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cinnamon-roll-seth · 4 years

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Not Good For You || JJ Maybank

Your disapproving father gets into JJ’s head and leads him to believe that he isn’t good enough for you. JJ, believing your father’s words, tries to end things but you’re not giving up without a fight.

You watch in disbelief as a handcuffed JJ gets shoved into the back of the police truck. Kiara stands next to you, equally as shocked, while Pope stands across from the two of you, next to his dad. The three of you watch helplessly as Shoupe gets in the truck and drives away.

Pope starts anxiously walking around grabbing at his hat and then suddenly takes it off and chucks it at the ground, “Shit!” He yells before storming off.

“Pope? Pope!” His dad calls before running after him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” You mutter over and over, digging your hands in your hair, “Why the fuck did he do that?! He knew damn well it wasn’t him who sank that stupid boat!”

“Because it’s JJ,” Kiara replies, “Of course he’d take the blame for Pope, he’s selfless like that. He’s always protecting his friends.”

You sigh, “Well sometimes I hate him for it. God he’s probably freaking out right now.”

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s tough.” Kie assures you softly and you nod.

“I sure hope so. Hey I should probably get home, it’s only a matter of time before my dad finds out and if I’m not close by he’ll have a fit.” She nods, knowing how your dad is, and the two of you say your goodbyes before you get into you car and drive the short way back to Figure Eight.

The thing about being a kook and dating a pogue is that everybody judges you. They all think that you’re making a mistake by dating JJ and that someday he’ll end up pulling you into whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. It’s part of the reason why, although you live the kook lifestyle, you still prefer to hang out with the pogues. You’re kind of like a half kook/half pogue.

Your father, however, is probably the most angry about it. He would disapprove of anybody who isn’t rich, pogue or not, and the fact that JJ is always causing mischief makes it worse. He keeps tabs on your relationship, and JJ in general, like a hawk.

You cringe as you pull into the long driveway and sure enough your father is already standing on the front steps, arms crossed over his chest, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve just been hanging out with Kiara,” You reply nonchalantly.

“Hanging out with Kiara? Don’t lie to me, I know you were with that dirty delinquent boyfriend of yours.”

“Don’t change the subject,” He warns angrily, “I heard he got arrested?! What the hell did he do this time?!”

“It’s none of your business Dad. Stay out of it.”

“I want you to stay away from that boy. I’ve said it a million times before and you don’t listen but I’m serious this time Y/N. End things with him.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do dad? Lock me in the house like a princess in a tower? You know what, I’m done talking about this right now.” You angrily walk over to the driver’s side of your car before climbing in and slamming the door.

“Where do you think you’re going? Y/N, I swear to god if you start that car you’re grounded.” You ignore him and start the car before speeding away from the house, drowning out your father’s angry screaming.

As you pull into The Wreck’s parking lot for the second time that day you run a hand through your hair and sigh, “Fuck.”

“Hey what are you doing back? I thought you had to get home to Dadzilla?” Kie asks as you walk into the restraunt.

“Yeah well he decided he was going to yell at me as soon as I got there and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.” You shrug and sit down at the bar. She nods in understanding but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah?” She asks, not looking up from her cleaning.

“Could I maybe stay with you for a few days? Just until all this shit with JJ is sorted out. If I go home my dad is gonna be all up my ass about it.”

“Of course Y/N, you know you’re always welcome at my house.” You smile, silently thanking her, and patiently wait until she’s done cleaning before you both head back to her house.

{The Next Night}

“Just so you know, if you weren’t going to be there I definitely wouldn’t be going to this stupid party.” You tell Kiara as the two of you stare at yourselves in her mirror.

“Oh I know. If it wasn’t for my mom making me I wouldn’t be going to this stupid party either,” She laughs as her mom pops her head into the room.

“You girls almost ready?”

“Yeah we’ll be down in a minute,” Kiara replies and her Mom nods before leaving once more.

Kie sighs and turns to you, “You ready for this?”

You shrug, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

When you get there the place is already crawling with kooks and the two of you are quick to split from her family and go find Pope. Although he’s not a kook so he isn’t actually a part of the club his dad always caters and Pope usually tags along to help.

You keep a close eye on the crowd, ready to split if you see your father. Finally you spot Pope standing off to the side with his Dad and rush over to greet him.

After a while of watching and making fun of the kooks you turn towards Pope, “Hey, have you heard from JJ?”

“No, you guys?” He asks and you and Kie shake your heads.

“No. He’ll be alright though, he has the survival instincts of a cockroach.” Kie answers.

He sighs, “It’s all my fault.”

“No it’s not Pope, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You assure him.

“Topper almost killed you, remember?” He doesn’t respond as the Camerons’ arrival steals everyone’s attention.

As the night goes on and it begins to get dark the three of you continue to stand aside watching the kooks dance and laugh and live their lives. You continue to keep an eye out for your father, thankfully the closest thing you get to spotting him is catching a five second glimpse of your little brother dancing with some little girl from his second grade class.

At some point you excuse myself to go to the bathroom and push through the crowd into the club.

Unbeknownst to you JJ is outside searching for Sarah after a short run-in with Pope. Finding Sarah and giving her John B’s note was at the top of his list but after that his main focus was going to be finding you. He finally spots Sarah when a hand roughly wraps around his arm and drags him away from the chaos.

“Dude what the hell?!” He yells as he’s dragged away to a little nook in the porch, away from the crowd. The assailant releases the death grip they have on JJ’s upper arm and practically throws the boy forward in front of them.

He stumbles a little before regaining his balance and turning to see Y/N’s dad standing in front of him looking quite angry.

“Oh hey Mr. Y/L/N. What, did you want to do a little future son-in-law and father-in-law bonding? You could’ve just asked, no need to be so rough.” He says sarcastically.

“Cut the shit kid. Look, I don’t like you, you’re dirty and rotten and you’re not good for my daughter. Now I’ve told her to end it but clearly she has other ideas so I’m going to tell you instead. You need to end things between the two of you and move on, and after that stay a far distance away.” Your father spits in a warning tone.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” JJ questions tauntingly, “I mean, my apologies sir, but that’s not going to happen. I love your daughter and I’ll never leave her.”

“You know, despite hanging around you and your delinquent friends, who probably have no hopes or goals for the future and will probably be stuck on The Cut barely scraping by to survive for the rest of your lives, she has aspirations. She wants to go somewhere in life, do things with her life. Things that you, a poor boy from the bad side of the island, who’s always getting into trouble, aren’t capable of doing. Now maybe being with you isn’t affecting her right now but someday soon you will get into trouble that is so deep that you will drag my daughter down with you and everything she wants for her future, everything she’s worked towards and done to achieve her goals, will be thrown out the window.” JJ stays silent, playing your father’s words over in his head as the older man continues, “Don’t ruin her life. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes.” And with that he turns and walks away.

“Yeah, um, no. I stayed at Kiara’s, I’m gonna be sleeping there for a few days.” You answer, tugging at your dress.

“Honey please. Come home with us later, your father and I were worried about you. He told me about your little argument and about you storming off. That wasn’t very respectful Y/N, I thought we taught you better than that.” You laugh in disbelief, shaking your head at her words.

“Did he forget to tell you how he practically threatened me to break up with JJ? How he was the one who started the whole thing in the first place? Of course not and it’s not like you would care anyway because you don’t like JJ either.”

“When did I ever say that? JJ is a nice kid he just...” She trails off and you scoff.

“Y/N, please.” She pleads and you turn around and wave.

“Bye Mom, I’ll see you in a few days when you two decide to stop judging somebody based on their social status and the amount of money they have in their bank account. Oh wait, that’ll never happen.” You reply angrily before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

You go outside, scanning to crowd to try and find Kiara, whom you finally spot standing a little ways further down the deck.

“Hey, you alright?” She asks, seeing your annoyed face.

“Yeah, just ran into my mom in the bathroom. It’s fine, she was just being a bitch about the fight with my dad. Blaming it on me like always.” You shrug, turning towards the crowd until the door opens behind you and a familiar voice comes out of it.

You turn around, eyes widening as you watch JJ get pulled outside by the security guard, “Look man I can walk myself! I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

He struggles against the guard, not even noticing Kie and yourself as he gets pulled past. He grabs a glass from an older man on the way, downing the alcohol inside of it. You cringe as he’s pulled through the crowd, causing a scene and turning all eyes towards him, including those of your father who still hasn’t spotted you.

“Let go of him!” Kiara yells and her parents rush to shush her as all the attention is on the two of you now, “You can’t just boot him!”

You and JJ lock eyes for a moment and you smile but he doesn’t return it and looks away instead. You frown, wondering how long he’s been out of jail and why he hadn’t contacted any of you sooner, and why he reacted that way when he saw you.

“I invited him here! I’m a member of this club!” Kie continues, shrugging off her parents who are desperately trying to get her to shut up.

JJ finally pushes off the guard and apologizes sarcastically before turning towards us, “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie, Y/N. Pope, you as well. Rixon’s Cove, lets go.”

Kiara ignores her parents protests and the two of you bolt after JJ and John B as they run away from the party, Pope in tow. The five of you don’t stop running until you’ve reached your destination. You try to talk to JJ but he pretends not to hear you and instead works with John B to start a fire so you sit on a log next to Kie instead.

When the fire is started you smile and pat the seat next to you, hoping he’ll sit there but he sits next to John B and you try to ignore the hurt you feel after. He hasn’t said one word to me, did I do something wrong?

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even pay attention to the conversation until Kie nudges you slightly and leans in to whisper, “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” You answer, looking towards John B who’s standing in front of the group going on about the Royal Merchant and his findings about the gold.

At one point you and JJ lock eyes again but he looks away once again.

“All we need it an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.” John B exclaims excitedly and you watch as JJ walks over and throws his arms around him.

You angrily stand up and stomp away from the fire, sick of JJ’s attitude towards you tonight. You don’t know what you did but you’re not going to sit around and let him act like you’re not even there.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” Kie calls but you ignore her, continuing to walk until you get to the beach and find a nice large rock to sit on, staring up at the moonlight. A few moments later you hear footsteps and feel somebody sit next to you but you don’t look over, you already know who it is.

“Can we talk?” He asks and you hum in response, not paying any attention until he asks again more insistently.

“Oh so you’ve finally decided to acknowledge my presence after ignoring me all night?” You don’t know what you expected him to say but what comes out of his mouth next is far from it.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore,” He replies softly. Your heartbeat quickens as you stare back at him with wide eyes.

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“I’m not good for you Y/N. You’re beautiful and rich and you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just some poor troublemaker who isn’t going to make it anywhere in life. You’re so much better than me. You deserve better than me. I can’t believe it took me this long to see that.”

“That’s not true JJ. It doesn’t matter where you come from, you CAN make it places in life if you believe you can. I don’t want anybody else, I don’t care who they are or what they think they can give me. I only want you.”

“You’re a kook and I’m a pogue. We aren’t meant to be together. We were bound to crash and burn at some point so we may as well get it over with. It’s best that we move on and date people from our own sides of the island.” He refuses to look at you now, staring out into the ocean as you shake your head profusely.

“It doesn’t work that way JJ and you know it. We can’t just move on and love somebody else just because you and I come from different worlds. Romeo and Juliet, remember?” You cry, referring to the nicknames Kie and the boys used to call you two when you first started dating. Tears began to stream steadily down your cheeks.

“Romeo and Juliet both died Y/N!” He yells, raising his voice for the first time, “They were stupid enough to love each other even though they knew they shouldn’t and they ended up dead and if we stay together the same thing will happen to us, except it’ll be the death of everything you could accomplish in your life and I’ll be the one pulling the trigger. Eventually I’ll end up pulling you down to my level and all of your hopes and dreams will die and you’ll be no better than me, a stupid, useless pogue with no purpose.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re so much more than that to me. You’re my best friend JJ, the love of my life. I don’t want to live a life without you.”

The boy doesn’t say anything for a moment as your father’s words from this evening play over in his head. Don’t ruin her life. She’d be better off without you. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes. Finally he sighs, “Well you don’t really have a choice.”

“What do you mean? JJ please, I don’t want to loose you.” You pleaded softly as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Seeing you in this much pain physically broke JJ as he felt his heart break. He always vowed never to hurt you but now here he was doing the very thing he promised not to do. But he couldn’t ruin you, pushing you away now would save you from more pain later.

He could tell that you weren’t giving up without a push and with that thought in mind he opened his mouth and let the biggest lie he’s ever told fall from his lips, “You already have.”

“JJ,” You whispered helplessly as you watched the boy you love so much stand up and turn towards you.

“It’s true. I’ve been falling out of love for weeks but you were too stupidly in love with me to notice.”

“You don’t mean that.” You shook your head as more tears fell, “You’re just saying that to push me away.”

“No, I’m not. You’re so clingy, always up my ass, it’s exhausting. I’ve been mustering up the courage to end things but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, you know? I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would complicate things and make things awkward between everyone. I didn’t want it to get bad and make the others have to choose between us. I mean of course they’d choose me because I’m a pogue just like them but I didn’t want it to come to that point because I knew you’d have no friends then. You know I feel kind of bad for you actually. You’re so rich and privileged but yet none of the other rich kids like you so you resorted to being friends with pogues because you’re so pathetic that you can’t handle being alone.” With every word that came out of his mouth his heart broke more and more. Seeing the hurt on your face made him want to die. He opened his mouth to keep going but you stood up and held out your hand for him to stop.

“There’s no need to say anything else JJ, you made your point loud and clear.” Your voice was so quiet and broken that he could barely hear what you said, “I’m gonna go. Tell the others I’m sorry.”

As you turn and walk away JJ has to physically fight to urge to run to you and scoop you up into his arms and tell you that everything he’d just said was a lie. He wanted to apologize for all the vile things he’d just said and tell you how much he loves you but he didn’t.

As soon as you disappeared into the woods tears started to freely down his cheeks at a rate that they never had before as he angrily tugged at his hair, “Fuck!”

Thirty minutes later you stared up at the large house in front of you, debating about whether to go in. Tears stained your cheeks and you had to refrain from letting more loose as you replayed JJ’s harsh words in your head. You sighed and opened the large door, closing it behind you.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Your mother’s voice rang out as she appeared from the study.

“Where have you been?” Your father asked from behind her, “Off with your boyfriend again huh?”

“Dad I really don’t want to talk about it,” I reply softly, emotionally drained already, “I’m going up to bed. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

Neither one of your parents responded as they watched you climb the elegant staircase towards your room.

PART TWO

Can y’all believe that JJ is so hot that he brought me out of Tumblr retirement? 🥵 for real though, it’s literally been years since I’ve posted a fanfic on this app but after watching Outer Banks and falling in love with this blonde idiot I was inspired. I literally spent like three days working on this too so I hope y’all like it lmao

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #obx jj #please dont let this flop #multifandom #john b routledge #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #pope heyward #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine

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addicted2escapism · 4 years

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Make it Double | JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You’re a Kook, who was introduced to JJ by Sarah, and you’re so similar to each other it’s like having two JJ’s around. The Pogues are slowly going insane from your antics.

Warnings: none

Distancing yourself from the Kooks to hang out with the Pogues was probably the best decision of your life. You were so fed up with the stuck up rich kids from your side of the island that meeting new people was like finding gold at the end of a rainbow. Or at the bottom of the ocean. You had always been a bit of an outcast amongst Kooks, only truly getting along with Sarah and managing to maintain civility between everyone else. You just weren’t good at acting prim and proper. Being with the Pogues allowed you to let loose.

