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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Only For You

A/N: My first full Ron fic and my 93rd fic for Harry Potter! I’ve written a drabble before this but I really wanted to write something for Ron! So here it is! It is a load of fluff and cuteness and I hope you all like it!

Summary: introductions and discussions.

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swearing but it’s so fluffy!!

Word count: 1.8k

“Love, I’ve met your family before.”

“You have, but you mean something more to me now.”

“Ronald, you are a sap.”

“Only for you.”

“Come on,” You chuckle, elbowing his side gently, “Let’s go meet your family.”

“Let’s go meet my family,” He sighs, ready as he’ll ever be.

Ron takes your hand in his, tangling your fingers together. A shock runs through you; thrilling you. You look down at your joined hands in awe; it feels silly, but you never thought your feelings for the red-haired man would ever be reciprocated.

For months, you pined from a distance – memorising the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes when he was reading a case file intently; heart racing whenever he gave you that lopsided smile or how it thudded wildly against your ribs when he gathered you into his arms after making a particularly strong break in a case that was threatening to go cold.

All the while he was affecting you this way; you had no idea that he was harbouring the same feelings.

The friendship that had formed in your time at the Auror office had turned into something more. You started going out for drinks more after work; destressing was your excuse but really, you wanted to spend as much time as you could with the Weasley before he departed for home.

It changed one night when instead of apparating home to the Burrow, he asked if it was okay if he stay on your couch.

The air between you changed after his question; becoming charged with the feelings you so helplessly felt for the man in front of you.

Ron never slept on the couch that night. He had kissed you outside the door of your flat and from the moment you unlocked the door, clothes were being pulled off and thrown over furniture. Ron ends the night sleeping in your bed with your head on his chest.

Six months later, Ron wants to introduce you to his family as his partner.

The Burrow has always had a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The moment Molly Weasley chose the Burrow to be her family home, her only aim was to make her home a place where anyone could feel welcome and safe.

Seven children later; this was still her main aim.

Molly beams as her youngest son walks through the door. She didn’t say it often enough, but she was so incredibly proud of him and what he has achieved at such a young age. She never expected any of her children to experience the terror and anxiety that she had experienced with the first wizarding war, but all of her children had played a part in the second war. Ron even destroying Horcruxes himself.

It made her overly emotional to think about it.

“Darling,” She gushes, embracing her youngest son, “How are you?”

Love for his mother shines in his eyes as he replies, “I’m good, mum. I’m really good.”

Molly turns his face side to side, “I think you are.”

Molly smiles at Ron one more time before bundling you into a hug. Your arms wrap around her and she squeezes you tightly. “Thank you for coming,” she whispers.

“Thank you for having me,” You reply in earnest.

Molly steps away; adjusting her pinny so it sits straight once more. She fans out her hair, “Go on – everyone is in the living room though I’m sure you’ve guessed that from the volume.”

Ron laughs as he grabs your hand leading you to the living room where the rest of his family are sat talking.

Ginny rushes to meet you when you enter; kissing your cheek, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

You nod, casting a side glance at Ron, “I know, but I plan on being around more.”

Ginny grins, glancing between the two of you, “Did he get his act together then?”

You laugh, nodding. Ginny joins you, “I’m glad he did,” She hugs you again before wandering off to find Harry.

A familiar voice whispers in your ear, “What did my sister want?”

You smirk, turning to face Ron, “She’s happy you got your act together.”

“Of course she is,” he says with an eyeroll.

“What are you two whispering about?” Fred shouts from his place on the arm of the couch.

You open your mouth to answer but Ginny beats the both of you too it, “Ron finally got his shit together; they’re here to say they’re in a relationship.”

The twins holler at Ron, smirking through their words. Ron flushes a deep red; you grab his hand, squeezing tightly.

“He got his shit together six months ago if we’re going to be accurate about it,” You state; fingers now entwined with Ron’s.

“Six months? And you didn’t tell us?” George shouts dramatically; a hand on his heart.

You snort, “We were enjoying the time to ourselves, George.”

“I bet you were,” Fred joins with a laugh.

If possible, Ron becomes even redder.

“Heard from Charlie lately?” Ron asks to divert the attention from you.

Bill rolls his eyes at the poor attempt but answers, “He’s still in Romania if that’s what you’re asking, but they’re expanding the enclosure to fit more dragons. Charlie’s thrilled about it.”

Ron chuckles, thinking of his second eldest brother, “That sounds like Charlie.”

Bill nods, “He’d have been here if he could. He’s excited to meet you, (Y/N).”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him too.”

Ron is pulled away by the twins to discuss the legality of a prank they’re thinking of enacting on a neighbouring shop. Ron’s face pales as he listens to their plan and you wonder what the scale of the prank could be. You shake your head; leaving it to Ron to best corral his brother’s adventures and schemes.

You sit down in the only spare seat, next to Bill. He smiles at you politely. “How are you finding married life?” You ask with a smile.

Bill grins, sighing like a loved-up schoolboy, “It’s great. Fleur is incredible.”

“You both looked wonderful at the wedding,” You compliment.

Bill ducks his head, “Thank you.”

You both fall quiet then; eyes darting around the room, taking in the entire Weasley family. Ginny remains sat with Harry; heads close together as they speak about something only those two are aware of. Percy and Arthur continue their debate about a new decree being brought in by the Ministry; it makes you smile as you realise how similar yet how different father and son are.

Bill leans in close, “Ron won’t take his eyes off you.”

You sit up straighter; eyes finding Ron’s from across the room to find that Bill was right. Ron was staring straight at you with an awed look on his face. He knew how well you got on with his family; had met them when you became friends through the Auror Office but now seeing you interact with his siblings as his partner, it made it all the more extraordinary.

You smile shyly at the red-haired man who had stolen your heart within the few first weeks of meeting. Your heart stutters as Ron sends a wink your way and you have to resist the urge to giggle.

Bill snorts under his breath, “School children, I tell you.”

You glare playfully at the eldest Weasley sibling, “I’m sorry who was it that was just gushing about his wife.”

Bill opens his mouth to retort but wisely closes it again. “I thought so,” You quip with a smirk.

Ron makes his way back to you; perching on the couch arm, “Bill not annoying you, is he?”

You chuckle, “Never.”

Ron goes to reply but is interrupted by Molly entering the living room announcing that food is on the table should anyone want any. You rise from the couch, pecking Ron’s lips before leaving for food.

-----------

You apparate back to your flat late in the evening; your hand still tangled with Ron’s. He lets you go when you land back into your living room. His hands come up to frame your face, kissing you soundly for what feels like hours but is only minutes. You smile into the kiss; happy for it to be just the two of you again. You loved his family – adored them even, but you liked to end the night with Ron alone.

Ron parts with another quick kiss to your lips that has you chasing him for another. No-one affected you quite like he did, and he revelled in that fact.

Ron discards his jacket, toes off his shoes, and walks the few steps to your bedroom and throws himself on the bed with a sigh.

You laugh as you lay down next to him, commenting, “I don’t think that went badly.”

Ron shakes his head, “I don’t think it did either.”

“So what’s with the sigh, Weasley?”

“I think mum is going to be buying more bridal magazines.”

“What?” You ask, mouth dry.

Ron sits up, “Not like that! We aren’t ready for that yet! Mum thinks she can see into the future, and she really did adore you tonight. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was already searching for the gazebo to put in the back garden.”

“Yet?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘we aren’t ready for that yet’. Are you going to make me honest, Weasley?” You ask, a teasing note to your voice.

“It’s only been six months,” He laughs awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, Ronald. I’m not asking for a ring; I’m just taking the mick.”

Ron relaxes slightly, “I just didn’t want you to think I was planning for something when we’ve only been together six months. We don’t even live together.”

You bend down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Calm yourself. I don’t expect anything right now.”

“But you do eventually?”

You shrug, “I’m not sure. I’m just happy to be with you right now.”

He tucks his hands behind his head, “I’m happy to be with you too.”

“My parents were together for shorter than that before they got engaged,” You comment in a matter of fact tone.

Ron raises an eyebrow, “I never knew that.”

You shrug, “It’s why I’m a hopeless romantic, I think, Ronald. I’ve seen their love grow and wouldn’t mind some of my own.”

Ron lays down on his stomach, resting his head on his arms, “You wouldn’t?”

You shake your head, “I saw your mum and dad interacting tonight too, Ron. If we’re as happy as them and my parents in the years to come then I think we’ve done something right.”

“In the years to come, aye?”

You roll onto your side, “What? You can talk about our future, but I can’t?”

Ron shifts so he faces you, “No, talk about it all you want but don’t be put off by my smile.”

You groan, “You’re an absolute sap, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron’s arm circles around your waist, pulling you closer to him, “Only for you.”

*******

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sopxhiea · 4 years

Text

Tense

Alfie Solomons X Reader

| Prompt

“I don’t know where all this crap about me being a ‘difficult person’ is coming from. I’m a constant fucking delight.”

“I could do that, but I won’t.”

A sigh leaves your lips.

It’s one of those days when your ‘uncontrollable anger’ is getting the best of you. The world seems to be on the other side today, kicking you and using every chance it got to make the days a little more unbearable. You shake your head as you walk through the doors one by one, feeling tired and frustrated.

You don’t kick down the door this time, you lack the energy.

You let Ollie open the door with a small murmur of ‘there you go’. You ignore the remark and go in, there’s more than one gangster in the room. You recognise the woman, you recall her name to be Lizzie. You’d seen him in Tommy’s party last christmas with arms around the man.

Thomas is sitting on one of the chairs, Lizzie is close to him with a hand over his shoulder. You wonder if she’s as sly as she looks, it makes you think of Pol and how easily she wraps men around her finger. You turn around the room on your heels.

Then your eyes met his.

He’s slouching like he usually is when he sits, he looks at you with warm eyes but you just roll yours. You’re too tried to bicker with Alfie like you usually do, there’s so much pent up anger you have inside that you find it hard to sit down.

You don’t greet anyone, just wait for them to speak about this new business deal they want to tackle down. It’s got you, the jews and the Shelby clan involved so you reckon it’ll take some time to get to the final chase. You don’t possess the energy, you just want to learn about the deal and leave as soon as you can.

The next hour involves a lot of talking, Lizzie seems smart as she speaks about Tommy’s plan. You wonder if he chose her or she forced him, she seems intelligent enough to tackle down a man like Tommy. Alfie’s eyes are on you the whole time, almost like he’s checking up on you as you listen with no words coming out of your mouth.

He sees the frustration, he recognises it. The sleepless nights and screwed deals are taking their toll on you, it breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t mention it. You nod after Tommy finishes the last of his words, waiting for any questions that might inquire as you’re usually the one to point out the flaws in such a contract.

You don’t say anything and watch Alfie converse with him instead. He asks something about the Italians first and then about the bookies. He cracks a joke and casts a look at you to see if you find him amusing like you tend to, there’s no smile on your face. He speaks, the words are directed at you.

“Luv, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black.” You chuckle at the end at the words, Alfie feels like he won something after making you smile but the action is a mere reflex to his words rather than the amusement you find in them.

You don’t speak so Lizzie does, your eyes travel to her hands on Tommy’s shoulders, feels like she’s keeping a leash on the man but you don’t blame her, all men are animals anyway.

“Tommy had told me that you were quite...” she speaks, looking down to find the words but Tommy finishes the sentence.

“Difficult.” the blue eyed man spits and you get up from where you’re sitting, the exhaustion taken over by anger and frustration and Alfie watches.

It’s his favourite version of you.

Your eyes wide and your chest rising with each word you speak, Alfie thinks anger is the best look on you. You can’t help it anyway, years of pent up feelings and acting like you were heartless take a toll on you and you pour the negative emotions over the next person you see.

He loves to see it.

The screaming sound of your voice as sarcasm soon takes over, you use it as a shield and cover yourself well. He’s seen you rile up man thrice your size with much more power, your words cut deeper than any butcher’s knife he’s laid his eyes on and he, quite frankly, cannot get enough.

You shake your head as you speak, walking around the room as your anger pours out, eyes struggling to keep open wide while the room is solely focused on you.

“I don’t know where all this crap about me being a ‘difficult person’ is coming from. I’m a constant fucking delight.”

You chuckle while speaking, Alfie can sense the frustration in your tone while Tommy picks up at the bored part. Lizzie smiles at your words, looking down as to say that you’d confirmed every little detail Tommy told her about you, you don’t mind that he did but being called ‘difficult’ irks you.

If a man did what you did, he’d be stern and powerful whereas you’re just ‘difficult’.

