity rather than text you and arrange something. A text message could be easily ignored, but you couldn’t ignore him if he was standing in front of you.

It didn’t take long for the moment to arise.

Although, admittedly Yoongi was deliberately going out of his way to try and catch you alone, sometimes pretending to look for things he didn’t need, other times ‘accidentally’ going in to rooms he knew you sometimes did paperwork in. It worked. He caught you early one morning, working away on your laptop in an office.

“Y/N.”

Yoongi had employed his technique of accidentally on purpose room entering, once again.

“Yoongi…?” You said, looking up from your laptop in surprise. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“Can I have a minute?” He said quickly. “Please?” He added.

“Sure.” You said, but your face said this was the last thing you wanted to happen. “What’s up?”

Yoongi didn’t wait to be invited in, feeling a sudden rush of confidence he strode into the room and pulled the chair opposite you out and sat down. You eyed him curiously.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Is something wrong Yoongi?” You frowned.

“Yes.” He said bluntly. There was a few moments of silence as you waited for him to speak. Yoongi was wracking his brain, thinking hard about exactly how to phrase this. “I want to say I’m sorry again, but I’m afraid you might punch me.”

To his surprise you laughed. “Don’t worry, I think I’m bored of your apologies by now.”

Yoongi looked down, shame creeping up his neck. “I deserve that.” He cleared his throat. “I should have said that I’d miss you when you asked. Because I will and I wanted you to know.”

“What?” The look on your face showed you really weren’t expecting him to say that. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Yoongi fought the urge to shrug, give some noncommittal answer, Namjoon’s advice echoing in his head.

“I.. I was scared you hated me. After everything I did.”

“I kinda do.”

That stung Yoongi, even though he’d been expecting it. He nodded. His strength was wavering. Everything he was nervous about happening was happening. He swallowed, mouth feeling a little too dry for comfort.

“I fucked up, I know I did.” He admitted. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I gave you so many chances Yoongi,” You sighed, making him guilty because it was the truth. “You didn’t like me and you made that clear. I should’ve just given up.”

Again, Yoongi fought the urge to stuff his feelings down somewhere they couldn’t get to him but he didn’t. He was trying. Really trying.

“That’s not true.” He swallowed dryly again. “I always liked you. Its just… its me. I’m the problem. My stupid brain doesn’t want me to be happy, evidently.” He chuckled darkly. “Everytime you got too close, I panicked.”

“Yoongi,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept acting like you hated me?”

“I wasn’t aware of it at the time but yeah. I’m a fucking idiot. And I’m sorry.”

“Well That’s one Yoongi apology I actually liked.” You said, giving him a small smile.

“Good.” He returned your smile, feeling the tiniest bit of hope. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“I like you. I really like you.”

The silence in the room was deafening and Yoongi wanted to scream, to take the words back immediately and pretend they never left his lips. You just sat there, speechless. “Oh.”

“I never stopped.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bad at feelings?”

Yoongi laughed a little, nervously carding a hand through his hair. “Namjoon. Constantly.”

“What do you want from me?” You asked after a moment.

“Nothing.” He replied with a shake of his head. “I just wanted you to know. Before you left.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

It was bittersweet. Yoongi felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders but part of him, the smallest ray of hope had thought maybe you might confess that you still like him too. He fidgeted in his chair, running his palms up and down his jeans.

Your confession wasn’t coming.

“I’m gonna go, I’ve got a schedule soon.” He stood up and made to leave. “Thanks for listening to me, y/n.”

“Thanks for talking.” You smiled at him and he left the room, not entirely sure if was happy or not.

***

Yoongi was still hopeful, however ridiculous it made him feel. He knew he hadn’t imagined the connection between you. You kept coming back to him before, he hoped you would do it one more time.

He sat in the makeup chair, trying to stay awake. The night before he’d only slept two hours after another marathon practice session. He hoped he wouldn’t look too tired in the promotional images that they were about to shoot.

Yoongi was watching you in the mirror, assuming it was a safe way to see what you were doing without getting caught. This was the last time he was going to be working with you. In a weird way he was savoring it. Sure, he would be working in the same building as you but between the schedules he had and the brutal schedules of a rookie group he knew the likelihood of seeing you was slim. It made his chest feel tight and uncomfortable at the thought.

The only salvation he had was that although he’d been less than perfect, he’d tried his best to make a mends. Maybe there was more he could do but he didn’t want to be over bearing.

As if you could sense someone was thinking about you, you looked eyes with Yoongi in the mirror.

You smiled.

He gave you a small smirk back, eyes lighting up at your reaction. He hoped you weren’t gone from him for good.

***

“Have your vocal warmup’s always been this annoying?” Yoongi muttered as he stretched his quad muscle, the slow burn giving his tired legs some relief. It was hard in his skinny jeans but he managed.

Jin pretend to be offended whilst Jimin just rolled his eyes. “Yes. They have.” Jin replied with a smirk.

“If it helps, hyung.”

They were warming up for an MNet showcase. Yoongi was happy, mostly. A little nervous to perform but that was standard. Once he was onstage the butterflies quickly disappeared. The comeback was extremely well received and things were going to plan. Everything was good.

He told himself that he was too busy to think about you, having not seen you in weeks – out of sight, out of mind – but that wasn’t true. His mind often wandered to you in quiet moments. Even now listening to his hyung warm up his voice he thought of you. You used to tease Jin about them as well.

Namjoon sauntered over, biting into a protein bar. He was always snacking before a show. “Y/n texted me.” He locked eyes with Yoongi, giving him a knowing look. “She wished us luck. She says she’s watching from a hotel in Japan.”

“She’s in Japan?!” Jin asked. “With that rookie group?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. She’s really busy, I think.”

Yoongi remained silent.

“Its still weird without her. Jungkook had to actually do his own laundry.” Jin said with a laugh. Jungkook, who heard him from across the relatively small room shouted out in protest.

“Have you heard from her much?” Yoongi heard himself asking. He didn’t mean to be so bold but the fact that he hasn’t heard from you at all had undeniably got to him. He practically felt the weird look Jin gave him at the question.

“I thought you didn’t care? ” Jin asked before Namjoon to answer. Yoongi ignored him, awaiting an answer.

Namjoon looked between the two men cautiously. “No..not really.”

“You’re so weird when it comes to her.” Jin muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Yoongi to catch it. Yoongi knew Jin wanted him to hear. He’d had enough. Enough of the comments and digs when it came to you. He wasn’t in denial anymore.

“Fuck off, hyung.” He said, emphasizing the formal word just to be even more of an asshole. Jin raised his eyebrows.

“What was that?”

“I said fuck off.” Yoongi replied through gritted teeth. “I was only weird about y/n because we were together for months and you wouldn’t leave her alone.”

Namjoon, Jimin and Jin all fell silent.

Although he had technically lied since you were never officially a couple it still felt like the truth. Jin’s face twisted in confusion.

“Liar.”

Yoongi let out an incredulous scoff.

“Its.. Its true Jin hyung.” Namjoon cut in.

“You knew?” Jin turned to look at Namjoon. He nodded. Yoongi was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to control his anger. Jin turned back to Yoongi. “You knew I liked her, you even told me not to worry and you still hooked up with her anyway. Some bro you are.” Yoongi felt a wave of guilt pulse through him. He forgot he had said that to Jin before anything had happened with you.

“It’s not like that, I didn’t purposely try and hurt you. But what was I supposed to do? She wasn’t in to you.” Yoongi said throwing his hands up in the air.

“You should have been more responsible and not got with someone you worked with.” Jin took a step back, as if he wanted to create more space between them. “I need to get some air.”

Yoongi said nothing as Jin left the small green room. He faced Jimin who looked as if he had been slapped in the face, silent this entire time.

“He’ll calm down.” Namjoon assured them both. “We’ve got 45 minutes before we have to perform. There’s time.”

Yoongi knew Namjoon was right. Jin would come around eventually. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many repercussions from his outburst.

***

Namjoon was right, as usual. Jin did calm down, eventually apologizing to Yoongi for overreacting, which Yoongi appreciated and thanked him for. Much to his surprise Jin even confessed that he was over whatever crush he had on you. Yoongi couldn’t deny that made him a little happy. They performed and the entire time Yoongi’s mind was on you, in your Japanese hotel room watching him. He danced a little harder.

They finished at the TV studio, ate, practiced some more then washed up for bed. By the time Yoongi was crawling into bed it was late. He grabbed his phone to set an alarm but much to his shock he had a message from you.

Unknown number: 11.45pm Hey yoongi it’s y/n. I saw your showcase today, it made me miss you boys. You looked great as usual. Hope you’re good ☺️

Yoongi went to sleep with a smile on his face.

chapter 02 ↩ ↪ chapter 04

masterlist

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts ff #bts smut #bts angst #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi ff #yoongi smut

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arthurmorgen · 5 years ago

Text

A Kiss and a Bounty

Prompt: Arthur and reader first meeting fighting over a bounty. and the bounty over one of their horses going "for god's sake just kiss her." - sarcasmwithasideofsass

A/N: This is my first prompted one-shot and I have already made an amateur mistake. I got so excited at “for god's sake just kiss her” that....I....well I didn’t fully complete the prompt. Thank you for the suggestion. Sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I still hope you enjoy it :)

I will get better at this! Requests are open!

Angst

2,123 words

...

You and Arthur had traveled everywhere searching for this bounty.

This damn bounty. He was a wormy type of man that kept sneaking out of your grasp. How? You’re not exactly sure. But one thing was for certain, this man was either dangerous or lucky.

What was supposed to be a quick day trip, ended up taking three and a half days of hunting him all over the Grizzlies.

To be honest you were about ready to give up. You hadn’t packed for this type of trip. You were cold and miserable, and weren't quite sure if all this hassle was worth a hundred dollars.

And you really didn’t want to hear it from Arthur.

He was always so quick to fuss over you. And you weren’t positive as to why. The two of you got along great and always had, but something was different lately. You’d caught him staring a little harder, offering to help ya when ya didn’t need it. Which, in retrospect, didn’t really bother you. You knew what a kind soul he was even if it was shielded by the big broad shoulders and all around rough exterior.

“You know Arthur, maybe we should just turn around.” You called up ahead. It was getting late, your stomach was gnawing, and you felt a headache coming on. You were just ready to return to camp, eat a bowl of questionable stew, and lay down on your lumpy bedroll and not exist for a couple of hours.

He knew you were right, of course you were, you were the smart one. The Grizzlies were dangerous not only because of the wildlife, but also the Murphee brood. They were dumb but unpredictable and dangerous. So all of this wasn't really his best idea. But this particular bounty by the name of Jim, Gold Tooth Jim, had gotten under his skin. He’s never had a bounty make him feel inadequate before. Usually if you gave him the poster in the morning he’d give you your bounty by nightfall. What made Jim so different? Why was he able to string them along for so long? It was infuriating.

Plus, if he were being honest. He really wanted to impress you a little. He knows he doesn't deserve you, but dammit if he couldn’t stop thinking about ya. You were pretty much the only topic in his journal as of late. And he knew you were not a shallow woman, but this whole big-strong-tough-guy was the only thing he felt he had going for him. The only thing that might possibly tempt you.

Thus, it was his stupid pride that wouldn’t let him quit. Even when he felt the exhaustion deep within his bones.

“Just a little while longer.” He called back.

You rolled your eyes. He didn’t even turn to speak to you. You could tell by the tension in his voice and how high he was sitting on his horse that he wasn’t playing around. So you bit your lip and dropped it. This Jim fellow, for some reason or another, had obviously gotten to him.

A few moments later, you blame it on your hunger or maybe even your boredom, missed the sound of a horse coming in hot. And before you could you could even process what was happening, two horses went skidding and two riders went flying.

“Arthur!” You practically screamed jumping off of your moving horse and ran to him gun drawn.

“I’m al’ight.” He said slowly through his wheezing breath. “What the hell happn’d?”

It was getting too dark to see, and from what your sluggish memory could recollect the man was dressed in dark colors, so you kicked around a bit searching for the son of a bitch who apparently had some kind of death wish.

You were distracted, yet again, this time by the sound of Arthur making his way to his feet. You were still slightly concerned for him, it was a hard hit at full speed. Your eyes checked him over just as the stranger leapt forward pinning you to the ground.

You hit the ground hard and your cheek landed on a rock, you yelped at the sudden contact.

Then the human pile got even heavier as Arthur tackled the man. You heard a faint-familiar “sonofabitch” before you stood quickly, relieved that the two men were off of you, and cocked your revolver aiming it at the dark pile of limbs.

“You are one big idiot aint’ ya mister.” You said as Arthur hauled the tall man to his feet.

The man smirked wildly as the moon reflected in his gold teeth, which you recognized immediately.

You returned the wicked smile “Well, Arthur I believe our luck has changed.”

“Wha the hell you talkin’ about?” He looked up at you and worry flooded his features. “Hey you ok?”

You wiped the blood from your cheek, realizing it was bleeding heavier than you thought. “I’m fine.” You responded with more venom than intended.

“This here is ol’ Gold Tooth Jim.” You said bringing Arthur’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Arthur whipped his head to study the man, and when he seemed to be in agreement, gave you a big grin.

He was so handsome. And it broke you every time you saw him happy. It was so rare that he ever was, it hurt your heart. Your eyes locked with his and his smile slowly disappeared. Worry crept back to his face as a large drop of blood landed on your collar.

A horrible creepy chuckle broke the moment.

“I see you finally caught me. Well done!” The sarcasm was palpable.

You were shocked to hear a british accent, the smooth voice not fitting the appearance of the dirty stringy man before you.

“Why did you run into my horse?” Arthur asked, sounding more than a little confused, he too seemed a little thrown off by the man.

“To be perfectly honest, I hate being hunted like some animal. And since the two of you were so relentless, I thought I’d just...give it up.” He chuckled again giving you goosebumps.

“By trying to kill em’?” You were annoyed that he had almost hurt Arthur. It frustrated you that that was what he called ‘giving up’, plowing into a man with a horse.

“Don’t get me wrong I was hoping it would kill you. In fact I was hoping to kill you both.” His eyes seemed to darkened even further as he stared you down, but his smile was cut short by Arthur’s fist hitting him square in the face.

He landed hard and when he looked up blood was oozing from both his mouth and nose.

“What was that?!” Jim asked furiously from the ground.

Arthur landed on top of him, easily turned him over, and reached one hand back to you. You, familiar with his thought process quickly got the rope ready and passed it to him.

Then you turned to find Arthur's horse, hopefully unharmed when you heard him whisper to Jim “If you say one more goddamn word to her, I’ll smash your face in.”

Chills ran up your spine. You wish you could say that that didn’t do it for you, but that would make you a liar. You didn’t need your honor defended, you didn’t deserve it, you too were a no good outlaw, but hearing him do it made you feel special. And the fact that he hadn’t even wanted you to hear it made it even...sweeter.

You found his horse, thankfully unharmed, and led her over to the two men.

He lifted Jim easily, causing you to swallow harder than necessary at how strong he was, and placed him on his horse.

He turned to you suddenly, without any warning and lashed out with a loud booming voice. “Why did you turn your back on the man?”

Confused at first, but then you picked up on the fact he kept glancing at your bloody cheek.

But that didn’t matter, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way. “Like I could even see where he was Arthur.” You rolled your eyes and tried to pass him to find your horse.

He grabbed your forearm hard and turned you back to face him. “You can’t be letting you guard down like that, what if he would have had a knife!”

His voice was still too loud for your liking

“Oh like you did any better. I wasn’t the one that went flying.” You chuckled and tried to shrug everything off, this for some reason or another, was getting too intense.

His eyes squinted and he let go of your arm like it burned him. “I reckon this’ll be the last bounty you go on.” He slipped his tough guy mask on. His features turned sharp and intimidating.

It’s never worked on you. You could never be scared of him. For him, yes, everyday. But never of him.

“You can’t decide that for me.” You hissed and hated the way tears welled in your eyes.

“Sure I can.” He stood even straighter brows furrowed and lips tight.

“I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want Arthur. I’ll catch every damn bounty the sheriff posts, in every county if I want to, and you can’t stop me.” You stood slightly on your toes trying your best to reflect his body language. You could feel your face flush as the anger flared. “Besides, if we would have turned back when I said, this never would have happened.”

You hated that you knew how to hurt him. You could see it as his eyes fell and his fists clenched. Guilt smacked you as hard as Jim and his horse did earlier to Arthur.

You reached out to him, feeling like a piece of shit “Hey…”

He backed just out of your reach. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I always seem to get ya into trouble.” He sounded ashamed and somehow small. You didn't like it, not one bit.

“No, Arthur, look I didn’t mean that. The camp needs money and I offered to go with you. This was your run, it was your call. I should have just been more prepared is all.”

You smiled at him but he couldn’t look at anything but your cheek.

“It’s just a scratch. Don’t be so silly about it.”

His eyes hardened and looked at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen directed towards you. But his voice betrayed him, it was still as soft as the breeze. “And what if it’s not just a scratch next time? What if it kills you instead of just cutting your pretty face?”

“You, you think I’m pretty?” You hated that that was what your mind chose to focus on, but in your defense, it caught you completely off guard.

“Dammit! I’m serious! What if next time it’s a bullet? Or a…”

You stepped forward, reached out, and touched his dirty face. In an attempt to calm him down. You were surprised by how fast he leaned in, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly.

Jim, completely forgotten by now, chucked again and called out “Oh for god’s sake just kiss her!”

Arthur moves to turn and presumably ‘beat the man's face in’. But you didn’t want him to do that. You were certainly tired of Jim, however, you were thankful for the suggestion.

You grabbed a hold of Arthur’s arm and turned him to you, one hand pulled his collar, the other pulled his head down, and you pressed your mouth firmly against his.

At first he doesn’t move, and all you can hear is Jim's ridiculous cackling, but then, then he started to kiss back. And nothing else existed in that moment other than Arthur Morgan.

It’s delicate so very delicate. Like he was afraid you'd shatter, or maybe he was afraid that he'd shatter? He lifts up slightly and kisses the tip of your nose, and then the center of your forehead. You smile largely, it hurts but you can’t help it, and he returns it with another soft kiss to your patiently awaiting lips.

After a few moments of his mouth gently playing with your mouth, he reaches to grab your cheek to deepen the kiss.

You gasp as his hand pulls your wound and he opens his eyes horrified.

“God I’m sorry.” He reached into his coat and pulled out his favorite handkerchief, pressing it firmly, yet gently, to your cheek.

It was your turn to close your eyes as his palm comforted you.

“We’ll get Miss Grimshaw to look at that when we get back.” His voice sounded almost hoarse.

“I told you it’s nothin’.” Your voice didn't sound much better.

You opened your eyes to see his shining back, with a beautiful smile on his face as he pulled you back in and kissed you.

You had never seen him so happy.

#arthur morgan x reader #one shot

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niuniente · 5 years ago

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Title: A Troll Who Didn’t Purr Fandom: Trollhunters Rating: PG Warnings: None Prompt #: 6 “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?” Relationship: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler/Angor Rot Character(s): Barbara Lake, Walter Strickler, Angor Rot, Jim Lake Jr., Blinky Additional Tags: Stricklakerot, Polyship, Comfort, Oneshot Notes: This is not proofread as I couldn't find myself a proofreader. Also in AO3 Summary: Every troll purrs when happy. If not, there's something wrong with the troll.

“Blinky! Blinky!”

A storming sound of running feet accompanied the loud cries of Blinky’s name. It all started so suddenly Blinky almost fell from the small stool he was standing on in front of his bookshelf.

Three human teenagers rushed to the room.