They were hesitant to open up to you at first, which was understandable considering all the shit Topper and the other boys continuously put them through. Eventually, though, they came to realize that you were not a spoiled brat who couldn’t get their hands dirty.

The first time they realized this, you were drunk, so it kind of didn’t count. There was a party at The Boneyard, but instead of assuming your usual spot with the Kooks, you were dancing with Sarah and the Pogues. JJ was making sure that your red solo cup stayed full, until he grew a conscious and decided that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to give you alcohol poisoning. So you were throughly drunk, even when the party was beginning to wind down. The Tourons were getting called back to their hotels and the Kooks wanted to hold an after party in the comfort of their three story homes.

Since the Pogues had hosted, it was also their job to clean up, but you were not having it. You wanted the party to go on forever! JJ was closest to you, so you snag him by the arm and dance backwards towards the water. He smirks, letting you pull him away, dancing slightly to your imaginary music.

“JJ!” You begin, and then pause to let out a burp. “Let’s swim!”

JJ’s smirk transforms into a full-fledged grin as you turn around and start running (stumbling) towards the water.

“Little Kook wants to swim in the freezing cold water with all her clothes on?” He questions, but moves his feet to match your speed. “If you say so!”

“No! JJ!” A voice calls out from farther up the beach, which you recognize as Sarah. Her warning is too late, though, because you splash into the water, with JJ right on your heels. You didn’t seem to care that your clothes were going to be absolutely soaked, traveling deeper and deeper into the water until you actually had to swim to keep your head above the surface.

“JJ, she’s drunk! Come back!” Another voice yells, your hazy mind is slowly able to decipher that it’s Kiara. You call her name, your hand shooting out of the water to wave at her, but you couldn’t wave and swim at the same time. The lack of control over your body movements plunges you under the water, but a firm hand grabs your arm and instantly hauls you back up. When you surface, all the Pogues are yelling things like “Jesus, JJ!”, and “come back, now!”.

“She’s fine, I’m holding her up!” JJ hauls you back to shore, making a show of his hand holding onto your arm. You laugh and agree with him, too drunk to fully comprehend why everyone was so concerned.

—

The second time, you were fully sober and could actually attest to your actions.

“Are you sure that she’s gonna be cool with fishing in the marsh?” Pope questions, looking to Sarah for an answer. Everyone was loading up John B’s boat with enough supplies for a full day out on the water. You had texted Sarah earlier that day wanted to hang out, but she had already made plans with the Pogues, so naturally she asked if you could come along.

“Yes, Pope, I am totally confident in that fact that she can handle being on a boat.” Sarah deadpans, staring at him disapprovingly. She understood why the group was reserved towards you, because from the outside you came off as ever Kookier than her. You came from a large family, a descendant of old money, meaning generations have gone by without anyone having to work a single day in their life. You never liked to talk about it, but you were much richer than her. It seemed like after years and years, you were the first one to break the mold of your family and actually care about something other than wealth and reputation. Unfortunately for you, your family’s reputation had tainted yours from the moment you were born.

“We know, we’ve seen her on very expensive boats.” JJ snorts, digging through the cooler of beer that Kiara had brought.

“Then what’s the big deal?” Sarah argues, looking to John B for backup. “You guys accepted me! She’s not really any different.”

“No offense, Sarah, but her house could put yours to shame.” John B adds, extremely unhelpfully.

“You know what? I’m going to invite her, and you can see for yourselves that you’re all being ridiculous.”

After about a half hour of being in the marsh, the Pogues realized that they were being ridiculous. You weren’t grossed out every time John B dumped a net full of fish straight onto the boat, in fact, you were actively helping. Kiara and Pope had taken to reading and listening to music, sprawled out on the back half of the boat, away from where JJ was trying to chase you and Sarah with live fish.

“JJ! Stop! Ew!” Sarah squealed, attempting to use John B as a shield. To her dismay, he reached down and picked up a fish as well, turning on her with a mischievous grin. “No, not you too!”

She called your name for help, but you were too busy being cornered by JJ. You didn’t know what he planned to do to you if he actually caught you, but you weren’t too keen on finding out. So you dart to the left and scoop up a fish of your own, trying not to shiver from the slimy texture of it between your fingers. JJ looks at you in surprise as you discreetly tilt your head towards Sarah, who had resorted to running to Kiara for help. JJ nodded, understanding what you had in mind, and turned towards Sarah as well. With his attention drawn away from you, you released your fish back into the water, feeling a bit bad for keeping the whole net just laying on the deck for so long.

Sarah screams out something about being betrayed, noticing that JJ had let you go, and that you were doing nothing to help. Fortunately for her, you weren’t planning on a single betrayal, but a double. You run across the boat, the fast movement making JJ and John B turn towards you. Sarah takes the opportunity to grab John B and push him off the boat, who latches onto her and drags her into the water with him. When you head for JJ, he already knows what you have in mind, so he captures you in his arms before you can push him and jumps off. When you surface, you can see Pope and Kiara looking at the four of you judgmentally. You laugh them off and start sparring JJ in the water.

—

If you were a bit of a Kook outcast in the beginning, you were completely ostracized now after choosing Pogues over Kooks for months. Even your family started to notice that you would go out with friends and come home “looking like you were from The Cut”, which, to be fair, was exactly where you had been. But you didn’t like their tone, and spent less and less time going to Kook functions. Pogue life had made you a complete wild card.

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were a Kook, though, but you weren’t trying to. It was quite obvious because of your clothes, your phone, and the car that you drove. You simply liked to think about the resources you had access to as a way to help the Pogues if need be.

Once the Pogues looked past your rich-kid exterior, they realized that you were very much like them. And then a certain Pogue started to like you. As in, like you. It was JJ, of course. You both found it easy to be around each other, and more often than not whenever one of you did something a little questionable, it was because the other was spurring them on. When you and JJ were together, you were an unstoppable force that the Pogues struggled to control.

“Guys, please, don’t break anything.” John B sighs, watching you and JJ play fight while he stood in the kitchen, making a peanut butter sandwich.

“We won’t!” You assured him, not wanting to disrespect his house or anything in it. You blocked a “punch” from JJ and swiftly ducked under his arm, laying a “punch” of your own into his abdomen. He gasped and stumbled backwards in fake pain, and you took the opportunity to kick him in the leg. JJ’s leg fights with yours, swiping you off balance. You yelp, realizing that you’re actually going to fall, but JJ reaches out and catches your arm just in time. You open your mouth to thank him, but the only thing that comes out is another yelp when he picks you up and slams you onto the couch.

There’s a loud crack, and suddenly the couch drops out from underneath you, dipping at an unnatural angle.

“Dude!” John B cries out, taking his mediocre sandwich and running over to you. You climb off the couch to assess the damage yourself.

“JJ, why’d you throw me like that!” You accuse, shoving him to the side. He fights you off and annoyingly bats you on the arm.

“I didn’t think you’d break it! How heavy are you?” He retorts, dropping to the ground to look underneath the broken sofa.

“Sorry, John B.” You sigh, squeezing his shoulder. You also take the chance to kick JJ again while he’s down.

—

Kiara’s dad had offered everyone the leftover food from The Wreck, so that’s where you all went to feast for dinner. You’d offered to take them out somewhere for fun, but they all felt strangely about accepting things like that from you. It made sense, but you wished that they wouldn’t view it as a handout. Everyone sat in silence, enjoying their food and each other’s company. The silence was broken when a French fry hit you on the cheek.

“JJ.” You start, not even bothering to look up from your food to see if he really was the culprit. “We’re in a restaurant.”

Quite the hypocrite, you pick up the fry that hit you and throw it back. It hits him right in the forehead.

“Guys, please, don’t start.” Kiara warns, mostly pleading with you since JJ was a complete lost cause. You nod, your days of etiquette training in the Kook academy wasn’t for nothing, and fixed JJ with a glare. He got the message and returned to eating his food, leg pressed snugly against yours.

“You two are going to get us in serious trouble one day.” Pope states, shaking his head as he munches on a carrot stick.

“Hey, at least she has a good effect on JJ. Look at him, he’s quiet as a mouse.” Sarah teases. You snort and JJ rolls his eyes. Both of you have heard this conversation before.

“In my defense, she instigates!” JJ throws you under the bus and you gasp incredulously.

“Me?” You object, ready to argue about who’s the real troublemaker in the relationship. All of the Pogues groan and complain, but the fondness in their eyes show that they’re happy to have you.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #obx netflix #outer banks netflix #my writing #gem writes

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yourlocalauthor · 4 years

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Bad Timing

Pairing: Topper x Fem! Kook! Reader

Summary: Topper goes to the reader’s house after events of midsummers. Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: cursing? Mentions of weed, um idk that’s might be it A/N: I definitely didn’t make a whole fic based off of a song Austin North’s sister made... hope wouldn’t be me. Also I promise my next fic is going to be JJ. i think this is the first time i’ve written something in the canon timeline so yay

Request are open!

You had always had a little crush on Topper, even before you actually knew what love was. You were the type of kids who’d say they were married at the ripe old age of five, before you even understood the concept of marriage. When you two were in third grade he said he was going to marry you, and you promised him that you would. At some point, his crush stopped and yours continued. You felt guilty being his best friend, and crushing on him. Towards the end of your middle school career it stopped, and then freshman year you started dating Kelce. Slowly after that you and Topper began to drift. You still hung out, considering you guys were a part of a whole friend group together, but it was different. You didn’t spend hours deep into the night staring at the stars as you babled about the galaxy, and how it was so huge, and how slim the chances were for you two to know each other but you did. There were no late night facetime sessions, of the two of you talking about the future. A part of you was sad, but people grow apart and change. You were no longer the shy little girl who hid behind her big sister, and he was no longer the sweet sensitive boy you once knew. Sometime he began dating your best friend Sarah Cameron, and you were happy for him. At the beginning of summer you and Kelce broke up. You two both realized that you had grown apart as a couple and it was just better to be friends.

It was too late, too fucking late for you to hear a knock at the door. It wasn’t even a knock it was more of a banging. You grabbed the makeshift knife stick, that you totally didn’t get inspired by Scream to make. It looked stupid yeah, but to quote the show it was meant to create distance between you and your attacker. Of all the times your parents and sister could be gone, this definitely wasn’t one of them. You had already missed Midsummers and now you probably had some dumbass outside your door. You carefully looked out your sister’s bedroom balcony to see any identification of who was there, you could see a car but it was way too dark for you to make out what type. The rain didn’t, practically coming down in sheets and spraying you as you shut the doors. You silently walked down the stairs, carrying your small little makeshift weapon. Your family had tormented you saying how it wouldn’t be necessary for you to use it, oh the irony. You carefully stepped towards the door, leaving soggy footsteps behind. You anxiously pushed the small curtains away, looking out towards your doorstep. And boy was there a sight you never thought you’d see. On your doorstep was one disheveled looking Topper. You unlocked the door quickly, ushering him out of the rain. You shut the door, eyeing him attentively. There were tears in his eyes, and his eyes seemed very puffy and red, his hair was all messed up and the helmet of hair product he typically had was gone. He looked so messed up mumbling something over and over. You gently reached out placing a hand on his arm, looking up at him.

“Top, hey it’s okay.”

You had no idea what you were comforting him for, but you knew it was better to take the gentle route.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen, and I’ll grab you a change of clothing. Sound good?”

He nodded, trembling but retreated towards the kitchen. You watched him, a look of confusion written across your face. You stood there for a moment longer, watching him take a seat at the kitchen island, you watched him take his seat, the way he carefully pulled back the chair as if he was going to break it. You turned towards the long stairs, going up them a million thoughts going through your head. Why you? Out of everyone Topper could’ve come to, he came to you. He came to someone who he had barely talked to on his own in almost two years. And you couldn’t feel guilty for the only thing running in your mind now. What the fuck did he do? You went into your parents room, sifting through your father's drawers for a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt. You weren’t sure if they’d fit, but your father wasn’t exactly huge. At the most they’d be a little loose. You walked back down the stairs, terrified of the silence. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you, and you were terrified by that.

“Hey, here this is some of my dad’s stuff. You know where the bathroom is?”

He gave you another nod, taking the clothing you had stuck out and he carefully tread down the long hallway. You turned on the fluorescent lights, and pulled out a mug for coffee. You filled the pot with water, and the filter with coffee grounds and set it to brew. You looked at the time, sighing as it read 1:57. Too early. You carefully pulled out the sugar, letting the sounds of coffee being made filling the house with sound. You sat on the counter, the cool feeling of granite met with your exposed thighs mentally counting . You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Topper came back taking a seat again. You both sat there silently, until the coffee machine let out a loud beep.

“Coffee?”

“What?”

“Coffee do you want some?”

“Oh um no… thanks.”

You nodded, turning back to the pot taking it out and pouring the dark amber liquid into your mug. You pulled the milk out, and poured it into your cup along with some sugar. You took a small sip, the hot liquid slipping into your mouth. It left a trail as it went through your throat burning your tongue.

“So, what happened?”

“I-“

You could see the panic, from earlier had returned to his face. And maybe a look of panic had spread across your face too. Just from his tone of voice, you knew things were bad.

“Top, it’s okay. Whatever happened I’m sure it’ll be fine in the morning. You don’t even have to talk about it.”

“No, I need to… I- shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be here, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the clothes, I can bring them tomorrow or I can go change now. I’m so sorry for bothering you, especially this late, or early in the morning. I’m just sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

He quickly stood up, pushing his chair back to leave. And just as he stood up, you were up from your spot ushering him back down.

“No Topper! You’ve got to be out of your mind, thinking I’ll let you out especially in this state, with the weather like that. Just sit down and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay…”

“So walk me through what happened, just take your time.”

You said taking the seat next to him…

He told you everything, from his suspicions to Sarah cheating, to the fight at the kegger at the Boneyard, to the day Sarah went radio silent, to Midsummer and John B, to him catching Sarah and John B at the Hawk’s Nest, and then finally to him pushing John B off the tower. It was a lot to take in, part of you was angry at Sarah she was your best friend why wouldn’t she come to you? But you had heard about the fight at The Boneyard. That was definitely Topper’s fault, Hawk’s Nest was partly all three of their faults. The worst thing about the whole cheating thing was, Sarah cheated on Topper with a Pogue. She should’ve known how much worse it would be to him if he found out. You didn’t care about the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing, it felt like the plot of a cheesy 80s movie, and you knew Sarah didn’t care either, but Topper did. And it broke your heart to see him like those, crying over the fact that his girlfriend cheated on him. You knew he cared about her, even if he didn’t really show it.

It was now closer to three. Your coffee was gone, and now the two of you were sitting in your kitchen in silence. You hated silence, you weren’t sure why but it made you feel unsettled. Your mom and dad always told you that you talked too much, maybe that's why, always wanting to fill the silence. But for once you had nothing to say, you used to be so good at comforting Topper and now there was nothing you could say.

“I should get home.”

“It’s too late.”

“I’ll be fine, besides I don’t want to inconvenience you any longer.”

“You’re not an inconvenience, you know that right?”

Silence. You turned your head looking for something to indicate what he was thinking. You could tell he had something to say. He was doing that thing where he presses his lips together and looked down trying to contain whatever he wanted to say.

“Out with it.”

“What?”

“Say what’s on your mind.”

“What if he’s dead?”

“I don’t think he is.”

“Why?”

“The cops would be here by now, your car is parked in the middle of my driveway.”

“What if they didn’t report it yet?”

“Then his little friends would be here, they’d stalk the neighborhood looking for your car to wreck it.”

“Right…”

“I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why’d you come to my house? I mean out of all the places you could’ve gone, you came here?