Alfie chuckles at your words as well, he gets up and picks up a stash of paper he had laying around and starts writing. You know he likes to do that when he’s having ideas about a deal so you don’t bother him with more antics.

You release your breath, the day has been so hard on you that all you can feel is the want to be in bed, all on your own and cry you heart out. You know gangsters and businessmen don’t do that, they bury emotions and never speak of the notion again but even though you’ve worked continuous years as a businesswoman, you can’t physically ignore the feelings.

You need a good fuck, Alfie thinks.

He’s seen the anger first hand many times, it rises above you like a tornado you let yourself get lost in. He enjoys the sight whenever he gets the chance but he also happens to think that you need someone tire the fire in you out. You need to see stars and use the anger in you in a non-threatening manner so that you release it.

He shakes his head at the thought, he doesn’t mind that they’re inappropriate but he returns to the same thoughts a little too much.

He watches as you speak to Lizzie about Karl and Charlie and ask if she’s alright, too. He knows you don’t care in the slightest but you’re nice enough to keep basic manners, like he sometimes forgets to do. The pent up anger you so badly have under control is partly sexual frustration, too. And Alfie can see right through that.

You turn to his gaze, it’s been following you like a hawk since you came in and he knows you won’t shy away from it. You look at him with a devilish smile and he swears he’s ready to sell his soul to satan if you’d ask him. But you don’t.

You tell him you’re leaving, eager to get out and he offers to walk you to the door. You shake your head, murmuring something to yourself about chivalry but he can’t see it, all he sees is how you move in the dress. You enjoy the admiration and lust the man seems to have but you’re far too tired for that.

That doesn’t stop you.

You’re at the door, leaving as you say your final goodbye to the man twice your size but something in you is intrigued. You shake your head, it’s the high from being awake for so long but you just spit the words out.

“Alfie..” you whisper, breathy voice as you inch closer so that your chest is touching his.

“I need to get off, get some rest so you probably won’t be able to contact me unless you go through my assistant.” you speak, eyes seductive. He knows of the game you’re playing, he’s very fond of it himself. He lowers his eyes and speaks, visions of you riding him in his mind.

He mumbles something, you can’t make it out.

You’re frustrated and his effect on you isn’t helping. “Just fucking speak up, Alfie, I really do-” you speak but he’s fast to cut you off.

“I said you look fuckin’ gorgeous today.” he says, a waver of shock flicks through your eyes and he enjoys the sudden emotions you seem to have.

You smiled, it had been involuntary from the way your eyes shot up and he enjoyed your state. It wasn’t like he got to see you blush everyday. It was not the first time he’d complimented you but it had been the first to get you all flustered.

You chuckled, trying to cover the fact that you were taken back. His eyes landed on your lips, staring at them for way too long. A groan left his lips when you tested him by running your lips over the pink flesh, he seemed like he was hypnotised.

“You gonna kiss me, Mr. Solomons?” you spoke, a teasing tone in your voice that made him smile almost apologetically.

It was amusing to see man twice your age be flustered by the smallest of remarks. He was actually quite cold to the people around but everyone was very well aware of the fact that he had a soft spot for you and spoiled that spot to no end.

His eyes landed on your lips again, you did the same. You watched him speak, his plump lips moved with vigour as he did so. “I could do that, but I won’t.”

You smiled, watching stars dance in his blue orbs while the sound was a mere melody to his ears. You spoke, your curious gaze met his lustful one. “Why not?”

He doesn’t have the answer to that.

He wants to kiss you, you can tell by his hungry gaze and how he leans closer every time you speak. It’s not because he can’t hear you, you know he does when a light blush rises on his cheeks after your last words. You’re young, he thinks but he also knows you wouldn’t dare to ask such questions.

He knows you know what you want and he knows the tingling on your lips by the way you keep licking them. He wants to lean closer and savour the foreign feeling, it takes everything for him to not kiss you senseless right then and there. He gains control and tries to shake it off.

“You’re proper fuckin’ lady, innit? Gotta take you some place nice before I kiss ya’.” he speaks and it makes you scoff, he hadn’t seem like the gentlemen type but everyday is a surprise, you say to yourself and nod at the words.

“Guess I am that.” you say, nodding once more as to let him know. You want to take your leave but it’s impossible to move under his gaze.

“Not a guess, right, you..” he points at you “..are the prettiest lass I’ve seen ‘round.” he spoke, making you shake your head at the words.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me.” you spoke, the headache you once had long gone.

“Not tryna’ do that, luv..” he breathed out, the conversation flew easily. “...just sayin’ what I think, yeah.” he said, smiling at the end of the sentence.

“Well, I appreciate that, Alfie..” you spoke, the need to escape was forgotten as you waited for him to end the conversation.

“Say, lass..” he spoke once more, hand on his beard as he look at you. “You got a man of your own?” he asked, blunt as he tried to refrain from interfering too much.

But much to his surprise, you were defensive.

“Why are you asking?” you spoke, hands meeting as he tried to come up with a good enough answer.

“Jus’ fuckin’ curious, doll. No funny business, right.” he said, eyes still on you to measure up your reaction.

“Well, I’ll keep that to myself then.” you speak, a mocking smile on your lips as you eye the man but your words anger him, making him jealous of the non-existent man so he took the liberty to interfere at last.

“If you, yeah, are gonna’ keep that to your pretty little self, right..” he spoke, hands moving with each word. “..tell the lad to fuck you a lil’ better next time, it’ll help with your fuckin’ anger..” he spoke, your eyes widened as he took the liberty to take another look at you from head to toe. You scoffed, voice defensive as you practically threw fire against his already burning side.

“You have no righ-” you shout but he cuts you off, hands moving through the air again.

“’m not tryna rile ya up, lass, right, jus’ sayin’ that anger of yours will come fuckin’ handy in bed if the lad knows what he’s fuckin’ doin’.” he speaks, you hate that he’s so blunt but he makes sense, you see his point but do not acknowledge it.

“There’s no lad, alright?” you speak, eyes defensive as you speak with a stern voice. “It’s me on my fucking own.” you whisper, praying that he doesn’t hear the last part but he does.

And he’s alone too, so he sees this as the perfect fit.

You lift your hands in a defensive manner and speak up before he has a chance to pray. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this to you.” you breathe out but he doesn’t respond.

“I’ll go..” you nod at your own words and get ready to turn around but he catches you by the arm and makes you turn to him in a swift motion. You meet his eyes, ignoring the thud of your heart against your chest at the close proximity of the man.

You spoke once again.

“I just wish you’d kiss me again.”

Tagging: @parkbearum @clairecrive @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

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post-itpenny · 3 years

Note

“ Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes? “

Ok, tagging @grodygabe because Bastian is here for a moment as well. Some slight angst for you.

Primadonna

The lobby of the theater looked as vibrant and new as the day it’s doors first opened. A polished wood floor with rich red carpets draped over it. Velvet curtains covering windows and the bottles that lined the bar sparkling with whatever substances they held from their corner of the lounge. Plush chairs and couches touched with the slightest scent of smoke. Around the walls was cream colored wallpaper with gold filigree as a border.

It looked lovely and new, which meant it was a collection challenge.

Perhaps that was one nice thing about this map. They could tell what they were in for based on its mood, it’s state of grandeur or decay.

Granted, several killers had collection-type challenges. Collect the thing- bring the thing to a designated spot- win an escape for your efforts.

But Thomas was with the group this time and he shivered the moment he walked in. So… they knew.

“So you just know?” Their newest one-a girl named Chloe asked. “Just get a vibe?”

“Only if it’s the killer you came with.”

She nodded, seeming to relax a little now that she knew how to spot her’s. Thomas almost felt bad for her, should he tell her what was coming?

Mary beat him to it.

“The old hag is a handful and she can get you at a distance. But you just keep running and it’ll be just fine.”

“She’s a hag?”

Mary laughed. From where he stood, Bastian gave a small snicker as well. “You can call her that if you want, just be ready to dodge.”

“Does she throw things?”

Thomas frowned, “no.”

Before he could elaborate the doors to the theater opened with the slighted squeak, the Edison bulbs above flickering out.

Show time.

…………………

“What the hell is she wearing today?”

“I have no idea, but that’s a lot of pink.”

Mary and Chloe hissed to each other as they snuck around the diva. Climbing through a tunnel formed by stacks of clostume trunks and crates.

They froze as The Muse turned in their direction, head tilted to the side as she floated just slightly off the ground. Chloe holding tight to the photograph in her hand. In an instant, she was gone, chasing after someone else.

………………….

One thing Thomas could never figure out was just how lucid Irene was in a match. Between trials she was clearly with it, at least enough to be an absolute bitch to anyone within 20 yards. But it was here that he honestly had no clue. Sometimes she was, yelling at Mary or taunting him, but other times she seemed so focused… but also not. Looking at them like she didn’t know who they were (which couldn’t be true by this point) but so intent on killing them. And then there was moments like right now-

From his hiding spot, Thomas watched as Irene chased Bastian as if she was moving through a dream. Perhaps it was because of the photograph held tight in his hands. Her movements slow but fluid. Her body flickering in and out of existence. She caught him in her strings, only for the new girl to purposefully crash into her.

Irene felt herself slamming back into her own skin at the sudden impact, reeling at the sound of fabric tearing.

“You stepped on my dress why?!” She screeched before turning the swipe at the intrusive nat with her weapon. The girl yelped in pain as the blade nicked her shoulder. The boy- Bastian. His name was Bastian, she knew this by now- grabbing her arm and pulling her to safety. Irene felt a tug at the back of her brain, screaming in frustration before the overwhelming feeling of being yanked back out and to wherever she had come from consumed her.

………………………..

You could hear her yelling in nearly every corner of the theater. The diva’s presence was constant, regardless of whether she was in the room with you or not.

They were rehearsing for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the very unfortunate girl playing Peasblosom having stood too close to Irene and stepped on the hem of her skirts.

“You stepped on my dress!” Irene screamed down at her. “Idiot girl, do you not have any sense of space! Do you know where your feet go?! Or are they with wherever your brain left?!”

The younger actress was crying by this point, looking wildly around for someone to do something. But even their so-called “director” was suddenly very preoccupied with his notes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Irene snapped. “I swear I-“

“And I swear I can hear you all the way from the street my dear.” A gentleman said as he hooked his arm with Irene’s and pulled her away from her victim. “My dear there’s no need to ruin your voice with so few days before the opening night.”

Irene snatched her arm back, “you! You don’t get a say in this! You’re late!”

“Only 15 minutes.”

“Where were you?!”

“Forgive me Renie sweetheart, but why fret over such trivial things?”

Irene sneered, “I’ll give you trivial you-“

“Irene.”

“Charlie.”

Charlie sighed with a smirk as he fished a box from his pocket. “I need a smoke, come join me dearest.”

He liked arms with her again and pulled a still bickering Irene backstage. Looking over his shoulder with a wink towards the relieved younger actress.

…………………..

Charlie casually blew a cloud of smoke into the air as he skimmed back over the script. looking up occasionally at his friend as she carefully stitched the torn hem of her dress. Whispering the opening verses of The Habanera from Carmen. When and why she took the time to learn it Charlie had no idea, but he wasn’t surprised.

They lazed on a set of plush chairs, leftover props from some long forgotten production. The crew left them out knowing they were the preferred seats of the primadonna and her co-lead..

“You know, if you went to one of the seamstresses in the costume department, they could fix that for you.”

Irene hummed in response but did not otherwise comment.

He watched as she sewed, noting just a few wisps of gray hairs on his friend’s head. Musing that she shouldn’t frown so much less she gain wrinkles from it.

“You know I do wish we could adjust the lines.”

“It’s Shakespeare Charlie, the lines stay the same.”

“But the part between Oberon and Titania-“

“The lines. Stay. The. Same.”

“The mention of India seems so out of place though.”

“Did you read the books I lent you?”

“Books?”

Irene arched an eyebrow. “Yes, the ones on Celtic and Geek cultures? The ones I asked you to return to the library when you finished?”

“Ah.”

“Ah. So you’re paying my late fees.”

“I bet you were once quite the precocious child.” Charlie teased.

Irene smirked, “I used to lay on my bed and wonder am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?”

“And what were you the fondest of Renie?”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Silence, in a small house with so many people, I was fondest of silence.”

……………………….

The sound of heels clicking broke the early morning. Even before sunrise, stagehands milled about and janitors polished and dusted fixtures. But this woman moved with purpose. Cradling several items in her arms, any of which threatened to spill should she make the wrong move.

She made her way backstage, finding a particular pair passed out on a set of plush armchairs.