“Ah, Claire, Toby and Master Jim. What with this ruckus? Is something wrong?” Blinky asked, deciding it was perhaps the best if he came down from the stool on a steady floor.

Claire had a big book in her arms. It covered almost half of her body.

“We were cleaning the storage, just like you asked, and found this”, she said, lifting the book up to get a better hold of it.

Blinky peered down at the book. It was red, very dusty and clearly very, very old. His eyes brightened.

“Ah, The Complete Guide to Troll Cultures by Rogney-Ragney Wisepants!” he breathed, delighted. “So that’s where I had put it. I was wondering where it was.”

“There was so much weird info in the book”. Toby patted the book’s cover. “Show him, Claire.”

Claire carried Rogney-Ragney Wisepant’s book to Blinky’s table, pushing it further from her. The front cover was so heavy she had to open it with both hands. Jim was next to her going through the pages to help her out.

“Here!” Jim said, tapping the brownish yellow page with his index finger. “It says here that trolls purr.”

Blinky at the other side of the table looked baffled. “Oh, but yes, they do. Rogney-Ragney wrote that book centuries ago so some of the troll customs have changed – the same happens in all cultures – but all trolls are capable of purring.”

The kids looked at one another. Toby’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Then why haven't we heard it?” he asked.

“Young Tobias, trolls purr only on special occasions. Either, when they are very happy and content, or when they are hunting for cats,” Blinky explained, smiling.

Toby’s frown just grew deeper.

“Oh,” he sighed, “I have not heard Aaaaargh purr so does it mean he’s not been happy around me?”

“Aaaaargh is… different,” Blinky said, rubbing his four palms. His eyes were concerned. “What he was put through when he was a small whelp… It changed him. Unfortunately, Aaaaargh never learned to purr.”

“So purring is not a natural behavior?” Claire looked at Blinky.

“No, not at all. It needs to be learned, just like any language or a form of communication. Nevertheless, all trolls are able to purr and will do that when they are extremely happy and content. Aaaargh is just a rare exception. But please, do not bring it up when he is around. This is a sensitive subject to our beloved friend Aaaaargh.”

“Would you say that trolls purr with their partners?” Jim asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Blinky nodded.

“Yes, though it depends a bit on a troll culture when purring with a partner is accepted and when not. There are regulations, different courting methods, some waiting times and---”

“I got it!” Jim hastily stopped Blinky, before he would start a twenty-minute lecture of troll purring. “Thanks, Blinky.”

Walter could hear footsteps behind his back. He recognized them immediately and looked over his shoulder to see Jim approaching him during his dishwashing turn.

“Strickler, can I ask something?” Jim leaned against the kitchen counter next to Walter.

A faint smile appeared in Walter's corner of his mouth. His eyes returned to the delicate wine glass he was cleaning.

“Of course. Shoot me, Jim.”

“It’s kinda like… man to man?” Jim circled, searching for his words.

“Trust me: I have heard many man to man talks during my very, very long life,” Walter said, giving a quick soft look at Jim. “You can talk to me about anything and ask about anything.”

“Well,” Jim took a deep breath. “I spoke with Blinky earlier today. Turns out trolls purr.”

“Yes, they do.”

“They purr when they are very happy and content, especially with partners.”

“Uh-huh, and when they hunt cats for a dinner”, Walter added, finishing cleaning the wine glass and reaching out for a new one from the debts of the foaming water.

“It’s just, that you and mom look really happy---”

“---But I don’t purr?” Walter finished Jim’s sentence. Jim nodded.

“That’s because I’m a changeling, not a troll. We can’t purr. Did Blinky tell you that purring needs to be learned?”

Jim inspected Walter’s face and thought he saw a hint of melancholic sadness in his eyes. Jim straightened his posture.

“Yeah, he said that. Makes sense. You grew up with humans.”

“As one of them. Humans do not purr, so I have not learned it.”

“Can you learn as an adult?” Jim asked and got a shake of a head from Walter as an answer.

“It needs to be learned when you are small. I’m afraid my chances for that are long gone,” Walter chuckled, but the small hint of sadness didn’t leave his eyes. Jim cleared his throat and reached to pat Walter on his upper arm.

“Thanks. I needed to hear that. It means you and mom are genuinely happy.” He did his best to give Walter a reassuring smile. “And I think mom likes you, whether you purr or not.”

Walter smiled softly back at Jim.

“To be honest, I don’t think I’d be that comfortable with such trollish behavior. I’m happy to show my affection to my loved ones in other ways – like doing dishes and looking after the house while Barbara is at work.” Walter gestured to the full sink.

Jim rolled his sleeves up.

“Want help?”

“Please. I’d be delighted.”

“Mom. Did you know that trolls purr?” Jim asked when Barbara was leaving his room.

“Purr?” Barbara asked, turning back to Jim at the door frame.

“Yeah. I heard about it from Blinky. Though Strickler doesn’t purr because he is not a full blood troll.”

“No. I didn’t know. Interesting. It makes them sound a bit like cats, doesn’t it?” Barbara mulled the thought over. “Very, very big and stony cats!”

“Oh yeah and Aaaaargh doesn’t purr either, as he never learned to purr,” Jim continued.

“They need to learn that?”

“Yes, like any other language,” Jim nodded at Barbara.

Barbara rubbed her chin, humming. Her arms crossed over her chest as her chin pressed down. Then her chin rose up as she pushed her head backwards, letting out a long, thoughtful hum.

“I have never heard a troll purr, but perhaps someday I can hear that. I want to hear if it sounds like a cat's purring or if it’s different”, she said, sounding so serious it made Jim chuckle.

“I’m sure you will hear it someday, mom,” Jim said. Barbara smiled at him.

“I look forward to that. But now, bedtime, young man. You have a school day tomorrow.”

“Friday!” Jim rejoiced. “Just one more day and then it's the weekend!”

“The more reasons to go to bed. The sooner you fall asleep, the faster tomorrow arrives”, Barbara said, pointing her finger playfully at Jim. Jim groaned, but couldn’t hide his grin.

“Mom, I’m not a first grader anymore.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Barbara said, slowly closing Jim’s room’s door.

“Goodnight, mom.”

Jim crawled under his duvet, snuggling his body into a comfortable position. He closed his eyes and thought about what he should do on the weekend. Perhaps a movie evening at Claire’s home. Or a game evening with Toby. Or perhaps he could learn more how to use knives at fights with Angor Rot.

Suddenly, Jim’s eyes shot open.

Angor Rot!

Angor Rot was sitting in the backyard of Lakes’ house, carving something with great detail and care. Jim padded next to him, wrapping a blanket tighter around his body to shield himself against the too crispy fall night.

“Boy, it is a night. You should be in bed,” Angor Rot said, never lifting his case from his craft.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he lied.

“If you think I will cast a spell on you so that you fall asleep, forget it. My spells aren’t really that kind and good for peoples’ bodies.”

“No, I just wanted to ask something. I think I’ll be able to sleep after that.”

That seemed to get Angor’s attention. His head rose up and he turned slowly to look at Jim; his hands still frozen halfway into a cut through the carved figure. He waited.

“Ah well,” Jim began, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “Now that you live here together with Strickler, mom and me, I take that… you are happy here?” Jim asked hesitantly.

Angor’s lips parted in a surprise. He composed himself quickly.

“Yes. This is a good house. You are a good son. Strickler and Barbara are good mates and I do my best to be worthy of being their mate,” Angor replied.

“Well, uh… Mom said that she has never heard a troll purr…” Jim said quietly, looking at his feet.

Angor’s yellow eyes widened. He turned his head away from Jim with a stern expression. He grunted.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Your point?”

“…My—My point? No point really,” Jim stammered, sensing it was not a good idea to ask more about the subject. “Just… purr for mom once. Someday. If you are happy. And if you want to do that, that is!” he quickly added.

Angor didn’t say anything. Just returned back to his craft. Jim rubbed his neck, feeling awkward.

“So, uh. Goodnight?” he tried, feeling how his cheeks were getting red from the awkwardness.

“Like I said, I will do my best to be worthy of Barbara,” Angor said, keeping his head turned away from Jim.

Something in the way Angor said that made Jim think that maybe purring was hard for him. Perhaps Angor was like Aaaargh who never learned to purr, or perhaps his culture was like Strickler’s changeling culture where purring had no role in. Jim had a sense it was perhaps to let the subject go, so he gave Angor a small smile and a positive nod.

“OK. Speaking of mom, I have to slip back inside before she spots me out here. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, son.”

“Blinky, can trolls stop purring?” Jim asked. His eyebrows had knitted deeply together and drawn a line over his forehead. Blinky stopped on his tracks to a sock snack bar and turned to face Jim.

“It is possible, Master Jim. Purring is semi-autonomous behavior and trolls can control it on some levels. Like if you get hungry, Master Jim, you can stand your hunger until it is the best time to eat. Trolls can do that with purring. Just like with food, some trolls are better at controlling themselves than others when it comes to purring.”

Jim looked up at Blinky’s face, concerned.

“But what if the troll doesn’t purr at all? Like Aaaargh but with an ability to purr?”

“You mean that if the troll chooses not to purr?”

“Yeah, even when there was no reason for that, let’s say, the troll culture norms”, Jim replied, pushing his hands down to his jeans’ pockets. “It’s something bad, isn’t it?”

Blinky’s all eight eyes had a worried expression in them.

“Well, it is possible with a traumatic event, Master Jim. I know that humans can lose the ability to speak after a traumatic life event. Trolls can lose an ability both to speak and purr in a similar situation. Usually speaking returns first, if both are lost, but even if the troll keeps their ability to speak after being badly hurt, they often lose their ability to purr. Purr is heavily related to relaxation and peace, so it is natural for a troll with a trauma disorder or other trauma related problems not to purr in any circumstances,” Blinky explained, watching how Jim’s face darkened the longer he spoke.

“Can a troll with a trauma get their purring back?” Jim inquired.

“Positively, but every troll has their own healing time based on the severity of the trauma and their natural resilience.”

Jim nodded, smiling a bit too weakly to cover his worry from Blinky.

“Thanks for the answer. I suspected something like that.”

A few months later from the day Jim had spoken with Barbara about the troll purr, Barbara and Strickler thought they heard Angor Rot purr faintly while he laid on his side in the bed between them. First, it sounded like soft snoring, but when the sound didn’t have a steady rhythm like a snore – instead, it ran as a one long line – they knew it was a purr.

Small, faint, barely audible, but a purr, nevertheless.

They took a look at one another over Angor’s relaxed body. Barbara couldn’t hide a small giggle and Strickler had to compose his face back to a poker look when Angor’s eyes shot open and he glared at Strickler.

“What?” he barked, his face towards Strickler and back to Barbara.

“No-nothing. I just think this bed is still a bit too tiny for us three. Isn’t it, dear?” He stretched his neck to look at Barbara, who was clearly enjoying the tiny purr with a warm smile on her face.

“Definitely!” Barbara agreed, patting Angor’s shoulder. “I think we should add one more extension to the bed for us all to lay here comfortably.”

Angor shifted a bit. “I can do that tomorrow,” he said, still purring underneath his breath.

“No, not you. We all. Let’s do it together,” Barbara said.

“Absolutely! Troll nest building is a job for all the mates, isn’t it?” Strickler was nodding. His eyes directed at Angor’s face. “You don’t have to do everything alone. Not anymore. Ok?”

Angor averted his eyes and nodded.

Barbara was sure she could pick up Angor’s purring getting slightly louder.

#angor rot #stricklakerot #trollhunters #strickler #blinky #niu fics #barbara #jim #fanfic #fictober19

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queer-heart-attack · 5 years ago

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Driving Home For Christmas (Roger x f!reader)

Summary: Twas the night before Christmas, Roger's on his way home to you for Christmas and takes a detour down Memory Lane.

A/N: I usually write on my writing side blog @roseskiesandbutterflies but I’m using this for the Secret Santa so here we go.

So here is my gift for @borhapparker ‘s Secret Santa! I wrote this for @benders-diamond-earring so please let me know what you thought of it! Sorry, it’s very late. Christmas ended up being busier than expected. I am aware the song was not released at the time this is set but oh well.

Also merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it and for everyone who doesn’t, I hope you have a good week! Also, I hope everyone has a great 2020 too.

Warning(s): swearing, cigarettes

Inspiration: the song, the complete lack of Christmasness around here made me want to create some goodness

Word Count: 1.3k+

Taglist: @briarrose26 @bhmay @bijoukitty @benders-diamond-earring (just for this but let me know if you want to be on it permanently)

Ask to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s). All of them are in the bio of my writing side blog @roseskiesandbutterflies

*24th December 1975*

As the last chords of God Save The Queen rang out, and as the audience filtered out of the venue, the four members of Queen had taken their last bows and were now leaving the stage, some more reluctant than others. They were all buzzing, the adrenaline rush of perforing radiating from them in waves. Nothing could prepare them for the thrill, its sheer power still shocking them after five years of performing together. Unfortunately, the high had to wear off somehow and Roger was usually the first to suggest celebratory drinks of some description. However, this night was different, for it was Christmas Eve and Roger was quite frankly itching to get home. He loved a good drink as much as the next guy but tonight, he had priorities for once in his life.

You.

You had been a whirlwind presence in Roger’s life the second Miami introduced you as his new assistant back in 1973. He had made the grave mistake of underestimating you when you first arrived, thinking your personality would reflect your stature. He could not have been more wrong and he was secretly grateful for it. You had been the change he needed without either of you realising it.

"Gentlemen," Miami addressed the band, formal as always. The replies he received were far from it but well-meant all the same, "I want to introduce a new colleague of mine to you all. Her name is (Y/N) and she is going to be working with me for the foreseeable future," he then turned to the young woman who had entered the recording studio by then, "(Y/N), this is Queen, I'm under the assumption you are aware of who everyone is?”

The woman in question, (Y/N), blushed ever so slightly before confirming Miami's statement, "Hi, I'm working mainly as Jim's assistant but if you need anything, you can always ask me."

The band shared a look as if they could read one another's minds, before reaching an apparent conclusion. Roger piped up, pissing off Brian who the lady assumed had been elected to speak first, "Miami."

There was nothing she could think of to say in response to that and it must have been evident on her face as Freddie quickly jumped to her rescue, "We call Jim Miami instead, darling. Bit less boring, wouldn't you agree?"

She glanced at Jim, no sorry Miami, who merely shrugged his shoulders in response as if to say he had had no say in the matter. She redirected her attention to the boys to see Freddie elbow a now tomato-faced Roger. She shot the latter a reassuring smile which for some reason only deepened his blush and made (Y/N) giggle to herself.

Even now as he was trying to find the shirt he had discarded a while ago, he was thinking about you, although missing you immensely might be the better phrase to use. The packing-up routine passed by in a blur and at some point he was so unresponsive that he might as well have been a ghost. This alarmed all except for John, as he was the only one who was used to Roger acting in such a way. He was the only one who knew firsthand what that glazed look meant, having been with Veronica for quite some time. While Brian and Freddie kept trying to catch his attention in fear of Roger droppng some seriosuly heavy equipment on his own sodding foot, John merely took the case Roger was holding from him and said, “Go find your love before you crash into something.”

Only then did the other half of Queen understand what was going on and chased Roger out like a mother would to her child who was late for school. Calls of “let us know when you’re home!” and “damn you and your love life!” soon faded into background noise as Roger somehow found his car and quickly drove off.

He suddenly found himself cursing the late London traffic as, soon enough, he found himself at the first of many standstills. Realising that what should be a relatively short journey was going to be anything but, he flicked his car radio on to fill the suffocating silence that had fallen like a blanket. The voice of Jean Challis pierced through the quiet, talking animatedly about Christmas shopping before introducing the next song, of course it had to be a Christmas song, which was the one Elton John released last year. Roger lent back in his seat, knowing he was going to be here for a while. The bright crimson tail lights of the car in front of him were blinding him to a degree where he was seriously considering putting on his godforsaken glasses to avoid permanent damage to his already shitty sight. Even with the radio on, he found his mind drifting off again.

You wandered onto the balcony, needing some fresh air and a break from the roaring party inside. Although fresh air was off the table the second you opened the door; a dragon’s breath worth of cigarette smoke blew into your face. You coughed far more dramatically than necessary as you already knew who the perpetrator was.

Roger fucking Taylor.

“Thought I told you to stop with the smoking, Taylor,” you reprimanded him, trying to sound as much like a disappointed parent as possible.

“Thought I told you to stop catching me out, (Y/L/N),” he turned his head to look at you, the smug smile he wore was wiped away as soon as he saw you actually struggling to breathe, “Are you OK? Shit,” he quickly threw the cigarette off of the balcony. He moved forward as if to help you, but suddenly stopped, unsure of what to do.

“I might as well smoke the damn things myself the amount of smoke I inhale thanks to you,” you joined him properly on the balcony, leaning on it with your forearms. The view wasn’t much, just the rather shabby garden of whoever’s house this was. Roger’s snort caught your attention and you couldn’t help giggle yourself, which then turned into a chuckle from Roger, a breathy laugh from you, another snort from Roger which then set you both off into fits of laughter. After a while you were breathing heavily to regain some kind of control, “I don’t even know what’s funny,” and you were off again.

He gave you the most serious look and said, “It’s not the alcohol is it?” and you couldn’t help but laugh at his deadpan-ness.

After a further couple of minutes, you saw him reach for a cigarette from his back pocket so you swatted his hand away, “Not on my watch, mister,” you eyed him suspiciously as if he’d just stolen the crown jewels, “What is it going to take for you to stop for good?”

He tapped his fingers on the iron railing of the balcony for a moment before replying, “I don’t think I could just quit like that,” there was a hint of shame in his eyes so you decided to let him off a bit.

“OK then,” you thought for a second, “What would I have to do to get you to smoke less?”

An idea flashed in his eyes, though it was gone in an instant and instead replaced with amusement, “Go on a date with me and I’ll consider it.”

It was only meant as a joke, you knew it really, maybe it was the alcohol or the amount you cared for him or the fact that you knew deep down you treated him differently than you did the rest of the band, but you somehow found yourself saying, “Alright then.”

You were shocked at yourself with that and if Roger’s face was anything to go by, then so was he, “Wait are you serious?”

“Are you?” the response was quick and testing. You needed to know his real intentions.

He visibly gulped, almost like a cartoon, then said, “Yes. Yes I am.”

I know it’s quite short so sorry about that, but I wanted to write at least half of it so you know I hadn’t forgotten or anything. Let me know if you’d want the rest of it because I’d be more than happy to do so.

#queen x reader #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody x reader #roger taylor #john deacon #Freddie mercury #brian may #queen imagine #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor one shot #queen one shot #borhapparker's borhap secret santa

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rosemaidenvixen · 5 years ago

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cave bestiam

Ao3

“I picked up take out for dinner,” Barbara called up to him “Why don’t you come down and have some while it’s warm?”

Jim grinned and pushed his chair away from the desk, take out sounded great “Be right down Mom,”

Jim made it to the top of the stairs in record time and was just about to start heading down when a hand clapped over his mouth.

Before he could even think about screaming or struggling, a tremulous voice whispered in his ear “Don’t go down there,” his mom said “I heard it to,”

Strong content warning: This story contains a scene with heavy gore as wells as some very gruesome implications. So proceed with caution.

9. 7=(3x+8)x Solve for x.

Jim tapped his pencil against the wood of his desk as he studied the problem. He’d been at this for a while, the world beyond his bedroom window was dark, the sun having set over an hour ago. Now he just needed to work through three more problems and get started on his history paper, then he would be home free for the night.

From downstairs he heard the front door open and shut “Jim, honey, I’m home,” his mom’s voice drifted upstairs.