“There’s no one else I could really go to, Rafe would probably lose his shit and only focus on the fact that his sister was mackin’ a Pogue, and Kelce would laugh at me or something like that. Plus you were always great at listening.”

“I never stopped.”

“What?”

“You said were, I never stopped being good at listening.”

“Right.”

“What happened to us? I mean we were such great friends, screw that we were best friends. I mean we were with each other ninety-five percent of the time.”

“I don’t know, I guess we just grew up.”

“Right.”

It was silent between the two of you. You still weren’t convinced you guys just grew apart. It just didn’t make sense for two people who were once so close to just stop hanging around each other.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Me neither.”

“It’s late…”

“Yeah.”

“My bedroom still has the extra pull out.”

“Are you sure? I can always stay in the guest room.”

“My sister’s boyfriend has practically moved in there and the place of Monster energy drinks and weed.”

“Oh uh okay.”

You slowly pushed back your chair standing up, and setting the mug in the sink. You motioned for him to follow you, and you walked towards the stairs, and him following as you went up.

“I’m going to brush my teeth, and look for an extra toothbrush. You can just sit on my bed and wait.”

You opened your door for him, before walking into your bathroom. You rummaged through your bathroom, looking for an extra toothbrush. You finally found a pack, from when Kyle had started staying. The idiot kept losing his toothbrush, so your dad went out and bought a twenty pack. Kyle was a tool, but he loved you sister. She was lucky in that sense. You weren’t like that with Kelce, you didn’t really love each other. It was weird when you thought more about the relationship considering you guys had been together for almost two years. Watching your sister fall in love with her dumbass boyfriend, was probably what led you to calling it quits. You finished brushing your teeth, and walked out of the bathroom.

“Toothbrush and toothpaste are on the counter.”

He nodded towards you, and stood up from his place on your bed.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You gave him a smile, before turning towards your bed. You gently knelt onto the ground, fiddling with the bottom mattress. You lifted the platform it was on, and rolled it out. You heard the bathroom door, and stood up turning around.

“Bedsheets are in my closet, you’ll see them once you open it”

“I remember.”

“Right”

You watched him go into your closet pulling the sheets from the top, until something caught his eye.

“Is that the dress you wore to 8th grade graduation?”

He was pointing at a small white lace dress that was clearly way too small for you. You stood up to get a better view, your hand grazing against the material.

“Yeah I think it is.”

“I remember that day.”

“Yeah me too, things were so different.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean.”

“To us, did we seriously just grow apart?”

“I thought we already discussed this.”

“I know but I just want to make sense of it all Top, I mean you were the one who initially stopped answering me. No more late night texts or calls.”

“I don’t know Y/N I just, I guess I got busy with other things. You know the pressure from my dad, and everything.”

“Right…”

“Look I’m sorry about how things ended.”

You nodded carefully looking at him. Part of you wanted to say that it wasn’t the truth that there was more, but you didn’t want to press. You let go of the dress, shutting the closet doors. You walked over to your bed, taking one of the pillows off of your bed.

“Here.”

“Thanks… again for everything.”

“Like I said it’s no problem.”

You gave him one last smile before slipping into your bed. You leaned over shutting off the small little lamp that was illuminating your room, before staring up at the ceiling…

“Y/N”

“Yes Top?”

“You were right, I did stop answering your calls on purpose.”

“Oh… why?”

“I don’t know, I think freshman me was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“At the end of eighth grade I guess I started to have a crush.”

“What?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s funny.”

“Wait what?”

“End of 8th grade is when I started putting away my feelings for you.”

“Wait you liked me?”

“Yeah I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“I didn’t have a clue.”

Silence once again. This felt weirder than before though. Something that you wanted for so long, but now that you knew of it you didn’t know what to feel.

“Where do we go from here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you still like me?”

“I don’t know maybe… what about you.”

“Quite frankly I’m not sure I stopped.”

You flipped around in your bed, looking over the side. Even though it was dark it felt like your eyes had met, you kept staring at his figure until he sat up. You could see him more clearly now, the small bit of light coming from the beginning of the sunrise helped too. You looked at him, and he looked right back at you and the two of you were just lost in each other’s eyes. You scooched forward, and he leaned closer to you and then you two were kissing. It was a hot and heavy kiss, his hands were behind your head practically pushing you forward, and your long fingers were tangled in his frosted tips. Everything you ever wanted was in this kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop. Soon enough you two needed to pull away for air, you were practically breathless as you leaned back against your mattress looking up at the ceiling once more.

“That was perfect.”

And it truly was. After years of bad timing, you finally got to kiss him and it felt so incredibly perfect. You had never had a kiss like this not with any tourists or even Kelce. You smiled, as you motioned for him to join you on the bed you mind in pure bliss. Years of bad timing had led up to this, and you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

#topper thornton #topper #topper outer banks #topper obx #OBX #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #jj maybank

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floatingpetals · 5 years

Text

Boys in Blue || Pt. 7

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: none, maybe language

Word Count: 1800+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: I had totally meant to end this series at this part, but from the feedback, I’ve gotten from you wonderful people I’ve decided to extend it a little bit more. I don’t really have many plans beyond the next part(it’s rough but I have something at least) so the updates might be few and far in between until I can get more ideas. But I know there’s stuff there with this story! This ones a little short, but let me know what ya’ll think! Enjoy! 💕

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner @aylo22 on weheart.

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Series Masterlist

“Hey, baby girl.” Bucky purred into the phone. The giggle on the other end made his heart flip in his chest, his lips stretching into a wide grin. Steve snorted beside him in the car, rolling his eyes at the way Bucky practically preened at making Y/N tittered on the other end. “What are you doin’ for dinner?”

“Not sure actually. I just opened my fridge and the left-over chicken from last week just growled at me,” Y/N snorted. “I’ll have to get some safety gloves and tackle that later.”

“So in other words, your free tonight?” Bucky asked hopefully.

For the past two weeks since their little fiasco with Y/N, things picked up for the three of them job wise. Y/N was suddenly slammed by a sudden influx of new clients and reluctantly had to work longer hours to keep up with the sudden demand. Then for Bucky and Steve, they were short a few officers since flu season started to hit and put a good chunk of the officers out of commission for a while. Since neither of them had families and lived together, they didn’t want those on the force who need to spend time with their loved ones to pick up the time of those that were getting sick. It meant that they had less time to see Y/N than they would have liked, but she assured them to do what they needed.

However, just within the last two days, Bucky finally got his results back from the sergeant test he took. He had been a wreck of nerves for the week leading up to it and then a wreck the time it took to get back to him. Now he was officially, Sergeant James B. Barnes. It rolled off the tongue pretty nicely. He had yet had a chance to tell Y/N the good news. Steve told him she’d probably start screaming and tackle him to the ground; that week of the exam was quite taxing on them all with how on edge Bucky was, and she would be thrilled to know their suffering wasn’t in vain. Bucky didn’t want to tell her over text or have her read it over his shoulder like Steve had. He wanted to take his best girl out for a nice, peaceful dinner and tell her there. Today would have been the first time in two weeks he’d get that chance.

“Yeah, I’m on board! Is Steve gonna be with you?”

“Ah, yeah about that.” He shot Steve an apologetic look over the center console of the car. Steve frowned when he heard the question, pouting as he drove back to the precinct. “Steve may or may not have already agreed to work his last late-night shift tonight.”

“What? Again?”

“Yeah again.” Bucky sighed. “I wouldn’t hold it against him though. I don’t think Michael meant to get hit by that druggy earlier and need to get admitted to the hospital.”

“Oh.”

“But on the plus side, we’ve been told by fury that because of all the overtime we’ve been taking we don’t have to work weekends for the next six weeks. Everyone else should be comin’ back from their sick leave and will pick up the slack.”

“Well,” Y/N started slowly, sounding incredibly guilty as she spoke. As if spending alone time with Bucky was bad. “I guess that’s good. Still a bummer I don’t get to have dinner with him tonight.”

Steve turned his head sharply and stuck out his hand. Hands-free driving be damned. He needed to nip that doubt in the ass real quick. Bucky bit his lip to hide his smile at the strange mix of fury and determination on Steve’s face and passed the phone over.

“Y/N.” Steve began. “I can hear you worrying about what I think about you and Bucky. I don’t mind if you want to go out and have dinner with him alone. I really don’t. Yeah, I’ll be upset that I don’t get to see you right away after us having to spend so much time apart, but it’s not because you’re spending time with Bucky and not me. I will never be upset about that. Okay?”

Y/N was silent on the other side of the line, mulling over his words. It was still surprising how observant they both were. She couldn’t hide anything from them if she wanted to. They always seemed to know when something was bothering her, even if there was distance between them. Y/N didn’t want to create a rift between them because of her. In her mind, if she spent time with one, it meant the other was left out in the cold. Maybe they’d see it as her picking favorites, which she never could. But Bucky and Steve both were surprising her at every corner, shoving aside those nagging doubts that taunted her daily. It made her smile and let out a heavy breath.

“Okay. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t miss you.”

“Same, sweetheart,” Steve replied, his tone melting as the adoration seemed in. “I’ll miss you too. But at least now all three of us will have weekends off. We always have tomorrow.”

“That’s true.” Y/N agreed. “Be safe tonight.”

“Always will.” He chuckled softly and said a quick goodbye before passing the phone back to Bucky. The brunette grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Anything you have in mind tonight?”

“No way! Are you serious?!”

Bucky nodded vigorously and beamed at Y/N, the corners of his eyes crinkling almost to the point he was squinting as he told Y/N about his exam results. Y/N could barely contain her squeal and debated on whether or not it was socially acceptable to leap across the table and tackle him to the ground.

“Holy shit that’s amazing! Congratulations Bucky!” Y/N gushed, pride swelling in her chest. For weeks Bucky panicked over this test and now he finally knew that it was worth all the stress. “Does Steve know?”

“Yeah, he saw it over my shoulder when I got the letter.”

“They still send them in letters?” Y/N stopped and quickly waved a hand in the air. “Nope. Not important. Holy shit!”

Bucky laughed and ducked his chin, his cheeks blossoming into a bright pink.

“Yeah, that was Steve’s second reaction too.” He bit his lip at the memory. He had just read over the lines, saw his score and then was suddenly he was swept up in Steve’s arms, who quickly peppered the entirety of his face with giddy albeit sloppy kisses.

“Well, now I really feel bad he’s not here.” Y/N sat back in her chair. “He should be celebrating with us too! After all, he lived with you through hell week.”

“Hey now.” Bucky raised a finger. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Steve left you in a gas station parking lot because you wouldn’t stop bitching about whether or not you memorized enough for the exam. It was that bad.”

Bucky let his finger fall, his cheeks burning bright once again. Okay yeah, maybe he was that bad.

“Well,” Bucky sighed and toyed the rim of his glass. “I do apologize for being a pain in the ass. But I am grateful you were both there for me to keep me in line. I don’t want to think about how crazy I’d be without you both.”

“You’d be fine. Probably running on less sleep than you’d need, but in the end, you’d pass all the same.” Y/N grinned.

“We’ll call it payback for our first interaction,” Bucky smirked before he took a long sip of beer. Y/N groaned and threw her head back.

“Are you ever going to let me live that one down?”

“Not anytime soon.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Y/N giggled in spite of her annoyance. Bucky laughed, fully aware there was no bite behind her snark and grabbed fry from the basket between them. He chewed thoughtfully, letting his gaze wander over her face for a quiet moment. She couldn’t stop the bashful grin spreading across her lips, biting her lip when she caught sight of the intensity behind his gaze. “What?”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, taking his time to swallow before he let out a content sigh and leaned forward with his arms crossed on the table. Y/N cocked her head to the side, Bucky’s wide grin infectious.

“Seriously,” She chuckled. “What? Do I have something on my face? Do I have ketchup up my nose again?”

Y/N grabbed her napkin and began dabbing at her nose. It wouldn’t have been the first time she made an idiot of herself in front of him, she thought now almost completely unfazed by whatever funny joke life threw her way. Fortunately, her awkward and slightly embarrassing moments didn’t faze the two in the slightest. Bucky shook his head and laughed lightly as he took hold of one of her hands. His thumb brushed along the back of her hand, a simple yet tender touch.

“Nothing, on your face baby girl.” He answered. “Just can’t get over how lucky am I am to have you and Steve.”

Alright, so maybe them telling her how much they cared about her was enough to make her heart skip several beats. Y/N felt her face heat up, a giddy giggle exploding from her lips as she ducked her chin. It caused Bucky to beam, his heart fluttering and pound in his chest at the sound. Yes, he is incredibly lucky. Who wouldn’t be with one insanely handsome boyfriend as well as an equally gorgeous girlfriend? Life couldn’t get any better.

“You’re too sweet, Buck.” Y/N said and squeezed his hand. Bucky rolled his eyes and let her fingers go to sit back in the booth.

“Nah. Just statin’ facts.”

“Well, then I guess I have to admit I’m so thankful you decided to pull me over that fateful afternoon. Because I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have you too.” She replied, her adoration seeping into her voice.

Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush and duck his chin to hide his sappy grin. He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“You know if Steve was here, he’d call us both saps and to get a room.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh please, if Steve was here, he’d be tearing up and pretending it was his allergies or something.”

“Oh absolutely.” Bucky agreed immediately. “He was the first one to cry when we watched the Titanic together. Tried to play it off all cool like he wasn’t just sobbing into a tissue, but I saw what I saw.”

“Oh god,” Y/N could picture it perfectly. Her giggles rose into a peal of hearty laughter as Bucky began telling her more stories of their third. He wasn’t there to defend himself, an opportunity Bucky was more than happy to take.

Seeing Y/N let loose and not care that she was getting stares from people around them thrilled Bucky. All her attention was on him. He was the one who was making her snort through her laughter. It made his chest buff out with pride as well as back up his earlier thought. Life couldn’t get any better.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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758 notes · View notes

essieeeeeeeee · 5 years

Text

FUCK IT, i’m posting part 1. no title yet, so it’s just “bad touch villain fic” for now until I can get my act together enough to come up with one.

may I just start by saying that I love how we all as a fandom have collectively taken one look at our guy Shaw and thought: this boy needs to get fucked.

on a separate but equally important note, Transporter 2 may have been an absolute train wreck of a movie, but it gave me the gift of some quarter-dressed villain chick licking up the side of Jason Statham's face while he exudes such gay "I'd rather be literally anywhere else than here in this moment" energy, so there's that.

i’m fucking wheezing, man. his face.

anyways, in case it’s not obvious, I’ve stolen the T2 villain couple and threw them into here instead, so if you’re curious about what they look like, feel free to look them up (Gianni Chellini and Lola). this isn’t a crossover, it’s just me being lazy and stealing characters from other movies and playing with them.

a’ight, here we go with part 1. will get part 2 out relatively soon, I think. hopefully. god, I’m so slow at writing, guys.

----------

The bell above the door chimes merrily as Shaw pushes it open and steps into the diner, breathing in the homey scent of grease and caffeine that wafts out at him the moment he crosses the threshold. He lingers in the entryway - tucking his sunglasses carefully into his front left suit pocket, and letting his eyes drag over the establishment in a quick, practiced once-over.

American, is the first thought that comes to mind. Tacky, the second, though he supposes that’s a given, considering the first.

To be fair, it isn’t the worst diner he’s ever stepped foot in - that dubious honor went to a crusty hole in the wall in New Jersey, the name of which he couldn’t and didn’t really care to recall - but even so, the place isn’t exactly what he’d expected from a meet and greet with the CIA.

It's… lively, for starters.