Irene and Charlie were deep asleep, legs tangled together as they shared the same automan. Charlie with his hat covering his eyes and Irene using Charlie’s coat as a blanket.

The woman sighed in annoyance, kicking Charlie’s foot. “Charlie Devough how dare you sleep at work again.”

Charlie sat up with a shout, Irene grumbling as she crawled out from under Charlie’s coat and snatched one of the coffees the woman carried. Making a face at the first sip. “So bitter.”

“Because that one wasn’t meant for you,” the woman chastised as she traded coffees with Irene and passed it over to Charlie. “Only this oaf here is foolish enough to not appreciate cream or sugar.”

“Why add sugar when I know you bought danishes? I can smell them love.”

The woman sighed again and handed over a paper bag she had also been carrying. Taking over the automan as she sipped on a coffee of her own. “Did rehearsals run that late?”

“We were running lines and lost track,” Irene murmured as she rubbed at the ruined mascara on her face.

Charlie leaned over to kiss the woman, “thank you for the breakfast Evelyn dear. I’m sorry to worry you.”

“You should have let me know.”

“It’s my fault, Eve.” Irene yawned.

“No it’s not you liar, how dare you cover for him.” Evelyn teased. “Irene, you look like you’ve been crying with your makeup like that.”

“Irene?”

……………………………

Irene looked up.

She hated collecting trials. She never knew what memories it would send her mind tumbling through.

She sat now in her dressing room, roses in various states of decay filling every free space.

The trial was a disaster, her new dress torn thanks to a new brat. She still remembered that young actress. Three productions later and she seems to think she could replace Irene since she was casted as lead once.

Irene also remembered the feeling of shoving the point of her stiletto through the girl’s throat.

Irene sat in her dressing room and tried to wipe her makeup off. For a moment she looked normal, even despite her bluish skin. But then she felt a stinging sensation in her eyes as black tears fell and stained her face again.

She growled in frustration and stormed out of the room, making her way backstage till she found her destination- a set of worn, plush armchairs. Sitting on the floor next to what would have been Charlie’s.

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whelvenwings · 4 years

Text

Thanks (for being an asshole)

Dean/Castiel, 4.4k, AU (no supernatural), Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Dean and Castiel broke up two weeks ago, and Dean's been a wreck ever since. Tonight, he's heading to Charlie's apartment for some ice-cream, alcohol, and a TV marathon - or so he thinks. Charlie, however, has other plans for the evening, and who might be there to have a long talk with Dean.

Read it here on AO3 if you prefer!

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

Dean had been promised ice cream and a TV marathon and beer - and maybe something stronger - and that was the only reason he was leaving his apartment for the first time in two weeks.

It was bitterly cold and apparently he needed to have a look at the Impala’s heating system, because as he drove towards Charlie’s place the air coming out of the vents was doing a great job at speeding up his fingers’ journey towards frostbite. He turned on the stereo, and a song came on that he knew. Led Zep, obviously. Castiel would have -

Dean’s stomach clenched and his chest ached and he said, out loud,

“Nope.”

He wasn’t thinking about Castiel. Not today. It had been two weeks of thinking and thinking and thinking, and today he was giving it a rest. He was going to go to Charlie’s place and watch whatever crappy TV she put on while attempting to drown himself in a potent mix of alcohol and Phish Food.

He turned off the stereo. The silence wasn’t much worse or better. When he had nothing to listen to, he thought about Castiel; when he had something to listen to, he thought about Castiel with a backing track. It wasn’t much of a choice.

Phish Food. Phish Food and old soap operas and no ex-boyfriends.

Even thinking about Castiel as his ex-boyfriend made Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.

When he pulled up outside Charlie’s apartment, he took a moment to gather himself. He’d been avoiding Charlie’s calls for days up until this morning, and he was pretty sure that if she didn’t see him today, she was going to chase him back to his own apartment and force-feed him Ben and Jerry’s finest herself. Even still, he didn’t want to go in. He just wanted to start the Impala’s engine again and drive away. He wasn’t hungry for the ice cream. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone. Charlie would know as soon as she saw his face that he was broken.

Dean felt raw and razor-sharp. He was in tatters and ribbons and he knew that it showed and he didn’t want to damn well cry in front of anyone tonight.

He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. He could stop himself crying, he wasn’t two years old. He was doing it now, after all, wasn’t he? It wasn’t so hard.

Getting out of the Impala, Dean slammed the door behind him and headed inside Charlie’s building. It was a shabby, nondescript place with an elevator that was a little past its best. The sign had some graffiti on it, so that it read,

No More Than 6 00000 People in this Elevator at One Time. Thanks for being an asshole

Dean stared at it.

Thanks for being an asshole, Castiel had pointed out to him, the first time Dean had brought him to meet Charlie.

Thanks for being an asshole, Dean had joked, when Castiel had stolen all the blankets, the first night they’d slept in the same bed.

Thanks for being an asshole, Castiel had said, when Dean would get hard-headed in an argument, give him the silent treatment.

Thanks for being an asshole. Their get-out clause, their password, their grin in the middle of their worst times. They’d had problems, sure. But they’d always got themselves back out, together. Dean had meant it when he’d said thank you for them. He’d been grateful, in a way. Because if he was annoying Castiel and Castiel was annoying him, it meant that even through the worst of their crap, they were holding onto each other.

And now Dean was reading those words for the first time since the break-up, and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to hit something. He could hear them in Castiel’s voice. His throat felt choked. His hands were fists by his sides.

Ding!

The elevator’s doors rumbled open. Dean walked out of it on legs made of concrete, feeling like a part of him was still back in there reading those words, over and over. Before he walked down the hallway to Charlie’s door, he took a second to lean against the wall and try to pull himself together again. He was never going to make it through a long night. He needed to go home and sleep more. But he could at least show his face, stop Charlie worrying about him.

When he peeled himself off the wall and walked down towards Charlie’s door, he found that it was already ajar. Frowning, he tapped his knuckles on against it as he stepped inside.

Charlie was standing in the tiny hallway, her hands on her hips, looking expectant.

“Hi!” she said, stepping towards him.

“Uh… hey?” Dean said. She was wearing a thick winter coat and boots. “Are we going somewhere?”

Grabbing him by the arms, Charlie swivelled them around in a half-circle and then backed out of her own front door, and promptly slammed it in Dean’s face.

“What?” Dean demanded. “Charlie?!”

“It’s for your own good,” Charlie said, and he could hear the sound of her keys in the lock. “I swear to god, Dean, I’m doing this for you, okay? Please don’t hate me.”

“What are you talking ab-”

“Dean?”

Dean went quiet and still. He knew the voice that had sounded from behind him, inside the apartment. He’d know it anywhere.

“Charlie,” Dean said in a low, threatening voice.

“I’ll be at the Starbucks down the block,” Charlie said through the door. “And Dean, I know you probably could break my door down, but please don’t do it. I’ll be back in an hour so just hide in the bathroom if you have to. Don’t break my door. Okay bye!”

Dean slammed his fist against the door, furiously, as he heard her footsteps start to recede down the hall.

“Charlie! Don’t you dare walk away, don’t - don’t - ah, shit.”

In the distance, there was the far-off ding of the elevator.

She’d really gone. Dean was locked in here.

He turned around. Standing opposite him now in the hall, there he was: the person Dean most and least wanted to see in the whole world.

Castiel. He looked -

Well, he looked like a wreck, if Dean was being honest. He had big dark shadows swooping under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, and he seemed to be wearing a new blue bathrobe and old pyjamas with his snowboots at the bottom.

“Did you walk here in that?” Dean asked, at the same time as Castiel said,

“You look terrible.”

Dean wanted to hug him. Not in a stupid airy-fairy sweet way. He wanted to hug Castiel so tightly that it crushed him. He ground his fingernails into his palms.

“Charlie told me we were having a movie night,” Dean said.

“She said to me that she had some of my stuff that she wanted to give back to me. From you.”

“So you came in your freakin’ pyjamas?”

Castiel looked haughty.

“It’s none of your business anymore,” he said.

Dean pulled a big cold smirk.

“That’s right,” he said, “It’s not. Get hypothermia. Whatever.”

“As though you’re the height of fashion, today. How long since you shaved?”

“Not your business anymore,” Dean said tightly.

They stared at each other for a long moment. The light in the hall flickered. Dean was so angry he could weep. He wanted to hit the wall.

“Are we going to try to break out?” Castiel asked.

“‘We’ aren’t doing anything.”

“Then in the absence of a better plan, I’m going to go and sit down,” Castiel said calmly. “And wait for an hour.”

“Dibs on the good seat.” It came out almost automatically - just the first thing Dean could think of that would make Castiel annoyed. C’mon. Feel something. Fight with me. Why exactly Dean wanted a fight wasn’t important. He was so angry that it burned. Him. Castiel. Alone. In an apartment. Fucking Charlie. Dean was ready to physically fight whoever was nearest.

“No,” Castiel said. “I was here first -”

“Doesn’t matter. I called dibs,” Dean said, stepping forward as Castiel turned away towards the living room.

“I called it before you were here.” Castiel was obviously trying to act dignified, but he made a rush for the chair as soon as he heard Dean coming up behind him; Dean grabbed for the back of his bathrobe, and pulled hard. Castiel turned to push him off and the two of them squabbled, ungainly, moving into the living room step by awkward step.

“It’s my turn ,” Castiel said, with Dean’s arm at his throat. “You had it last time we were here.”

“That was before. ”

“Before what?”

“‘Before what?’ Seriously?”

“Before breaking up? That makes a difference?”

“What, it doesn’t make a difference to you?” Dean shot at him.

Castiel glared at him furiously, and then with a twist of his shoulders he was out of the bathrobe and dropping into the best seat in Charlie’s living room. Dean was left standing with the gown in both hands, holding it tightly.

That had been all wrong. The physicality of it. They weren’t supposed to touch anymore. They weren’t supposed to even see each other, that was the last thing Castiel had said before he’d left - but thanks to Charlie, that part was already wrecked.

Dean sat down on the second-best chair. It had a hard upright back that no amount of cushions could improve.

They sat in silence for some time. Dean pulled his phone out, and tried to call Charlie. Her number was unavailable. He texted her, and then texted Sam, and Jo, and even Bobby. Stuck in hell at Charlie’s please come, emergency.

When he glanced up, he saw that Castiel was looking down at the floor.

No one was replying to his messages. Dean put his phone on the arm of the chair, where he could definitely see and hear it if someone answered.

The seconds ticked on.

Castiel. Dean didn’t want to look at him, and also wanted to look and look and look, because this… he thought he’d already had his last chance to look at Castiel, to be in the same place as him. He’d been tearing and twisting himself into pieces over that for two weeks, and now he had another chance. Here. In this awkward living room, with everything and nothing to say to each other. It felt like coming up for air and finding it was poison gas, and breathing it anyway.

“How have you been,” Castiel asked, eventually.

Dean said nothing.

Castiel breathed out.

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t talk to me.”

“I just don’t wanna talk.”

“You never want to talk.”

All Dean had been thinking about for two weeks was the things he wanted to say to Castiel. He had reams and reams and reams of words locked in his head.

“Nope,” he said.

He caught the look on Castiel’s face, the half-second blanch of pain before it was smoothed over with a resigned shrug.

Dean didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to stay shut up tight and safe and not say a single word, and -

Minutes passed.

That look of hurt on Castiel’s face kept cracking against the back of Dean’s mind like a whip.

You never want to talk. Nope. Crack.

Dean swallowed hard.

Stupid. Stupid words. Stupid Castiel. Stupid Charlie. Stupid goddamn situation. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’ve been okay,” he said. Grunted, really.

Castiel looked over at him.

“You have?”

A long pause.

“No,” Dean said.

Castiel’s mouth twisted up ever so slightly to one side and Dean knew he was trying not to show that he was sad. He wanted to pull Castiel in, hold him together. He wished the living room were smaller and they were crushed together, no escape from each other. He wanted the whole world to be so tiny, right now, that they couldn’t be apart by even an inch.

“You?” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel replied.

Dean nodded.

This room wasn’t claustrophobic enough. It would be a mistake, an embarrassment, a vulnerability, to choose to go over to Castiel now. Dean wanted it to be a necessity, not a choice. He wanted the world to give them no option.

“I keep thinking about that night,” Castiel said.

“When you left?”

“When you told me I had to go.”

“I said maybe you should go,” Dean said. “You were the one who actually did it.”

“You wanted me to.”

Dean’s head jerked up.

“Is that what you think?” he demanded.