“I’m doing homework,” Jim shouted back through his open bedroom door.

“I picked up take out for dinner,” Barbara called up to him “Why don’t you come down and have some while it’s warm?”

Jim grinned and pushed his chair away from the desk, take out sounded great “Be right down Mom,”

Jim made it to the top of the stairs in record time and was just about to start heading down when a hand clapped over his mouth.

Before he could even think about screaming or struggling, a tremulous voice whispered in his ear “Don’t go down there,” his mom said “I heard it to,”

Jim froze, blood turning to ice in his veins. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Frightened blue eyes framed in red and shielded by glass lenses filled his vision.

“Hurry up sweetie,” mom, another mom, called from downstairs “Your food’s getting cold,”

Barbara glanced anxiously down the stairs as she slowly pried her hand off of Jim’s mouth.

“Hon?” the voice came again.

Jim struggled to get words out past the massive knot in his throat “B-- be right there, just going to wash up first,” he slowly edged away from the top of the stairs, his mom,

she was his mom wasn’t she

Gently grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him towards the bathroom. Once they were both inside she gently eased the door shut and clicked the lock, letting out a deep breath.

What was happening? How could his mom be with him in the bathroom and calling him from downstairs at the same time?

“Mom…” Jim said softly “Who is that?”

Barbara glanced back towards him, face ashen. Aside from how positively freaked out she looked right now, everything about her was the same. Hair pulled back in its standard bun, glasses slightly askew, rumpled lab coat over teal scrubs. Comforting. Familiar. Mom.

But then who was downstairs?

Calling a friendly greeting, cheerfully inviting him down to share take out. That voice...was just as familiar to him as the woman standing three feet away.

“I don’t know,” she moved towards the window and started to fiddle with the latch “We need to go, now. Once I get this open head over to Toby’s and call the police, I’ll be right behind you,”

A gentle knock on the bathroom door caused both of them to jump “You ok in there honey?” a warm voice called from the other side of the door.

Barbara stood by the open window, frantically gesturing for Jim to go out.

But all he could do was stare at her, motionless.

“Jim,” the voice he’d known all his life came again, separated from him by a mere inch and a half of wood “Can you answer me?”

Over by the window Barbara was gesturing even more desperately now, mouthing ‘Go’ at him while flapping a hand towards the night beyond, but Jim couldn’t move from where he was.

Her, the voice from behind the door; he didn’t know which one was real. Nothing about either one of them set off any alarm bells in his head. How did he know that the woman in the bathroom with him was his real mom and the voice was an imposter and not the other way around?

The lock to the bathroom door popped open, sending Jim’s heart straight up into his throat. Mentally he smacked himself, why did he think a locked door would stop whoever that was, anyone with a paperclip could pick the locks in their house. Both of them stared in taut silence as the door slowly inched open.

His mom stepped into the bathroom, confused frown on her familiar face “You ok in here? I thought I heard--”

She locked eyes with her double froze. Identical twins facing each other from across the room. This was too much, this was unreal. Jim backed into the bathroom sink, head spinning.

“Who are you?” Barbara by the door spoke up, voice low and guarded “What are you doing in my house?” her eyes flicked over in his direction “Jim, come with me right now,”

“Jim, listen to me,” said Barbara by the window “That woman is not your mother, stay away from her,”

Other Barbara’s eyes flashed and she took half a step further into the room “Jim whoever that is is lying, we need to go now,”

“You’re not going anywhere with my son!”

“You’re delusional. Jim’s my son, not yours!”

Porcelain dug into his spine as Jim futilely tried to back away further. His eyes darted back and forth between the doppelgangers that had started to circle each other, twin lionesses dueling for a cub. Logic told him that at least one of these two had to be fake, but he had no idea which one it was.

Jim’s hands were shaking, his breath came in shallow pants. This all seemed like a scene from some twisted nightmare, but it was too stark, too clear, too real for him to be so lucky.

Somehow guilt snuck in along with the hysteria and panic. He should just know, by some primal blood bond, who his real mom was. But he didn’t, couldn’t, they were mirror images from head to toe. For all he knew both of them were fake.

His head was spinning, the world was turning into a blur of red hair, green scrubs, and white lab coats. Everything about them was the same, from their glasses to their crocs, even their lavender perfume was--

The world crashed to a screeching halt.

“What take out did you get?”

Both of them started at the sound of his voice.

“You said you bought take out,” Jim kept his voice low and steady, despite his steadily rising panic “What did you buy?”

She blinked, his mom who wasn’t his mom “That doesn’t matter right now, please just come with me,”

“Tell me,”

The hurt look on her face was almost enough to fool him “I picked up food from the new chinese place on main, I don’t remember what I bought specifically,” she held out a hand in his direction “Please, get away from that woman right now,”

Jim started to edge closer to the window, towards his mom, his real mom “Then why don’t I smell it?”

The fake blinked at him, hand still outstretched “What?”

Jim sided up to Barbara, allowing her to wrap a protective arm around his shoulders “If you had really spent twenty minutes in the car with take out I would smell it on you,”

He couldn’t smell it because there had never been any take out.

Because this wasn’t his mom.

The confused look slowly slid off of her face, replaced with a cold, blank stare. Her hand fell back to her side as she straightened up.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t find out like this,” her voice was soft in a way that terrified him.

Barbara slowly stepped backwards toward the open window, pulling Jim along with her.

“That woman used to be your mother, but not anymore,” the fake Barbara continued “You’re mine now,”

She smiled at him, so familiar and wrong on her face “The order promised you to me,”

She lunged.

Before Jim could react she grabbed his arm and jerked him forward, dragging him towards the door. He tried to squirm away but her grip was iron.

“Come along now, no reason to fuss, I’ll take good care of you, I--”

Whatever else the fake tried to say was lost as Barbara charged her and smashed the toilet tank lid over her head, knocking her glasses off and spraying porcelain shards across the bathroom. Forcing the fake to pause and loosen her grip on his arm.

Seizing her chance, Barbara grabbed Jim by the other arm and raced out of the bathroom. They took the stairs two at a time, sprinting towards the front door.

A blur, a hint of motion far too fast for the eye to catch, and she was standing at the foot of the stairs. The imposter. The fake. Whatever lingering doubt he had was gone as soon as he looked into her eyes. Instead of being the deep blue of his and his mom’s eyes, her eyes were now a seamless, glossy black.

“All of this struggling is pointless, the boy is my child now, and there is nothing you can do to stop me from taking him,”

Barbara grabbed an umbrella hanging off the banister and swung with all her might. Only for the fake to calmly grab the end before it could hit her and jab it at back at Barbara, catching her in the throat with the handle and sending her staggering.

Looking back towards Jim, the fake smiled again, pearly white beneath bottomless black, and took a step closer.

His blood turned to ice. Jim bolted towards the kitchen not even looking where he was going so much as navigating on instinct. He hit the corner of the counter in his mad dash, hot stich of agony stabbing through his side. Forcing back the throbbing pain in his belly, Jim scrambled towards the knife block. He managed to wrap his fingers around the Santoku just as the fake grabbed his jacket and wrenched him towards her.

“There’s no reason to be frightened,” she crooned in a voice that wasn’t hers “I’ll take very good care of you. Once you’re with me you won’t ever be hungry or sad or hurt ever again, I’ll--”

Jim brought the Santoku down as hard as he could, releasing a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard as the knife skated harmlessly across her chest.

The fake looked more surprised than anything else “Now that wasn’t very nice,”

Jim couldn’t move, paralyzed with shock. He had just stabbed this woman with one of the best knives that money could buy and she was completely--

No, she wasn’t.

The knife hadn’t penetrated her, but it had torn clean through her scrubs, lab coat, and…

Skin.

A flap of fleshy material hung down like a curtain, exposing the smooth, black surface beneath it.

Marred by a faint scratch from his knife.

Out of the blue Barbara rushed in from behind; fists tight around wooden rods, and smashed a chair down right on top of the fake, tearing off even more skin but not even causing her to flinch.

She slowly turned in Barbara’s direction, dark eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“I’d hoped to do this as cleanly as I could, but you leave me no choice,” the fake’s left hand shot out with inhuman speed, grabbing Barbara by the neck.

Barbara seized the fake’s wrist and twisted, Krav maga orange belt in action, freeing herself and sending the two of them tumbling to the floor, crashing into furniture and knocking its contents to the ground as they tore at each other.

Jim tightened his grip on the Santoku, ready to give Barbara back up. For an instant he worried about getting the two confused, and stabbing his mom on accident.

As they continued to claw at each other, it soon became clear that wouldn’t happen.

The other Barbara, the fake, was losing more skin, exposing polished, ebony flesh. Her limbs twisted and popped, elongating and gaining joints as she and Barbara wrestled on the kitchen floor.

The horrifying truth sank in. The thought that had been squirming around his skull ever since he’d heard his mother call him from downstairs while she stood beside him on the landing crystallized into reality. Whoever this was, she wasn’t human.

Suddenly the fake managed to pin his mom to the linoleum, twisting herself on top to hold her down. Jim seized his chance, he brought down the knife as hard as he could, again and again, but to no avail. The tempered steel could do no more than give her faint scratches.

The sound of popping tendons was the only warning Jim received as something shot out in front of his face, knocking the knife from his hand.

A long, thin limb, dark and gnarled as an ebony tree root, hovered in front of him, twisting obscenely in her shoulder join along with her arm. Limp peels of skin hung on her torso from where the new limb tore itself free. The fake turned and grinned at him through the tatters of his mother’s face, four new eyes revealed from underneath the shredded skin “Come now sweetness, that’s enough of that,”

Taking advantage of the fake’s divided attention, Barbara kicked her in the chest and sent her flying.

The fake landed in a symphony of sickening cracks, more limbs popping and tearing their way of her shoulders as she quickly righted herself and slid to a stop on the polished floor.

She, it, the thing, didn’t even resemble a person anymore. While her legs and lower body were still clothed in skin and scrubs, the rest of her was not. Her torso was smooth and seamless, no folds, breasts, or wrinkles, not even a belly button, sleek and uniform as an armor plate. Multiple sets of arms sprouted from each shoulder socket, gangly and multi jointed, too twisted to count. Scraps of flesh hanging from them like forgotten rags.

Her face was almost human, but not quite. Nose flat and slitted, what Toby might call a Voldemort nose. No fewer than a dozen eyes dotted her face, clusters of smaller satellites circling the larger spheres embedded in sockets. All blinking in their own time; like sinister, twinkling stars.

It grinned, revealing thin, transparent teeth, wickedly sharp “Time to bring this to an end,”

It charged, slamming Barbara into the wall. A small wheeze was forced out between Barbara’s lips as her chest was crushed beneath the thing’s many limbs, her arms and legs twitching helplessly.

“Don’t feel too bad,” the thing with his mother’s voice said “You were a decent mother for many years,” there was a crack as it’s joints tightened, increasing the pressure between Barbara and the wall “But I’m his mother now, your time is done,”

Jim watched in horror, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a scream trapped in his throat.

It wasn’t strangling her, it was squeezing her, like a boa constrictor. Going tighter and tighter around its victim’s chest, constricting the rib cage, not letting them take in a single breath, going tighter and tighter until their prey was suffocated, until they were dead.

This thing was crushing his mom, it was going to kill her.

That thought was enough to snap him out of his paralysis. Jim grabbed the nearest blunt object, a frying pan, and hit it. Over and over, with all the force he could muster. But he might as well be hitting a brick wall. Nothing he was doing was having an effect. The thing’s limbs creaked again, his mom’s struggles were slowing, her face was turning blue.

Jim started to tremble all over. He had to do something, help her, save her, he couldn’t let his mom die, he couldn’t let this thing kill her, even if--

“I’ll go with you!”

The thing snapped it’s head in his direction. It didn’t ease up the pressure on Barbara, but it didn’t increase it either.

“I...I...I’ll go with you...I’ll be your son...just please...let her go…” Jim forced the words out even as he wanted to take them back “I’ll be yours...but only if you let her go,”

It smiled, a small dainty thing that looked even more unattural on her monstrous face “Now that’s better,” she uncoiled her limbs from Barbara, sending her sliding to the ground.

Barbara coughed and twitched on the kitchen floor, taking in huge lungfuls of air, sending a rush of relief through him. Even as the thing turned towards him, spreading all of her limbs wide. An invitation. A trap “Come dear,” she cooed, still in her stolen voice “Give your new mother a hug,”

Jim shrank in the face of this monstrosity, every instinct in his body screamed at him to get as far away as possible. But he couldn’t, his mom’s life was on the line. He forced himself to go closer, trembling more and more with each step. As soon as he was near enough it drew its arms in around him. Hard, craggy limbs pressed against his back and shoulders, pulling him up against the thing’s chest; cold, slick, and unyielding beneath his cheek.

Jim quivered under it’s touch as it drew him into a repulsive mockery of an embrace.

Barbara was still too breathless to talk, but her horror-struck expression spoke volumes. She struggled to her feet, clinging to the wall, desperately mouthing ‘no’ over and over again.

The thing smiled at her; slow, easy and smug “You see, he’s made his choice,” Jim gagged as claw like fingers caressed his hair “It’s time to face the facts, it’s over for you,”

Quick as lightning, one of her limbs broke free from the rest towards Barbara, retracting just as fast. For a second no one moved, then one of Barbara’s hands went up to her neck.

Blood spilled out from beneath her fingers.

The bottom dropped out of his world as Jim watched, helpless and horrified, as the neon red fluid poured past her fingers and dripped to the floor.

“Mom!”

He screamed and trashed in the thing’s grip, but it held him fast. All Jim could do was squirm against her as Barbara sank to the ground, her hands flapping at her throat, desperately trying to stem the blood still streaming from her neck.

There was the sound of more flesh twisting and popping as Jim’s feet left to floor, but all he could focus on was his mom, drenched in her own blood.

And then he was moving, out the backdoor and into the woods. His mom vanishing from sight as the thing dragged him deeper into the night. He flailed and squirmed and fought the whole way, sobbing and screaming and trying to free himself but to no avail. At some point he must have started crying, cold tracks of tears on his cheeks, but he couldn’t pinpoint when.

In some distant, detached portion of his mind Jim was aware of the cool night air on his skin and trees rushing past. But all he could see was Barbara; crumpled in a heap on the floor, hands clasped to her bleeding neck.

He was pulled back to reality by the already dark woods suddenly becoming even darker.

Jerking his head around, Jim saw that he was surrounded by stone, the moonlit forest vanishing from sight as the thing made a turn down the steep, rocky tunnel.

“Home sweet home,” it crooned, voice somehow still a sickly sweet parody of his mom’s.

His mom who was probably dead by now.

Blood on the floor. Hands at her throat. Jim’s name on her lips.

White hot anger surged through the grief “Fuck you,” he growled, he’d never spoken to an adult like this, he’d never spoken to anyone like this “You’re not my mom, I don’t care what you do to me you’ll never be m--”

Something silky and snug came over his mouth, immobilizing his jaw and cutting off speech. Jim strained to see what it was, white?

“Don’t speak to your mother that way,”

Without warning it dropped him. Jim landing hard on his knees, pain stabbing through the joints. A wheeze forced itself out of his lungs, only to be smothered by the gag. Shivering with pain, Jim rolled to his side, knees twitching and throbbing in unison. He didn’t think anything had broken in his legs but they hurt, and he knew he couldn’t walk like this.

Before he could get his bearings two of the thing’s hands pulled his wrists out and bound them together. Jim could see it clearly this time; a bundle of soft white fibers, impossibly tight and strong, cutting into his wrists.

Jim glanced over to the thing, only to jerk backwards involuntarily.

He’d seen bits and pieces of her true form, as her disguise came undone, but now the entirety of her true form was laid bare.

Most of her mass was comprised of a gigantic bulb, rounded in front before tapering to a narrow point, propped up on a forest of gnarled limbs. Just as inky dark and smooth as the rest of her. The torso and abdomen were almost human like, jutting straight up from the front of her thorax, even more twisted limbs jutting out from her shoulder sockets. Jim would call them arms, but arms weren’t that long and didn’t have all those extra joints.

Her head was smooth and perfectly round, bald to a polish. Face absent of defining features, such as a nose or cheekbones, speckled with prismatic black eyes. And then her mouth. An impossibly wide thing full of rows upon rows of glassy, needle like teeth. Like a shark or a leech. That was somehow smiling.

She lifted her gaze upwards “Time to tuck you in,”

Jim followed her line of sight toward the ceiling, only to have his heart freeze in shock. He’d been so focused on the thing that he hadn’t noticed his surroundings. They were in a large cave chamber, various holes dotting the ceiling and allowing spotty moonlight. The air was musty and dank. Like an old basement that hadn’t been open to the air in years, the kind that made him want to open a window. The entire space was covered in the same silky, white strands that bound his wrists and jaw.

At least a dozen large white bundles swathed in the stuff hung suspended from the ceiling. They ranged from about three feet to six feet long, and the way they were dangling made him think of caterpillars or--

Jim’s mouth went dry.

Bodies. These were dead bodies.

Nonchalant, the thing raised a hand and prodded at one of the bundles. A low, dry moan drifted out..

The blood drained from Jim’s face as he realized that none of these bodies were dead at all.

The thing went from bundle to bundle, prodding each of them until they made some kind of noise; either a moan or a weak cry. Eventually she came to one that remained silent no matter how much she jabbed at it. With a satisfied nod she lifted an arm and cut it down with a single swipe.

The bundle fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The thing then turned its attention back towards Jim; wide, toothed smile on its face.

The second their eyes met Jim’s heart shot up into his throat.

Too late he realized what she was going to do.

Scrambling, Jim tried to put some distance between them, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing pain is his knees. He was too slow, the thing snatched his bound wrists and yanked him off his feet. She looped the free hanging silk strand around his wrists, tightly securing him.

Jim twisted and kicked his legs out, anything to try to free himself. It was no use, the strands held fast and his legs barely had any strength thanks to his knees being so badly bruised. A helpless worm on a hook.

Making an amused tut tut sound from the back of her throat, the thing grabbed his feet and held them in place “None of that now,”

Jim screamed into his gag as she started winding silk strands around his sneakers.

He had to get away, he couldn’t end up like the others. Jim was sure that’s what they were, other kids that she snatched while pretending to be their moms, strung up like living dead dolls.

“There there, no reason to fuss,” the thing crooned.

His feet and ankles were completely encased now.

“I’ll wrap you up nice and cosy,”

Jim trashed even harder. He had escape. Had to get away. Somewhere, anywhere but here.

“Then it will just be one quick poke,” needle sharp teeth flashed as she grinned at him “So sharp you won’t even feel it,”

Jim’s heart was pounding so loud he was amazed she didn’t hear it, despite all his thrashing and writhing, the strands wound midway up his calves now.

“I’ll take very good care of you, after all….” she leaned in close, sniffing at his hair “It’s not very often I run across a boy as sweet as you,”

Hearing those words his heart stopped.

The reason she took all these kids suddenly clicked into place.

And Jim wished it hadn’t.

The horror rising in him was so sudden, so overpowering, Jim went limp in his bindings, utterly overwhelmed with fear.

He wanted to move. Scream, fight get, away. But he couldn’t, all Jim could do was tremble.

He wasn’t going to escape, he was going to be trapped here forever, this thing was going to mummify him and then--

“Oh yes,” she crooned, leaning in close and running one scaled hand against the side of his face “I should be able to keep you with me for years,”

Jim could see his reflection in her bottomless black eyes. Puffy face, red from crying, tears and mucus smeared all over his cheeks.

How long before that face was buried in silk?

His wrists ached from supporting the full weight of his body, his arms were going numb. The silk was up to his knees now, and her many hands kept spinning it higher.