Shaw skims his gaze over the laminate red and white booths, the worn looking tabletops sticky from dots of leftover syrup. Bright sunlight peeks through the big windows, now that the storm clouds are dissipating in the frankly oven-like California weather. Patrons chat loudly from each corner of the room. It's open and cheery and packed with parents and their tiny screaming sprogs, and all of it's already giving him a very sleep-deprived headache.

Shaw can pinpoint every word of the conversation that’s happening six booths to his left, too, which means privacy won't be much of a concept here either.

Strange choice in location, he thinks, for a debrief with top secret government information regarding a world-ending cyber death cult.

Deckard shrugs off the discomfort of it all, though. Partly because he honestly can't muster up enough of a fuck to give, and partly due to the fact that the smell of freshly brewed coffee has been relentlessly beckoning him forward since the initial whiff of it hit him from the doorway. He takes a quick moment to map out the visible exits, more habit than anything - front door, side door, likely a back one through the kitchen if needs must - and, once satisfied with his perusal, makes his way towards the bulky figure in the back right corner that’s stuck out like a mountain among mole hills since Shaw first walked into the place.

“Hobbs,” he mutters wearily, and spares a grimace at the grungy empty seat across the table. He resignedly lowers himself into it anyways.

The lawman’s eyes flick up from the plate in front of him, and he doesn’t look all that surprised; but Shaw knows it’s because he caught Hobbs’ gaze since the moment he stepped out of the rental car in the lot outside.

They’re both just a couple of paranoid bastards like that, he supposes.

And Hobbs looks - good. Better than the last time Deckard's seen him, awkwardly parting ways at a terminal in LAX, the both of them littered with bruises and scrapes that were only a small testament to the absolute shitshow they'd somehow just survived. Now it seems the bigger man's nicks are less than scabs, and the large bruise Hobbs had been sporting across his left temple at the time is nearly gone.

Shaw grudgingly notes that he's also been nursing his own wounds, and steadily healing, if slowly. His right shoulder still twinges when he moves it the wrong way, paracetamol continues to be a three times a day affair, and the spastic tick in his left hand hasn't quite let up since Brixton's electroshock therapy session, but overall - things are better.

His ribs still ache something fierce, though. Fractured, likely. Not that he's about to whine about it.

“Tinkerbell,” Hobbs greets, and then blithely stuffs another bite of the fried monstrosity that sits on his plate into his mouth. Shaw’s grimace deepens. “You’re late.”

“Blame your shitty weather. Flight delay.” Deckard ignores the insult; he's too fucking tired to pick up Hobbs' volley today. Instead, he leans forward, careful to avoid the greasy stain at the edge of the table, and gets straight to the point. “Where’s your contact?”

Because that was the obvious missing piece here, wasn’t it? Shaw didn’t come traipsing all the way to Los Angeles just to witness the Hulk stuff his oversized mug with substandard diner fare.

Two weeks out from Samoa - two weeks of very different, yet equally consequential family reunions, of settling affairs that only a forty-eight hour hotseat on every major news channel in the world can cause - and now it was time to get down to business. Hobbs’ CIA friend had promised intel. Shaw may be reluctant to forego his solo status for another team-up with Ms. America here, but he wasn’t an idiot. Information on Eteon didn’t exactly just rain from the sky.

Nine years of hunting the bastards down on his lonesome taught him that much.

Besides: the fact that Hattie’s life wasn’t on the line with this one left Deckard feeling a mite less prickly. Hobbs may be an annoyance, but he's at least a tolerable one.

“Also late,” Hobbs says, glancing down at his watch. Then the man sighs, and rubs at his temples in a way that makes Shaw wonder exactly what he’s getting into, here. “But he’ll probably show up -”

“- fashionably late and with Starbucks? You bet your perky muscled ass I will, Rebecca.”

Deckard startles a little in his seat, because where the fuck did this arsehole just come from, and his hand reflexively slides over the utensils on the table in front of him, but he smothers the instinctive urge to lodge one into the meat of the thigh that's suddenly appeared at his side. The scruffy, grinning man it's attached to seems to catch the movement, from the way his eyes dart down to the table. He shifts, just slightly, away from Shaw.

Smart fucker.

And no sensible shoes, either. That was interesting.

"Locke," Hobbs says, resigned, scooting in to make a little room as Scruffy slides himself into the seat left behind.

"Aw, don't be like that, Becky," the man whines, and Shaw can't help but mouth a bewildered 'Becky?' at Hobbs with raised brows. Hobbs only drops his head and rubs at his temples a little harder. "You know my delicate emotions can't handle the strain."

"You brought Starbucks. Into a diner."

"Never judge a man for his grande quad nonfat one-pump no-whip mocha habit, Lukas. Gosh, have I taught you nothing?"

"I can sincerely say," Hobbs grinds out, and Shaw is somewhat delighted by the disgruntled twist in the other man's features, "that the only thing you've ever taught me is the true meaning of patience."

"Don't you sass your father like this in front of company, young man. Already in the rebellious teenage phase, Christ, they grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Like mold," Deckard drawls. The disgruntlement on Hobbs' face grows deeper.

"Ha," he says, flatly. "What'aya got for us, Locke?"

"Don't rush me, sweetums, I'm famished," CIA titters, enthusiastically waving down one of the bustling waitresses. Deckard's somewhat grateful for it; he'd murder for a coffee, and that wasn't a metaphor. "And, what, no introduction? The manners on you today."

Hobbs sighs. Shaw honestly can't help but be somewhat amused by the balls this bloke must have, riling up the lawman like this. He's not sure quite yet what to think about Chatterbox - intriguing or just downright irritating - but he can at the very least admit that anyone who can put that level of utter frustration into Hobbs' eyes was worth looking into.

"Shaw, meet Locke," Hobbs says, waving impatiently at the agent beside him, who wriggles his fingers at Shaw in greeting while slurping loudly around his straw. "Locke, meet Harry Potter's uglier cousin."

Deckard scowls.

"Well fuck me sideways, but Dudley sure grew up nice, didn't he?" Locke says, and - Shaw’s actually a bit flattered to see the agent’s eyes flick over him lasciviously.

But before he can quite unravel that one, a server appears at the table edge, shooting a wide, familiar smile in Hobbs' general direction. "Can I get you boys anything?"

Locke straightens in his seat. "I'll take one of everything."

"No he won't," Hobbs snaps, smacking the idiot’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

"You're so right, snookums, gotta watch that girlish figure." Locke rubs his arm with a wince, beaming at the woman, who's started to look a bit flustered at this point, poor dove. "I'll take a number two, extra syrup, extra mayo."

She nods slowly, and turns to Deckard, as though hoping to re-establish some sort of normality.

He takes pity on her. "Coffee, thank you. Black.”

"To match his soul," Hobbs mutters around a sip from his own cup.

"To match my shoe," Shaw corrects with a tight smile. "Going up your arse."

Hobbs snorts. "Think you got that one twisted, son."

"Think you might want to start ponderin' the merits of a wing-tipped enema. Son."

"Jesus, you two are adorable," Locke interjects, resting his chin in his hands as the waitress pours out the coffee and shuffles nervously away. "Like some sort of walking, talking, opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers, sixty-nine kay slow-burn. Is there a kudos button hiding around here somewhere?"

Shaw can't interpret even half of that. He has a strong inkling that he should probably just shoot the man for it anyway.

"You wanna get to the point, chuckles, before I put your head through this table?" Deckard says. He drums his fingers casually against said tabletop, just to make his own point that much clearer.

Entertaining as Hobbs’ little motormouth of a friend has been, Shaw has just spent the better of his last twenty-four hours on a transatlantic red eye: he's exhausted. Even a verbal spar with Hobbs isn't quite giving him the usual spike of adrenaline it deserves. The only thing he wants more right now than the coffee in his hand is his head on the pillow of a hotel room bed, and CIA here was the last obstacle standing in the way of that particular goal.

Not a safe place to be, generally speaking.

"And oddly in sync with your threats, too," Locke muses. He shifts back in his seat, though, and quickly raises his hands in surrender when Shaw leans forward menacingly. "Right, yes, ok, the point! I, ah. I definitely have one of those."

Finally, he digs into the bag at his side, hastily pulling out a few manila files. He slides them across the table towards the two of them. Shaw lets the murder in his eyes simmer down a bit as he snatches up his own.

“So, the Snowflake,” Locke starts. “Turns out the late professor wasn’t the only one with his hands in that diabolical cookie jar - ”

Scruffy keeps talking, but Shaw stops listening the moment he opens up the folder and skims his eyes down the first page.

Oh, shit, he thinks.

His stomach makes a very abrupt descent to his knees.

Because there, tucked under a paperclip in the top right corner, is a set of photographs. Generic, really. Black and whites, likely mugshots from the look of them. A man and a woman - staring straight towards the camera, little smirks nestled in the corners of their mouths like poorly hidden secrets. Shaw’s gaze traces over the sharp curve of a cheekbone, an aristocratic nose.

The faces staring up at him are jarringly familiar, in the worst possible ways.

The kinds of ways, in fact, that suddenly makes it very tempting to get up from the table and walk away, as quickly as possible.

“-ellini and Lilian Nuata,” Locke says, pointedly tapping the photos in his own file, and it’s as though the world’s volume has abruptly turned back up again. Shaw blinks, then snaps his eyes back up to the two men across the table from him. He blanks his face to cool disinterest when he finds Hobbs staring back at him.

Deckard’s not sure what kind of expression worked its way across his face while he took in the literal goddamn nightmare in his hands, but the perplexed look Hobbs shoots him makes Shaw think it wasn’t as subtle as he would have hoped.

"You know 'em?" Hobbs asks.

And fuck, but that's a loaded question. Shaw can feel his face twist like he’s sucked a lemon. It's completely involuntary, and he hates himself for the tell.

“We’ve… met,” he answers, somewhat honestly.

As if 'met' could ever sum up the amount of sheer overwhelming fuckery their run-ins entailed. Shaw covers his discomfort with a fortifying sip of his coffee.

It curdles in his stomach.

"Oh, good," Locke says, almost obliviously cheerful. "Then you probably know just how pants shittingly insane our Harley Quinn and Joker duo here are."

Bit more than you'd think, Shaw muses with faint dread.

"Nuata's the big brain behind our little Snowflake," Locke continues. "Andreiko may have invented the capsules that carried it, but the whole organ-melting, blood-spitting, eugenics genocidal virus shebang? That's her bouncing bundle of joy." The man takes another flippant slurp of his latte. The sound grates on Deckard's nerves, but he's feeling a bit too numb to give much of a shit about it.

"And Chellini?" Hobbs asks. The lawman's still shooting curious glances Deckard's way, and Shaw figures that's his cue to stop acting the part of nervous wallflower.

"Muscle," he finally speaks up. The word somehow comes out normally, despite the fact that Shaw's throat is feeling drier than the Sahara. "But also happens to have a brain, unlike someone else I know."

Hobbs' semi-concerned expression falls back into an irritated scowl. That’s good. Deckard doesn't need the man's cautious hovering.

They may have a somewhat decent, if not entirely amicable working relationship now, but Shaw wasn't about to dump his sordid histories into Hobbs' lap. They weren't friends.

Deckard didn't really know what they were at this point, actually, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Nuata can take care of herself, but they're… formidable, together," Deckard continues, before Hobbs can open his mouth. "They're sadists. Like to play with their food before eating it."

"And you've… met, huh?"

Something about Shaw's voice must have been slightly off, because the concern is creeping its way back into Hobbs' eyes. It makes Shaw's skin itch in irritation; he's not some child to be coddled and fretted over. Best to cut that nonsense off right here and now.

"Worked with 'em on a job once." Deckard shrugs, nonchalant, and leans back in his seat. "Briefly. Didn't quite appreciate their methods, so we parted ways."

It's the truth, if a heavily edited one. Either way, the mission is accomplished: the concern vanishes immediately.

"Of course you worked with them," Hobbs snorts bitterly. "Looney tunes here sound just your speed. What kind of job they end up luring you in with, anyway? Selling poison to toddlers? Murdering puppies in Tokyo?"

Ah. Well - ouch.

That one hit somewhat closer to home than likely intended, going by the expression of mild regret on Hobbs' face moments after the words leave his mouth. The sting of it is sudden, surprisingly unexpected, and altogether earned, really. It’s an abrupt reminder that even in the wake of Samoa, there’s still a decent amount of unpacked baggage between the two of them. The kind of baggage that comes with literal skeletons in closets

Or in fiery, crumpled sports cars, smoldering vengefully on a busy street in Tokyo.

Shaw considers himself a reasonably self-aware person; he already knows he's a piece of shit. Doesn't mean he'll tolerate Hobbs shoving his nose into the fact like some misbehaving dog.

"Fucking hilarious," he snaps, narrowing his eyes. "Don't think that's any of your business, is it?"

He leans forward, and suddenly Deckard finds that he's angry. The irrational kind: no specific target, no specific cause. Angry at Hobbs - angry at Locke - angry at every little shout and laugh in the air of the diner around him. Absolutely, completely, furiously angry that this file, with those pictures, has been dropped into his lap like a fucking grenade when he least expected it.

"You sure seem real interested though, Tiny. Maybe you get off on that kind of thing, huh? Puppy murder? Kiddy killing?" Hobbs' mouth twists, as though he knows he deserves the retort, but that it's pissing him off nonetheless. Shaw smiles grimly. Good. "'Cause I know a few people who could give you some details -"

“Yeah, I’m sure you know plenty of people -”

"Maybe we could table that steaming pile of inhumanity for another day," Locke interrupts suddenly. "Fascinating as getting in touch with our inner Cruella de Vils sounds, we're on a bit of a time crunch, darlings. Your flight to Spain to bag us Bellatrix Lestrang and her boytoy is in five hours, and we’ve still got some ground to cover here."

Shaw cuts himself off, and reigns in the bright spark of rage still flickering in his head. Closes his eyes for a moment.

What is he even doing?

He opens his eyes again, lets them flick back down to the photographs in front of him with the morbid helplessness of watching an imminent disaster just waiting to occur. Knows, with swift clarity, exactly where the anger is coming from.

Tired or not, Shaw’s aware that the abrupt flare of resentment is an unreasonable reaction to what was meant to be an innocuous comment. He attempts to tamp it back down a bit; difficult, with Hobbs’ narrowed-eyed gaze staring at him from across the table, but do-able.

Professional, he thinks. You’re a fucking professional.

"Spain, huh? Always liked Spain. Good memories," Hobbs says suddenly, voice far too innocent to be anything but deadly. Shaw watches with sharp eyes as Hobbs takes a very pointed sip of his coffee, staring Deckard down. The bigger man places the cup back on the table with a quiet thud, and smiles. "Like when we blew up your brother’s plane, for instance."

On second thought, fuck professional.

"Whoa now,” Locke says, hastily grabbing at Shaw’s wrist with a nervous laugh as the Brit's fingers spasm hard around the cutlery on the table in front of him. Lucky timing - Deckard had half a mind to jab the butterknife in his grip straight into Hobbs' hand, crowded diner be damned. “Let’s just take it easy there, Scarier Spice. We’re all friends here.”

Shaw very deliberately glances down at the hand on his arm, before letting his eyes drag back up to the agent’s.

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” he says, slowly. “Friend.”

The hand is instantly snatched away, with frankly satisfying speed.

“So aggressive,” Locke says with another nervous little chuckle, fanning himself. “I gotta say, the fearboner I’m getting right now? I’m kinda into it.”

The ache in Shaw's temples gives another sudden, violent throb, and - yeah, no.

He wasn’t throwing himself back into the wreckage that was Chellini and Nuata for the sake of the two men in front of him.