Castiel swallowed visibly.

“You think I wanted you to go?” Dean pushed.

“I…”

“Seriously?”

“How am I supposed to know, Dean?” Castiel said, and the pain in his voice was thin as a wire and sharp as a barb. “When you’re angry you just shut me out. You can’t wait to get away from me. You won’t even look at me.”

Dean put his head in his hands.

“I didn’t want to go,” Castiel said. “I didn’t want any of this. But when you can’t stand to be around me…”

“That’s not true,” Dean said, muffled by his hands. Somehow it was easier to talk into them, in the dark.

Castiel didn’t say anything.

Dean took his hands away from his face.

“Then why do you avoid me?” Castiel asked. “When you make me angry, I tell you, and we talk about it, and then it’s done. But when you’re angry, you never say anything, and I have to guess what I think that you want, and this time… everything pointed to you wanting me to leave. Just like it always does. And this time, I actually did it.”

“You knew I didn’t want you to leave,” Dean shot back.

“You didn’t want me to?”

“Really? You’re gonna play it that way? Like you didn’t know?” Dean said. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t know, Dean.”

There was a ring of truth in his voice that brought Dean up short.

“But that’s not - obviously it’s not like that,” he said. “Obviously I didn’t want that.”

“It’s not obvious. You never say anything. Nothing is obvious.”

Dean glared at the floor. How to explain himself? How to tell Castiel that when he was angry, it felt like he was carrying round a bomb and if he talked, if he said one word, it would go off and explode on them both?

“If I talk to you about that crap, you’ll leave,” Dean said.

“I already left,” Castiel said, “because you didn’t.”

Dean paused to take that in.

“But when I’m angry…”

“I screwed up,” Castiel said. “I upset you. I was always going to because people are never going to be able to agree all the time. You’re going to be angry at me. And I wanted you to tell me.”

Dean snorted.

“What’s funny?”

“You don’t actually want that,” Dean said.

“I do.”

“You don’t. You really don’t.”

“You don’t think I want to know about what you’re thinking?”

Dean shrugged.

“I think me being angry is a me problem.”

“Right. So that’s why you said I should leave.”

“I said maybe you should leave.”

“You gave up,” Castiel said.

“ Me? You left!”

“You told me to.”

“I didn’t really want you to…”

“How was I supposed to know that, Dean?”

“You can’t tell that I don’t want you to leave? You can’t tell that I care?”

“I know you care,” Castiel said, angrily at first, and then again, quieter. “I know you care.”

There was a pause.

“Maybe I should’ve tried harder,” Dean said after a while, trying to keep his voice from being too thick with feeling. “That night.” Castiel, across the room, put his head on one side. It was such a familiar gesture that Dean almost broke.

“You always try your hardest,” Castiel said. “I do know that. You just try your hardest to keep me out, most of the time. Not let me in.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said. Castiel went still.

“This is -” he began, and then cut himself off. Dean looked up at him. “Nothing you could say,” Castiel said carefully, “could be worse than the things I imagine you thinking.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re glad I’m finally gone,” Castiel said, so quickly, so easily, and Dean could tell how many times he must have thought it. “Like I’ve been hanging around for too long, all this time. Like your life just got so much easier and better without me in it. Like you’ve wished I’d leave for so long, but you didn’t want to hurt me by telling me. Or you just couldn’t be bothered.”

“Couldn’t be…” Dean’s stupid choked-up throat was giving him trouble. And across the room, Castiel wasn’t helping, looking as though he were barely holding it together. Dean gritted his teeth. “It’s nothing like that,” he said.

Castiel raised one shoulder, slightly, eloquently.

Dean took a minute, and then a minute more.

Damn it.

“These last two weeks,” he said, and then stopped, and then started again, looking at the floor. “These last two weeks the thing I’ve thought about the most is how I won’t get to see you again. I haven’t been out my apartment in two weeks until tonight and the whole drive over here I was looking for you on every corner. I don’t - how long am I gonna do that? I haven’t spent a damn second of my life ever wishing you were gone.” Across the room, Castiel looked unconvinced. Damn. It. “What I, uh. What I think about is how - how now we’re broken up your face is going to change when you get older and I won’t know what you look like anymore. Someone else will, maybe. Not me. And I keep thinking that they might be able to - they might feel - for you, I mean - but it won’t be even a - a small… thing - compared to what I - and Cas, I wish that I could give you…” Dean couldn’t go on. He took in a breath, and let it go.

Every word felt like a fire ant bite. And the only reason he had any of it in his head, the only reason he could talk at all, was because he’d spent so much time recently lying in bed trying to explain himself to a Castiel that wasn’t there. Before two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have had a word to say.

When he looked up, eventually, he saw that Castiel was sitting with his bare arms folded, his eyes on Dean. He looked cold, and Dean realised he was still holding the stupid bathrobe in his hands.

“Shit,” he said, standing up. He held it out. “Here.”

Castiel got to his feet, and came near. Dean pressed his lips tightly together. Hard. Strong. As cold as he could be, after saying all that. He’d never spilled so much all at once. It was too much.

As he took the bathrobe, Castiel’s hands brushed Dean’s.

Don’t, Dean wanted to say. Don’t. I can’t touch you if it might be the last time.

Castiel wrapped the bathrobe around himself again, and tied a knot at his waist. The cord, Dean noticed, was the one from Castiel’s curtains at home, an odd shade of purple.

“You look like a wizard who just got kicked out of magic school in the middle of the night,” Dean said.

“Thanks,” Castiel said.

“For being an asshole?”

Castiel was half a step away. He was watching Dean. There was something in his face that hadn’t been there before Dean had said all that crap - a kind of intensity that Dean recognised. Dean swallowed. He wanted this, he wanted this, he wanted it so badly that he couldn’t speak - but he also knew that he couldn’t stand it, could not stand it, to touch Castiel now and then have him leave. But he couldn’t stand to be here and not hold him, either -

“I can’t do this,” Dean managed. “Cas, I can’t. Not if we’re over.”

Castiel watched him, those eyes of his clouded with thought.

“You’re an asshole,” he said, after some consideration.

“Uh…”

“You are. You’re an asshole. You push me away even though you don’t want to. You’re my best friend, and you act like I’m your worst enemy.”

“Well -”

“It makes me angry, Dean. I’m angry and I’m telling you. And later maybe I won’t be angry, and I’ll tell you about that too. I’ll tell you right now that these two weeks have been hell, in case you couldn’t already tell from the fact that I walked here in a bathrobe to get the things I thought you’d dumped here at Charlie’s for me. I’ll tell you that hearing your voice in the hallway when you arrived was like coming home. I’m telling you because I want you to know... you can’t switch off saying just the bad things. You switch off the good things, too. And I wanted to hear the good things, Dean. I wanted to hear all of it. You were thinking things like that about me all the time? And you let me think you wanted me gone? You asshole .”

Dean’s heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest. He felt hot all over.

“Good things,” Dean said. “That I think about you? You wanted to hear them?”

“If there were any,” Castiel said.

The sincerity with which he said it made Dean want to hit a wall all over again.

“You - you think I don’t think nice things about you? But I do things for you, all the time...”

“You do things for lots of people, Dean.”

“But you - it’s different, it’s special…”

“Is it?”

“You don’t know that?!”

Castiel shrugged.

“I’m an asshole,” Dean said.

He stared at Castiel.

“I’m an asshole,” he said again.

“Dean, I -”

“I am,” Dean said.

“Well. At least when you’re being an asshole, you’re caring and not telling me. Not the other way around.”

There was that slight dryness, the odd humour, Dean had missed with a pit in his stomach.

“Well, for what it’s worth…” He steeled himself. “Cas, I… you… I mean, you know, uh.”

Castiel didn’t know, though. That was the problem. And the world wasn’t going to push the words out of him, fate wasn’t going to force them any closer than this. Dean had to choose. He had to decide to say it.

He looked down at the floor.

“I want to be with you,” Dean said. “Every day. I want you. And I want to deserve you even though I can’t. But I wouldn’t have ever given up. Trying to, I mean. If it wasn’t already over.”

Castiel’s shoulders untensed. His hand moved to Dean’s cheek, thumb pressed into the stubble there.

Dean looked up, into his eyes.

“Don’t leave me,” Dean said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel said, and kissed him. The kind of kiss that Dean had missed more than anything, the kind that said everything Dean didn’t know how to use words for. Devastatingly soft - no teeth, no anger, no hardness. Hands holding, bodies pressed, skin alive, heart thudding.

I love you, Dean said with that kiss. I love you I love you I love you I love you.

One day he’d say it. One day.

After some time, they made coffee. And talked a little more.

“I was angry with you,” Dean said.

“Why?” Castiel asked.

Dean gritted his teeth.

“Because,” he said. “It feels like I do a lot of things to show I care. And they don’t seem to mean much to you. So it feels like I care more than you sometimes.”

“But I always tell you that I care,” Castiel said.

“Anyone can say it,” Dean said.

“Oh, really?”

Dean snorted.

“Fine. Point made.”

“I can show you,” Castiel said. “As well as tell you.”

“You can?”

“Mm.” Castiel drew him closer. “I can start now.”

They sat together on the best chair, which was just big enough for two people who wanted to be close. Dean’s phone, lighting up over on the arm of the second-best chair, went ignored. And so it came as something of a shock when there was an almighty crash from the front door, followed by the sound of a distant wail.

“What the -”

Together, Dean and Castiel rushed towards the noise. When they arrived in the hallway, they saw a small gathering: Bobby, Jo, a very surprised-looking Sam, and a distraught Charlie who appeared a few seconds later.

“What did you do?” she said. “How did you get here?”

“I just kicked down a door,” Sam said, sounding proud of it.

“What’s going on here?” Jo asked, looking between Dean and Castiel, a smile growing on her face as she took in the way they were standing, close to each other.

“We were just told there was an emergency,” Bobby said.

“And you couldn’t have tried to knock first to stop it?” Charlie demanded.

“We thought the element of surprise might be important,” Sam said. “Like in a hostage situation.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said sarcastically. “Loudly slamming my door off its hinge is going to make it really surprising when you walk into my apartment.”

“It wasn’t a very good door,” Bobby said.

“It was great! It opened and it closed and it didn’t hang off one hinge at all!”

“I can get a new one. Better.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep,” Bobby said.

“Huh. Well… okay, then.”

“Yeah, but seriously, what’s going on here?” Jo asked. She was still looking at Dean and Castiel, her eyes flickering between them. “Is there something I don’t know?”

“Don’t look at me,” Dean said. “Charlie’s the one who locked us in here.”

“Wait - what?” Sam demanded.

“You did what?” Jo said, sounding more delighted than Dean would have preferred.

“Well…” Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “You know, they just wouldn’t talk to each other… and they make each other so happy, when they don’t have their heads up their asses… and it was all wrong, so I just thought…”

“You thought you’d lure us to your apartment under false pretences and then lock us in,” Castiel finished for her.

“With the best of intentions?” she said weakly.

“Still kind of an asshole thing to do,” Dean said.

Charlie opened her mouth, and then closed it, seeming to accept this.

“But, uh, hey - Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Dean looked at Castiel, and grinned, and took his hand.

“Thanks for being an asshole,” he said.

#whelvenwingsfic #thebloggerbloggerfun #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort elements #i just had to get those breakup feelings out guys #seen too much of the angst on my dash #also #nano is looking good so far!!!#that's 4.4k today plus the poems i wrote!#feelin good #also thank you so much to the people #who helped me call dibs!#;d

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stillthewordgirl · 5 years

Text

LOT/CaptainCanary fic: (I Don’t Believe in) Destiny (ch. 7 of 11)

Leonard Snart is back, finally pulled from the timestream where he's spent the last four years. But he wasn't alone, and the repercussions of that will echo through the Legends, the Time Bureau, and beyond.

And maybe, just maybe, they'll bring everything around full circle.

Can also be read here on AO3 or here on FF.net

Ch. Seven: Each Time We Turn a New Corner

Going right to the Vanishing Point didn’t seem really feasible, given that they don’t know what Druce and the bureau are up to now, but staying at the Refuge longer isn’t really something Sara wants to do either. After some thought and a team discussion, she decides to put the ship down in 1892 Siberia, in a remote and uninhabited location where they should be undisturbed, at least long enough to go over plans and see if anyone’s made a move on the Vanishing Point yet.

They’ve used the location before, when they’ve needed a breather, but although the Time Bureau—in the persons of Ava and Gary, anyway—knows about it, Sara figures it’s not likely anyone will be looking for them there at the moment.