Jim’s heart sank down into the pit of his stomach.

He wasn’t going to escape. There wasn’t going to be any rescue. Jim was going to die here.

A long finger wiped away a tear “Hush my dear,” she leaned in close “All good children feed their mothers,”

Jim sobbed from beneath the gag.

“Soon you’ll be snug and cosy; no more hunger, no more pain,” she whispered with horrifying gentleness “You won’t have to worry about anything anymoaaaaAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!”

Her words stretched out into a screech of agony. The thing whirled around, Jim strained to follow its line of sight.

His mom.

Alive.

Axe in hand. Wad of duct tape and gauze on her neck. Eyes blazing with blue fire.

One of the thing’s severed legs on the cave floor.

“Get. Your hands. Off. My. Son!”

The thing hissed and advanced on her “You dare attack me in my own lair?! I tolerated your disrespect human, but now--”

Barbara sprayed a small canister directly into her face.

The thing shrieked, high and sharp.

“You bitch! What did you do to my eyes?! I’ll feed you your own sinew for this!”

She scrambled around the cave, limbs flailing out in every direction, blindly groping for her.

Barbara sidestepped and ran towards Jim. She stood on top of the fallen bundle and began tugging at the silk around his wrists. The fact that she was using the bundle as a foot stool made Jim a little queasy, but she was alive.

Alive, alive, alive.

The silk around his wrists slipped free and Jim fell to the ground, grunting as pain radiated up his tailbone.

His mom was on him in seconds, pulling at the silk on his legs. Jim tried to help her the best he could with bound wrists and numb fingers, but the work was slow. The silk holding him up had just been tied and untied, but the strands on his legs were woven in place and refused to cut under the head of Barbara’s axe. They all had to be unraveled, thread by thread.

Suddenly Barbara was yanked away and thrown to the other side of the room, landing with a harsh grunt.

The thing snarled at her, eyes focused and clear now “I am going to spend days killing you mortal!” she lunged, but Barbara managed to duck and parry her with the axe.

Jim managed to tear the last of the silk on his legs and struggled to his feet. He had to help his mom. She might be holding her own against that thing for now, but that wouldn’t last forever.

He had already failed him mom once tonight. Not again. Not this time.

Blows and blades didn’t work on the thing, Barbara’s axe wouldn’t do her any good in the long run. He needed to find a way to hurt it, wound it. He needed--

His foot stumbled across something.

Looking down Jim saw the leg his mom had hacked off at the joint. The same leg that had cut down the bundle.

That had cut through the unbreakable silk.

An amorphous half idea of sorts took shape. Not a plan. But something.

The thing’s cackling laughter caused him to snap his head up. It had his mom on the ropes. Back to the wall and swiping at any limbs that came close with an axe that now looked significantly worse for ware.

She needed back up now.

Jim fumbled at the severed limb with bound hands. Gritting his teeth as the silk bit into the already tender skin on his wrists. He managed to grip it right near the tip, just inches below a wickedly sharp looking talon. Weapon in hand, Jim slowly advanced towards the thing. It was distracted with his mom right now, but not for long. Jim was only going to get one blow in, he needed to make the most of it.

With a crack, the thing knocked the axe out of his mom’s hands and all the way to the other side of the cave.

In a flash of movement Barbara was pinned to the cave wall by a single malformed hand. It let out a triumphant cackle.

Jim crept closer, palms sweaty against the slick chitin, black talon gleaming in the moonlight. He was right along side it now, gnarled limbs and bulbous body just inches away from his face.

“Oh how I’m going to enjoy relieving you of your skin,” it taunted, relishing in its victory “I’ll think I’ll string you up so the boy can watch,”

Jim was shaking all over, whatever shot he took he had to take it now and make it count.

Nerves screaming, he raised the talon and slashed down at the thing’s body with all of his might.

He’d been prepared for resistance, braced himself for it, but there was none. Only a sound akin to sliding scissors through wrapping paper.

A line opened up on the black bulb in front of him, black blue fluid beaded started to weep from it.

For a brief instant things were silent, then the thing let out a long, undiluted howl. Throaty and raw, inhuman, the sound a bear or a lion might make if they were wounded.

Or angry.

The thing whirled on him. Jim staggered back, losing his grip on the leg.

“You miserable brat!” It backhanded him into the wall, pain exploded in the front and back of his chest, the air was forced out of his lungs, his vision swam, and something had cracked inside him, stabbing him with every breath “By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to die! I’ll--”

She cut off and spun her head around. Barbara was standing by the cut in its thorax, one hand buried to the wrist inside of it. There was no fear on Barbara’s face, not even anger.

Only raw, unyielding determination.

She ripped her hand free, tearing out a fistful of putrid yellow guts.

The thing howled again, even louder and coarser this time, shuddering with agony. It didn’t sound like his mom anymore, it didn’t even sound remotely human. It glanced back towards Barbara.

For the first time, the thing looked afraid.

Jim struggled to his feet as the thing tried to scramble away. Barbara wouldn’t let her. She kept pace with it, and every time the thing moved away from her she kept a fistful of its organs. All the while the steely look on her face didn’t waver as she dragged more and more of the things insides out.

The thing’s screams intensified, bouncing off the walls and echoing around the chamber. Her movements were wild and frantic as it tried to escape. Legs jerking and twitching while they struggled to support her wounded body.

Acting on impulse, as soon as it came close enough, Jim grabbed one of its legs and yanked, ignoring the pain shooting through his knees and torso. Taking advantage of the limb his mom had severed earlier to unbalance the thing, sending her sprawling on her back, its dozens of limbs now flailing in the air, a writhing forest of ebony and claws.

Undeterred, Barbara continued to pull at her insides. But it didn’t seem to be killing it. Every piece Barbara took seemed to make the thing scream louder, thrash faster, fight harder.

Jim ran to his mother’s side. They had this thing on the ropes now, they couldn’t let up, the two of them were never going to get another chance like this. They needed to finish it now.

Evading the thing’s flailing claws, Jim slid to the ground at Barbara side, wheezing as his bruised knees hit the stone floor. Knowing what needed to be done, even though the thought made him ill, Jim shoved his bound hands into the thing’s body, and pulled.

Once at a Halloween party back in elementary school, Jim had played a game where he stuck his hand into various boxes, supposedly to feel different body parts. Guts had been represented by a bowl of cooked spaghetti.

In real life it felt nothing like spaghetti. Scorching hot, raw and bloody smelling, thick and rubbery, fighting him every step of the way, still Jim pressed forward.

The world narrowed to the bloody guts in his hands and the thing’s screams in his ears. All thought abandoned him except to pull, and tear, and rip.

Despite the screams in his ears and the bile on his tongue. His stomach heavy, he was going to-- No. He was still gagged. He couldn’t do that while his mouth was still tied shut.

Focus. Tear.

Rip and rip and rip.

Suddenly oily, indigo fluid gushed out of the thing’s open wound as something tore deep inside it.

The thing’s screams lowered into a hoarse croak, her thrashing limbs slowed, until they were twitching almost lazily in the air.

Jim paused in his tearing, Barbara grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him back.

They watched in silence as the thing twiched and moaned, gradually becoming silent.

And then still.

Jim sat frozen, unable to process what had just happened, before glancing down at the floor. Immediately he wished he hadn’t.

The bottom of the cave was an ocean of gore. Tangles of greasy, mustard yellow meat lay in piles all around them, swimming in an ocean of inky blue blood. Reeking with sour, rotten smell that made his eyes burn. Jim look back up at the hollowed thorax. How had this much even fit in her? Looking back down at himself wasn't much better, his entire front was soaked in blood and bodily fluids, hands dripping in it, soaked up to the elbow. Jim's vision swam.

His mom’s tightening grip on his shoulders brought him back to reality. He spun around to face her. She was a mess; dirty, bun fraying, glasses cracked, drenched in rusty red and oily indigo blood.

But she was here. She was alive.

Hastily, Barbara reached for the severed leg and made short work of the silk around his wrists and mouth.

Blood sluggishly made its way back into his hands, stingining with pins and needles. Jim raised shaking fingers up to the mass of gauze on Barbara’s neck, held in place with silver duct tape.

“Is-- is this-- are you--” he couldn’t finish, voice weak from the confines of the gag, emotion clogging his throat.

Barbara wrapped his fingers in hers, soft and warm “Don’t worry, I’ve got some butterfly bandages on under all this,” she smiled at him, the weak, warbly kind that meant she was scared out of her mind but still trying to make him feel better “It’s not ideal, but it should be alright for now,”

She straightened up, suddenly more serious “What about you, are you injured?”

“A-- a-- little bit,” his wrists had thin cuts from the silk, his knees throbbed in unison, legs weak. And if he inhaled too deeply his chest burned from bruises and what he was almost certain was a broken rib or two. But nothing dangerous. Nothing permanent “M-- my knees and my ribs... but nothing bad,”

He looked up at her, eyes brimming, his entire body felt limp and warm. He thought she died, he thought he was going to die. But they both made it out.

Alive and safe.

Jim slumped forward and dug his fingers into her scrubs, wanting so badly to hug her but not having the strength “I was so scared,” his voice was tight and small “I thought you were dead, I thought I was going to…” he trailed off, the fate he'd narrowly avoided too horrible to put into words.

Barbara wrapped her arms around his shoulder, mindful of his wounded ribs and squeezed as tight as she could “I was scared to,” she whispered, voice brittle with equal parts exhaustion and relief “When that thing dragged you away I thought I was never going to see you again...”

They stayed like that for a while. Sprawled on the cave floor, the only sound their gasping breaths and the occasional sob, holding onto each other as the adrenaline slowly drained away. Leaving only the relief that it was over and the horror of what could have been.

Jim was reluctant to move, secure as he felt. But they weren’t safe here, not really.

The smell of must and rot. The bundles suspended from the ceiling, still twitching. The thing’s stinking, disemboweled carcass. This was a bad place, not somewhere to linger.

He forced himself to push away from his mom “We need to leave…”

Barbara briefly glanced around before nodding in agreement “Right, can you walk?”

Jim gave his leg an experimental flex and winced “I think I can walk, but it's going to hurt,”

She set her mouth into a grim line, clearly displeased about the idea of Jim walking on injured joints, before standing and pulling him to his feet regardless.

The going was slow, Jim leaning heavily against Barbara, struggling not to wince as each step sent a bolt of pain through his legs. But the two of them kept a steady pace as they sluggishly made their way out of the cave. He glanced back at the suspended bundles before they disappeared around the corner. They would have to come back, do something for...them. But right now they needed to get to the clinic; have someone check out his knees and chest, fix Barbara’s neck wound for good.

Moving slowly but surely, they eventually stepped out of the cave and into the bright, moonlit forest.

Jim blinked, relishing the fresh air on his face. Now that they were back outside, the full moon in the cloudless sky illuminated everything, so bright it was almost like day. He glanced wildly around, taking in the silver washed forest as he and Barbara moved through the trees.

Something caught his attention. Jim focused on the spot, even as his mom tugged him onward. One of the shadows up in the trees was thicker, darker than it should be. He narrowed his eyes, what was tha--

The shadow moved.

Thumping on the ground directly in front of him and his mom.

Jim gasped and Barbara screamed as she yanked him back towards her.

The figure in front of them was smaller than the thing that they had just killed, but somehow even more menacing.

At first glance it looked almost human; two arms, two legs, semi-normal proportions. A closer look revealed the truth. The thing was made of stone, like some ancient statue. Crumbling, rotting, slowly being reclaimed by roots and lichen. A large pair of horns curled around its head, golden black eyes glowed with sinister light, fangs peered out of a smirking mouth.

It, he? Let out a low, dark chuckle “I never would have thought that the Yevabog could be slain by mere humans,” he looked them up and down “But I suppose that the Trollhunter’s beloved would be no ordinary fleshbag,”

Jim's forehead wrinkled in confusion even as his heart pounded in fear. Trollhunter? Beloved? What did that even me--

Barbara took several frantic steps backwards, pulling Jim with her “Don’t come any closer!” her voice was high and thin, bordering on hysteria “I swear to god if you even try to touch my boy--”

“Worry not,” he sauntered forward, a sleek cat stalking two battered, bloody mice “I have no intention of harming either of you,” he pulled out something fastened to his belt “After all, hostages are no good to me dead,”

Something about the way he said the word hostages made Jim shudder.

Barbara tightened her already bruising grip on his arm, tensed in preparation to bolt.

But before either of them could make a move, the thing in front of them threw the contents of a small bag at them, covering them with fine yellow dust.

Quick as a flash, Barbara clapped one hand over his mouth and nose, the other going to hoist her scrub top to cover her own face. Slower to respond, Jim covered her hand over his mouth with his own. Blood rushing in his ears, desperately hoping they hadn’t breathed any of it in yet.

The statue thing laughed, a dark, hollow sound that rattled in Jim’s bones “Such determination,” he stepped even closer, mere feet away now “I can almost see why the hunter was so taken with you,”

Even has the thing spoke his words were becoming faint and echoey, the world started to blur at the edges. His mom’s iron grip on his mouth slackened.

Dimly, Jim was aware that they had not blocked the poison in time and were now feeling it’s effects. But it was getting hard to see, think, act. His thoughts felt distant and dull. The world was blurring at the edges and slowly fading away.

There was a soft thump behind him as Barbara collapsed. Jim’s legs wobbled, he struggled to remain upright, but to no avail. He sank the ground right in front of his mom. Flopping back against her stomach when he couldn’t support the weight of his torso anymore.

Jim sluggishly blinked up at the night sky. The last things he was aware of were the glowing, silver moon, two gleaming golden eyes with a fanged grin, and the warmth of his mom against his back.

And then darkness.

#Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #horror #heavy gore #gruesome implications #rmvwrites #Halloween #jim lake jr #Barbara Lake #mature

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annoyedfanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

This is going to be fun to explain to your parents

Spock x reader (3)

requested by @sovereignoblivious

Warnings: violence. mind melding? awkwardness. injury. death reference. reference to prostitution. probably cursing knowing me

AN: Ok it should just be one more part but you never know.

(“What do you mean she’s gone?” Jim demanded, staring at Hendorff in the doorway of the bridge. “She was just there! Scotty had her locked in!” “One of the Coridanites grabbed her,” he answered, panting from the run up. “I tried but I couldn’t get hold of her.” “Well, shit,” Bones cursed, loudly.)

“My sentiments exactly, Dr McCoy,” your voice piped up, a half-whisper in the comms. “(Y/N)!” Jim exclaimed, immediately pulling the dark visuals from your unit on screen. “Where are you?” “Somewhere near a brothel in the shantytown,” you answered, quietly, peering through a gap in the ridged scrap metal. “East of the central gate to the capital. Unfortunately, I am, uh, dangling from a very unstable ceiling.” “You’re what?” Bones repeated. (A loud crash echoed in the bridge. Spock’s desk had collapsed, his knuckles returning from gripping the console until they were taut and white.) “What was that?” you questioned, attempting to stop yourself from swinging and get your bearings. “Uh...Spock just broke his console?” Jim sounded so unsure that you weren’t sure if he was lying or just very confused. “...right,” you brushed it off, frowning, “Well, anyway, I think if I swing hard enough the roof will collapse and I can escape in the kerfuffle, so excuse me while I make myself very dizzy.” “That doesn’t sound like the–” Your comm cut off, leaving them with only visuals. “Ok well that went well.” Jim turned to Spock. (“What was that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to the console, now dangling by its wires, as Scotty scrabbled underneath to try and patch it back into place. “I am unsure, Captain,” Spock responded, quietly. “I would like to go–” “Absolutely not,” Jim cut him off in an instant, “The rebels have already attacked StarFleet officials. A Vulcan would likely be killed or at least maimed on sight. You will stay here. Chekov, transporter bay. See if you can lock onto a swinging maniac Ambassador.” “Yes Keptin,” he agreed, bolting off the bridge. “Hendorff, go and get yourself checked out,” Jim instructed, gently, “We may need your assistance again.” The burly security officer nodded, following Chekov into the turbo lift. “Captain, I need to–” Spock began, standing, and moving out of Scotty’s way. “Spock, you need to stay here,” Jim insisted, also rising, and crossing the bridge to clasp the Vulcan by the shoulders. “I know she’s precious to you, but she can take care of herself. There is no use endangering yourself. You may stay here with the comms, or Bones can accompany you to the transporter bay to assist Chekov. You are not to leave this ship.” Spock’s expression remained unchanged, but Jim could see the fear fighting with logic in his eyes. “...yes, Captain,” he agreed, eventually, taking up his position behind the Captain’s chair, just as a loud crash sounded again.)

“Hah! I did it!” Your voice crackled through the comms, and light flooded the dark image as a ramshackle house collapsed around you. You spat out a mouthful of blueish mud, grimacing. “Are you alright?” Spock queried, his voice deceptively calm. “Yes, yes, quite fine,” you panted back, picking up the half-rotted wooden beam that your rope had been attached to and sprinting towards the city. “Are you carrying part of the house?” Jim questioned, furrowing his brow. “Well, you see, Jim,” you replied, ducking behind a house as a shot rang out behind you, “I’m rather attached to it.” Your eyes flicked down, and the camera revealed your red-raw ankle, beneath the rope trailing all the way to the wood in your hands. (Spock abandoned the bridge for the turbolift to the transporter bay.) You began running again, spinning to deflect a shot at the sound of a new bullet clicking into a chamber. You ducked away from the odd, rectangular projectile, instinctively thrusting the wood forwards. It splintered with the shock, and you felt the spikes embed themselves in your hands, but you kept running, as the city guards came running out to investigate the fuss. Recognising your StarFleet uniform, they backed up with you, firing at the rebels behind you, before ushering you through the gate. You collapsed on the other side, sighing in relief. “I think I can safely say this is the worst negotiation of my career so far,” you quipped, tiredly dropping your head onto the blue stone path. “Thanks for the help.” You climbed to your feet, shaking hands with each of the guards. “I will be in touch with the Chancellor again, but please offer my sincere apologies for the breakdown of today’s meeting. We will do our best to restore a peace here as soon as possible.” “You’d come back, after all that?” one of them questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you live here after all that,” you answered, with a smile. “Thanks again.” The transporter beam wrapped around you, and you stumbled into the transporter bay, straight into Spock.

“Spock!” you exclaimed, not even trying to straighten up as exhaustion washed over you. “How do we end up in these situations?” You leant your head forward against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to try and calm your heart rate. “I believe that our Captain attracts bad luck,” he responded, running a tentative but soothing hand over your ruffled hair. “I don’t think I help that,” you answered, leaning back to look up at him. The dizziness caught up with you as you did so, and you stumbled forward. Spock caught you, gently, but you hissed as the splinters in your hands stung at the sudden contact. Your head suddenly buzzed with concern and confusion and...love? Spock carefully rearranged his hold on you, lifting you from your feet. “I can walk,” you protested, quietly, head still swimming. “You have run far enough today, (Y/N),” he told you, gently.

@lady-sigyn

#spock x reader #jim kirk #star trek #aos #tos #ambassador!reader #hurt/comfort

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nickelkeep · 5 years ago

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Christmas Party

(I’m not back yet, I just didn’t get to post this earlier! I’ll still be back tomorrow after I’ve seen the episode! Pairing: Dean/Ash Rating: Gen Word Count: 1300 Warnings: This is a timestamp for For the Last Time. While it is standalone, you may want to have read that first. Written For: @notfunnydean′s 2019 SPN Advent Calendar On Ao3

Dean stood in front of the mirror and rechecked himself for the third time. Ellen and Bobby were having their big annual Christmas Eve party, and while it wasn’t a big fancy affair - Dean was wearing a flannel over a Metallica shirt with a pair of jeans after all - this year was different.