Deckard rises from his seat. "Have fun with your little mission, Hobbs. You go enjoy knocking a couple of pissant nobodies' heads together in Spain like a good dog, while I go find some useful intel to work with."

"Yup," Locke mutters quietly. "Definitely aroused in this moment."

"Locke, shut your goddamn mouth," Hobbs snaps. "Shaw, just - sit down."

And oh, but that's rich. "In case you haven't noticed, steroids," Shaw sneers, leaning forward on the table, "you ain't the boss of me."

Hobbs just rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid, jackass. This is our best shot at getting these bastards, and you damn well know it."

The DSS agent leans forward himself, hardly backing down from the challenge in Shaw's eyes. And usually, that would get Deckard going - really throw some fuel on the fire - but now it just makes him hesitate.

"Besides," Hobbs adds, and his mouth quirks up into the beginnings of a wry grin. "Can't knock some pissant nobodies' heads together without my sidekick tagging along."

… goddamnit.

Shaw didn’t feel guilt very often, but Hobbs’ playful, friendly little smile was causing an avalanche of it. He falters; stands at the edge of the booth, half-turned towards the doorway, towards freedom, towards his ticket out and away from not-so-old wounds he’d rather take a bullet to the head for than let Hobbs be an audience to.

But. But.

He also wasn’t quite monster enough to allow Hobbs to wander into that horror show on his lonesome.

Slowly, grudgingly, Shaw sits back down.

He does not flush when Hobbs beams at him like the giant fucking golden retriever he is.

“Wonderful!” Locke says, clapping his hands together cheerfully. “Gosh, isn’t this exciting? It’s like we’re a team. Like the X-men or something. Ooooh, I call Wolverine.”

“Locke,” Hobbs says forlornly.

“Yeah, no, you’re right, Shaw definitely pulls off the brooding loner better. I think I’m more of a Jean Grey myself, too.”

“What’s the plan?” Shaw asks brusquely, flipping open the file again. He slides his gaze past the photos this time, and further on to the information on the page beneath.

The pictures still manage to haunt him out of the corner of his eye.

“They’re holed up in Chellini’s private chalet in Almeria. Real fancy stuff,” Locke says. “These two may be balls to the fucking walls bonkers, but they're not stupid. Guards and security out the ass, I’m tellin’ ya. We’ll need you two to go in, extract them, and maybe not destroy half the city in the process, because Big Daddy Government isn’t thrilled at the thought of covering your usual laundry bill.”

“Get in, get the marks, get out. Simple,” Hobbs says, leaning back in his seat.

“You’re simple. This is not,” Shaw snaps, tapping at the folder. “We need an actual plan, not your usual smash-and-grab theatrics.”

“Pretty sure my ‘theatrics’ are what threw your ass in jail.”

“Pretty sure your incompetence is what got me out of it -”

Somehow, an hour later, the smallest semblance of a strategy comes together. The stability of it helps soothe the tension buzzing at the edges of Shaw’s mind, but even so, it lingers, like a bad taste on the back of his tongue. He traces his fingers along the black and white images in front of him for a brief moment as CIA pays the food bill, before forcefully flipping the folder shut.

"Still one thing I need to get straight,” Deckard says, gaze suddenly pinning Locke to his seat. “You had me fly to Los Angeles, from London - just to fly back to Spain?"

The murder must be back in his eyes, Shaw thinks, because there's certainly a new hint of fear in Locke's.

"Ok, to be fair," Locke starts, edging back in his seat slightly, "one: I didn't actually know you were in London, because two: you're a very naughty, sneaky boy who happens to be incredibly difficult to track down, and did I mention I have a very delicate bone structure?"

Locke's voice climbs increasingly higher as he presses further back into the booth - likely because Shaw was leaning across the table with the intent of strangling him.

“Shaw, stop scaring the rabbit,” Hobbs says, shoving at Locke’s shoulder as the man pushes himself into Hobbs’ space. “Locke, let me the hell out of this booth.”

Shaw slips out of the booth himself, but not without a withering glare in Scruffy’s direction.

They make their way out of the diner, Locke scurrying off with rambling goodbyes that Shaw doesn’t bother listening to, and the sudden wave of heat as he steps out of the doors with another chime of bells above them is almost nauseating. Deckard grimaces at the bright blue sky as Hobbs siddles up next to him.

"You good?" Hobbs says, and bumps his shoulder awkwardly against Shaw's own.

And the move is just - so fucking Hobbs, so endearing (though Shaw would commit a fantastic amount of homicide before admitting that fact), that Deckard slowly, reluctantly deflates. The still-smoldering anger finally winks quietly out of existence, and just leaves him feeling exhausted in its stead. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine," Deckard mutters, glancing away with an irritated little sniff. "Just -"

He looks down at the file in his hand. Thinks of the photographs.

Trepidation hits him like a roundhouse kick to the gut.

"- tired," he finishes dully.

Hobbs pats him on the shoulder with a big hand, and then just. Leaves it there. Like they're pals, or something. Shaw hesitates, but decides not to shrug it off.

It's ridiculous that it helps his nerves somewhat.

"Yeah, well. I've got a guest room, if you need to crash for a couple hours before the flight."

The offer is unexpected - possibly for both of them, going by the slight discomfort Shaw can pick out of Hobbs' posture, and the way he won't quite meet Shaw's eyes after - but Deckard honestly considers it for a moment.

Only a moment, though. "Already booked a place," he lies through his teeth.

Fat fucking chance he'd be able to get any sembleance of sleep, with images of mugshots seared into his mind. Shaw knows himself; in all likelihood he'll find a place to kip out, with enough caffeine to hotwire an elephant, and drown himself in research for the next three hours.

Preparation never really helped when it came to Chellini and Nuata, but it sure as hell would make him feel less like he was throwing himself into the lion's den. Again.

"Right," Hobbs says. He gives a little squeeze to the shoulder under his hand, before letting it fall back to his side. Shaw refuses to let himself acknowledge that the sudden lack of pressure there is a disappointment, because he's not a fucking child. "I should head out. Gotta find someone to watch Sam while I'm gone."

Ah. The daughter. Strange, to suddenly remember that Hobbs was a man in charge of nurturing something. "Wheels up in four, then," Shaw says, slipping his sunglasses back onto his face in the California sunshine. "Just don't bitch to me about your leg room this time, Gigantor."

"Not all of us suffer from being vertically challenged, short stop."

"Just mentally, in your case," Shaw says, and can't help the corner of his mouth from ticking up slightly at Hobbs' snort of laughter.

“Sure,” the big man says with a huff. “Guess I’ll see you in España, tonto.”

And with that Hobbs walks off with cheery little wave, Shaw following him with his eyes as the lawman hefts himself onto the motorbike and departs with a roar of the engine. Shaw just shakes his head, and sighs.

Chellini and Nuata. Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks.

Well.

If nothing else, at least he'll have back-up this time.

#hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #shobbs #locke #my drabbles #got up early this morning and just pounded out the rest and made some edits #so sorry if the ending seems rushed #... because it was #whump to come in part 2 #this chapter is me constantly battling the 'are they too ooc??? they seem too ooc' thought demon #but you know what WHATEVER because this is fanfic anyway so HA #bad touch villain fic

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quasithinking · 4 years

Text

Gravity’s Rainbow: Part VIII

This book has so many sections that I'm going to have to contact my twelve year old self for help with the Roman numerals. I would do it via time phone over time machine because that kid smelled bad. This section begins confusingly from the point of view of a dog and ends hilariously with Pointsman's foot stuck in a toilet and hanging out the side of the car as they drive away. It's a good thing history books exist because if I had to judge World War II by Catch-22, Gravity's Rainbow, and Slaughterhouse-Five, I'd have to assume the war was 85% soldiers slipping on banana peels and depraved sex acts. I wonder if I should apologize to Vonnegut for remembering Slaughterhouse-Five as more Three Stooges than it probably was? It's been awhile but he's the guy who invented Kilgore Trout, interrupted his own book while talking about Vietnam to simply say, "Losers," taught me that an asterisk looked like a butthole, and concluded the whole point of evolution was to create beings that laugh at their own farts. I'm pretty sure I got all of that right. Roger Mexico and Jessica Swanlake have finally found Doctor Pointsman in a wrecked part of London. Pointsman is hunting for dogs to use in his experiments. He's a Pavlovian and his research on stimulus will somehow help the war effort. I'm not sure how it's supposed to but eventually he takes an interest in Slothrop and the mystery of Slothrop's hard-ons. At that point, I stopped wondering how experimenting with Pavlovian stimuli was supposed to help defeat the Germans. Pavlovian experimentation looms large on the themes of this book but I haven't yet grasped why they're part of The White Visitation's experiments. I suppose that should be the least of my worries when The White Visitation is also dealing with telekinesis and clairvoyance and talking with the dead and promoting racial strife and there's also some guy who can change his skin color or something? Anyway, this whole section is called "Beyond the Zero" which, and I know I'm getting ahead of the story here, has something to do with removing the reaction to the stimulus from the patient. See, if you train a baby to get a hard-on from an indirect stimulus, as a medical professional, you're supposed to also untrain the baby. So you have to get it to stop getting hard-ons from the indirect stimulus. But when you do that, you can't stop at the baby just not getting a hard-on. That's the zero point. But just because he doesn't get a hard-on doesn't mean the stimulus isn't still affecting him somehow, you know, to just to the point where it's about to get a hard-on. So removing the stimulus even further is going "beyond the zero." But why that's the title and a major theme of this chapter would take a smarter person to explain it to you. Maybe I'll figure it out by the time I get back to the section that discusses the whole "beyond the zero" part. Where was I? Oh yeah! Pointsman was hunting a dog and had just gotten his foot stuck in a toilet! If a reader hadn't noticed this book was funny in the previous forty pages due to the fact that nobody told them it was funny and Pynchon's writing can be a bit opaque, this section leaves no doubt about it. The physical comedy with the toilet bowl on the foot would be a big hit with the type of person who would never fucking read this book (and also me) but there are some other bits that really make me smile. Like this part with Jessica moaning about hunting dogs with the boys: "The night, full of fine rain, smells like a wet dog. Pointsman seems to've been away for a bit. 'I've lost my mind. I ought to be cuddling someplace with Beaver this very minute, watching him light up his Pipe, and here instead I'm with this gillie or something, this spiritualist, statistician, what are you anyway—' "Cuddling?" Roger has a tendency to scream. "Cuddling?'" Okay, maybe that's not ha ha funny like a joke but I fucking love Roger's oversensitivity to any possible intimate interactions between Jessica and her serious boyfriend, Beaver. There's a bit of foreshadowing in this early section about Pointsman moving on from experimenting on dog's to experimenting on Slothrop. "'What will you do for a dog, then.' They are under way again, Roger at the wheel, Jessica between them, toilet bowl out a half-open door, before the answer. 'Perhaps it's a sign. Perhaps I should be branching out.' Roger gives him a quick look. Silence, Mexico. Try not to think about what that means. He's not one's superior after all, both report to the old Brigadier at 'The White Visitation' on, so far as he knows, equal footing. But sometimes—Roger glances again across Jessica's dark wool bosom at the knitted head, the naked nose and eyes—he thinks the doctor wants more than his good will, his collaboration. But wants him. As one wants a fine specimen of dog. . . ." I've probably already quoted too much of this section to include a somewhat confusing bit near the end but the bit seems more important than an actual description of the building where Doctor Spectro works. Pynchon describes a building built to house patients with colonic and respiratory illnesses. He describes the necessity and drive to build this building as the Victorian equivalent of what drove the people of an earlier age to build Gothic cathedrals. It feels very much like a writer describing the similarities and quite obvious differences between postmodern literature and literature from earlier centuries. What once drove mankind to write and think and ponder was almost exclusively God and religion and spirituality. But in a time when there is "a doubt as to God's actual locus (or, in some, as to its very existence)", the drive must come from another source. Pynchon's "joke" is that the new source is colonic and respiratory diseases. He says it much better (if not so mundanely): "They are approaching now a lengthy brick improvisation, a Victorian paraphrase of what once, long ago, resulted in Gothic cathedrals—but which, in its own time, arose not from any need to climb through the fashioning of suitable confusions toward any apical God, but more in a derangement of aim, a doubt as to the God's actual locus (or, in some, as to its very existence), out of a cruel network of sensuous moments that could not be transcended and so bent the intentions of the builders not on any zenith, but back to fright, to simple escape, in whatever direction, from what the industrial smoke, street excrement, windowless warrens, shrugging leather forests of drive belts, flowing and patient shadow states of the rats and flies, were saying about the chances for mercy that year. The grimed brick sprawl is known as the Hospital of St. Veronica of the True Image for Colonic and Respiratory Diseases, and one of its residents is a Dr. Kevin Spectro, neurologist and casual Pavlovian." See? It's practically a definition of postmodern writing! "Remember when we could look to an Almighty creator for hope and salvation?! But now it's like, man, that Guy can't exist, right? I mean, the fucking A-bomb, man! What the hell is going on?! How do we get out of this mess?!" Or maybe it isn't a definition of postmodern literature at all and it just speaks to me! Who can tell? Not God! Just...what a great section. Mostly because it's so comprehensible! But also funny! And charming! And a bit melancholic by the end. This is the first chapter that mentions Pointsman's mysterious "Book" with a capital "B". It was expensive and seven of the doctor's at The White Visitation had to chip in to buy it, so it makes the rounds, spending one week at a time with each different owner. Or wait. Was The Book already mentioned?! I can't remember since I'm reading this book so many times at once! Anyway, The Book is one of only seven copies (or something?) of Pavlov's notes. I'm not sure if it's ever named but one of the chapters is named later and I did a Google search back then to discover what book exactly they were discussing. I don't remember it exactly but it was Pavlov's notes and crap. More on The Book later, I'm sure!

#Thomas Pynchon #Gravity's Rainbow

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loubabykitten · 5 years

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BEST FICS OF 2018

first of all… happy new year guys!!!

as promised, here are the best fics i read in 2018 (some of them were published before but i discovered them in 2018), there're not in order:

Chasing empty spaces (79k, chaptered) - 1930s au

by @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Don't want shelter (76k, chaptered) - teacher!louis, businessman!harry

by @fullonlarrie

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…

When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

Save myself (219k, chaptered) - rich!louis, student!harry

by @make-thisfeellikehome

Louis Tomlinson is a train wreck. That is a way of putting it lightly. His whole world is a vast blur of darkness and bad decisions and it doesn't matter how many times he decides he's done, he always falls back in, because darkness is tricky like that for him. Louis wants for nothing—has everything he could ever ask for really, but it's all nothing. Maybe he needs to be rescued—maybe he can't be rescued. No one knows.

Or the one where Louis is a spoiled rich kid who is ignored by his entire family, who's friends only use him as a means for drugs and no one believes he's worth any more than just that. Harry Styles is a first year university student who's just moved to Doncaster for their theatre program who just happens to get the short straw when he's partnered with Louis for Bio Lab. What could go wrong?

Lightning strikes twice (104k, chaptered) - groupie!louis, famous!harry

by @catfishau

Louis slipped his hand onto Harry’s thigh, snaking his fingers up and inwards. “I’m a big fan. You’re so talented, and I have to admit that I actually fancy you a bit.”

“Yeah?” Harry reached up to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “Well, you know, I like to try and be accommodating to my fans.”

“You’re quite well known for that,” Louis whispered as he turned his head some more, their mouths an inch apart. “So I hear.”