Which is why it’s a surprise when Ava steps out of a time courier portal right in front of Sara and Leonard when they’re nearly to their quarters.

The other woman’s eyes widen when she sees Sara. “Oh, thank god.” She squeezes her eyes shut a moment in apparent relief, seemingly not even registering Leonard yet. “When the Waverider blinked back into existence, we found things had reset and we could track you again...I didn’t know what had happened, if you were all righy...”

Back into existence? Reset? Sara can’t help wondering, but there’s no time for that now—because Ava’s spotted Leonard.

Her crook’s gone into full nonchalance mode, although Sara can see still see telltale signs of tension in the way he holds himself and the lines around his eyes. He has the new cold gun he’d fabricated with Gideon at his side, but Sara’s very relieved to see that he’s not in a drawing position. Yet

Ava’s eyes widen just a trifle more and then narrow. For several long seconds, the two just study each other—Sara holding her breath—until Leonard decides to be polite. (Or to be an asshole, depending on how you look at it. Maybe it’s both.)

“Hey,” he drawls, in that “I am a wonder of reasonableness” tone Sara’s heard him use before, usually to people he’s unsure about or not too fond of. “You must be Ms. Sharpe.” A pause, while Sara closes her eyes and sighs inwardly. “Leonard Snart. We haven’t had a chance to meet.”

Given that Sara herself had “met” Leonard again while he was running for his life in Ava’s own Time Bureau, Ava’s clearly not sure how to take that. She looks down at the hand Leonard extends to her, then glances over at Sara, her expression clearly saying, “Is this guy for real?”

And Sara can’t help it. She can’t restrain a smirk, because Leonard’s just so…Leonard…and she’s missed that, even if she feels a little bad for poor Ava, confronted with it in such precipitous circumstances.

It’s the wrong thing to do.

Ava’s face goes blank, and Sara realizes immediately that she’s taken it the wrong way, as if Sara is making fun of her—although Sara hadn’t meant it that way at all. She opens her mouth to say so even as Ava draws herself up, eyes going steely, a defensive posture Sara knows well.

Ava and Leonard do have more in common than they’d ever realize.

“Leonard Snart,” the bureau director says in a clipped tone, “I'm taking you back to the Time Bureau, there to...”

But Leonard’s eyes have gone cold now, too, and he’s tensed in a way that puts Sara on edge. He draws himself up too, and Sara can just see the “you and what army?” in his expression.

Sara steps between them swiftly, already regretting her brief lapse. “Wait,” she says. “Ava, you need to know…”

“I know enough,” her former lover cuts in stiffly, glancing at her. “Why do you think…”

Leonard clears his throat then, and at first, Sara could kick him. Then she sees the look in his eyes and the way he’s edging backward.

Leonard never runs away from a fight. But apparently, for Sara, he’s willing to take himself out of this fray for now.

“Gonna go get some fresh air,” he says quietly, eyes on her. “All right?”

Ava tenses, but Sara nods, holding his gaze. “Might want to wear the parka,” she says just as quietly. “Gets cold here.”

He nods…and with one more opaque glance at Ava, turns and walks away, back down the corridor. Sara lets out a breath as Ava simply stares after him, then turns her gaze back at Sara—who nods quickly at the doorway.

“Let’s take this into private, OK?” she says. “Please?’

Ava hesitates, but gives her a jerky nod, following her into her quarters.

Sara regrets it nearly immediately, though. Leonard’s regular presence here is now unmistakable, really, from the black clothing folded neatly on a chair to the faint scent of sandalwood—not something Sara personally favors, though she definitely likes it on him—in the air. Ava isn’t unobservant, either. She takes a quick glance around, then focuses on Sara with an expression that’s trying not to be betrayed.

“Seriously, Sara?” she manages. “The crook?”

It’s hard not to get defensive, especially with everything Sara knows. But: “That’s beside the point,” she says, trying to sound matter of fact. “It is, Ava.” She hesitates. “Why are you trusting Druce over me? We might not…be together anymore, but I wouldn’t lie to you. He’s working against you in your own bureau!”

But the betrayal is still there. Ava shakes her head. “My job is to do what’s best for the timeline, Sara,” she says starkly. “And he’s offering the chance to make a difference, more than…more than I’ve been able to do so far. And you’re protecting a criminal and a murderer…hell, you’re sleeping with him!” She shakes her head violently, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come here, not without backup.”

Sara follows her, her heart hurting. “Ava…” She takes a deep breath. “It’s not so simple. It’s really, really not.”

And then, faced with the look in Ava’s eyes, she makes a decision, immediate and instinctive.

And prays she’s not making a mistake.

“Listen to me,” Sara tells her intently, telling to convey every bit of sincerity she has. “We’ll be at the ruins of the Vanishing Point in a week. Do you hear me? We’re not…not going to lie down and take this, but we have to be there too, and…Ava, you have a choice to make. Please. Please make the right one.”

Ava draws in a breath, and the two women stare at each other.

But then Ava’s expression hardens again. She taps her time courier, takes a deep breath, and steps into the portal.

Sara feels tears well up as she goes.

Leonard saunters back in about a half-hour later, looking a bit more ruffled than Sara expects. Still, she breathes a sigh of relief at his presence—until she catches a better look at his bemused expression, and registers that he’s not wearing the parka after all.

“Where’d you get that jacket?” she asks, leaning against the wall, studying the blue leather coat, which seems both familiar and not.

“Stole it.” Leonard stops in front of her, studying her in return.

“In Siberia?”

“Kind of an unexpectedly long story. The director?”

“Back at the Time Bureau, presumably.” Sara takes a deep breath. “I hope I didn’t make a big mistake. But…I couldn’t…I told her…”

Her voice trails off. And then Leonard, with his usual brand of unexpected sincerity, steps forward, not quite holding out his arms but obviously inviting her into them.

Sara takes the invite. She wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder, feeling the tears spill over.

And Leonard holds her, as long as she needs it.

Gideon, with many surprised apologies, makes sure that the Time Bureau can’t track them once again, and the Legends take themselves off to another “safe” time and place—Salvation, though not a time they’ve been there before and enough outside the town to stay away from trouble and temptation.

At least, Sara hopes so. (She’s threatened Ray with bodily harm if he decides to go play sheriff again.)

Then she calls a team meeting.

“You told her?”

Charlie sounds appalled, and Sara really can’t blame her. She rubs a hand over her face with a deep sigh, then opens her eyes again to meet the gazes of her team. No one looks quite betrayed, thank god—she doesn’t think she could take that right now—but there’s both confusion and uncertainty on a few faces. John is, as always, hard to read, Mick is stony-faced, and Leonard—who already knew about this—is typically cool.

“We need Druce to be there, after all. To meet Leonard, so we can set this whole thing in motion,” Sara says, knowing that she still sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “And this way, they probably won’t be chasing us around, trying to arrest him.”

The shapeshifter swears again, but Ray’s nodding. “This gives us a measure of control,” he says, looking around. “Right? I mean, sure, now they know when we’re getting there, but it’s not like Druce can start without Snart.” He looks at Leonard. “Right?”

Leonard shrugs. “Far as I know.”

“But they could set a trap,” Nora points out, sounding a bit reluctant. “Couldn’t they? Shoot us down when we arrive?”

Zari raises her hand. “I’m against that, for the record.”

“Not without risking something they need.” Mick finally speaks up. He doesn’t sound happy, but Sara’s relieved to see that he apparently sees what she’s getting at. “Time Bastards need Snart alive.”

Nate winces at the epithet. “It’s not the whole bureau, though...right?” he asks. “We figure that Druce just recruited the other 11 original Time Masters from there?”

“Yes, Dr. Heywood,” Gideon chimes in. She’s part of the ship at the moment, the better to keep an eye on things outside and to study both charts of the area around the Vanishing Point and the temporal theory that might come into play in this whole mess. “Though we don’t know how much Druce has persuaded others to buy into his plan.” She pauses. “A lot will depend on that.”

Sara reluctantly speaks up again. “I still don’t think Ava’s happy about any of it,” she says quietly. “Giving her this as a good-faith gesture, it might make a difference. And Druce might have his 11, but that doesn’t mean Ava can’t keep the rest of the bureau.”

John chuckles. It’s not a particularly nice noise, and Sara narrows her eyes at him as he leans back in a jumpseat.

“Don’t matter,” he says, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. “Jealousy’s a driving force of the human race, love.” He points at Leonard with the cig. “And far as she’s concerned, you’ve replaced her with someone Druce is telling her is the bad guy. Sometimes we hear what we want to hear, especially where hearts are concerned.”

“The breakup was mutual.” It’s humiliating to have her love life dragged out on the bridge like this. No matter what else has happened on the bridge recently.

“Don’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Leonard’s voice is cold all of a sudden, and John blinks at him as the crook stalks over to Sara’s side. “What does matter is how we’re going to play this. We need a plan.”

Mick snorts, but it’s amused. “Predictable,” he mutters, and Leonard tosses him a smirk. Then he looks back at Sara.

“Captain,” he says, and there’s no irony or snark in the word at all. “What are you thinking?”

Sara gazes around the room, then back at him. “Well,” she says. “Let’s lay out what we know...”

She’s a good captain.

Leonard watches as Sara handles each of the current Legends perfectly, getting different ideas and bits and pieces of knowledge, putting them all together in the tapestry of a plan. As with the team he remembers, they all have different areas of expertise—some expected, some not.

Heywood’s a historian, but he also has inside knowledge of the bureau. Zari has wind powers, but she’s also a hacker with a keen knowledge of all kinds of tech. Raymond’s got a brain when he cares to use it, and he’s full of odd bits of facts and random shit.

Mick occasionally volunteers something he recalls from his time as Chronos. Charlie’s a magical creature (weird thought), but her grasp of human nature, for all that, is sometimes better than the humans’. Nora’s a magic user, but she’s had an interesting look at other elements of the supernatural as well.

Constantine’s the resident smartass now. Leonard wonders what that makes him.

“So,” Mick says, eventually, “we get there, to the Vanishing Point...or its wreck, anyway.” He looks at Leonard. “Snart slips off to try an’ get into the Oculus wellspring building without anyone seeing him, while we kick up a lotta fuss outside, distract the Time Bastards.”

Nate gives him a look. “Druce’s people,” he corrects.

“Whatever.” Mick continues. “When he gets in there, he either waits for Druce or meets him there. Druce tries to kill ‘im, but Snart does some time mumbo-jumbo and pulls everything outta whack, back to when the star there blew up.” He pauses. “Which doesn’t sound real safe.”

“It isn’t,” Leonard tells him a bit tersely. He remembers the power surging around him at the wellspring. He’s still not sure how he survived long enough to get knocked into the timestream.

Raymond clears his throat. “I think the idea’s that the supernova’s contained, right there, by the wellspring device. Druce will have it back in place, because controlling it is kind of the whole idea.”

“OK, Haircut. And then Snart takes them into the timestream, kicks Druce’s ass and breaks time.”

“No!” Sara, Raymond, and Heywood say in unison before looking sheepishly at each other. Leonard, remembering what Mick had told him about the Legends breaking time and everything that had come of that, can’t blame them.

Mick rolls his eyes. “Fine. ‘Breaks the chain.’” He frowns. “So, is there an Oculus then or not?”

“There would be, wouldn’t there?” Zari says slowly. “And you said Mary Xavier said that wasn’t a bad thing. But no Time Masters. So who makes sure it’s not misused?”

For a moment, the Legends just look at each other.

Leonard actually does have thoughts on that, but he’s not quite ready to share them, not even with Sara. He thinks back to his spell in the timestream, and the things he may have imagined and the things he might not have, and he keeps his peace.

Mick swears. “I ain’t staying on that rock any longer than I have to,” he says definitively. “Spent too long there already.”

Sara sighs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” She looks at Leonard. “An awful lot of that is up to you,” she says. “Throwing everything ‘outta whack,’ taking Druce into the timestream. You up for that?”

He gives her the truth. “No idea. Time Lady there said it came down to willpower.” He pauses, letting a little arrogance into his voice. “If that’s all it is, I’ve got this.”

Heywood makes a slightly disparaging noise. “You’re a crook,” he says with faint disbelief as Leonard glances at him. “Isn’t that the opposite of willpower? The easy path?”

Sara bristles a little, but Mick laughs. “Easy? You’ve never been on one of Snart’s heists, Pretty,” he advises.

Raymond surges to Leonard’s defense too, somewhat to his surprise. “This is the guy who saved us all at one point or another,” he says staunchly to his skeptical friend, getting his feet and crossing the room to the crook. “You should have seen the shot he made in Salvation.” The scientist slings an arm over Leonard’s shoulders, a familiarity that leaves him bemused. “Hey! We could go show them...”