“Dean!” The voice that sent a warm thrill down Dean’s spine called through the door. “Are you done in there? We have to leave if we’re going to be on time.”

Dean pushed himself away from the sink and crossed to the bathroom door. He took a deep breath and opened the door. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be.”

“Dean,” Ash smiled and looked him up and down. “You look great, babe.” Ash winked at Dean and nodded his head towards the door. “I already called mom; she doesn’t need us to pick up anything; she wants us home.”

“I thought this was home?” Dean wrapped his arms around Ash’s waist and pulled him in for a peck on the cheek. “Sorry, wanted to steal one before we headed out, and I can’t do this while we’re out and about.”

Ash grabbed Dean’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, holding Dean in place as he pressed their lips together. Dean melted against Ash and hummed a sigh of contentment. “Then kiss me right, Dean.” He took a few steps backward, pulling Dean with him. “Home is wherever you are, Dean. I learned that a long time ago.”

“Just a little rain?” Dean tilted his head and smiled apologetically. He went in for another kiss, which Ash dodged. “One more? For the road?”

“Sooner we get to mom’s, the sooner we can come home. And I’ll give you your gift.” Ash smirked. “Besides, rumor has it Bobby made bourbon bacon.”

“Then why are we still here?” Dean smacked Ash’s ass and bolted to the door, Ash rolling his eyes and laughing behind him.

…

Ellen smiled widely as Dean and Ash entered the house. “Hiya Ash, Dean. How are my boys doin’?” She pulled them both into a tight hug. “I’m glad you two are here. It wouldn’t be a Christmas party with you.”

“It’s just a party, Ma.” Ash tried to pull away but found himself gripped tighter as Ellen planted a kiss on his head.

“Let your momma get sentimental. Two of her boys left the nest at the same exact time. You left me with Sam and Joanna Beth.” She shook her head fondly. “The trouble those two have gotten into since you two have left? It’s like they’re trying to make up for the trouble you two caused.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well. It looks like it’s turning your hair a little grey there, Elle.” Dean yelped as Ash and Ellen playfully smacked him. “Jeez, none of you can appreciate a joke.”

“It ain’t a joke, Dean, when you’re the cause of some of these grey hairs.” She pointed a finger at him. “Bobby told me about the little incident at the shop.

“Incident?” Dean tensed up at Ash’s question. “What happened at the Shop, Dean?”

“It was nothing, Ash. I promise.” Dean gave a slight shake of his head.

“Nothing my ass, boy. It was some Christmas miracle you weren’t hurt more.” Bobby walked out of the kitchen, causing Dean to sigh in defeat and started explaining what happened. “You’re damn lucky that it was just a bump on the head and nothing more.”

Dean stole a glance at Ash, who looked like he was doing his damnedest to look mildly concerned. “Since dumbass here doesn’t want to own up, you gonna tell me, Bobby?”

“One of the new hires; who I let go, by the way. You were right that he was lyin’ about what he knew-” Bobby looked at Dean before continuing. “- mixed up his bolts, and the muffler wasn’t secured correctly.”

“The exhaust mount failed, the muffler swung down, got me in the back of the head.” Dean frowned and looked at Ash. “It’s why I had that headache two nights ago.”

Ash’s green eyes softened so slightly, the only hint that there was something more between him and Dean. “Dude. Why didn’t you tell me? That could have been worse.”

“I’m fine, Ash. Turn the page.” Dean smiled softly, his eyes locking on to Ash’s.

“Well, then. Now that you two have spoken your peace on that.” Bobby cleared his throat. “Let’s get in to where the actual party is.”

Ash and Dean walked into the living room and were greeted by multiple hellos. Sam and his friend Jess were sitting on the sofa, Jo was talking to Rufus, and Pastor Jim was in the kitchen arguing over football with Caleb. It felt like every Christmas Party Ellen and Bobby had held ever since Sam and Dean came to stay with them.

“Dean!” Sam hopped off the sofa and tackled his older brother in a hug. “You made it!”

“Of course I did, Sammy.” Dean mussed Sam’s hair. “Said we’d be here.”

Sam looked past Dean and looked at Ash before looking back at his brother. “I’m glad you’re both home.”

“Hiya, Sam.” Ash offered a high five, which Sam slapped. “Who’s the lovely lady?”

The evening passed with good food, cold drinks, and fantastic company. The only downside, to Dean at least, was that he and Ash made a point of sitting on opposite sides of the room. They kept stealing glances at each other, smiling when they knew no one was looking.

As it got closer to the end of the evening and Ellen and Bobby started chasing Jo and Sam upstairs, Sam stopped to hug his brother. “Are you guys spending the night? Be here for presents in the morning?”

“Nah, Sammy,” Dean replied, “Me and Ash need to get back to our apartment. What’s the point of paying for it if we stay here?”

Sam hugged Dean tighter. “You’ll be here for Sunday dinner?”

“Of course, Sam!” Ash was hugging Jo, who pulled away to try and get a hug from Dean. “And miss Ma’s burgers? Like Dean would ever let that happen.”

“Plus, I’d send Bobby to drag them here if they didn’t show up.” Ellen mussed Sam’s hair as he reluctantly let go of Dean. “Off to bed, you two.” Ellen waited until Sam and Jo went off to their rooms. She looked to Dean and Ash. “They’re still just getting used to not seeing you every day. I think Bobby and I still are too.”

“You two idjits never had to leave. Not sure why you thought you did.” Bobby harumphed from the kitchen. “This is your home, and we’re your family. No matter what.”

Dean watched as Ash looked back and forth between his parents, his head tilted.

“Bobby is speaking the truth. We love you two dearly.” Ellen patted both of their cheeks and pulled them in for hugs. “You two drive safe, ok?”

“Of course, Ellen. Not gonna let anything happen to my Baby.” Dean smiled.

“I know you won’t.” She gently pushed the boys to the door. “We’ll see you on Sunday. Give us a call if you want something other than burgers, ok? And don’t forget to bring your laundry.”

…

Dean unlocked the door to their apartment, opening it and stepping back to let Ash enter first. They pulled off their jackets and kicked off their shoes before collapsing on the couch together. Dean rested his head in Ash’s lap and closed his eyes.

“You gonna fall asleep on me, Dean?” Ash quietly asked as he started running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“If you do that, I am.” Dean paused and thought about his next question. “Did you have a good time at the party?”

“Mhmm.”

Dean opened his eyes and found his boyfriend’s green ones. “I did too.” He wrapped his hand behind Ash’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. As they separated, Dean hazily asked, “Did you want your present now? Christmas is only like a half-hour away.”

“I’ve got the best present right here.” Ash leaned down and kissed Dean again. “Nothing else matters, babe.”

#spnadventcalendar2019 #spncreatorsdaily #spnpetra #spn ficlet #dean x ash #dash #Christmas Party #rare pair #time stamp #for the last time #nickel writes

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aweebwrites · 6 years ago

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Fins and Hooves

Warning: animal death, mentions of blood (nothing too gross)

________________

Zane watched, perched on his favorite resting point in the lake as Cole ran along the shore. Cole himself had made the resting point using his affinity for earth. It was a shallow bowl shaped rising in the water, close enough to the surface that he could sit or lay down comfortably and still be visible above water while being just deep enough to keep his tail and gills submerged. There were two similar ones to his left for Nya and Skylor whenever they decide to come over to his side of the lake but his was hand carved with beautiful patterns and colourful stones embedded along it by his thoughtful mate.

Said mate who looked majestic running along the shore line, sending water splashing when the the waves came in too close. His hair had grown out over the winter and he had Nya pull it in a ponytail. He wasn't just running for fun however. He insisted that he hunt today. He found land animals unique in taste and while he loved fish, he like a change in diet from time to time. So after mentioning that to the kelpie during their morning swim (the sudden change in the dynamics of the lake confused breeding fish and a few who were supposed to be heading further north to lay their eggs had done so here instead. They decided it was a good thing and frequently checked to see how the hatchlings are doing), he took it upon himself to hunt for his mate.

“What has Cole so busy?” Nya says, sliding up onto the rest next to him.

“He's hunting.” Zane informed her, resting his chin in his webbed hand. “I've never actually seen him do it so I thought I'd observe.” He says and Nya hummed.

“I'm surprised he finds any prey with those thundering hooves of his.” She snorts.

“I thought the same thing at first.” Zane says quietly, watching him turn at the start of the fjord filtering fresh sea water into their new home, eyes on the small woodland bracketing a third of their home, arrow drawn tightly in his bow. “But he's being loud on purpose. It spooks prey out of hiding and their panic would make them uncoordinated and easy to take down. He's managed to do this for a few but he rejected them it seems.” He says, a little confused on the last part.

“Cole goes all out for you, no matter what he does. Of course he'll be picky hunting for you.” Nya says with a grin, nudging him with her tail and he smiled a little, blushing at that. “Oh. Looks like he's chosen.” She says and Zane watcher in awe as Cole went stock still, eyes focused on his target.

He breathed out slowly and let his arrow fly, a wounded yelp sounding after. He then grinned, swinging the bow over his shoulder and trotted off into the woodland. He reappeared soon after with a deer over his hide, blood running from its throat.

“Strong man.” Nya says, wagging her brows and Zane laughed, splashing her with the icy water.

They both slipped off the rest and swam towards the shore coming up to the place where both warm and frigid waters mixed.

“Big one. I know Skylor would love a taste.” Nya commented as Cole slid the corpse off of him.

“Which reminds me. She and the others should be here any moment now. I should get extra for them. You know how Lloyd is with deer.” Cole says, kneeling to steal a kiss from his mate.

“I'll help. If I recall, Master Wu has a taste for fish as well.” Zane says with a smile, cupping Cole's cheek.

“What's with the secret huddle?” They all looked up as Jay circled overhead before landing. “Oh deer! Get it?” He says with a grin, and Nya splashing him as Zane chuckled.

“Jokes aside, Lloyd is actually just starting to change his scales. He'll be here for a while before he has to leave for the Spirit Coves. Dragon growth spurt and all.” Kai says, hovering next to them.

Just then, a loud thud sounded and they saw a green dragon crain its head up and roar. It would have been intimidating if his roar hadn't cracked half way in. They were left laughing instead.

“You guys are jerks.” Lloyd huffed, crossing his front paws, before in a puff of green, he was his less scaly form.

In this form, he looked almost human if his slitted green eyes, pointed ears, peaking fangs, folded wings and scaled tail wasn't enough of a give away. Considering that he was part dragon, part Oni (demon) and human all in one, he leaned more towards his dragon heritage unlike his demonic father. Speaking of.

“Did Master Garmadon get your message Master Wu?” Zane asked the white dragon as he shifted into a similar state as his nephew.

“Yes. He should be back shortly after Lloyd returns from the Spirit Coves. The venom of the Great Devourer's bite may not be able to injure him but the effects have to be dealt with gently.” Wu says and Lloyd hung his head.

“Cheer up squirt. Your dad will be fine. He's tough, remember?” Cole says, ruffling his hair, earning a hiss and a swipe of claws in the direction of where his hand was. “Tell you what, how about we hunt you something to eat. The deer have wandered pretty close by…” He says, swinging Lloyd up on his hide and he beamed, near drooling at the mention of his favourite meal.

“Hey! How comes he gets to ride on your back!” Jay protested, zapping Jim for good measure.

“Ow! That's why you cluck!” Cole yelled and Zane laughed.

_____________________

“Hey Skylor! Where have you been?” Kai asked once she walked up to where everyone was eating on the shore outside.

“Molting. I hate it but at least it all goes one time.” She shrugged then walked over to Nya, leaning down and kissing her.

“I kept it safe like you asked.” Nya says, gesturing to her seal skin she wrapped around her neck.

“Great. Hold onto it for a while longer, would you?” She asked, sitting next to her and Nya nodded with a smile, returning to her meal, offering her some.

Zane on the other hand wasn't sure of what to do. The only ones he's eaten in front of was Nya, Skylor and Cole after a lot of reassuring. He feared his mouth may be unsettling for some.

“Aren't you hungry Zane?” Master Wu asked but before he could use that as an excuse, his stomach growled.

Loudly.

“Ha! Zane's stomach is more intimidating than you!” Jay grinned at Lloyd who glared at the harpy before plucking a feather, making him yelp.

“Serves you right.” Kai smirked at his mate as he whined into his feathers.

“Zane?” Cole's soft, worried voice called and he looked up at his mate before looking away.

“I… The way I eat is-”

“That's what this is all about?” He looked up at Cole, confused. “Snowflake, no-one minds or even cares how you eat.” Cole says, holding onto his webbed hand.

“Oh. Cold water mers have a very flexible jaw for the very big prey that live there.” Master Wu explained to a confused Lloyd.

“Ok. But what does that have to do with not wanting to eat? I'm pretty sure I can open my mouth wider than yours.” Lloyd pointed out before shifting and opened his mouth wide and took a big bite out of the deer he hunted all by himself.

“You might not have noticed but I don't chew. I eat my meals whole.” Skylor pointed out before demonstrating by swallowing down a large fish.

“I think Jay and I are the only ones who have small mouths but that doesn't stop Jay from getting food even on his tail feathers.” Kai says pointedly, to the messy eater who looked at him sheepishly, scales in his hair.

"The fangs are still new so my way of eating is a little different too." Cole says, nudging him gently and he smiled a little.

“There’s no such thing as normal. Everyone is unique in habits and more. Here, we are all family and we accept each other, flaws and all.” Master Wu says and Zane looked around at his strange pod before smiling.

“Plus, it'll be a shame for that deer to go to waste…” Lloyd says, licking his maw.

“It would be, wouldn't it?” Zane says, looking down at the untouched deer Cole had hunted and even skinned, just for him.

His stomach rumbled once more and he looked to Cole who nodded. He then sighed, letting go of insecurity. They watched in awe as he opened his mouth, revealing blue muscles in his cheeks and a very blue mouth filled with sharp teeth and a long dark blue tongue before he struck into the upper thigh of his prey, teeth cutting through the flesh easily and breaking bone. The group all cheered for him and Cole grinned, proud of his mate.

The rest of their meal was uneventful but the happy aura never left. Zane's pod was a strange one indeed but he wouldn't trade them for anything.

_____________

(Idk what to call this Au so I just put the first thing that came to mind. Also, Lloyd! He looks like his kid self now but after his trip to the Spirit Coves, he'll look like current Lloyd but with more demonic features. That's another story. Also, Lloyd doesn't know Misako. She was a human and died before he hatched several years ago from natural causes (I made her lay an egg that took years to hatch >:3 I also gave Garmadon the chance to raise his son). Finally, Garmadad isn't fully evil. He killed the last of the Devourers for the protection of Ninjago but got bitten in the process (the bite is treatable in this au because no angst! {Or very little at least}). He's in the first realm getting treated by other Oni (they're not evil like in the series but they aren't particularly good either. They look after their own and the Omega is fond of both him and Lloyd. He's super tsundere when confronted about Lloyd but he would high-key die for him. Same for Firstborne). Anyway, enough talking for now. I haven't slept yet... Weeb out!

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 40: A(nother) Changeling In Trollmarket

Becoming The Mask

I'll be using a script format in addition to my previous -text between hyphens indicates text messages- method, to make it clearer who is typing in the group chat. (Emojis) will be described in parentheses.

Bold italics are trollish.

I’m also trying out a simple new line divider now that Tumblr doesn’t have an automatic one anymore.

+=+

The second thing Jim did when he got home, after putting his backpack and duffle bag in his room, was dust the house. It hadn't built up much in a week, since dust was mostly human skin cells and Barbara was rarely home in any case, but Jim usually dusted every day. Then he checked the lightbulbs, swept the floors, and scrubbed the bathroom. He wouldn't need to take out the trash until Monday.

Barbara didn't have work that day, and since she'd slept all morning, she was awake while Jim cleaned, which was a little weird – he usually took care of these things before making her breakfast. She half-followed him, helping dust and sweep.

"You know you don't have to do all this," she told him from the doorway, as he was wiping toothpaste stains out of the sink.

"I like taking care of you," Jim insisted. "And I wasn't sure how much you'd trust my cooking now, but this I can do."

"You understand why what you did was wrong." She hesitated. "… Right?"

"I know why it upset you," which wasn't quite the same thing. Jim knew he'd caused his mother stress when she found out about the sleeping potions, but how much more stress would it have caused her to wake up and find her child missing? "I won't do it again." She knew now, that he might be gone in the middle of the night.

+=+

Toby: -So Jim told me something last night that's really freaking me out.- -He's had a plan *since before we were ten* for how to cover up my death if I got killed by a troll.-

Mary: -… I'm sorry but also curious.-

Darci: -You OK, TP?-

Toby: -Just freaked out that my BEST FRIEND has BACKUP PLANS to HIDE MY DEATH!- -Sorry, Darcy.- -Didn't mean to snap.-

Darci: -Understandable.-

Toby: -Also sorry my phone keeps autocorrecting your name.-

Darci: -It happens.- -You're going through a lot right now. It's good to let it out.-

Claire: -Jim said WHAT?!-

Toby: -Yeah, he said if I died and he couldn't make it look like a bear attack or car crash, he'd hack my phone and tell Nana we ran away to be rockstars. He'd come back without me in a few months and say we 'got separated'.-

Mary: -That's nuts.- -I mean I might believe it but it's still nuts.-

Toby: -Back when we were kids he was gonna send a postcard saying we were looking for my parents and his dad.-

Darci: -(wince emoji) That hurts.-

Toby: -It gets worse, amazingly. He said he thinks the rockstar story could also work for you guys if *any* of us die.- -Because Dr L found out about you. Not specifically, no names- -but she knows we have other friends who know about trolls, and she wants to tell your families but Jim said no and Dr L asked what he's going to tell our families if we get killed.-

Darci: -(three wince emojis)-

Mary: -Not to derail but this means his mom's talking to him again?-

Toby: -Yeah she was at my house when we got back last night.- -She let him move back in. That's where he is now.-

Claire: -She trusts him again already? After he kidnapped and replaced her son?-

Toby: -She had this whole speech about how she adopted him and he's her son too.-

Mary: -Aawww-

Toby: -I think she was a little drunk but she didn't take it back when she sobered up.- -She's still mad about the drugging and the lying and everything, she didn't say she forgave him. Just that he can move back home.-

Claire: -So at least you're not sharing a bedroom with somebody with a plan to cover up your death anymore.-

Mary: -OMG Claire I know you're mad at Jim and I get it and you deserve to be, but will you chillax? Yeah, I just used outdated slang. That's how long it feels like you're dragging this out.-

Claire: -I'll *chillax* when my brother's not stuck in troll-hell.-

Darci: -What if we told our parents ourselves?- -You know, got ahead of Dr L and told them what's up on our terms.-

Mary: -That's a good idea. Let's talk to Jim first so he can tell us from experience what not to say.-

Toby: -Jim might have to use those cover stories because I think Trollmarket would kill us.-

+=+

"I don't want it facing where I sleep, but I've no objections to you keeping your trophy here."

"Excellent." Jim positioned Bular's head on one of the basement shelves. "I got called into the Void while I was there. The Ghost Council is really impressed we took him down. Your father wanted me to say that he's proud of you for avenging him."

Draal puffed up at the praise. It made Jim want to pat him on the head or something.

"And I wanted to thank you again for – being here. Keeping an eye on my mom."

"She faced no danger on my watch."

"You know, if you ever wanted to help out around the house, too –"

Draal snorted, making his nose ring flap. "I protect. I do not clean."

"Except for taking care of the recyclables," Jim teased. They'd had this conversation before. Draal rolled his eyes.