---

Rock star Harry Styles was nineteen when he met Louis, a groupie with a huge heart that Harry couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Fate granted him a second chance at the age of sixty, his washed up and lonely existence being transformed by a widower with a bookshop.

Tell me how to feel about you (38k, chaptered) - college/university au

by @imlouisaf

Louis thought it would feel different once he got to LA. He knew it was best for him; a fresh start as far away as he could get. But when the plane touched down and he stepped out into the hot air around LAX, Louis felt exactly the same.

There's still a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; ripped away even after trying for so many years to keep it from happening. He knows it's not all his fault, not by a mile, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself for it all going wrong.

If he'd just stayed strong, if he'd said no when he said yes, maybe everything would be different.

Or, Harry has been trying to convince Louis to date him for years, but Louis has always been wary of Harry’s fairly obvious commitment issues. Louis eventually gives him a chance, opening his heart up to the one thing he fears.

Have faith in me (183k, chaptered) - rich!harry, assistant!louis

As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting...

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Shake me down (208k chaptered) - college/university au, insecure!harry, protective!louis

by @agreatperhaps12

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Red hands (132k, chaptered)

by @harrytum

“I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them.

“But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.”

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

There are no atheists in foxholes (64k, one shot)

by @suspendrs

“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?” Harry asks after a minute. “London?”

Louis blinks, looking down. They very well could spend the rest of their lives on this island, and they’re both very aware of that. Everyone probably already thinks they’re dead, anyway. Their flats are going to be sold, and their families are going to have funerals, and life is going to go on without them. Even if they do get rescued, it’s already been days. The news of the shipwreck has definitely reached London by now. They don’t know if there’s been any effort to look for survivors, but they also don’t know how far away from the wreck they are, or how far people are going to go to look for them, or if anyone even knows that this island is here and, like, it’s very possible that they’ve already looked and stopped looking for survivors, and no one knows they’re out here-

“I don’t know,” Louis says, before he can start spiraling. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”

Or, the sea takes everything from Louis, but it gives him back more than he ever could’ve asked for.

Dance to the distortion (96k, chaptered)

by @domestic-harry

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

Lonely king (40k, chaptered) - broken!louis, indie!harry

When Louis' parents pass away in a car accident, he inherits a cottage in the woods of Scotland. He ends up spending the summer there; unraveling secrets, mending bonds and creating memories with his best friends.

For as long as i can remember (it's been december) (128k, chaptered) - lawyer!louis, chef!harry

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

The road less travelled by (98k, chaptered) - Lumberjack!louis, high school principal!harry

by @freetheankles

Louis was a lumberjack happy to be living his life alone in what could qualify as Middle Of Nowhere, Canada.

Every morning, he went out into the woods, cut his logs, then came home at dusk to a scalding hot shower and a good book by the fireplace. Rinse and Repeat. He had a good life, quiet and peaceful; simple. Not a secluded one as Niall annoyingly claimed.

Louis certainly didn't need some chatty trespasser dropping into his life, his forest, his home. Invading his space, his circle of friends, touching his stuff, asking questions about his husband. His late husband.

A trespasser who wasn’t supposed to crawl under his skin, occupy his thoughts, and steal his heart from where Louis had locked it safely away, only to put it right back on Louis’ sleeve — where it once laid.

No, Louis definitely didn’t need Harry.

Saving symphony hall (124k, chaptered) - symphony hall au, omega!louis, alpha!harry

by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Shelter as we go (75k, one shot)

by @fondleeds

Louis looks at him like his words might break him, glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces.

“Hey,” Harry breathes, and he knows, meeting Louis’ eyes, that his words could break him easy as anything. He almost wants Louis to bring his boot down.

AU. Nova Scotia, 1968.

Walk that mile (149k, chaptered) - road trip au

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

MY TOP 5:

5. I believe him when he tells of loving me (28k, chaptered)

louis doesn't remember harry. harry takes him home.

4. Wild love (130k, chaptered)

by @daisyharry

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

3. In sickness and in health (83k, chaptered) - american!harry, british!louis

by @rainbowsandlovehl

“Just make sure that you head down to the immigration office as soon as you can, alright?” James reminded them, making them look towards the man and nod in unison. “Remember Louis, you have only two weeks. So make it legal quickly so you don’t get deported.” “I’ll be sure to remind my assistant to schedule our appointment,” Louis joked and laughed.

A loosely based The Proposal Au where Louis is to be deported in two weeks. Since he doesn't want to lose his job, he asks his assistant, Harry to marry him for a green card. If it makes them realise they're in love, oh well. There's also the fact that no one doubts their credibility.

2. Hush (41k, one shot) - high school au, quarterback!louis, feminine!harry

by @wankerville

“I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

1. Light my morning sky (54k, one shot) - college/university au

The relatively cliché College AU in which Louis happens to be proficient in Philosophy, Ethics and keeping his distance, while Harry is in need of a tutor to salvage his grade, and never passes up on a challenge; Zayn and Liam like to gaze wantonly across at each other whilst pretending to read Austen; and Niall is the precarious bond that holds them all together.

(Expect some sappy self-indulgent scenes consisting of bed-sharing, 4 am almost-love declarations, drunk texting, and far too much time spent at the student bar for it to be an accurate depiction of uni life.)

#larry #larry stylinson #larry fic #fic rec #best fics #best fics of 2018 #best fics of the year #it's a long one #sorry #larry au #larry smut #larry fluff #larry angst #louis tomlinson fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #enjoy

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blakescoven · 5 years

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You Decided That I Was Worth Saving | 1 |

Pairing: Sojourn!Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Chapter One (1): “As I Lay Dying”

Summary: You were driving home from work, when something – or rather someone – literally got in the way. Against any reason, you let him into your life. Michael would make you question your entire worldview. Were your paths meant to cross? Did you two meet by accident? By fate? Or there’s an evil force behind it, scheming and plotting with a devilish purpose?

Warnings: car crash(!), mention of injuries, different POVs, some swearing

Word count: 4.7K

A/N: Hey lovely friends! Here’s a sort of Sojourn AU-ish, since the plot starts in that particular moment of Michael’s life. Still don’t know if I’ll include witches and satanists…we’ll see. It’s gonna be a series so I guess I’ll divide it into a few chapters. I loooove angst and slow burn, so I’m sorry but there’s no smut. Yet. Also, for this chapter, I took inspiration from: the scene of Elena’s car crash from 1x11 of TVD and a song, my fav of all times, that I listened to while I was writing this chapter and that is also the song playing in Y/N’s car; Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex. Okay, that’s it. Enjoy and thank you so much for reading it, despite the grammar mistakes (my apologies) and the fact that probably it really sucks. (‘WHAT AM I DOING?’ was the mood while I was writing it tho.) Anyway, love you and please, let me know what do you think and what I can improve!! I’d really appreciate any FEEDBACK!! I kinda need it, because I’m not sure I’m doing this right. THANK YOU xxx ♥

You've always thought you could describe your whole existence with a wide range of adjectives, but 'adventurous' wasn't one of them for sure. At least, that's what you thought 30 minutes before the event that would have changed your life forever. Nothing would ever be the same again; just like a hurricane comes and goes, so that day, and the following ones, would have drastically rocked your world. And mostly your beliefs.

It was late. But you were used to it. You had recently got a new job, which allowed you to move out and finally get your own place, the smallest rentable apartment on Earth. Or in Los Angeles, no doubt. This was the most stressful moment since you were born, it was up to you taking care of your own now. Mommy and daddy no more.

Shifts were endless and you often found yourself staying late at the office, to finish what you've started. This new routine was already messing with your biological clock. Every single night, you looked forward to going back home, eat and fall apart on your bed. Even today, you were already savoring the anticipation of your sadly-glorious homecoming; you were dying for a relaxing hot bath and a slice of pizza. But who are we kidding, right? A whole pizza. Then, sleepiness permitting, you would have watched your favorite TV show petting your cat. A real party girl, uh? Well, that was your life now.

You have just finished college and this was the first experience as an independent person. At the very beginning, it has been hard leaving your parents' house, but soon you realized it was time for you to go on your own way. You were so full of dreams and expectations. You hoped to achieve great goals. Of course, what you haven't taken into account was that your future weekends wouldn't have been under the banner of fun, alcohol, and friends. But instead, your crazy Saturday nights consisted of you kneeled in front of the washing machine, hands in your head and a YouTube DIY video for dummies playing on your phone, which explained all the ways to get the laundry started and what products must have been used. All your life has become a huge dumb Netflix comedy. More like a parody, perhaps. You hung out with your friends less and less; you felt deeply guilty about that, but you were way too tired to make up for it.

As mentioned before, it was a late Friday night. It was raining, pretty hard. You were driving your beloved brand-new car (THE much-demanded graduation gift) and 'surprisingly' you hit traffic. At 9 fucking p.m. TGIF, they said. Sure. Your friends were definitely having fun and drinking in some random club by then.

You, on the contrary, were running out of patience; your shiny Lexus had not moved an inch in 10 minutes, so as soon as you could, you took a highway exit. That was supposed to be a kind of shortcut, according to the navigator. The pouring rain and the cadenced motion of the windscreen wipers sounded like a lullaby. A slow-core song started playing in the background. It was quite soothing and maybe, on second thought, you should have to turn it off…or had coffee before leaving.

You could feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, the exhaustion slowly prevailing. Trying so hard to keep your eyes open, that they've started burning; and not to miss anything, you got a bit of a headache accompanied by a soon-to-be-wrinkle frown.

Meanwhile, you were driving down a deserted one-lane road, going a little over the speed limit in your rush, in order to make it home as soon as possible. The wheels were slipping a little on the wet pavement, but you kept the car steady. You peered through the front window trying to see what was ahead of you; it was pitch black outside, with not even one dammit lamppost; only the moon's pale light absorbed by the dark green leaves of the forest beside the road. You had no idea where you actually were.

Suddenly, the annoying metallic voice of the GPS started bullshitting about recalculating a new route. "Wait what? Fuck NO NO NO…come on! You stupid thing, why are you changing direction???" you maddeningly screamed, looking at the display and trying to change the settings with your right hand. You weren't exactly paying particular attention to the road ahead. Huge mistake.

Outside the windshield, the rain was coming down in torrents, blurring your vision even more. The wipers went back and forth, attempting to clear away the large droplets clinging to the glass, but it seemed they weren't moving fast enough.

As if the universe had something big in store for you, right at that moment, something – or rather someone – came out of the dense vegetation, slowly limping while crossing the street, no concern for surroundings.

Your eyes were still glued to the GPS tracking your position; but all of a sudden, your distraction was abruptly erased when you caught a glimpse of a human shape in the middle of the road, illuminated by the car's headlights.

A goddamn person.

You had perhaps three-quarters of a second to register this.

You didn't realize it until it was too late. You couldn't have stopped all this now. The blood drained from your face. It all happened in a few seconds, but the moment seemed to last forever. The shock made you tense your muscles; your heart skipped a beat and your eyes suddenly widened. There was a scream coming from within that forced its way from your mouth as if your terrified soul has set a demon free. It was the kind of scream that makes the blood run cold.

With adrenaline flowing through your system, you slammed on the brakes. Your fists clenched with white knuckles around the steering wheel, immediately swerving to avoid the crash. Somehow you managed to not run over him, but you were going too fast to stop.

Your car rolled over and over, while clips of your life flashing like a slideshow. The vehicle has flipped so many times that you started drifting in and out of consciousness. The noise of the metal being bashed over the asphalt was deafening. When it finally stopped, you were stuck in your seat upside-down, coughing up pieces of the broken glass coming from the shattered windshield.

Then everything became still.

You could only hear the sound of rain on metal. Aware of the bloody taste in your mouth, you still weren't able to figure out if you were injured, because the seatbelt tugged on your chest was too painful. Heart pounding in your ears, you tried to scream for help, but it came out more like a gasp.

Meanwhile, the young man was still paralyzed to the spot in the middle of the road, like an unfamiliar force was holding him in a tightening grip, keeping him from leaving. For a moment he believed that that must have been another hallucinated vision. Then he slowly turned his head toward the wrecked car. An odd thought came across his mind: the driver crashed in order to not run over him. But why? Humanity had failed him so many times. He had lost the only one that truly cared about him. His Father had abandoned him and he wasn't able to understand what was his purpose, not anymore. He actually knew that a car was coming that way, but now he honestly didn't give a damn about his life. He had failed. He was utterly lost. This was the best coincidence possible to put an end to his suffering. But now, he felt something he couldn't explain, almost a need, the need to go and check if the driver was okay. Still confused about this new foreign impulse, he started to walk towards your car.

Once there, he kneeled and took a look inside, from the broken side window.

"You look stuck." he commented with an apparent childish but plain voice.

If you weren't, like literally, in that position, you'd have certainly sassed back to that dumb obvious statement. But your conditions weren't the best at all, you might have some broken bones, actually.

What, instead, came out from your mouth was stammering confused words.

"I-I-It… m-my… my s-s-sea..b-be..t" you tried to speak, holding and shaking the restraining belt tightly in your hands, while tears gathering in your eyes.

He hummed and shushed you. "Let me get you out of here." he whispered, thinking again about why he was actually doing this, it was none of his business. And yet, he stayed on.

"I want you to put your hands on the roof." You were about to obey his calming demand, but in that moment, you realized your left arm had to be broken and it hurt like hell. So somehow you managed to raise only the other one and take also your phone.

Then he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and all of a sudden, the seatbelt mysteriously unhooked, as if by magic or an invisible force. But you were too rattled to think about it.

You fell and he gently grabbed and lifted you from the car.

"I got you." he smiled, holding you in his arms while standing up. "Are you okay? Can you stand? Is anything broken?" he questioned with a caring honeyed tone.

You nodded pointing your arm and moaning, still dizzy from the car flipping over. The stranger carefully set you on your feet, yet not letting you completely. Good, because immediately after you slipped, too weak to stand, but he caught you by the waist. Your head was spinning so fast.

"Hey hey, easy, don't force yourself, you're clearly not okay." he observed "Look at me." and he placed his thumb on your lower lip and chin to hold your head steady as he spoke. What was he feeling right now? Pity? Concern maybe? He thought he had already turned off those pointless human emotions.

You tiredly opened your eyes to meet the most beautiful pair of ocean eyes you've ever seen. Unfortunately, you couldn't focus on him any longer, neither when he run his hand down your water-stained cheek.

"Hey stay with me, don't close your eyes." he urged, just as your vision went fuzzy and your eyes rolled back. Within seconds everything went black.

You passed out into complete and utter darkness.

He caught you before you hit the concrete, gathering your limp body into his arms and walking away from the car. He abruptly stopped. What he was supposed to do now? He had literally come from the woods, after days of fasting and sleeplessness. He was covered in damn dirt. Not to mention that he had no place to go. He was too exhausted to reason. So he chose to gently lower you to the ground, kneeling, so half of your body was on his lap. He stroked your wet hair, wondering what to do with you. Just right now, looking at your face, he noticed how beautiful you were, how innocent and angelic. He swallowed and smiled. A soft side? In his evil and corrupted soul? Impossible.

It was still raining. You were both soaked and there was no shelter in the proximities. He thought he couldn't do anything more. That's when he remembered about your broken arm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, placing his hands above your head. Nothing. Maybe he wasn't focused enough. He took your hands in his own and tried again. This time his eyes rolled black until they showed only a white surface; then he started to mutter Latin words. He lifted his head up speaking louder, but his nose began to bleed, until his vision blurred and the car suddenly exploded. He lost consciousness right next to you, nevertheless his hand still on yours.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back on the ground and very disoriented. Also completely drenched. Making indistinguishable noises because of the pain, you turned your head resting on the asphalt. The rain in your eyes didn't let you have a clear view of the surroundings, but you immediately felt an extremely warm presence at your side. You blinked twice and finally saw the boy that had helped you, laying there unconscious. Hell, maybe you had hit him with your car after all. The plot thickens.