“No,” Sara cuts in as Leonard manages to smoothly duck out from under the arm. “No one’s going into town. I know what happens when we go into town.” She looks at Leonard again, though. “Seriously, though. You have no idea how to...do that?”

He shrugs. Nora, unexpectedly, is the one who speaks up. “I...we might be able to help with that,” she says, looking at Constantine, who shrugs as well. “Manipulating energy is kind of what magic is all about, after all.” She gives Leonard a tentative smile. “Can you feel it? The temporal energy around you?”

It’s a hard thing to answer. “Sort of. I think.” He hesitates. “I have to concentrate on it.”

Nora nods encouragingly—and Sara nods with relief.

“Nora, John,” she says, “see how you can help Leonard with this...temporal energy thing. Mick, Ray, Gideon, Zari, we’re going to look at what we know about the Oculus and see what we can figure out about it. Nate, take what Mick’s told us and see if you might be able to learn more about which members of the bureau went to Druce’s side. Charlie...well, help anywhere you think you can help and please don’t get into trouble.”

There are murmurs of agreement (and something rude from Charlie), and Sara nods again.

“All right,” she says, looking around. “Go, team.”

#I don't believe in destiny #captain canary #sara x leonard #lot fic #legends of tomorrow

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gone-to-fight-the-fairies · 6 years

Text

The Thing Between Them Part 9

Series Summary: After watching 13x17, this is how I felt things would’ve occurred if Gabriel had left the reader all those years ago when he’d “died” and current day Ketch is trying to win her affection, but realizes she’s still heartbroken over Gabriel.

Summary: When Gabriel discovers that the Reader is on a mission with Ketch and Charlie, he’ll move Heaven and Hell to get her back.

A/N: We’re beginning to arrive at the end… Some of you may have sensed it, but I’m likely to write two alternate endings. I can honestly see the reader going off with either of the men and I think everyone deserves the reader to end up with who they want. Part 10 or Part 11 will have two alternate parts, so be on the lookout for that! THANK YOU all for reading this far!!! Love you guys!

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader, Arthur Ketch x Reader

Warnings: torture, some potential sexual misconduct, swears, a Nazi…

Word Count: 2350

Masterlist

After two days of anxious hell, the traveling group arrived upon Enochian wards securing Dayton. In no mood for nonsense, Gabriel disabled the Enochian symbols using the little angelic grace left in his system. The defeated wards alerted human, armed guards who emerged from the woods to defend their base. One of which was Mary Winchester. Sam and Dean had their heartfelt reunions with their mother, while Gabriel crossed his arms, tapping his foot until he could no longer take the suspense.

The archangel approached Mary, shoving aside her boys; not bothering to introduce himself before getting to the point. “Where’s Y/N?”

Mary’s attention detached from her sons, staring at the archangel with an even expression, studying him at eye level. She confided in her boys about the archangel's identity before Gabriel repeated the question.

“It’s not safe out here,” she avoided the subject, motioning everyone to follow her. “We’ll talk inside the perimeter.”

Mary led her sons past the guards, through the trees encrypting Dayton. Castiel and Gabriel exchanged a glance before following the others. On Mary’s heels, Gabriel rephrased his question. By this time, Castiel became antsy about Jack, asking about his son's whereabouts. Upon hearing his name, Jack appeared beside Castiel. The two shared a meaningful hug while Gabriel fought back the urge to expel fire.

“Is anyone in this shit-show going to answer me, or what?!” Gabriel exploded, eye daggers aimed towards Mary, but slightly distributed amongst anyone who dared to make eye contact.

Castiel cleared his throat, “Umm, Jack, this is your uncle, Gabriel.”

Jack’s eyes followed Castiel’s gaze, observing his uncle for the first time. “She’s with Ketch.” The Nephilim answered bitterly. “And Charlie… They’re on a mission.”

Gabriel frowned, the black hole in his stomach barely relieved by the fact that you were alive. “Where?”

“I… I don’t know. But Bobby would.”

Gabriel attempted to keep his annoyance at a minimum. “And where can I find him?”

“Singer Auto Salvage,” Mary answered, nodding her head north. “A few hours that way. You just missed him; he was here a day ago.”

“Okay,” Gabriel clasped his hands, trying to refrain from lashing out. Knowing he was closer to reuniting with you, he accepted the goose chase. “I’m gonna go get my girl. Who’s coming?”

The statement was quickly undermined by Lucifer’s presence, prolonging Gabriel’s quest to find you. After a tense, lengthy discussion, mostly about the Winchester’s plans to save the camp, the entire Dayton group traveled towards Bobby’s outpost.

When the Dayton group arrived at Singer’s camp, Gabriel appeared as a puppy without his leash. “Move.” He spat, crashing into people as he hurried along, searching for any sight of you or Bobby. Gabriel had briefly met the man during his cover as the Trickster and knew exactly what features to hunt.

“You!” He shouted across the salvage yard. Bobby instantly turned his head, watching Gabriel speed towards him. “Where’s Y/N?”

Bobby’s face twisted. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Dean, Sam, and Castiel followed behind. Bobby’s face light up at the sight of the Winchesters. “Boys!” After shaking their hands, he pointed his thumb at Gabriel. “Who's this oddball.”

“If I had the full strength of my grace…” Gabriel threatened under his breath as the others spoke.

“He’s a friend of Y/N,” Dean said. “He’s worried sick, and we have to hear about it until he finds her, so is she back yet? Jack said something about a mission.”

“No, they ain’t back. They got a tip on some angel kill squad looking to execute some, uh, resistance. They went to head them off at the pass.”

Gabriel chimed in. “Which way?”

“No, no, no you can stay here and wait." The command earned Bobby a scowl "They should be operating their strategy about now. And Charlie would take out anyone who kills her momentum, especially an angel.” Bobby eyed the man before continuing. “They’ll be fine. Charlie’s done this before and Y/N… she’s one of the best damn hunters.”

Gabriel groaned, stomping away as the Winchesters and Bobby discussed evacuation plans for the people of their bases.

“For high crimes against the realm,” one of the angels spoke. Right on schedule, a squad of angels marched along the path, leading a human, blinded by a sack over his head. You, Charlie and Ketch glanced between one another, preparing to make your grand entrance. “and its exalted ruler, Michael, the prisoner I condemned to death.”

“That will do,” Ketch announced, as the three of you stepped out onto the path, guns pointed at the small gathering of angels. Triumphant smirks decorated all of your faces as you've believed the ambushed appeared authentic.

Charlie nodded towards you, giving you the signal to save the prisoner. You stepped forward and unmasked the man. Unharmed, the mid-twenty-year old appeared in good health despite the circumstance. “We’re gonna free you,” you promised him.

You hadn’t noticed the angel blade that slide out from the depths of his sleeve. He quickly grabbed you, holding the blade to your neck. You tried to fight, but the man… or angel kept the blade against the flesh. “No, you aren’t.”

Charlie and Ketch gripped their gun tighter, anger residing in both of their features, but Ketch’s eyes burned with a rage that you’d never seen in him.

“Drop the gun,” one of the established angels ordered. “You’re coming with us.”

“No,” you urged Ketch and Charlie. The slight shake of your head forced the blade to cut your neck. You hissed at the motion, accidentally convincing Charlie to lower her weapon.

However, Ketch held his weapon firm, scavenging his mind for a way to protect you and murder those who ailed you. With no other solution arising, he outheld his gun, throwing it at the feet of the angels, allowing them to take him hostage.

After Gabriel, Jack and the Winchesters persuaded the leaders of the camps to take their people into their world; Bobby came up to them with the intelligence of your whereabouts.

“Just got news on Charlie, Ketch and Y/N. Goin’ after the execution squad, went sideways. They’re the ones who got ambushed.” Reluctantly, Bobby added, “Angels captured them.”

Gabriel stepped towards the man, fists tight at his side. “This is all your fault.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’d had told me their damn location, I could’ve helped them!” Gabriel spat, the anger causing his smaller frame to tremble in the slightest.

“With what grace?” Sam reminded. “Look, they’ve been in trouble before, we-“

“It’s all my fault,” Jack’s voice broke out.

All heads turned towards the Nephilim. “I… We fought, right after they came to Dayton. I pushed her away," his voice wavered. "I’m the reason she left.”

“No, Jack,” Sam began to comfort the kid. “I’m sure-“

Gabriel intervened, stepping towards his nephew. “What did you fight about?”

Jack peeled his eyes from the floor, staring at Gabriel as his eyes glistened. “About Ketch. They seemed close when they arrived. Mary told me how awful he is; everything he’s ever done to hurt the Winchesters. I tried to warn her… but she already knew. And… I got mad. Then she got mad. And she sided with Ketch, so, now she’s…”

“We’ll get her back,” Gabriel spoke, but there was no confidence in his voice. He turned towards Bobby. “Where’s the path, old man?”

For angels, they sure knew how to carve out their own personal slice of hell. Ketch’s screams bellowed and bounced off of the walls. His hands hung above his head, the tip of his feet brushing the ground as the angel traded off between slicing and punching his bare front. Tied to a chair, you flinched every time the torturer would touch the Brit. You nearly gagged with every cry.

Charlie sat beside you, dried blood reflecting off of the fading, florescent lighting. She’d known Ketch a few days, and tears threatened her eyes. You couldn’t imagine your expression.

“How many fighters do you have?” An alternative of the same question the angel had asked for the last thirty minutes.

Ketch groaned through the pain. “Where is your battalion base?”

Ketch glanced at you, as though to debate wither to give in. All you could do was stare back, afraid he'd choose to betray everyone. Ketch finally spoke. “Are you familiar with a place called Boardwalk?”

“No.” The angel answered, refraining from cutting Ketch further.

“Well, it’s very near Park Place. Go to Oriental Avenue.” The angel listened to Ketch intensely, buying Ketch’s bag of bullshit until, “and take the B&O Railroad straight to hell.”

The angel carved another long laceration down Ketch’s front. Ketch laughed through the pain, amused by the angel’s annoyance while trying to maintain a strong front. “Mmm. Mmm. I that all you’ve got to make me talk? I must say,” he breathed out a sharp breath. “It’ll take much more.”

The angel took a step back. “Okay, then I guess it’s time for more.” The angel’s eyes flashed toward you as he stalked over, each step predatorial as his lip curled on one side, eyes darkening with power. The angel stopped directing in front of your chair, blocking almost your entire view of Ketch. He bent down, much like greeting a child, “Hi, girlie.” His eyes briefly roamed over you, while a free hand brushed the hair out of your face.

“Don’t touch her,” Ketch threatened with what strength he had left. His breath shallowed, and he had to wait to gain more strength to speak. "You hurt her-"

"And what?" The angel shot over his shoulder, casually glancing back at the mortal man.

“This guy seems fonds of you,” the angel observed, watching you intensely as his roaming hand slipped over your chin. “Is he giving it to you good?”

You glowered at the angel, contorting your mouth to spit in the angel’s face.

Angelic grace erased the rebellion, causing the angel to grin wildly towards you. The angel’s hand slipped down from your face, brushing down your neck. The surprisingly smooth tips of his fingers danced over the clavicle bone. You closed your eyes, imagining the way things could go. “Hmm?” The angel prompted as his hand dipped between the top of your breast and your arm.

“Stop it!” Ketch screamed, tears freefalling across his face. His entire body shook forcefully as he shut his eyes, unable to watch your assault.

The humm of a car halted the angel's motions. He chuckled deeply at the sound, straightening up his posture to look through the blinds of the window. “You think I actually want to touch one of you apes? I’ve sent for an expert in these matters.” The angel strutted back over to Ketch as the headlights shined through the window. “No talking required.”

The front door opened and the angel graciously greeted the oncoming angel. “Good evening, Gabriel!”

Your heart combusted at the name. Your eyes swarmed over the archangel in the doorway. His hair was shorter in the back, something you'd never seen. Green, military clothes hung from his body, resembling only one other style. You quickly realized it wasn’t your Gabriel, but the alternate version.

“A Nazi, really?”

Gabriel focused on your face, a scowl darkening his appearance. “I already kill you?” His accent was thick, resembling his inspiration.

“German too? God, be more original.”

The archangel leaned over you, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling your head back. You bit back a groan. “God is not here!” he hissed. “Pure steel. Took me nearly a year to get the job done. It will give me more pleasure to relive the event.”