Jim's phone chimed. "Toby wants to meet up in Trollmarket for 'strategic brainstorming'," he read. "You want to come along?"

+=+

"What is HE doing here?!"

Jim stared, wide-eyed and jaw twitching, at Enrique, who blew a spit bubble at him from the stroller.

"I told my parents I was meeting friends at the park, and Mom said 'why don't you bring your brother?', and if I said 'no' it would've become this whole thing and they'd think we were really planning to sneak into an R-rated movie or something."

Draal had declined to leave his post, so instead of taking the tunnels and opening the door from the inside, Jim had walked with Toby to the canal. It didn't take long for the girls to join them, accompanied by an undesired extra.

"Okay," said Jim, failing to calm down but trying to at least fake it. "What are you planning to tell your parents if he's discovered and executed?"

"Not everyone spends their time coming up with ways to cover up the deaths of everyone they know!"

"I don't have plans for everyone." That would be absurd and unnecessary. "Just the people I'm close enough to that it would be more suspicious if I didn't at least know they were missing." Jim took a deep breath and let it whoosh out. "Let's get inside. Now I need to brief Enrique before we go downstairs, and that'll be easier if he can ask questions."

Stricklander and Nomura had both been startled into revealing their connection when they first visited. Jim couldn't let Enrique be exposed so easily.

After the portal's arch closed behind them, there was a crackle of green light mixed with the blue glow from the crystal staircase. Enrique unbuckled himself from the stroller and hopped over to Jim.

"Is it supposed to look like a Nyarlagroth's lair in here?"

"Creepy, right?" Jim transformed as well. "It's just the colour of the stairs. You get used to it. Tobes, would you keep watch for us? Just say my name if anybody starts coming up."

Mary snapped a photo of the two Changelings.

"The one you need to watch out for most is Vendel," said Jim. "He's in charge down there. Pale, long curly horns, carries a Heartstone staff; hopefully you won't actually meet him. Blinky, my trainer, you will meet. He's the one who looks like Dictatious. They're brothers. Don't bring that up if you're found out. If he catches you staring, just giggle like the six eyes are funny and –"

"Peek-a-boo routine, I know. I'm more in practise than you are at the baby gig right now."

"AAARRRGGHH is going to be there, too."

Enrique ducked into a crouch, ears up, slit pupils thinning to eyelash width and then dilating.

"But it's okay! He's a pacifist now. He won't attack anybody."

"You're jokin'."

"No, really."

"Why is that a shock?" asked Claire. "AAARRRGGHH's a sweetie. Unlike some trolls I could mention." Jim and Enrique didn't answer her. "Plus, I already told Blinky and AAARRRGGHH about Not Enrique, remember?"

"You what?!"

"Enrique didn't need to know that," the blue Changeling growled, holding the green one suspended in the air. "He can't risk dropping his guard down there."

"Getcher hand off me scruff or I'm taking it off your arm!"

"You guys even keep secrets from each other?" asked Toby, sitting on the top step. Darci was sitting next to him. Both humans were watching their friends over their shoulders rather than peering down below.

Jim set Enrique on the ground rather than dropping him. Enrique growled and reached behind his shoulders, rearranging and grooming his scruff as best he could, but he was glaring at Jim rather than Claire, so Jim counted it as a win.

(If he could keep fights between the Nuñez siblings from turning violent, it would be easier for them to bond, and less likely Enrique would lose his home at Claire's hand.)

+=+

"We want to tell our parents about trolls," Darci said to Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. Since she had come up with the idea, she'd been informally elected the one to tell the trolls about it.

Jim made a shrieky noise. When the group turned to him, he shook his head and waved them off, taking notably deep breaths.

AAARRRGGHH shook his head. "Bad idea. Vendel mad."

"I must concede the point. Vendel would never agree to have more humans made aware of trolls."

"Jim's mom is out to tell them anyway," said Toby. "She already told Nana. Nana thought she was talking about a video game, but still. The only thing holding Dr L back is that she doesn't actually know who to talk to yet."

"But if we tell them ourselves," said Darci, "then we can make it sound a bit less terrifying then she probably would, so they won't try to call in the army or something."

"We're not really asking permission, here," said Mary. "We're asking how to tell them, not if we can."

"… We should discuss this with Vendel," said Blinky. Darci thought his hands might be shaking, before he clenched all four into fists.

They made a tense procession through Trollmarket. Jim practically hovered over Claire and Enrique. AAARRRGGHH, at the rear of the group, made quiet snuffling sounds every few moments.

Trollmarket paid more attention to them than was usual anymore; trolls glancing at them and then muttering or whispering. Darci hoped it was the stroller drawing attention. Though, even if anyone was picking up on the mood, grimness could be passed off as 'some serious Trollhunter matter just came up'.

The stroller's wheel caught in a crack in the ground. Not Enrique made a whiny noise at the jostling, but didn't commit to the part enough to start crying.

"Vendel?" said Blinky cautiously, tapping on the Heartstone to the side of the hollow leading into and under it. "A matter of possible urgency has arisen."

There was a long pause.

"Come in, Blinkous." Vendel sounded tired. "What is it this time?"

He was at a worktable with a number of gems. Darci only recognized a few of the tools; a hammer and chisel, various sizes of tongs, a grindstone. She didn't know any of the crystal names or their properties, even after months of part-time exposure to troll culture, but Toby might.

Darci cleared her throat, and then gulped, and then cleared her throat again. She tried not to let her voice shake.

"We … Claire and Mary and Toby and I, we want to tell our parents the truth. That trolls exist."

Vendel peered at her with his seemingly blank eyes. When she'd first met him, she'd assumed he had cataracts. Now she thought his eyes were opal or moonstone. He could definitely see; she'd seen him reading.

"I suppose I have no way of stopping you. Short of having you executed, or imprisoned here forever … which I daresay our Trollhunter would object to. But know this, young humans. Should you expose the secret of our existence, a secret which you have given your oaths to guard, you will no longer be welcome here in Trollmarket."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Strickler considers summoning Angor Rot)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Arguments for and against telling the parents)

#Becoming The Mask chapters #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Changeling Jim #Dr Barbara Lake #Tobias Domzalski #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #Claire Nuñez #Draal #Not Enrique #Changelings #Blinkous Galadrigal #AAARRRGGHH #Vendel #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

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islareeveswriting · 6 years ago

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Guilt trips are nearly always induced by someone else.

Molly’s current one was no different. Lauren made her opinion known, and may as well have packed Molly’s bags, booked her ticket, and delivered her to the departure lounge for the one way guilt trip Lauren was sending her on. Lauren was staring Molly down with a cocked eyebrow, and holding Molly’s phone at her like it was a critical piece of evidence in a murder trial, rather than the bearer of an innocent text thread that Molly hadn’t thought she needed to feel guilty for until Lauren opened her mouth.

Molly was racking her brain for excuses she hadn’t anticipated needing, because she didn’t need them, she was sure of that. Or had been sure of that. It was perfectly innocent, just a few texts, a few meaningless texts, and it was just getting to know each other. Molly could see how it looked though, and even in her head, where she was certain of all the facts, her honest truth sounded like the excuse she should be looking for to hide what she knew Lauren was thinking was going on.

“Molly?” Lauren pushed impatiently, Molly’s silence drawing out far too long for her liking. They’d been stood there a while, staring at one another, and all Molly could think was how much more guilty she looked, the longer she stood there silent. “What the fuck? Harry? Carpenter Harry?” Lauren quizzed, but they’d already been over that part so Molly didn’t answer. “What are you playing at?”

“We’re texting, that is all Lauren.” Molly explained tediously, for what could easily have been the millionth time. Molly felt like a broken record, but it didn’t seem to make a difference how many times she said it, Lauren still wasn’t having any of it.

“Yeah all the fucking time, you didn’t even realise we were here until I asked you who it was.” Lauren pointed out, and it wasn’t a lie. The message pinging through on Molly’s phone distracted her from anything and everything else, she hadn’t even clocked Lauren and Natalie sat at the table working until Lauren piped up. It was with Lauren’s initial question that the dumb look, the one Molly was still wearing, had wandered onto Lauren’s face, lost for words, lost for an answer. Lauren took it into her own hands, snatching Molly’s phone from her to find out for herself. It had all spiralled out from there.

“Does Ryan know? Molly’s gaping mouth closed, and she swallowed on nothing, but that was all the answer Lauren needed. “This is shady.” Lauren told Molly, her voice laced with a warning tone Molly could have done without.

“Lauren it’s really not,” Molly started, her frustration evident from the way her words seemed somewhat like a growl as they passed her lips. “It’s texting, we’re texting, we get on, we’re being friendly, it’s no different to texting you or Natalie or Jim, ok?” Molly explained to her, her words sharp and snappy, as she reached out and snatched her phone back off Lauren. It was locked, but the message notification and contact name were still on the screen. Lauren hadn’t needed to unlock it to get the only picture she seemed to need to convince herself there was a lot more going on than there actually was.

“You definitely don’t text me as much as you’ve been texting him.” Lauren retaliated bitterly.

“Or me.” Natalie piped up from the table. Molly flicked her eyes to the blonde haired one of their trio. From the outside she looked like she was fully engrossed in her work, but obviously at least half her mind was tuned into Lauren and Molly’s biccuring.

“You’re both being ridiculous.” Molly groaned. “We’re just talking, you’re making it into something it’s not.” Molly argued a little more forcefully at Lauren, but also at the voice in her head that was mimicking Lauren’s words, that was feeding the bud of guilt Lauren had planted.

“Then why haven’t you told Ryan?” Lauren countered, cutting Molly short. Silence fell over the kitchen. It almost felt like everything stopped, time, space, everything. Molly’s nostrils flared. She could hear what Lauren was insinuating, there was no doubt Lauren knew she’d done it, and there was no doubt she knew exactly how Molly would feel about it. If Molly had tried she probably could have seen where Lauren was coming from, but it was so far from the truth, and it stabbed so deep, that Molly didn’t even want to try.

“Are you accusing me of cheating on Ryan?” Molly hissed, narrowing her eyes at Lauren, who physically recoiled, jutting her chin back towards her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, Molly saw Natalie sink further into the notepad she was scrawling over, the tension suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife.

“No I’m just saying don’t you-”

“It really sounds that way Loz.” Molly told her, cutting Lauren off. Normally ‘Loz’ sounded more friendly, more personal than Lauren, but something about the way Molly said it made it sting. “You’re quizzing me about nothing, I’ve barely breathed since I walked in here.” Molly ranted, simple, easy to deal with frustration, bleeding into annoyance that bubbled under Molly’s skin and threatened to pour out.

“Well are you seeing him again?” Lauren asked, like a mother who thought she knew better when she only had half the the facts, unrelenting despite Molly’s obvious irritation.

“Why do you care?” Molly groaned, truly exasperated, irritated to the extreme, where tears could be the next step.

“I’m just asking.” Lauren pointed out, though it felt like a little more than ‘just asking’ to Molly, when she was on the receiving end of ‘just asking’, and it prickled like ‘you’re in the wrong’.

“It doesn’t matter if I am though,” Molly explained, so matter of factly it could have been read from a script. “I hang out with Jim, and I hang out with Ben, but you don’t give me the third degree about them.” Molly went on, hands flailing around her though she gripped her phone tight, careful not to drop it to the tiled floor mid rant.

“They’re your housemates,” Lauren pointed out dramatically, “Not some random guy who came to fix the door, and clearly fancies the pants of you.” She spat, and now they were arguing. They didn’t argue often, not really, but everyone always said they argued like sisters, and Molly had to agree. She knew first hand what it was like to argue with a sister, and even she found it hard to spot the difference between those and an argument with Lauren. They didn’t hold back, they could definitely be brutal and unforgiving, but it never took too long to make up.

“Are you jealous?” Molly asked, half smirking as she did so.

“What?” Lauren laughed, literally, in disbelief at what Molly was asking her.

“Are you jealous that it’s me he’s talking to, and not you?” Molly went on, cocking her hip to one side and tilting her head a little, waiting for Lauren’s answer. Molly felt the game switch, in more ways than one, suddenly Molly felt like she had the upper hand, but she also felt like she had all the answers without having asked any questions.

“Why would you even think that?” Lauren berated, turning her nose up a little as she did so. It worked the same way as Molly’s silence, all the answers Molly needed were in Laurens reaction to the question Molly was asking. Molly chuckled to herself before continuing.

“Well we all know exactly how you felt about him after he came to do the door.” Molly pointed out. She didn’t actually know if they did all know that, Molly didn’t know if she knew that, but once it had spilled from her mouth it seemed to make sense, and Molly only realised then, how it must have been there at the back of her mind all along.

Lauren certainly hadn’t made it a secret that she had a bit of a crush on Harry when she saw him. She had still been gushing about the cute carpenter and his broad shoulders and statuesque bone structure when Molly had returned from the library that evening, after leaving Lauren in Harry’s company. Lauren had even joked about how she’d scored his number when he left his card on the kitchen counter. Maybe, Molly thought, that Lauren didn’t like that for once, and probably for the first time in their friendship, Molly had actually got the cute guys number. It probably stung deeper knowing Molly didn’t need it, and hadn’t been seeking it out. Molly quite liked it, she’d never been jealous of the male attention Lauren got, she had all the male attention she wanted, and needed. But she couldn’t deny the kick she was getting out of believing Lauren was jealous of the attention she’d received from Harry.

“That’s bullshit.” Lauren hissed, shaking her head and kissing her teeth.

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Lauren practically screeched, eyes wide and arms splayed at her sides. “I can’t believe you’re even saying that.” Lauren tried to look offended, but Molly wasn’t convinced she actually was.

“What?” Molly started, tilting her head to one side. “You don’t like being accused of doing something you didn’t do, or aren’t doing?” Molly’s voice sing songed in a sarcastic manner as she tilted her head to the other shoulder. Lauren’s nostrils flared with it and she shook her head at Molly, sighing deep enough so that Molly could see her chest rise and fall through the massively oversized jumper she was wearing.

“I’m not saying you’re cheating Molly, for fuck sake, I’m saying you’re walking a line and it looks a bit odd.” Lauren explained aggressively, her hand chopping through air with each word she spoke. Molly swallowed, looking her best friend in the eye and biting her lips together. If Molly couldn’t see Lauren’s point she’d be a fool, but Molly didn’t like how clear it was to see when she was only seeing it now. The majority of her didn’t want to see it at all as bliss wandered away with ignorance. “I think you should just be honest with Ryan about it.” Lauren continued more calmly, but it did nothing to help Molly’s frustration. In fact it did the opposite.

“Why do you even care?” Molly screamed. “A week ago you pretty much told me our relationship was a pile of shit anyway so what difference does it make, just another hole that you can all bring up when you bitch about us later.” She could feel herself beginning to cry, but she refused to and held her breath to keep it at bay, staring Lauren down through watery vision. They hadn’t spoken about that near argument. No one bought it up. Molly didn’t want to, Lauren had probably forgotten, and Jimmy’s fear of confrontation meant he’d avoid it at all costs. So it went ignored, and seemingly unresolved. Molly hadn’t paid attention to the way it came to her mind whenever she wasn’t distracted by something else, but the way it made her eyes sting when she said it outloud forced her to recognise it.

“We never said your relationship was shit Molly, you’re putting words in our mouths again.” Lauren groaned, proving Molly wrong, Lauren had not forgotten what she’d said in her inebriated state. Perhaps she’d just been embarrassed, Molly thought, but it didn’t matter, before Molly could even contemplate getting into that can of worms, Lauren moved on. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’re hearing what you want to to make you feel better about something.” The look on Lauren’s face, the one of apprehension and pity, told Molly it was something Lauren had been holding back in her head for a while.

“Oh my god you’re insane.” Molly fumed, turning on her heel back towards the kitchen door. She’d only wandered into the kitchen to grab a banana to eat on the way to the cafe where she was planning on working, but now she didn’t want to be in the room any longer, and a snack for her walk was the last thing on her mind. “I’m going out.” Molly finished as she left the kitchen, and Lauren and Natalie, behind her.

“To see Harry?” Molly couldn’t see Lauren any longer, but she could hear the smirk in her voice and the smugness as she got the last word in. The argument was done as far as Molly was concerned, but even so Lauren’s parting words made her blood boil as she grabbed her jacket from one of the hooks and her bag from the floor where she’d dropped it when her phone had pinged in her pocket.

“No Lauren, to the cafe, to study, fuck off.” Molly shouted back bitterly, opening the door and slamming it behind her before Lauren could say another word. The door frame shook with the force of it, making the fragile windows rattle. Molly hoped Lauren got the message as it vibrated through to the kitchen. Molly marched down the front steps off the house, down their street, heading for her favourite cafe in the area, but possibly anywhere she’d been.

The cafe wasn’t far away, only round the corner, which was one of the many reasons Molly liked it so much, but the argument with Lauren lingered over her the whole way. It was nothing that couldn’t be cured by what Molly considered the best cheese scone in town and a pot of proper tea, brewed to perfection, with a splash of milk. Even so, Molly continued the dispute in her head as she walked, bickering with herself as if Lauren was still stood opposite her.

Molly was going from it’s strange, to it’s not at all strange, like it was some sort of tennis match between the two options and she was the ball. It didn’t seem to end though, everytime Molly managed to convince herself it was nothing, there was no reason to be feeling as guilty as she was, there was nothing strange about Harry and her texting, something would pop up in her brain to make her think the opposite. Lauren was one of those things, and Molly mumbled to herself as she walked, arguing her way out of it being strange or shady or anything else Lauren had accused her of being before she had enough and left.

Of course Molly had, had her own doubts ever since she first gave Harry her number over a week previous, in fact nearer to two weeks ago, as she left the Haunt. In her own voice though, in her own head, she talked them down, and they soon became nothing. Voiced in Lauren’s gravelly tone, and home counties accent, they were much harder to ignore and push away.

It’s not that weird Molly. She growled at herself as she continued to march to the cafe. People do this all the time. Molly had lost count of the amount of times she’d told herself that. In the last few days it hadn’t been so often, the uncertain feeling having ebbed, but now it was back, like it was the day after Harry had bought her mangoritas, saved her from a stranger, spent twenty minutes guessing her middle name and put a smile back on her face. How else am I meant to make new friends? Molly was pinning her argument on that point. Surely it was common place, surely it was as everyday as cornflakes and tea in the morning, surely texting to get to know someone was just how it was done nowadays.

All it came down to was making a new friend outside of the university bubble Molly had been living in for a year and a bit. The only problem Molly was sure Lauren, and a small, insignificant part of her own mind, had with it, was that the friend in question was a young, attractive, single, male, and maybe, just maybe, that didn’t sit right when Molly wasn’t single herself. She hated that. She hated the fact that the reason she couldn’t make it one hundred percent ok in her mind was because someone might think that she was about to go behind her boyfriends back. Molly knew she wouldn’t, Harry wasn’t asking her to, or expecting her to, so why that wasn’t enough for her mind or for Lauren, she didn’t know. Why Lauren’s questions and words were still making Molly doubt her own intentions as she pushed the door of the cafe open, Molly couldn’t work out.

The little coffee shop was as quiet as it always was. That was another of the many reasons why Molly loved it so much. It was sweet, and quaint, and had amazing homemade cheese scones that Molly would do near enough anything for. Molly had been on her way to the library to study when she first stumbled upon it. It had started to pour with rain and Molly wasn’t dressed appropriately for that, so she ducked inside to shelter from the storm, ordered a scone and a pot of tea and waited out the weather. She stayed three hours, went through two pots of tea and another scone, made friends with the owner and never looked back. She’d been popping in at least once a week ever since.