Saying that you were confused about the whole situation was an euphemism. There was nothing for it but to try to reach your phone, almost five feet apart from your leg, hoping that it didn't break in the crash. Despite the acute ache in your arm and the burning cuts and wounds, you were able to crawl back to it, so you dialed the number and called 911. You explained everything and asked for help with a wisp of voice. You probably had a concussion.

The rain eventually stopped. You were starting to feel cold, so you found your way back to the stranger. Little droplets of water drenched his hair, covering his features, and you couldn't help yourself, you brushed a few strands from his face, caressing his sharp cheekbone. Right after your head started spinning and your vision filled with white spots, until you fainted again, against the stranger's chest.

You woke up in a hospital bed. It was early in the morning; the sunlight was peeking through the blinds, the constant beeping of monitors echoing throughout the room. You sighed loudly and squinted with a grimace. Luckily you were just a little sore, nothing too serious. You took a look at your arm: you had a pretty unaesthetic cast. The universe's way of telling you, "Here, take this you little bitch." Amazing.

You got up very slowly and entered the bathroom, looking for a mirror to better check out your wounds.

"Wow, nice Halloween make-up though." you muttered rolling your eyes. You had a stitched cut on your left upper forehead, a split lip and dark circles under your puffy eyes. A Miss Universe at her peak. Not to mention a great number of bruises all over your body.

You called your parents shortly afterward. Downplaying the details of the accident wasn't enough, they completely lost their minds at the phone. They were shocked and worried about your conditions, so they insisted to get on the first flight to LA, to help you. You reassured them you were fine and ready to go home. It wasn't necessary for them to come. They even offered to pay for a new car, since yours was, sadly, destroyed. You refused though; you would have dealt with the car-issue later. Even though you couldn't still get over the fact that your precious SUV has gone for good.

A truly kind doctor got to your room and, after having checked out vitals and injuries, refreshed your memory about what happened last night. Shoot! In that moment you realized you had totally forgot about the boy. You immediately asked the doc if you could go visit him. He nodded but not without first warning you. John Doe here had to be sedated because, when he regained consciousness in the ambulance, he had refused to go to the hospital and started thrashing around. Luckily, he was too weak to harm anyone.

The doctor kept saying that they had found no ID, nothing that could tell them where he came from. He was completely dehydrated in addition to previous wounds. He probably hadn't eaten for days either. For these reasons, the cheap version of Derek Shepherd wasn't sure whether he should call the police.

You were listening to his words with much more concern you thought you could feel. Well, maybe because you had almost run over him. But you felt you had to go check on him. He helped you out of the car after all. He…saved you someway? What you couldn't understand was why he had stopped in the middle of the road; he hadn't even tried to get out of the way…Oh shit. Was there any chance he wanted to, like, get killed? No, c'mon, there are way too many other – and less-painful – "methods" to do it…It couldn't be.

When you arrived in his room, you immediately noticed he was tied to the bed and carefully, you set his wrists free. After a few seconds, he woke up. You tried not to pay attention, but he was undoubtedly attractive. To be honest he was much more than that. Handsome to say the least. He seemed almost angelic. Baby blue eyes piercing your soul with a magnetic gaze, golden messy curls spread around his head on the pillow like a halo and God-given sharp features. Despite that, he was still covered in filth and wounds. But even in such a miserable state, he was hypnotizing. You wondered why no nurse took care of him yet.

"Hi!" you whispered, sitting down on the nearest chair.

"Hi." he said back, almost imperceptibly. "Thank you" he added, pointing at his bruised wrists.

"I should be the one saying 'thank you'..." you stated; he gave you a half-smile, "…you literally saved my life."

"No need to thank me, I caused your crash so.." he stopped for a second "…we can say you saved me instead." he admitted heavy-heartedly, with his eyes down. He seemed so sad and so lost, and you really felt for him.

"Well, thank God we're both still alive!" you didn't know what to say anymore. And this cringy comment wasn't helping.

" Sure " he scoffed.

What were those, tear-stains? Has he been crying?

Then an awkward silence filled the room. You were starting to feel a bit uneasy, and the continuous biting your lower lip – despite the cut on the upper one – made it absolutely obvious. You could feel something was off about him. The sadness and despair in his eyes were pretty noticeable, and you were the kind of person that can't look away.

"Uhm, are you okay?"

"Yes" he was still staring at the void. No emotion showed.

"Sorry, I don't want to be pushy…but it's clear you're not."

"Why do you care? What do you want from me?" he snapped turning his head, but his face softened instantly, as if he regretted the outburst.

You honestly didn't know why you cared that much either. It was an odd sensation coming from your guts, it was pulling you so deeply into him. He needed help, and you wanted to give it to him.

"You got anybody I could call? Your relatives or a friend?" was the only answer you could articulate.

" No.. " he mumbled, "..I have no one."

Suddenly, you felt the urge to ask him if he wanted to go home with you, to recover. You would have never done – or even thought – anything like that before. This was against all the good bits of advice your mum ever gave you. Like, don't invite in strangers that could easily kill you in your sleep?! But it was as if, deep down, you knew you could trust him. You took the risk.

"Listen.. ahem.. y-you could come home with me. I have enough space in my apartment and we could help each other until you'll feel better" you paused.

He was staring at you now, with glistening eyes. He was speechless. No one has ever shown him selfless kindness. He was in disbelief.

"I don't want your pity."

"No, wait. This isn't pity. In case you haven't notice, I have this lil problem here" you chuckled, swaying your cast in the air "I wouldn't mind a hand" you said to release the tension.

"I-I can't. Please, go. Just leave me alone." he shook his head. The fear of being abandoned or rejected again was too overwhelming for him to open up and accept some help.

"Oh," you whispered, a bit down in the dumps, "got it."

You headed for the door, but before leaving, you turned one more time "I'll leave my number to the receptionist in the hallway, in case you change your mind." you winked and smiled, leaving him alone.

He sighed and slammed his head against the pillow; he didn't even have a phone, also because, come on, what good it would do? But above all, what kind of paradox was that? Him, the motherfucking Devil's spawn, needing help? From an innocent little soul like you? No kidding. He had performed a human sacrifice and eaten raw hearts for fuck's sake. Yes, he may not know what to do, and probably he had made mistakes, but it wasn't over yet; his satanic plan needed to be adjusted. This way, he would eventually recreate the world in his Father's image and earn his trust again.

He needed to leave as soon as possible, before some stupid human being started asking him though questions.

You were finally home. The entire Uber ride had been silent and for that you mentally thanked the driver, because you weren't in the mood to talk at all.

As soon as you turned the doorknob, your little friend immediately greeted you purring, making you jump. He really missed you…or at least that's what he wanted you to believe. You locked the door behind you.

"His Majesty is hungry, uh?!" you said mocking your furball "Yeah, me too dude...but hold on a little longer, I need to take a shower I smell like hospital, jeez."

Only now you noticed. There was a rather unusual atmosphere when you walked in, an unsettling silence sending shivers down your spine. An inexplicable heat radiating from the house itself. It was too hot in there and you're positive it wasn't normal in the middle of November. The room seemed saturated with unfamiliar vibes.

You went to your bedroom and started to undress. Then you entered the bathroom, ready to finally wash the last night events off you.

Odd. It was like you could feel eyes on you, all the time.

Whatever. You were too worn-out to indulge your paranoid thoughts.

But the same feelings still followed you, even later when you were eating your delivered dinner, half-dead on the couch with the fluffy monster curled up on your lap.

"Maybe it's a sort of twisted PTSD." you told yourself. Yet your heart wouldn't settle. Something wasn't right there.

Anyway, you chose to ignore your instinct; it was time to get ready for bed. You reached your closet as you slowly took off hoodie and sweatpants, changing into even more comfortable clothes, just a t-shirt actually. Since it was that hot, no pants. The loose garment barely covered your bare thighs though.

You were half asleep when your cat jumped up and suddenly rushed out of your bedroom like he was possessed. You stretched and changed position, that enormous cast wouldn't let you fall fully asleep. After 5 minutes of turning and tossing you heard what sounded like footsteps. Your pulse started racing.

"It's nothing," you told yourself, "I'm imagining things."

But then the typical creaking of your fridge being opened reached up to your room. Twice.

You froze, heart in your throat. You were most definitely not alone. Someone was in the house.

But right after you shook your head, "Ugh, probably it's just that furry devil."

Being as quiet as possible, you got up and made your way to the door, straining to hear, but your heart pounded too loudly and your breathing was harsh. Moving towards the switch, but on second thought you decided against it.

Nothing. Complete silence.

It was when you were finding your way back to the mattress that you heard a white noise, a loud thud and the clear scraping of a chair against the floor. You froze again with wide eyes. You swallowed breaking out in cold sweat.

The squeaking of the cupboard followed by the tinkling and banging of glasses and dishes. You almost had a stroke.

You internally cursed yourself. You had left your phone on the couch. Fuck fuck fuck. The only option left was trying to reach the door and ask for help from the next-door neighbor. But you couldn't do it, the kitchen had a space divider, but it wasn't long enough to avoid being seen.

Weapon, your mind screamed. You needed a weapon.

A relieved smile appeared unexpectedly on your features. You recalled about keeping a knife hidden in the drawer. 'Never say never' when you live alone. Well, it seemed it had been a good idea after all.

You slid your fingers around the rubber grip, dismayed by how much your hand was shaking.

Heading down the hallway barefoot, you hold your breath and slowly approached the living room. With one motion you sneaked into the kitchen, with the blade facing the intruder, and screaming,

"I'm calling the police!"

But what you saw made your jaw drop in shock.

It was Him, the guy from the car crash.

In your kitchen.

Eating your motherfucking chocolate chip cookies.

At 01:00 am.

"Uh, sorry..." he spoke while chewing the leftovers and then swallowing loudly, "..you wanted some?". As if he felt guilty for real, with that childish expression.

You couldn't keep quiet any longer. The situation was too far-fetched.

"WHAT THE HELL?" you snapped. He chuckled at the reference.

"I can't cook. I was starving and I found these. I didn't want to wake you, but this monster here won't get off me..."

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

He tilted his head, pretty confused. "You invited me to stay here..." he remarked, with a hint of displeasure in his voice.

"Yes, I did. But it doesn't mean you can break in without me knowing." You were still a bit scared; he could be dangerous as far as you knew, and his actions had already proved it.

He didn't say anything. He stood up from the island counter, making his way to you. You were slack-jawed in astonishment, still holding and pointing the sharp surface toward him.

"Put that knife down."

"No."

"Why?" he frowned.

"I don't trust you. Don't come any closer!" you ordered.

"I can't take you seriously looking like this" he smirked pointing at your 'night attire'.

He took another step and you run to reach the handle; it turned but the door wouldn't budge.

"It's locked." you turned to look at him "Don't you remember? You did that yourself." he observed, like it was obvious.

"Then how did you get in here?"

"Transmutation."

"Tra-what?" you supposed he must have been out of his mind.

The circumstances themselves were unbelievable. But he was right, you offered him help.

Now he was leaning against the wall a few feet apart from you, locking his eyes with yours, his beautiful features veiled by a shade of dejection and misery. Suddenly, the feeling you had at the hospital came back. Trust.

"I know I'll regret this, but yes, you can stay."

A thankful smile crept across his face and if it weren't for the dark, you could swear that he was also crying.

"But if you don't behave I'll kill you." you threatened in a playful tone, but you needed to scare him a little.

In that moment he understood that he had done the right thing, deciding to take your offer. He had to pick up the pieces and get back on his feet. He couldn't have done it alone.

And mostly, he liked you. You were a warrior. There was something special in you, he could feel it. He could trust you.

"You scared the hell out of me by the way…do not do that again." you spoke as your eyes narrowed.

"I promise" he whispered.

He was kind of a weirdo, but you imagined he'd been through a lot. For this reason, you decided to place the knife on the table and get closer to him.

"But anyway, sooner or later you're going to tell me how you did it." you chuckled showing him the door. You were standing right in front of him now. He was taller than you thought.

"We haven't officially met, I'm Y/N."

In that moment – a moment you'll never forget – he vanished right before your eyes.

Then a sudden voice – that didn't hide insecurity and expectancy – coming from behind, made you turn around and left you in absolute shock.

"I'm Michael. Michael Langdon."

___________________________________________

Tagging (hope you don’t mind, in any case just tell me!) @michael-langdon-appreciation @hecohansen31 @so-langdon @emmyrosee @ladynuwanda @sammythankyou @sojournmichael @hplotrfan

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trash-and-recyle-fics · 5 years

Text

Feisty

Warning: grammar punctuation spelling, maybe some swear words and abusive scenes.

No summary because I suck at those

Enjoy

———————————————————

It was far to easy. The beast was beautiful. She sat unlocked and unoccupied. You slid into the drivers seat. The worn black leather feeling good. Sliding the seat up and fixing the rear veiw you took out a your lock pick. At this point you have gotten used to taking cars. Only the ones that looked valued though. You start the engine and the turned on the head lights. The roar of the beauty was almost too much. The exciting thing was you never got tired of it.

As you put the baby in reverse the motel door slammed open. Two men clearly confused started yelling. You looked over your shoulder and hit the gas. Oh man did the car move. Hearing them yell wasn’t even scary or seeing them pull out guns wasn’t too bad either. You flipped them off in the rear veiw and spend out of the parking lot. On your way home to get this baby to your pops and sold for a good lump some of cash.

You take off down the highway hitting speeds that made the grin go wider on your face. As you slow for your ramp a box full of cassette tapes comes from under the seat. A true treasure chest for classic rock. Popping in one from off the top the music started and your blood ran even faster through your veins.

You drove for hours. Stopping for gas three times and on the third time you took good pictures of the car to your father. He seemed pleased but he always did til he started to fix it up and found problems. He would take his frustrations out on you.

You rolled up the run down gravel road. Turing twice and coming up to your house. Cars lined up and your cousins worked on them. A buyer was looking at a cherry red mustang. Your pops came out from the cabin and looked at the thing of beauty. He slapped you on your back and sent you in the house to do chores. The little congratulations he gave you made you smile. Even if it was cold and half hearted.

A couple days later you had a backpack with about three days worth of clothes and $200 dollars. The car you had most recently brought to your family had so many miles it would not likely sell. So until they could find a way to wind back the miles it would sit in the grass that hasn’t been cut in weeks. Your cousin dropped you off in a town you did t know where but had instructions to ‘get something good for once.’ Walking around the town with your long sleeves hiding bruises and your backpack close to you. You walked all around and ended up at a church parking lot. You took pictures of lisences plates and went to a cafe with computers to do some research.

The car you had liked the most was a deep blue convertible. Out of all the cars you had pictures of this ones had the highest prices. Hacking into several networks and companys you found the owners address and knew you had to get it that night. As you pulled out your phone to call the owner about some fake insurance information you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around there was two men.

Oh shit.

The two men from the last car. You stand almost knocking over the computer. Trying to pull yourself together you started to let the charm slip through the cracks.

“Hey handsome! Do you need the computer? I was just on my way out.” You said so cheerfully it was like out of a sitcom.

“You are the best that took my Baby.”

“I’m so sorry sir but you have the wrong person. I would never kidnap a child.” You swung your bag on your shoulders.

“I’m just going to head out. Have a good day gentlemen.” You nodded towards the taller man and gave the one who spoke like he owned the block a nasty look.