“No, please,” Ketch begged. “I… I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Gabriel released his grip, turning back to gaze at Ketch. “It is too late for that, I’m afraid.” He turned back, placing his palm on your shoulder, walking around to stand behind you. “You have to realize; this will all be your friend’s fault.” Gabriel leaned down to whisper in your ear, toying with you while Ketch scrutinized. “He should’ve confessed sooner.”

Gabriel took off his dark gloves, preparing for something you were bound to find out. “You have to understand, that everyone has a breaking point. A… point of pain. Particular, primal fear. It’s a nerve so… raw that your will doesn’t exist to be factors. And that all of your little secrets… they flow from your mind… to mine… until your mind no longer exists.” Gabriel snuck his hands over each side of your head and begun the extraction.

Electricity. Like a lightning bolt continuously striking a metal rod within your mind. An electrical match which lit the fire in every nerve of your head. Pulsing inflammation and swelling, overwhelming your head, ready to burst at any given moment. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything other than the pain Gabriel created. You'd been a hunter a long time; stabbed, beaten, shot... a stubbed toe in comparison.

You didn’t realize you were screaming until Gabriel’s hands dropped prematurely, leaving your mind barely intact. Blood rushed through your head, clogging your ears. Threats and screams erupted into indistinctive chatter. Fights and gunfire sounded like white noise.

You regained minimal focus as Gabriel’s face appeared in front of you again. You produced guttural screams, pushing away, forcing the chair to tip over. The angel hovered over you, standing you back up with physical labor. Against the restraints, you thrashed in the chair, struggling to move away. The archangel spoke, but the rush of blood in your ears prevented comprehension. The impending fear of feeling that pain again overwhelmed your senses. You couldn't ever go through that again and live.

The restraints around your arms loosened, causing you to peel open your eyes. The Nazi uniform absent, replaced with a blue jacket and jeans. He kneeled down, and you retracted your hands, bringing them up to defend yourself. Gabriel didn’t appear to notice, as his focus revolving around your face. “Y/N?” His voice was calm, accent absent.

This was Earth’s Gabriel.

TTBT Taglist:

@whovianayesha @herangelicvirtue @heliosparadox @nobodys-baby-now @eurusholmmes @natashacamillaus @sherlockedtash88 @alangel1895 @countrygrl863 @hunterpuff @stargazingkiddo @supernaturalymarvel @koithings @superwholock-fangir1 @kissmeimadragonlord @marianita195 @honeyicouldntthinkofaurl @laurajw14 @fandom-trash-worth-it @jordynhartley2001 @dont-trust-a-doe @typicalweirdbookworm @ernesto-deserved-it @kestrelsparverius @jayyx3oxo @waywarddaughterwrites @myfandomlife-blog @ourloveisforthelovely

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buckyhoneyno · 6 years

Text

Beautiful Ignorance Pt.4

Steve Rodgers x Stark!Reader

In which Steve meets a girl that he believes could be the one, only to find out she’s Tony Starks daughter.

Warnings: none just some fluff and cuteness that I love

Word count – 2377

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

Masterlist

A/N hey guys here is my Drabble List if anyone wants to make a request from it feel free. My tag lists are still open.

Chapter 4

Walking through the park with Charlie gave Steve a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. His eyes still scanned for danger but he wasn’t tensed ready for a fight. Being with this girl felt easy almost like breathing.

“You know what’s crazy?” Charlie said as she looked up at him.

“What?”

“After I heard about the attack on New York I thought central park would surely be ruined but it happened to be one of the only placed left completely untouched.” Shew said happily. “I can’t imagine this place not being around,”

“Ya,” Steve said in agreement but his mind was suddenly somewhere else. Memories of Loki’s army flooded his brain. It reminded him that the girl in front of him knew nothing about him being Captain America. Was it selfish to not tell her before they got more involved? The answer was more than likely yes. He would have to tell her at one point, the danger around him was always present.

“Steve?” Charlie said softly her tone concerned. “Are you alright,” She had let go of his arm and was now stopped in front of him. Princess healed at his side never tugging on her leash.

“Ya, I’m alright Doll,” He said snapping out of it quickly. Pushing the dark clouds away he focused on the bright sun that seemed to shine up at him taking away the shadows.

“OK,” she said before taking his free hand tugging him along. “I want to show you this spot I found the other day, it’s a bit farther but its-” Charlie was cut off by her phone ringing, looking down she noticed it was her father. She groaned before looking at Steve apologetically.

“it’s my dad, one second,” He smiled letting her know it was fine.

“Hello?” She said letting her annoyance be heard. “Yes, I’m still coming… no…yes…I don’t know…ok…yes…fine…fine…Dad are you done?” she paused again running a hand through her hair. “I swear to god if you do I will take a torch to your cars…ok maybe I will just forget to show up to the party…that’s what I thought,” her face became smug as Steve became more and more confused. “I will see you then…love you too bye,” hanging up she looked at Steve.

“I’m sorry my father can be a bit ridiculous sometimes,”

“So, you were going to set his cars on fire?” Steve questioned not able to tell if she was serious or not about it.

“No…well not if he followed the rules,” she said of handedly.

“Rules?”

“He’s not allowed to look up my dates or interrogate them till at least the fifth date,” She said matter of fact before letting a sigh of annoyance out. “He somehow found out I was on a date and likes to sabotage them because he wants me to die alone,” she pouted up at Steve making his heart melt for a moment at the cuteness that was her face.

“I’m sure he’s just looking out for his daughter,” Steve said grinning at her watching as she rolled her eyes.

“Ya say that now but wait till you meet him and he threatens to make you disappear. Won’t be so sweet then,” Steve couldn’t help the laugh that left him. He had never meet anyone’s father. Though he wondered how one would react if they found out their daughter was dating Captain America.

“Well I look forward to making it far enough to even be considered for interrogation”

The smile that lit up her face was giddy as she shyly looked down while biting her lip. She tried to hide just how happy his words had made her, or at least try to hide the blush that covered her cheeks.

“Me too,” was all she got out before resuming their journey to her special spot, which Steve soon found out was off the side walk and up a dirt path. Charlie walked forward confidently before taking a turn in the trees and off the path.

“How exactly did you find this place?” Steve asked while lifting a branch so that it wouldn’t touch her.

“Well Princess and I were out here on one of our runs and someone…” she paused to give princess a look. “Decided that she wanted to chase a stray cat through the woods. Obviously, I followed and we ended up here” as she finished talking they stepped out of the thick bushes and into a small clearing that had what looked like a small rock formation that you could easily climb up. There was a flat part that could easily fit two people comfortable.

“I see why you like it so much,” Steve said as he looked around. It was quieter here somehow, and more private which Steve liked. He missed privacy the most, now a day it was a luxury that few could afford.

Charlie walked forward and sat down on the edge of the rock swinging her long legs over the edge. Her feet almost brushing the ground bellow. She looked over at Steve while patting the spot next to her.

“So, other than kicking ass as a body guard what do you like to do?” Charlie said with a raised brow. Steve froze for a moment, he didn’t have any hobbies. He tried to think of anything that he did outside of the team and came up blank. Was he really that boring.

“I- um…well,” he started but lying on the spot was not one of Steve’s strong suits. This wasn’t something he could punch his way out of.

“let me guess,” Charlie said turning on the rock so she was sitting Indian style facing Steve. “All you do is work, go to the gym and if you have time sleep.” She looked at Steve waiting to see if she was right. His silence was answer enough as she gave him a small smile. “Well don’t worry you can now add giving Charlie attention to your hobby’s,”

“Giving Charlie attention?” Steve said with laughter filling his voice. That didn’t sound like a terrible hobby at all.

“Mhmm,” She said matter of fact a large grin on her face that matched Steve’s.

“I think I can fit that in to my busy schedule,” he stated coyly. Steve didn’t take notice that their faces had inched closer and closer as they were talking. They had both started to lean in their eyes starting to close till they made contact.

Hair. That was what was in his mouth. His eyes flew open and all he saw was Princess large head. She had stuck her face in-between the two and they both managed to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Princess, what the hell,” Charlie said while laughing loudly. Steve couldn’t help but join her even if he was sad that he didn’t get to kiss her. Who knew when the next chance would be for him.

Charlie pushed princess back softly having her lay down.

“Stay,” she said giving her a playful glare before turning back to Steve who had a soft blush on his cheeks. Charlie couldn’t understand how someone who looked like him could be so shy and act like woman had never approached him before. Seeing as he wasn’t going to make the first move Charlie decided it was her job. She was never one to back down from a challenge and shy was not a word that anyone could ever use to describe her. She was a Stark god dammit.

Leaning up a bit she took Steve’s chin in her hand turning his head. His eyes meet hers for a moment in confusion before Charlie leaning in connecting their lips. His eyes grew wider for a moment as he felt her lips on his. Coming to his senses he quickly shut them while leaning more into the kiss. He always heard that when you were with the right person you would feel sparks but all Steve felt was a blazing warmth that took over all his senses. Sparks would be an insult to what he was feeling at the moment.

It was over just as quickly as it had begun as Charlie leaned back watching as Steve looked dazed for a moment. It gave Charlie a little sense of pride that she was able to send him into this state.

“Was that ok?” She said with a little smile that she was trying to keep rather than the large full-blown grin that threated to show on her face.

“Ya,” was his only reply till he seemed to come back down to earth. “that was definitely ok,”

“Good,” was all she replied back before turning back so that her feet were over the edge. A soft breeze blew through the air ruffling her curly hair around her head. The two sat in a comfortable silence as they watched the large fluffy clouds roll through.

“That one looks like a dolphin,” Charlie said breaking their silence after a moment pointing at the cloud in front of them that most definitely did not look like a dolphin.

“No, it doesn’t, it looks like a bear,” Steve countered back.

“You need glasses Mr.” Their playful banter went on for a while as they pointed from cloud to cloud arguing over what they looked like. It ended when Steve said one of the clouds looked like a pillow sending Charlie into a fit of laughter which ended with her leaning on him as she caught her breath.

Her head was on his shoulder as she let a few more soft giggles out.

“A pillow,” She said again before tilting her head up to look at him. “You’re lucky your cute because you would make a terrible cloud watcher,”

“Man, and I really thought I could make a career out of that,” Steve said pouting softly down at her. He couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked in the moment. Her large blue eyes bright and slightly crinkled as she giggles softly her perfect teeth beaming up at him.

Steve took the initiative this time and leaned down while capturing her lips against his. This one lasted longer than the last as he lifted on of his hands to cup her cheek softly. Their lips moved in sync in another innocent kiss before they both pulled away to breath. Charlie gave a soft hum that sounded happy as they both looked at each other.

“what are you doing Thursday night?” Steve said without thinking. Today was Tuesday and the party that Tony was throwing for his daughter was Thursday. Steve knew tony wouldn’t mind him bringing a plus one as he always pushed for Steve to get out there and date.

“I believe I will be with my father and his work friends,” Charlie said sadly. “why?”

“I was going to invite you to a party I have to suffer through,” Steve stated frowning softly. He was hoping she would come and then he would be able to focus on her all night. He also couldn’t lie that he would love to see her all dress up.

“that sounds better, what time is it at?” Charlie asked with a grin.

“8:30,” Steve said. “It will be going till 2 in the morning most likely,”

“Well I know I need to be with my dad at least an hour if you’re ok with me showing up around 9:30 or 10,”

“Your dad won’t mind?” Steve asked not wanting to start off on a bad foot with her father but unable to hide his excitement.

“Eh he might but I would much rather ditch him and his work friends and hang out with you then stay there and be forced to converse with strangers who most likely don’t really want to meet me,”

“I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to meet you,” Steve flirted with her to the best of his abilities which Charlie couldn’t help but find charming.

“Mh my father is very…interesting and most people who don’t know me just assume I’m a carbon copy of him,”

“Which is a bad thing?” Steve questioned.

“I love him, he is my hero, my inspiration, the one person who has never left me. He was a single dad who raised me with little to know help. If I turn out like him then I don’t really mind but I want to be my own person. I want my own identity,” She said softly staring off through the trees seeming to be lost in thought.

“Well he sounds like a great dad,” Steve said watching as a smile came to her lips.

“He is,” Leaning her head back on his shoulder. “So what should I wear to this party,”

“a dress,” Charlie gave an annoyed sound at his answer.

“Steve a dress is not a good answer that could mean anything,” Charlie sassed him while giving him a playful glare.

“I mean I’m sure whatever you wear will be just fine,”

“Sweet sweet Steve, you have much to learn,”

“Well then, I look forward to you teaching me,” Charlie couldn’t help how her cheeks reddened and the small goofy smile came to her lips before she shook it of looking at him.