“Ah Molly!” Molly grinned as Clive jumped from his stool behind the counter. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d see you this week.” Clive was an older man, his hair was greying, and the corners of his eyes were wrinkled. He had a round tummy that Molly guessed came from an enjoyment of beer and good food from what she knew about his life. He owned a pub across town, Molly knew of it though she didn’t frequent. It was a proper pub, the sort she might find at home in her village, not one that would expect a rabble of uni students to turn up on it’s doors on a Friday night. Clive’s son ran the pub nowadays, Clive preferred the quiet, slow pace of the cafe, and was content with the steady in and out of customers he got.

Clive was another of the reasons Molly liked the cafe so much.

“You know I’d never let you down Clive.” Molly smiled at him, standing over the counter before her eyes drifted towards the variety of baked goods, looking out for her usual. “No cheese scones today?” Molly asked with a creased brow, unable to spot the cheese topped goodies behind the glass.

“I’m afraid we ran out,” Clive lamented. “I’d have saved you one if I knew you were coming.” Molly chuckled and shook her head, knowing he wasn’t joking, he’d done it before. Molly told him he shouldn’t, but he still did it.

“That’s ok, I’ll have a sausage roll instead and a-”

“Pot of tea?” Clive finished for her and Molly nodded with a smile. Clive went about getting Molly’s order ready, hobbling on the hip that he refused to get fixed despite the insistent pleas from his family that Molly knew he didn’t like. It didn’t stop her telling him he should really go in for the op though. “Go take a seat, I’ll bring it over, someone’s already taken your spot though I’m afraid.” Molly looked over to the corner she normally occupied when she turned up. Clive was right, a gaggle of yummy mummies had taken it over with their prams and plush toys that looked far too nice to let slobbery children chew on. Molly sighed and set her sights on another seat far away from the literal mother’s meeting that was going on in her normal corner.

Apart from the group of women, the cafe was as quiet as it always was. Molly loved how slow and steady, quiet and simple it was, it kept her coming back. It was the perfect place to work when she wanted somewhere other than her room at home, or the library. Clive let her get on with her work, but interrupted her with a fresh pot of tea every now and again, and a brief chat so she could come up for air before he’d wonder away and Molly could drown in her work again. At home Lauren didn’t know when to leave. In the library no one helped her come up for air. Clive and the cafe were the perfect balance when Molly needed it.

Molly set her laptop up on the table, her current reference book and notepad by its side, and waited for it to load, checking her phone in the meantime. The message from Harry was still waiting to be read on the lock screen, blurring the photo of her and Ryan behind it. Even though Molly hadn’t forgotten the row the unopened message had led to, she had forgotten the message itself, but that switched when she saw it there still.

Molly chuckled to herself as she read it:

So it was my turn to fall asleep on you last night, sorry haha

For the past ten or so days, Molly had fallen asleep mid-conversation with Harry. However, the night before, Molly had been wide awake, up to her eyes in a Netflix binge, when Harry stopped replying. She’d even been awake when Ryan’s nightly, roughly three am, goodnight, just finished work, message came through, and that never happened. Molly decided not to reply to it, knowing Ryan would think something was up if she had done and knowing three am was not the time for that conversation. Instead she set her phone on the side and closed her laptop, realising she’d been more focused on texting Harry than the show she’d been watching, and she really didn’t have a clue what was happening or why the youngest Shelby brother was marrying the gypsy girl.

I suppose I’ll forgive you

Oh good, I thought you were ignoring me for falling asleep.

How’s your morning?

Harry was a quick replier, Molly had noticed that, she’d grown to expect it and gotten used to it. There was only once when she’d had to wait longer than fifteen minutes for a reply to a message, even if it didn’t really need one. The one time it had taken him longer, it had taken him a lot longer, nearly twelve hours actually, and Molly couldn’t deny she’d gone into a bit of a two fold panic. First she panicked she’d overstepped a line, for both herself and him, by asking if he was going to be cooking her dinner when he’d sent something about wetting her appetite that didn’t really make sense. Then she’d gone onto worry something had happened to him when it got to midnight and he hadn’t replied.

When she woke up to a reply she felt the relief literally wash over her. It was something about him being a good cook, she couldn’t really remember, she didn’t really care about what it said, just that it was there and she hadn’t gone too far, hadn’t said something that would look like she had ulterior motives, and mostly that Harry was ok.

Since then it had been back to the quick replies. If Molly didn’t know better, she’d have thought Harry was surgically attached to his phone. But she did know better. He messaged on his tea and lunch breaks and after work, not in between, but when he did he was just quick. However, she also knew that, that particular Friday, Harry had decided to finish early. Molly knew because she’d helped him decide. Harry wasn’t sure, he needed the money, a full days wage, but for days all he’d done was say how tired he felt, and she knew he’d worked both the Saturday and Sunday previous. Molly told him he deserved time off, and he seemed to accept that, or at least he’d taken the Friday afternoon off once she’d said her piece.

“That the boyfriend?” Molly looked up to Clive from her phone, halfway through her own reply and oblivious to the smile that had graced her face when she read Harry’s text.

“Oh no,” Molly started as Clive set down her food and pot of tea. “Just a friend.” She smiled, pulling the side plate holding the sausage roll closer to her.

“Must be a good friend, make you smile like that.” Clive winked. Molly chuckled and shook her head. It didn’t feel as intentional or contemplated as when Lauren had said as much, so it didn’t sting in the same way. “Suits you, make sure you keep them around.” Clive instructed seriously, with one cocked eyebrow. Molly nodded before Clive walked away to let her get on. The words Lauren had slurred, and the ones that had been written all over Jimmy’s face, weren’t so different from what Clive had just said. But with a little perspective, and the lack of comparison in her own mind, it didn’t get under her skin in the same way.

Just in a cafe working, you?

Oh nice I should let you get on then, talk to you later, have funnnn!

No it’s fine, I’m a woman, I can multitask

And she did just that, only not very successfully. Molly tried to focus on the piece of research, written by someone else on her course, and the review and analysis she was meant to be doing of it, but the conversation was far more appealing and entertaining to her. The part of her she listened to was telling her it was because the research was on women’s street style of the nineteen eighties, a period in fashion industry that Molly had little interest in, but the other part of her knew it was because Harry was making her laugh and smile, and, really, completely forget she had uni work to do at all.

Molly hadn’t enjoyed something, as much as she was enjoying getting to know Harry, in a long time. There was something about how he was separate from every other part of her life that made talking to him feel like an escape in a way. There was no connection to home and her life there, there was no connection to university and the stress of that, the only connection was Harry and Molly and the fact they got on, it felt like they’d skipped some chapters somewhere. She wanted to talk to Harry everyday, she wanted to know about his day and she wanted to tell him about hers, she wanted to tell hIm stupid jokes she knew because he actually seemed to find them amusing, she wanted to tell him about the cute dog she saw in the coffee shop, but also the woman who was horrid to her in the library, or the fact her hair dryer broke half way through drying her hair, and she wanted to hear the same from him, the ups and downs of his days and everything in between.

If Molly didn’t think she knew better, she’d have thought she was beginning to like him, really like him. But Molly knew better, and she just liked having a new friend, and the process of getting to know a new friend. Even if it was completely different to any other friendship she’d ever developed before, and even if she got a few butterflies when she woke to a text from Harry, and even if he was becoming the first person she thought of when she wanted to say something. It was nice to have interest paid even to the thoughts that were a product of her daydreaming. It was something she didn’t know she was missing until it was there all the time.

It seemed, initially, that they didn’t have a lot in common, and that was a list they were building slowly. So far it was mainly home to a love for terrible dad jokes, golden retrievers, and the need for a cup of tea at least eight times a day. However, that little list didn’t stop them from talking for hours and never running out of things to say. To Molly, that felt like a rare thing, a rare thing to find in life. There and then, with eighty words of her assignment written, but probably as many messages to Harry, Molly decided that a few peoples ill-judged thoughts about her and Harry, were not going to be the reason she let go of that.

Why don’t you come for a coffee? We keep threatening to hang out, why not now?

You’re meant to be working

Oh well, I’m not in the right frame of mind

Unless you don’t want to

Oh no I’d love to see you, only if you’re sure though?

I’m 100% sure Harry!

Ok, where are you? I’ll meet you there

Molly gave Harry the address of Rosie Lee’s Cafe and set her phone down. Face down, on silent. Until Harry showed his face, Molly was determined that she wouldn’t get distracted by anything else, and she’d focus entirely on her assignment that was waiting for more than eighty two words.

It was typical that now Harry was on his way, that Molly found it easier to concentrate. She supposed it was because her phone wasn’t constantly tinging now Harry was on his way to her. But part of her had to wonder if it was down to the content feeling inside that had taken over from the buzzing, on edge feeling, that had been at home in her stomach since her and Harry exchanged numbers. Molly thought she’d feel anxious when they finally decided to meet up again, but it seemed the threat of seeing Harry made her more nervous than actually seeing him. It was something that had come up again and again over the days, at first it was jokingly, but as days passed it was suggested more seriously. Molly hadn’t expected to be the one who initiated it, but there she was waiting for Harry on her invitation.

There was a niggle, somewhere in her brain, about how she should feel about asking Harry to join her after Lauren’s attack that morning. Surely the guilt should be more intense, Molly thought, but if anything she felt better knowing Harry was on his way. There was definite glimmer of excitement at getting to see him again that she couldn’t ignore.

Molly knew her thoughts and feelings pointed to fancying him, or at least at a crush. Maybe she did have a bit of a crush, she could admit to that. But that was it. It was hard not to have a little crush on someone who made you laugh and smile and had eyes like Harry did, eyes that had stuck in her mind since their last encounter. But that didn’t matter. No amount of laughter or smiles, not even James Dean’s eyes, could have made her even think about being unfaithful to Ryan. As far as Molly was concerned, he was her one and only, her literal high school sweetheart, her forever and always. They’d settled on that the day Molly had left him in his halls and she’d wandered back to the car to meet his parents. Nothing was going to change that, especially not Harry moving into a position of good friend. She knew with every part of her, that was all it would ever be. Even if knowing that made her take a deep breath.

Molly enjoyed sitting in the quiet buzz of the cafe to work, the way she always did. As her fingers tapped at the keys of her laptop, it became clear all over again why she went to Rosie Lee’s to work. Her mind focused better with the chit chat of the women in the corner that muffled into a blur of background noise that she didn’t even really notice the more she wrote. The comforting smells of fresh baked goods and coffee, kept her comfortable along with the soft warmth of the cafe. It was all virtually perfect working conditions for Molly and her assignment was flowing for it. It felt like the words were pouring out of her fingers and as she looked back over her page, it was good to see all her little annotations poking out of the side of the original essay, and a good portion of her improved version on the other side of the screen.

Time seemed to disappear into thin air, Molly lost all track of it. When she finally zoned in on someone calling her name, she had no idea how long she’d been working, or how long Harry had been stood at her table calling her name, or his version of her name, before he finally gave up and clicked his fingers in her face. Molly looked up at him, a little startled and definitely in a fog from her laptop screen. She quickly relaxed at the sight of him, long hair down over his shoulders, sunglasses holding it back, and a plain white t-shirt covering his broad upper body, but exposing the ink on his arms nicely.

“Hello worker bee.” Harry chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of the black skinny jeans he was wearing.

“Hi, sorry, I thought you’d be a little while.” Molly bumbled, closing her laptop and collecting all her papers together to give him room to sit. In her study-induced daze, Molly had managed to take up the whole table with her things. The teapot and plate had gone though, so Clive must have taken them away at some point, and Molly felt awfully rude for not realising and not thanking him.

“It’s ok love, carry on if you’re not done.” Harry reassured with a soft smile as he pulled out the chair opposite Molly to sit down. Suddenly Molly felt very conscious of what she was wearing. Harry looked perfectly casual, but in her ions old white top, dog tooth trousers and trainers, Molly felt both over and underdressed and everything in between. She discreetly pulled her top around a little, though it made no odds to the fact it was definitely thinning a little from too much wear, or the fact the left sleeve had a small hole in it where she habitually pulled at it as she worked. Molly never worried about what she was wearing, she considered herself stylish but that was modest, because she knew she was stylish, but something about Harry made her wonder if what she was wearing was ok.

“No I’m done, just proofreading.” Molly lied. Considering she couldn’t work with Harry texting her, she doubted she’d be able to do much with him actually sat with her. And besides, he was there now, to spend time with her, and she with him, and that’s what she really wanted to do. Much more than she wanted to finish the assignment.

“What was it?” Harry asked, sat down now and reclining away from her. Molly was still fumbling around, trying to fit everything back into the large canvas tote that it had all somehow come out of. Even with her eyes fully focused on what she was doing, Molly knew Harry was looking at her. Partly because she could see him a little out of the corner of her eye, partly because she expected it, and partly because she could feel his stare on her, which was only making the process of putting things away far more flustered.

“A critical analysis thingymagig.” Molly waved, blase in her answer as she shook some final papers in beside her laptop.

“Interesting.” Harry nodded. If Molly didn’t know otherwise, she might have thought he was being sarcastic, but he always took an interest in what she was doing for uni and normally one question was followed by another about her work. She answered them happily though she wasn’t always in the mood to talk about uni, Harry didn’t make it feel like she was talking about uni work, but rather like she was talking about her passion. She hadn’t felt like that when talking about her BA in Fashion and Textile Design in a long time.

“So coffee?” Molly suggested brightly before further chat about her assignment could ensue. She didn’t want to get caught out, she didn’t want Harry to know she was still about five hundred words from finishing. She didn’t want to make him feel bad for getting in the way of her finishing it off, and now her bag was packed and the table resembled a table again, it seemed like the perfect time to move on.

“Well if you’re done, why don’t we get take out and go for a walk?” Harry began, “You been inside all day?” He added quickly as if going outside together relied on Molly having to have been indoors all day so far. Molly nodded at him a little. “Well there we go then, you should get some fresh air.” Harry announced, slapping the table with his large palms as he did so.

“Sure, ok.” Molly agreed easily, taking the lead and standing to her feet. She reached down for her bag, lugging it up onto her shoulder with a little difficulty. It was heavy, and it read all over the way her face strained as she lifted the canvas bag that she only ever used when she had a lot to carry.

“Here, let me take that.” Harry offered, reaching out for the bag that Molly was heaving onto her shoulder, or at least trying to.

“It’s fine, honestly.” Molly tried to reassure with a smile, but it was strained as her shoulder lowered to accommodate for the weight of her bag. Harry could see her neck already tight from the tension pulling at her and he just rose his eyebrows and flicked his fingers that were still outstretched for the bag.

“I said let me take it.” Harry repeated a little more forcefully. Molly didn’t even flinch, but Harry held his breath for a second when he heard the tone of his own voice. “Come on,” Harry went on, softer again. “It clearly weighs a tonne and you carried it all the way here, just let me be a gent and take your bag.” Harry insisted, his arm still not reclining. Molly sighed and rolled her eyes, dropping the bag from her shoulder to her forearm. Before she could hand it to him, Harry reached for it and took it off her arm, lifting it with ease onto his own shoulder. It didn’t pull him down like it had Molly, and it didn’t strain his neck either, but it did make Molly feel just as weak to watch him walk towards the counter completely unaffected by her heavy bag, his wide shoulders unflinching from the weight of it.

Molly followed after Harry, but her eyes moved to Clive who was looking straight past Harry to Molly with knowing expression on his face, and one eyebrow further up his forehead than the other. Molly shook her head and gave him a warning glare, but the look on Clive’s face just turned to amusement. Molly considered Clive a friend, in the same way she considered her favourite lecturer a friend, or Bill from the post office at home a friend. In an elderly uncle kind of way. In a ‘I know you’re winding me up, but we know I love you anyway’ way. The look on Clive’s face as Harry got closer confirmed it.

Molly moved a bit quicker so she got the counter at the same time Clive opened his mouth to speak to Harry.

“So you’re the one making her smile like a loon earlier?” Clive initiated unapologetically, eyes glued on Harry, looking over him and seemingly scrutinising every detail. Harry chuckled and Molly shook her head.

“Subtle Clive, real subtle.” Molly groaned from Harry’s side.

“I’ll take it, nothing wrong with making a lovely lady smile.” Molly cringed at Harry’s words, she felt him looking down at her and she knew she was blushing furiously as she continued to stare at Clive, who was continuing to stare at Harry.

“Hm,” Clive pondered. “Well as long as it’s just smiling I suppose we can deal with that.”

“Just smiling sir.” Harry assured with a curt nod.

“And no tears, we’ve had enough tears from Molly because of boy-”

“That’s enough Clive.” Molly interrupted, cutting Clive short before he could spill any or all of her secrets, both were an option with Clive. She trusted him, but had no doubt Clive could easily forget himself and let Harry know all the times she’d been in with red puffy eyes and in dire need of tea and scones after an argument with Ryan.

“Fine,” Clive sighed, still eyeing up Harry. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a white coffee to go please, and whatever Lolly would like.” Harry told Clive politely, looking down at Molly again, waiting for her to answer.

“That would be an English Breakfast Tea, extra strong, a dash of milk, absolutely no sugar then.” Clive answered proudly, puffing his chest out a little as he did so, unaffected by Harry’s nickname for his favourite little lady.

“Wow you do know her well.” Harry chuckled. “I’ll have to come in for some tips.” Clive finally smiled a little, the harsh facade easily broken by the compliment.

“Actually Clive, can I have a cappuccino to go.”

“Coffee!?” Clive pretty much squealed in shock at Molly’s order. Molly laughed and nodded at Clive’s disbelief, but he just tutted ashe turned. “He’s getting to you already Mol.” Clive mumbled as he walked towards the coffee machine.

Molly and Harry stood at the counter silently as they waited for their coffee. It wasn’t awkward or pointed in any way, in fact it felt absolutely comfortable to be next to each other, so close Molly could pretty much feel the soft hairs on Harry’s arms brushing against her own skin, without saying a word. It felt just as easy as talking until the cows came home with Harry, or laughing until her belly hurt with him.

“A flat white, and a cappuccino.” Clive announced placing two take out cups on the counter in front of their respective owners.

“What do I owe you?” Harry asked reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“On the house lad, a friend of Molly’s is a friend of ours.” Clive told him with a friendly smile.

“Are you sure? I was hoping to treat her.” Clive laughed and shook his head.

“Well get her out of here and get her mind of that damn essay.” Clive instructed making Harry laugh and nod all at once. Both Harry and Molly thanked Clive with a smile and Molly wished him goodbye, telling him she’d see him soon before she followed Harry to the door. Before she got there, Molly peeked over her shoulder at Clive, he was still stood by the till watching them go, and he had a big bright grin on his face, when Molly caught him he gave her a, not so discreet, thumbs up which made Molly laugh quietly and shake her head before she turned back to where she was going.

“Thanks.” Molly whispered when Harry held the door for her, letting her step out into the sunshine. It was the end of September, but it was still comfortably warm. Not enough for bare limbs, but enough that Molly still didn’t quite need a jacket, and she was determined to take advantage of that for as long as possible. Molly walked slowly as she waited for Harry who was holding the door for others leaving the cafe.

“Jesus, I feel like I just met your dad.” Harry breathed, sighing relief once he was at Molly’s side again. Molly smiled at him over her plastic coffee cup lid and chuckled through a mouthful of coffee.

“My dad’s not that bad.” Molly told him honestly. Molly’s dad had never given any boy Molly or her sister had taken home the third degree, not even when Jeanie had turned up with some American exchange student from the local college when she was in year ten. When he left there were words, but no interrogation.