“Well what are you going to wear?” She quizzed him.

“Dress pants and a button up shirt,” Steve decided as he thought through his closet for a moment.

“Ok see I can work with that,” She said happily with a nod. Leaning forward she gave him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away quickly with a closed mouth grin.

“What was that for,” Steve said dreamily.

“It was a reward for giving me the right answer,”

“I’ll have to be right more often then,” Steve stated matter of fact. Charlie leaned up again and gave him one more kiss. “and what was that one for?” he asked.

“eh just cause,”

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

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frecklefaceb · 7 years

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Genre: Fan Fiction (Jack Reacher AU featuring Charlie) Pairing: Charlie x OFC-Mildred “Millie” Day Warnings: Language, Physical Violence, Verbal, and Death Rating: Mature Theme Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

*I appreciate those that have been patiently waiting for this. Everyone’s support is what kept me going. If you’d like to be added to the tag list for this fic just shoot me a message. I did take the liberty of adding a few that liked related Charlie posts but I’ll remove you if you wish. Last but not least, thank you for following me and reading my fics! Enjoy! *

“Two dollars is your change. Have a nice day,” I call out with a tight smile, the customer turning to leave without acknowledgement and my face falls once they’re out the door. The sky is ominous as the dark clouds roll across the flat landscape of the fields across the street from the gas station, occasionally sending bright blasts of lightening and loud claps of thunder as it approaches. The scene outside resembling a painting, one half gloomy and foreboding while the other was sunny and cheerful. I always liked thunder storms, especially the ones like today that threaten to challenge the monotony of my routinely boring existence. I could watch the chaos and pretend I was getting swept away to another place, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Anywhere would be better than this small town, I think to myself.

My head snaps to the keys scraping along the door as my mother locks the office while juggling her mug and purse.

“Don’t forget to do the inventory,” she softly reminds me before moving in to peck my cheek. I flinch away but she doesn’t seem to notice, or she just doesn’t comment as I wipe my cheek in annoyance at the gesture. She stoops to the drop safe, punching in the code and collecting the bank bags. “I’ll drop the deposit off at the bank on my way to Robbie’s,” she says while closing the safe. I tap my foot, ready for her to leave for the weekend. She’s visiting my brother and his family that live several hours away. I’m sure I’ll regret the visit upon her return, when she’ll spend days talking about my new nephew.

Mom’s eyes sweep the counter, undoubtedly trying to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything but appears satisfied as she rounds the counter and pauses in front, “Don’t let your dad clog his arteries this weekend.” Her look pointed as her fingers wave to me.

“Leave already!” I beg, desperate for some space.

“I’m serious, Millie! Love you!” she calls out as she passes through the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, watching her slip into the car and pull away. Tapping my fingers on the counter, I stare out the storefront, wondering if we’ll even see anyone tonight with the weather.

My phone vibrates and I smile, knowing it's a message from my friend Kali. She had managed to escape this small town and was off having fun at university; I was envious. Kali always knew her path in life, even when we were small children she wanted to be a teacher, while I floated by in school, my passion never realized. She's now wrapping up her third year and I'm still waiting for a calling. Deep down I'm terrified of never finding my way, and so instead, I'll settle into a comfortably routine life of mediocrity. Sadly, it's not far off.

Just as the sky finally opens up to downpour, a pair of headlights flickers across the back of the store as a car pulls under the awning over the gas pumps. I finish typing my reply to Kali, assuring her I'd be around for her gran's birthday celebration next weekend. The door of the dark sedan opens forcefully, shaking the vehicle when the stranger climbs out of the driver's side.

His scowl is unmistakable underneath the hood of his jacket as he stalks to the entry. Once inside he pauses, lowering his hood and craning his head at me. The man is average height and build, his light brown hair has a slight wave, but the tone nearly matches the tone of his skin which makes his light green eyes pop.

"It's nasty out there," the comment normal but the way his eyes roam the store was unsettling. As if on cue, the stranger smirks causing the hair on my neck to stand. While still on edge, I'm grateful when he moves down an aisle putting some distance between us. In my distraction I don't hear the other men get out of the car until the pump notification beeps at me. I hesitantly glance out, spotting two more men near the car, chatting as they fill the tank.

The driver is now walking to the counter with fistfuls of snacks and drinks, his gait confident and dangerous. He drops the food on the counter and winks before digging into his pocket. With a groan he mutters, "I swear, I just had it."

I'm shifting on my feet as he pats around his body in search of his wallet. I embarrassingly jump at a loud burst of thunder, and the stranger scoffs at my behavior before releasing the soft sigh, "Ah."

The movement is quick, but everything becomes a hazy blur the moment I hear the chamber click, my eyes wide as I face the gun.

"Sorry sweetheart but I'm going need this on the house and why don't you throw in what's in the register."

I gently nod in understanding although my feet remain rooted. The man peers over his shoulder as another car pulls into the lot, his friends no longer in view. He shuffles forward, pushing the gun toward me and my hands instinctively dart up. My hands trembling with open palms.

"Hurry up!" he barks, causing me to gasp.

"Okay, okay," my tone shaky with my pleading reply. My fingers twitching as I tap the buttons of register with increased anxiety with each error beep.

"Fuck," the guy snarls and I yelp, not realizing his frustration is directed at the alarmingly stoic man now standing inside the door. His glare icy as it bores through my burglar.

"Vincent, you should know better than to make me chase you across the Midwest."

Neither spares a glance in my direction when the drawer of the register springs open. Vincent's previously confident demeanor crumbles as he shifts.

"Charlie, look, I'm sorry. I've been try'na get you the money but..."

"Enough," Charlie interrupts Vincent's rambling with a firm voice. The leather of Charlie's jacket squeaks as he takes two large strides, placing him near the center of the room.

"I'm not in the mood for excuses or forgiveness."

I notice movement in the mirrors above the refrigerated cases; Vincent's men have snuck inside. This is about to get much worse. As the two men continue to converse, I discreetly slide my hand underneath the counter and feel around until my fingers touch cool metal. I keep my eyes trained between the mirror and the arguing men as I lift the gun from the rack. My hands firmly grip the barrel, the butt low as I keep it out of sight but pull it towards me.

Charlie is now in Vincent's face, staring down his nose at the visibly nervous man, "Now apologize to the young lady for the trauma you're about to cause her as you meet your maker."

One of Vincent's men jumps up from behind a row of chips with gun drawn and pointed at Charlie. I quickly pump the fire grip of the shot gun before yelling, "Not today asshole!"

Charlie jerks Vincent down, as the shot echoes through the store and bags of chips scatter. Vincent's lackey screams as the bullet pierces his chest, before dropping to the floor.

My mouth falls with the body, the motionless foot jutting out from behind the aisle. I stumble backwards into the cigarette rack, cartons and packets raining down.

On all fours, Vincent start scrambling across the floor but lands on his face after Charlie snags his legs from under him. His nose is now bleeding on the tile and Charlie grins with satisfaction as he crawls over the man.

"Frankie!"

Vincent's second henchman is hovering over his slain partner with hands tugging at his hair, in shock as he repeats the name. I feel numb looking at the gun still clutched in my right hand and a small sob escapes as I drop it with a hop back. The commotion pulls the man from his grief and his gun is now pointing it at me. I'm immobilized by fear, unable to execute any plan to redeem myself.

As if on cue, Charlie springs upright and gun shots once again reverberate in the store. I clasp my hands to my ears as I yelp, watching the second man fall. A string of curses soon flow from Charlie's lips. Amidst the chaos, Vincent managed to escape and we both hear the tires screeching along the pavement and the car fish tails on the road.

"Fuck!" Charlie roars, moving to the window only to see the tail lights mocking him from the distance. His fist slams into the metal frame, shaking the glass before he turns back to me.

I cower, slowly backing further into the counter space as he stalks into the booth, his lip curling in anger.

"Guess it's just the two of us now," he calmly states although his body is tense.

"Please..." my voice breaks with my plea. I gasp for air as he wrenches my arm and I lurch into his chest. I can feel his finger nails digging into the flesh of my forearm. I softly sob, pressing against his chest and willing him to release me from the vice like grip. Instead, his free hand materializes at my jaw, forcefully squeezing.

His eyes are unforgiving as he watches me attempt to emancipate myself.

"This has been a bad day for me, but especially for you," he emotes sympathy, but I recognize the underlying malice.

"Cameras," I mumble, my speech still inhibited by his grip on my jaw.

"What about them?" he challenges, I can still feel his fingers in my cheeks even though he's eased them.

"The owners have cameras and I'm sure we can get the information on the car Vincent took."

Charlie narrows his gaze as he considers, "What makes you think I need you for that?"

At this point I figure I have nothing to lose. I'm fairly certain he's going to kill me since I witnessed the entire event. It will be the talk of the town, the crazy massacre at the gas station. There will be rumors for years.

"Did you see the make or model of the car?" I bravely ask. The flex of his jaw gave me the answer, and he releases me. I cradle my arm, the spot sore from his grip. With hesitation I nudge past him, positioning myself before the camera monitor. A plan beginning to take shape, I just needed to buy time and persuade him.

“There’s no security in the store except an alarm after we leave, but there are cameras in the parking lot to monitor the pumps,” I say with my finger tapping the side of the monitor. He quietly surveys the set-up and crosses his arms. I feel my stomach bottom out, the seconds feel as though they are dragging on, but I manage to restrain myself from fidgeting.

“Retrieve the footage,” he orders with cell phone in hand, and I can hear the faint vibrations indicating a call. I don’t breathe until I hear him step off the platform. Unable to leave well enough alone, I twist my head to Charlie. He’s pacing the floor as he speaks on the phone with clipped answers, I can’t help but wonder who’s on the other end of the line.

The color drains from my face once he detects me spying and his laps cease.

“Yes, sir. I understand and I won’t disappoint you. In fact, I’m handling it as we speak,” he insists into the phone before hanging up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Charlie’s voice is tight, “I hope you got the information.”

I wave the slip of paper including the license plate number, make, and model. He leans over the counter to snatch the slip from my hand, studying the information before slipping it into his pocket.

My eyes widen as he reaches for the gun tucked in his pants

“Take me! Take me with you!” I desperately plea, and Charlie’s laughter catches me by surprise. The absence of humor is unmistakable.

“You want to come with me?” he mocks, and I can feel my face flush.

“I didn’t erase the footage so the authorities will see your car,” I blurt. His face hardens. I’m too slow to dodge as he reaches back over the counter to grab my shirt and draws me forward. I feebly brace myself on the counter, trying to prevent him from pulling me over, even though I’m sure he could.

“This is a game you will lose,” his threat sending a quiver down my spine.

“It’s all pretty fucked considering I saved your life,” my voice rising with my chin, and I can feel the anger flooding my veins. Charlies head tilts and I decide to continue, “And granted you saved me in return, but what for? You could have let them finish me and there’d be no reason to off me yourself.”

“Okay.” My arms barely support me as I slump forward after he lets go of my shirt.

“Wait. What?” I question, completely taken aback by his response.

Sweeping back from the counter, Charlie raises a brow, “Clear the footage.”

I side step to the monitor, as to keep from turning my back to him, afraid it was some sick hoax. I bite the inside of my cheek as my fingers gingerly reach to the set up and Charlie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

My head lowers as I begin to tap on the keyboard. What I failed to mention to Charlie was the cameras provide a live feed inside the store but don’t actually record footage. It’s all for show, and being in a small town, the deterrent typically works. I press a few more buttons and manage to close the feed, causing the screen to go blank.

Charlie is still in place when I finish. I start to grab my purse but decide against it once I remembered the bodies occupying the store floor. Instead, I reach into the open register and grab the cash. Charlie tilts his head to the door and I leave the booth to follow. He holds the door open and the damp cool air greets me.

My brow lowers when the trunk pops open and before I can question it; a strong hand is at the back of my neck. I try to gain footing but the pavement is slippery from the rain and I only slide. Charlie wedges his thigh between my legs, and with a nudge, I tumble into the open space.

“What are you doing?”

“I never said where you’d be riding. Now shut the fuck up,” he slams down the trunk. I’m now surrounded by darkness.

@feminamortem @societalfailure @equalstrashflavoredtrash @beautifulramblingbrains @emmysrandomthoughts @ariwolff14 @ntepie @pathybo @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @james-k-delaney @murmelinchen @sharknadoslut @oddsnendsfanfics @roslea @jojuarez26 @ashtotes @spiteandalice @beltz2016 @letstrytheridingcrop @bookwarm85

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