“Well that’s a relief.” Harry admitted. “So, have you spoken to Ryan today?” Harry went on, changing the topic after they’d both taken a satisfactory amount of their coffees. Molly knew why he was asking, the day before she’d told Harry that she’d not really heard from Ryan properly the whole day, and she hadn’t. He’d messaged that morning though before she left, and they had a quick exchange before Ryan had to go off to university.

“Kinda, he’s busy.” Molly shrugged, lifting her coffee to her mouth and not meeting Harry’s eyes as she said it. On the outside, she acted like it wasn’t an issue, internally it made her tummy knot and throat clench. “He’s visiting next weekend though.” Molly smiled, looking up to Harry then.

“Oh yeah,” Harry nodded, like he hadn’t remembered her telling him. Of course he had remembered, it was committed to memory, and not just because he hadn’t scheduled in any work for that weekend yet. “So do I get to meet the lucky guy?” Harry asked with a playful smile that was hiding a multitude of feelings.

“Maybe, might put Lauren’s m-”

“Harry mate.” A strange voice interrupted Molly, she looked over her shoulder at it, and stopped when Harry did. A large, hulking man was walking towards them with a perfect white toothed grin on his face. His arms were huge, that was the first thing Molly noticed, they bulged out of his t-shirt and he looked like he could crush a mans skull if he wanted to. It set Molly a little on edge, and she hoped neither he nor Harry noticed how she stepped a little closer to Harry at the sight of him.

“Oh Shakey, you alright?” Harry beamed, stepping forward. Molly followed suit instinctively, but didn’t offer an outstretched hand to the stranger the way Harry did.

“Yeah good ta, you training Tuesday?” Shakey asked after a quick handshake.

“Of course.” Harry smiled. Molly had her eyes on the man, she was looking at his face seriously, when his piercing blue eyes fell on her and remained there. “Oh sorry this is L-Molly, Molly this is Shane, but we call him Shakey.”

“A new lady, I see.” Shane winked, looking back up at Harry without so much as a ‘hello’, Molly didn’t really appreciate any of it so she decided to look elsewhere and sip at her coffee as the two conversed. She heard a strained laugh leave Harry that made her want to look back at him, it was a strange noise, not like his normal bubbly laugh, but she resisted the urge.

“Oh no, we’re just friends.” Harry told Shane pointedly.

“Right.” Shane chuckled darkly. In her peripheral vision Molly saw him nod, and drop his gaze to her again, and Molly looked at him then too, lifting her cup to her mouth simultaneously. “So won’t be seeing her on the sidelines then?” Shane winked, though it didn’t match the somewhat warning tone in his voice. Molly narrowed her eyes at him. He was looking right at her, dead in the eyes, yet he was talking about her like she wasn't even there. It got under Molly’s skin, and if her and Harry weren’t in such early days of their friendship she might have said something, but as it was, she didn’t see the point of causing an issue between Harry and herself over someone she might never have to see again, or at least she could hope.

“Who knows mate?” Harry sighed, sounding a little fed up with the conversation. “Well we best be off, I’ll see you Tuesday.” Harry finished, stepping back away from Shane.

“Yeah see you then.” Shane nodded. Molly felt Harry’s hand on her lower back as he guided her back away from Shane in the direction they’d been going before he interrupted.

“Who’s that?” Molly asked before Harry could say anything.

“One of the rugby boys.” Harry told her distractedly. Molly looked up at him, he was looking over his shoulder back in the direction of Shane, but Molly didn’t join him in that.

“Oh so they’re the sidelines he was talking about?” Molly clicked. Harry had told Molly he played rugby, he trained every Tuesday for two hours after work and played most Saturdays but the season had only just started again and he’d only had a couple of games, she remembered. However, when Shane had mentioned the sidelines a few minutes earlier, it had not been the first thing that came to her mind.

Harry didn’t answer her question, he was looking off into the distance, seemingly somewhere other than where he was physically with Molly. Molly nudged him to get his attention and Harry’s head flicked down a little to look at her. He smiled, but he obviously hadn’t heard her question so Molly let it slide.

“So here’s a funny thing.” Harry started, with a smile that told Molly, Harry didn’t find what he was about to say that funny really. “You know that text last week or whenever about wetting your appetite?” Harry asked and Molly’s heart dropped.

“Oh god.” Molly groaned, looking down at her feet as they walked.

“What?” Harry asked, not expecting that response at all, and suddenly nervous.

“I was only messing around when I said about you cooking dinner for me, I didn’t mean to overstep a line or anything, I was just messing and I didn’t know what you were talking about.” Molly babbled quickly. Her words rolled into one long breathless stream of consciousness, she barely came up for air, even when she finished she was holding her breath, waiting for Harry to say something.

“Whoa calm down Lol, it’s fine.” Harry chuckled, his hand suddenly on her back again, but not in a guiding way, in a comforting way. Slowly Molly lifted her head, they were at the entrance of the park, if you could call it that, but Molly wasn’t entirely sure how they’d got there. Harry led the way, looking over his shoulder a little as he went on to talk, silently grateful Molly couldn’t completely see his face as he explained himself, certain he looked like she did when he paid her compliment. “What I was going to say was, it didn’t make sense because Shakey back there, had tried to send you a photo of me in the showers after training, but luckily it didn’t send for some reason.”

“Why would he do that?” Molly asked looking a little disgusted, and a little offended, and also a little hurt for some reason she couldn’t pin point. Molly prayed Harry couldn’t see how hard her mind was working to try and not think about Harry post shower, or the blush on her cheeks when she ultimately pretty much failed and saw her imaginations version of a semi naked, drenched Harry. Stop. She told herself, focusing back on Harry in the present as she joined his side again and took a sip of her coffee to hide her cheeks.

“He didn’t realise you were with someone, thought there was more on the cards with you and I than just friends I think.” Harry told her flippantly, waving it off, glad her response was vastly less extreme than he’d had it in his head. Molly just nodded and pursed her lips looking away from Harry before she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “Hey what’s up?” Harry asked with a creased brow. It didn’t take much asking though.

“Do you think it’s weird hanging out just us two with just friends on the cards?” Molly spilt quickly without any coaxing from Harry. She looked up to him as she said it, her neck strained to see his reaction.

“No not really, why do you?” Harry shrugged, only looking down when he spoke directly to her again.

“No.” Molly told him, though she wasn’t sure, but then she wasn’t sure if that was because of her own head or the concerns Lauren had put there. It felt like the conversation with Lauren was forcing her to compare to things that weren’t comparable. The budding friendship with Harry was nothing like the three year long romantic attachment she had to Ryan. There was no point putting them up side by side, it would be like comparing the film and the book the film was based on. Both had pros, but neither was without its cons. It’s just the cons of one felt more condemning.

“What’s up?” Harry asked again, but this time it didn’t come as easily. Molly felt something sinking inside her. She didn’t want to tell Harry what Lauren had said, she didn’t want him to have the same thoughts she did. Maybe if he did, he’d feel guilty like Molly did, maybe he’d doubt his own certainty like Molly had, and maybe then she’d never see him again, and maybe slowly the texts would stop coming in. Molly did not like that possibility. It had been ten days she’d had Harry in her life, but already she was used to it, and already she didn’t want it any other way.

“Hey Lolly, come on tell me.” Harry pushed, but Molly shook her head and smiled as if there was nothing to tell, but Harry didn’t buy it. Instead of letting her carry on walking or letting her push him away so easily, Harry reached out and took her wrist, pulling her back to him gently and stopping her in her tracks. Molly turned back to Harry with ease, taking the steps to close the gap between them so their arms weren’t straining against one another, but Harry didn’t drop her arm then, instead he just held it lighter, his thumb circling on the inside of her wrist as he found her eyes. “What’s going on?” Harry asked so gently it was nearly a whisper, but his voice still held that distinctive roughness that Molly liked.

Molly’s eyes flicked over Harry’s face, from his eyes that were a little narrower than she was used to, across his cheeks and jaw that was sporting a little stubble where he obviously hadn’t shaved that morning, over his soft, pink lips and back to his eyes that had followed hers on their path over his features. Molly tensed her jaw a little a few times, staring into Harry’s eyes, he was unflinching but didn’t move to push her anymore. He’d just wait, patiently. For you love, I’ve got all the time in the world Molly remembered in Harry’s, honey spread over burnt toast, tone. Molly sighed and her shoulders dropped, it made them seem closer still, but she didn’t move her feet.

“Nothing really,” Molly began quietly. “Just Lauren went off this morning saying it was odd and I was walking a very tight line and insinuated it wasn’t fair on Ryan.” Molly explained as loosely as possible. Harry’s brow creased instantly, and deeper with every word Molly uttered. He shook his head, confused.

“Why would it not be fair on Ryan?” Harry quizzed, Molly shrugged, she didn’t know either, not really, not from her own point of view. Though maybe if the tables were turned, she thought, but ignored it. For all she knew the tables were turned, she didn’t know who her boyfriend spent his time with, she didn’t know anything about him at all really, not anymore. “It’s not like anything’s happening.” Harry told her.

“I know that.”

“Well that’s all that matters.” Harry breathed. Molly nodded, but it was clear she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that, that was the case. “Look Lol, I get it, maybe it is a bit strange, and sure if you weren’t with Ryan things might be different I’m not going to lie,” Molly’s heart sped up with that confession and she had to swallow back nothing. “But you are with Ryan, and I’m ok with that, I’m not trying to go behind anyone’s back or cause any issues, I just think you’re a sound girl and I enjoy spending time with you.” Harry told her, but her heart hadn’t slowed down yet, and it didn’t show signs of doing so. If anything Harry’s admittance that he still wanted to get to know her, still wanted to be around and in her life despite the fact she was taken made it worse. There was something about the fact that Harry wasn’t standing there with her, buying her coffee and taking her to the park for fresh air, for anything other than friendship that made Molly buzz internally.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry.” Molly breathed, a lopsided, apologetic smile lifting one side of her mouth.

“You don’t need to say sorry to me love.” Harry told her quietly as a soft breeze lifted her hair off her shoulder and over her face. Harry lifted his hand and moved it away quickly, without hesitation, and without really thinking, as seemed to be the way so often with Molly. Harry didn’t feel he had to overthink anything, and it seemed like she felt the same. Only a few words from someone else had her doing otherwise, between the two of them though it was easy and unstrained. “I haven’t made a new friend in ages, I’m quite enjoying it.” Harry admitted with a goofy smile.

“Same.” Molly smiled.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, standing up straighter again, not really realising he’d stopped a little to meet Molly’s eyes better as he reassured her. They started to walk again, instinct made Harry want to reach down for Molly’s hand from her wrist, but he caught himself before he did it, knowing better than to think that was ok, even after their conversation.

“Yeah,”Molly smiled. “You did interrupt silent witness last night though, and that can’t be happening again.” Molly winked playfully, her easy going, relaxed aura back intact.

“Oh god, I can’t deal with that show.” Harry admitted with a shake of his head and wide nostrils, the panic he felt from watching crime thrillers all over his face at the thought alone.

“What? Why?” Molly quizzed sharply.

“It’s terrifying, I’d be up checking the wardrobes and under the bed for hours if I watched that.” Harry told her unabashed in his fear of slightly scary entertainment, though Harry wouldn’t call it entertaining.

“Really? Silent Witness?” Molly questioned with a crease between her brows as she looked at Harry in disbelief. He was a walking talking example of not judging a book by its cover. He was a tall, strapping, well built, rugby player, but cowered at a BBC drama. Harry just nodded, his bottom lip pouting out a little, not worried about Molly’s slight disbelief, he was used to it. “Wow, ok then, I’ll remember not to suggest scary movies anytime.”

“Good idea, more of comedy, or romance or cartoon kinda guy.” Harry told her, reminding Molly that they were still getting to know one another. It was easy to forget they really hadn’t known each other long at all, but every now and again Molly was reminded and she felt herself put in her place.

“That new one with Jennifer Aniston looks good.” Molly announced, her mind consciously two steps ahead. Harry nodded appreciatively. For a second Molly thought about it, for a second she wondered about that line Lauren talked about, but Harry’s words were louder and clearer and easy to follow so she stopped thinking and went for it. “We should go see it.” Molly suggested with a false confidence, like she wasn’t scared he’d turn round and ask what she thought she was doing.

“Yeah?” Harry checked, Molly nodded with a smile and watched as Harry broke into one just as wide but ten times more endearing, Molly was sure. “I could cook you that dinner.” Harry winked to which Molly giggled girlishly, shaking her head. “What about Saturday?”

“I’ve got Ryan-”

“Oh shit yeah, sorry don’t worry, erm,” Harry fussed cutting her off, stumbling over his words foolishly, feeling ridiculous, not sure how he’d managed to forget Ryan was visiting. He’d thought it was ingrained on his mind, but then Molly had the ability to make him forget himself it seemed, let alone her boyfriend coming to see her. “Maybe in the week or another time.” Harry proposed with a limp shrug.

“Yeah sure.” Molly beamed, nodding, Harry’s slip up forgotten, or maybe not even really noticed by Molly.

They carried on walking through the park, strolling casually and slowly as they talked about everything and nothing and all the things in between. It rolled easily, from topic to topic, Molly found herself wondering how they’d got onto some subjects, but she didn’t question it, just let the conversation carry on as smoothly and naturally as it always had. It felt just like it felt when they were messaging. It felt just as easy and unforced, completely naturally effortless. Molly knew she didn’t know a single other person that she could talk to like she talked with Harry, but she didn’t let that get in her head and wrap around all the things that were lighting her up internally until they were poisoned and rotting.

Molly could have stayed with Harry all day and longer, or maybe she wanted to, because really she couldn’t. Really she had to get home, finish her assignment, have dinner. The afternoon was beginning to roll into evening and Molly wasn’t really sure where the time had gone, but a breeze was creeping up and beginning to bite at her. She shivered with it.

“Are you not cold?” She asked Harry gently, folding her arms across her chest, and looking at his bare arms.

“No,” Harry mused, glancing down at Molly. “You are obviously.” He chuckled at the sight of her hugging herself. “Come here you big wuss.” Harry laughed reaching around her and pulling her closer to him. With the force of his arm Molly stumbled into Harry’s side, steadying herself with her hands on his chest. He was warm, so warm, and it flooded through her quickly as she settled content against his side. She wanted to breathe it, him, in, and relax completely. But she felt stiff and wrong. She hated the tug of war inside her, she wanted it to end, she wanted Harry’s embrace to win out but she didn’t know what was on the other side, if it was Lauren’s words, or Ryan, or her own thoughts. It didn’t matter, she was still egging on Harry’s arms around her, but everytime they got close to pulling her over the line, Lauren’s line popped into her head, or Ryan’s face, or her guilt.

“I need to get home Harry.” Molly told him, pushing back away from him with a pinch of regret.

“Oh, ok.” Harry sounded as unfavourable of it as Molly felt. “Do you want me to walk you?” Molly shook her head, closing her eyes for a second.

“No, don’t be silly, I’ll be fine.” Molly told him with a weak smile that didn’t fill Harry with any reassurance or warmth, but not because he didn’t believe she’d be fine.

“Ok, well you message me when you get in.” Harry told her and Molly nodded. “Let’s do this again,” Harry suggested and Molly carried on nodding. “Soon.” He finished strongly.

“Soon.” Molly repeated with a smile and she really hoped it would be. They said their goodbyes with a friendly hug thrown in for good measure, and Molly took her bag back before she left Harry behind and headed for home.

There was a sinking feeling inside her, and her eyes were sore, like they were stinging from holding back tears. Molly felt like she wanted to cry, but she didn’t think she had any idea why. Ignorance is bliss, but Molly didn’t feel blissful as she remained ignorant to what was staring her in the face. She felt heavy and weak and like she was being torn apart inside, ripped in half with no promise of being stitched back together. It wasn’t the recognition that there was definitely something sparking inside her for Harry, but it was what that said that tore her open and made her eyes sting and stomach knot.

It never took Molly long to get home, and that day was no different. She rushed down the roads, trying to ignore her mind and the threat of tears that continued to loom the closer she got to home. The breeze was really picking up and she had her mind on a hot shower and a big bowl of pasta and sauce topped with a mountain of melted cheese. It was comfort food, but Molly didn’t need an excuse for that even though she felt like she might have one.

The house was dark when she got inside, there were no lights on anywhere, apart from a glimmer creeping out from under Lauren’s door. Molly dropped her bag in the hallway and dragged her way to Lauren’s room to say hi, and to say sorry, and to talk. Molly pushed the door open tentatively. Lauren looked up from her desk where she was working, she had her glasses on and the front parts of her hair clipped back. Her face was bare and she was wearing a ratty black tank top and some sweatpants that looked like they’d seen better days. Lauren was in work mode.

“Hey.” Molly breathed stepping into her room.

“Hi.” Lauren huffed, looking back down at her notebook and continuing to scrawl on the page, glancing up to her laptop every now and again.

“Everyone out?” Molly asked, and Lauren just shrugged, a step short of ignoring Molly completely, but Molly carried on. “How was your day?” Molly asked stepping further into the room and heading for Lauren’s bed.

“Fine.” Lauren murmured, not looking up from her notebook. Lauren was good at studying, she just got on with it without complaints, but Molly could tell her head wasn’t really in it from how she was slumped over. She was pretending to be concentrating, but she wasn’t, because if she was she’d hold her finger up at Molly to be quiet and make her wait until she’d finished.

“I saw Harry.” Molly announced, sitting on Lauren’s bed but watching Lauren and noticing how she seemed to stiffen with Molly’s words.

“None of my business apparently.” Lauren hissed sarcastically, still not looking at Molly, though she did put the pen down. It did cut a little, and guilt was rising up for a different reason now.

“That wasn’t what I said.” Molly countered confidently. “I just didn’t like what it sounded like you were accusing me of.” Molly explained urgently, leaning on her hands, on Lauren’s perfectly made bed.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything, it just does look a bit strange and I was asking what was going on.” Lauren snapped turning on her chair quickly, voice raised a little. Lauren’s dark eyes were wide and even more doe like that normal, her full lips hanging open as she stared at Molly when she finished. Molly was a little taken back by her reaction, but she just nodded and sighed.

“It’s nothing, we are just friends,” Molly implored. “I asked him about it and he said the same more or less.” Molly shrugged. Lauren seemed to soften, standing from her chair and moving towards Molly.

“More or less?” She quizzed, sitting down next to Molly. And just like that the argument was forgotten. It was back to best friends and advice and talking and listening and reassurance, and all the things Molly wanted and needed from Lauren in those moments.

“Yes.” Molly continued with a grand nod of her head. Molly sniffed back though she didn’t really need to, and swallowed, something about what Harry had said was sticking in her throat like a lump that refused to budge. “He said if I was single maybe things would be different but he just likes hanging out and chatting and he’s good with friends.” Molly told Lauren, her voice wavering a little.

“If you were single would things be different for you too?” Lauren asked, Molly didn’t know she was scared of the question until it was out there in the open and Lauren was looking at her waiting for an answer.

“But I’m not single am I?” Molly barely whispered, looking back at Lauren their eyes meeting. Lauren sighed, her shoulders falling, immediately able to pick out the sadness in Molly’s dark blue eyes, but unrelenting nonetheless.

“That’s not the question Molly.” Lauren insisted with lips drawn tight. Molly shook her head and looked to the door. With a loud groan she fell back on the bed, and a single tear rolled out of her left eye.

“I don’t know.” Molly lied

___________________________

Let me know what you think....

Also sorry about the lack of links. Until tumblr stops deleting blogs mine is set to view on dash only which makes it a little hard. Hopefully we’ll be back to normal soon!

#dive #new fic #harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #dark harry #ask box open #ask me anything #talk to me #thoughts and theories welcome #original writing #1dff

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