“You arnt going anywhere!” He yelled. This was it your opening. You stuck out your lip a bit and let tears fall down your face smearing eyeliner and mascara. Putting all your acting skills into action.

“Leave m-me a-alone!” You cried. The manager practically runs out from the back and starts asking questions. You grab his arm and hug it to your body. Just like a small child would.

“I d-don’t kn-know them-m.” You hiccuped. The two guys started arguing and you let go of the mans arm. Drying your eyes you start to inch towards the door. Hiding behind a group of people walking in you exit without anyone noticing. Taking off down the block you make it to a small garden inbetween buildings. Sitting down on a bench you calm your breaths. You could get a cheap motel room and then take the car after dark. Get the hell out of dodge in about 10 or so hours.

Standing you walk out of the garden only to see the men. It was far too late and they reached you before you could get a word out. They pulled you into the garden up against one of the brick walls of the buildings.

“Who do you think you are?!” The shorter one practically roared.

“Who do you want me to be?” You said with poison laced in your words.

“You look our car we need it back.” The taller one spoke. You paid him no mind you were having far too much fun watching the shorter one try and come up with a clap back.

“What’s the matter honey? Cat got your tounge?” You enjoyed his face turn a bright red. Matching his green eyes making him look like a lit up Christmas tree.

“My.Car!”

“Is already sold and probably being driven by a greased up hot head who thinks he is the shit.” You finished for him. He punched the wall next to you and instantly cowered. You pressed your back to the bricks even more than it was and had your hands covering your head and face. Your eyes closed and waiting to be struck. After a couple seconds without feeling the anger from him you opend your eyes slowly and let your hands drop. The men were staring at you like you just crushed their dreams with a spiked boot.

“What.. happened?” The taller one spoke.

“What?” You said trying to recover and act as if nothing happened.

“You have bruises. On your wrists.” He pointed at your hands. When you had brought your hands up your sleeves ride up and uncovered years of secrets.

“Nothing. I need to go.” You turned and tried to walk past but he then grabbed your upper arm. A whimper left your body. He backed away like you had the bubonic plague.

“Let’s go.” The hot headed one said. He put his hand on your back and started walking. You just figured he would take you to the police. After walking for a bit you started to ask questions.

“Where are we going?”

“What’s your names.”

“Why do you want your damn car so bad.”

You walked up to a dirty motel. One that you would most likely stay in anyways. The men kept walking but you stopped on the gravel.

“You want me to go into a hote room with two guys twice my age and three times my height. Not to mention I stole their car. Yeah not happening.” You crosses your arms and stood in the middle of the gravel parking lot. The taller one you now knew as Sam huffed and rubbed his eyebrows. Dean the green eyed Christmas tree stuck one leg out and started to talk.

“After all this time you think we are gunna hurt you. Well shit we arnt murders!” You twisted your face and gave him a look that said ‘okay buster.’

“If you try to hurt me in any way i will castrate you and make jumbo over there choke on your detached balls. Got it?” They both looked a bit pale but nodded. You walked to the door they stood at and waited for you to enter. The room was normal, drab and a bit gross but normal.

They sat you down at the small kitchen table and told you about their jobs. It made absolutely zero sense but then again sort of did. They showed you some weapons they used and pulled up a case the had just finished. In fact the case you stole their car from.

“We need our car back Y/N.” You always has made decisions quickly but always stuck to them too.

“Fine give me the keys and I will get you your car.” Holding out your hand Dean looked suspicious. He eventually dropped them in your palm.

You called your cousin and told him no good grabs where here. He was going to pick you up in the next four hours.

“Meet is here by tomorrow at noon.” Sam spoke.

“And do not wreck my baby.” He looked so damn scared.

“Awe don’t worry deany I already had a joy ride. But yes I will be careful.” You walked out side and saw your cousin in his beat up truck. You hoped in and started to drive you home.

“In three days there is going to be a car show in savty. Imma head down there and get us some good beasts.” He nodded.

“Fuckin better pops ain’t to happy you commin home empty handed.” A shiver ran down your spine as you knew what’s comming.

TIME SKIP

As you got out of the old truck the screen door opens and closed.

“You arrogant bitch!” Your father screeched. You stood against the old Fords door and braced for impact. You felt hands on your throat and heard screaming. You just focused on keeping your eyes closed and not making the situation worse. One hand moved away from your throat and made an impact on your face.

“Ungrateful whore.” You slumped to the ground and controlled your breathing. Not letting tears run down your face you got up and went inside to start your chores.

After the dishes cooking cleaning and laundry you went to your room. The quite was bliss. You out your bad down and got out the $200 you had and the cars keys. You would leave once it got dark. The car was covered with tarps and towards the back of the lot. It would be dangerous for sure but you owed it to the brothers. You shoved some clean clothes into a duffle bag and the only money you had. You tried to cover the bruising on your neck with your hair but to no avail. You shoved on the only worn out shoes you had and shoved the duffle under your bed. You heard the click of your door being locked and knew that your father was going to bed. Your grabed your lock pick and shoved it into your pocket. Opening your window you pushed against the rusted bars and were able to shove your duffle out and squeeze your body through. Once out you ran. Keys and duffle in hand you ran straight to the car. It was dark enough and afar enough ways from the single light you had shining near the barn that no one would see you. Uncovering the beauty you knew you couldn’t keep your promise to dean. You had to have some fun.

You opened the creaky door and got inside. Checking the mirrors you turned the baby on and that caused some alert. Your theee cousins came out of the barn and saw the head lights flick on. As if the devil himself took apart of your judgement you slammed the baby into drive and hit the gas. Heading static for your devil like cousins. But before hitting them your turned at the last second and hit the brakes causing you to drift on the gravel and kicked up rocks at them and the Ford truck. They started running at you and wasting no time you took off down the gravel road. Switching turns and roads to make you untraceable. You got onto a highway and knew a few hours later you could possibly right at least one wrong you have done. You put a tape in and hit the gas.

TIME SKIP

As you pulled up to the motel you were in the middle of by far your favorite tape. The drums and guitar were heavy and the engine of the car was roaring along side it. The time on your phone said 9:30 AM and you smiled. The boys probably weren’t even up yet. Going up to the door with keys in your pocket you knocked heavily.

“Police!” You deepens your voice and knocked again. The door opens and there stood dean with spiked hair and a nasty look.

“Not funny Y/N.” He groaned.

“I got your car Dean.” He perked up like he forgot why you were there. You gave him the keys and he install ran outside and started walking around the car.

“You didn’t even scratch her. THATS AMAZING!”

“Oh yeah but the speed on this one..” You pat the hood the the car and he looked as if he had just shit bricks. The something more crosses his eyes.

“What’s on your neck?” Your hand went up and felt the tender skin.

“Uh... hickies!!” You walked past him and grabbed your bag from the open window of the car.

“So uh your welcome for your car..” you turned and started walking. Before you could get to far Dean grabbed your wrist and pushed up your sweatshirt sleeve. Bruises littered your arm like trash of a highway.

“I’m clumsy..” you explained pulling your hand away and pushing your sleeve down. You pointed over your shoulder and looked at the ground as you spoke.

“I uh I gotta go.” You took a couple steps back before you turned and started walking.

“Hey Y/N! Let me and Sam at least get you a bus ticket somewhere.” You nodded.

“If you try and kidnap me though I will kill you with my bare hands.” You were only half joking.

TIME SKIP

You and the Winchester’s have been on the road for awhile. Sam has taken a shower before you left and Dean has packed up the stuff. You were getting drowsy after being in the confined space all day. The sun had set awhile ago and you had your shoes off and feet up on the bench seat. Your head up against the window and covering your self as much as you could with your jacket. Soon enough you let the sleep take over and you slipped into oblivion.

When you woke it wasn’t because you were stopped or simply at the bus station. It was because you turned a sharp corner and your foot fell off the seat. You were covered in Sam’s and Deans heavy jackets.

“Where the hell are we?” They both looked back to see you awake.

“Going home.” Dean didn’t elelaborate.

“What?!” Sam nodded.

“When you fell asleep your phone started ringing off the hook so Sam answered it after the fourth time and turns out it was some dude yelling and screaming on the other end. About how your are no good and a bunch of other shit. Said he was going to find you.”

“So I threw the phone out of the window and told Dean that you are comming with us.”

“ And I didn’t get a say in any of this!!!”

“Look if you want to yell and bitch and scream that’s fine. No way in hell am I going to let you roam the states looking for another guy to hurt you. Now that just isn’t going to happen.”

“I meant what I said Dean. I will kill you with my bare hands if you hurt me.” Sam let out a laugh.

“That goes for you too.”he just nodded with a grin on his face.

“As for our jobs, you won’t have anything to do with it. You will go to school and get good grades and graduate.” About ready to start fighting again Dean held up his hand.

“That’s the final word missy.”

“This is so unfair.” You mumbled.

PART 2???

#dean #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #let me know #writing #dean winchester #series #sam #sam winchester #SPN #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x sister reader #sam x reader #sam x sister reader #sam x sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #feisty

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celestialxmoons-blog · 5 years

Text

first date mayhem

summary: Your first date with Stiles has finally arrived and you couldn’t be more excited to spend the night being romanced by him. But while you were excited, Stiles was a nervous wreck. As you two head out for your romantic date, everything seems to go wrong.

warnings: none

word count: 1,874

A/N: I love writing fluff, I can’t help it. I was going to write a bit more for this one shot but I had to leave for work. Maybe I’ll make a part 2 if you guys want it!

Tonight was the finally the night; the night you had been waiting for since the day Stiles Stilinski finally mustered up the courage and spastically ask you out. Actually, he sort have screamed the words ‘wanna go out’ in the middle of lunch a week ago with sweat dripping down his face.

He had been an anxious wreck but unlike the rest of the school who had laughed with his outburst and teased him, you had smiled sweetly and told him yes. It was a simple word, but it was also a word that sent him into a major panic attack. He would have never thought that you, one of the most popular people in school, would ever agree to go out with his awkward self.

Though you would never admit it to anyone, Stiles had always caught your eye. His sarcastic attitude may have been a huge turn off to most of the high school population, but for you, well, you adored it. He was a spaz, but an adorable one at that. His humor was one of the most attractive things about him, he could always make you laugh.

You stood in the foyer of your home, slipping shoes onto your feet and glancing at yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair wasn’t a tangled mess. You had dressed up, you were probably overdressed but you could care less. You dressed to impress and tonight you felt confident, you wanted to at least look the part as well. And you also wanted to make Stiles swoon a little bit.

There was a sudden knock at the door causing your stomach to do flips; though you didn’t look it, you were nervous. First dates always made you quite anxious but you had always been a pro at hiding it.

Answering the door with a charming smile, you noticed Stiles standing there somewhat awkwardly as if he was unsure about where he was. When his kind eyes landed on your face, he smiled, a goofy smile that melted your heart. How could one human being be so adorable?

“Hey, sorry, I’m kind of early but you know, early bird gets the worm.” He said, or more like rambled. Unlike yourself, Stiles was not very good at hiding his nerves.

“Stiles, I think that phrase is more for the morning when you wake up super early” You told him with a quiet laugh before gazing down at the watch clasped around your wrist. “It’s currently six twenty,”

Stiles opened his mouth but then closed it, seeming rather flustered. But as he figured out what to say, you were finally able to get a good look at him, your eyes sweeping him over. He was handsome what with his beautiful brown eyes that glistened in the porch light, the moles that splattered across his pale skin, and the messy hair atop his head that he seemed to try and tame down but a few strands still stuck up here and there.

But it was his shirt that caught your eye. Your eyebrow had arched curiously as you noticed the black shirt he had put on was inside out. The white tag was sticking out from the collar and you could see the seams around the arms. For a moment, you were wondering if you should say anything or just keep it quiet. You had no desire to make him any more nervous than he already was.

“Uh, Stiles,” You finally spoke causing him to look at you, his eyes rather wide. There was still a smile on your face, you actually found it rather adorable that your presence made him a nervous wreck. But you hoped that the soon he’d be able to relax. “Your shirt is inside out.”

Stiles looked horrified as he glanced down at his outfit, a light gasp leaving his lips. “Crap,” He muttered, awkwardly smoothing the wrinkles out of the shirt as if that would help, before looking back up at you. “I kind of got dressed in a hurry, I thought I was running late. Obviously I wasn’t.”

You had laughed softly, reaching out and grabbing a hold of his trembling hand. His hand was warm in yours, and clammy but you didn’t mind. He tensed at your soft touch, his eyes locking with yours as you gently laced your fingers with his. That sent an electric shock through his entire body. He had a lump in his throat, seeming to become speechless as he stared into your beautiful eyes.

“I was teasing you. The inside out thing kind of works for you,” You told him with a small shrug of your shoulders as you stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind you. “Stop being so nervous, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

You had winked at him and his mouth fell open slightly at your words until he realized that you were kidding, at least he thought you were kidding. You really weren't but he didn’t need to know that, this was your first date, he didn’t need to see that side of you just yet. You didn’t need to send him into a panic attack.

“Glad you like the inside out thing, I actually did it on purpose.” He said, chuckling as his eyes looked you up and down for the first time tonight, his pale face becoming rosy. “You look, uh, you look great.”

“Thank you,” You told him, a faint blush of your own appearing lightly across your cheeks. “I hope I’m not overdressed.”

Stiles had been quick to shake his head, giving your hand a confident squeeze. Was he finally relaxing and letting down his guard? You hoped so.

“You’re not. I’m kind of under dressed but that’s just my style.” He told you before leading you off your porch and towards his old rickety jeep on the street. The jeep was old and had a lot of problems but you found it charming.

“So, where are you taking me tonight?” You asked, brushing a few strands of your hair out of your face, your eyes studying his features as the two of you walked down the sidewalk.

He glanced at you, the goofy smile returning. You could spot the faint dimples in his cheeks. “I know you’re kind of a hopeless romantic,” He said causing you to raise your eyebrows, “Uh, Lydia told me that. So, I’m taking you on a beautiful and romantic picnic filled with stargazing and amazing food.”

That was cute. He had went to your best friend and asked for advice. Lydia and you were like sisters, attached at the hip. She knew everything about you and she was right, you were a hopeless romantic. You loved romance; getting flowers, cute little picnics, and handwritten love notes were the way to your heart.

“That sounds like the perfect way to spend a Friday evening,” You told him, your voice soft as he opened the passenger side door for you.

You had hopped inside, your heart beating heavily against your chest as you looked at him for a moment. The eye contact you two held was rather intense, as if you two were looking into one another's souls. But you smiled at him, not allowing him to see the nerves that were coursing through your veins. He smiled back, his eyes twinkling as he closed the door and walked around the jeep, hopping inside and twisting the keys in the ignition.

The engine roared to life but then stopped suddenly, making a rather loud and obnoxious sputtering sound before dying. Stiles was frozen, all the color seeming to drain from his face. He began to twist the key but the engine refused to start. You look at him, feeling rather sympathetic for him. He was trying so hard and nothing seemed to work for him.

“Oh, come on,” He exclaimed, smacking the steering wheel with his hands in annoyance. “Why are you betraying me?” You heard him whisper to his jeep, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

“Stiles, it’s okay.” You were quick to say, your voice soothing as he continued to turn the key hoping that a miracle would work.

“It’s not okay, I had everything planned,” He muttered, running his fingers through his hair and finally looking at you. He seemed embarrassed. “I spent two hours making the food and you know, decorating the place we were going to go and now we’re not going to be able to go there.”

You would have offered to take your car but your sibling had borrowed it for the night, having a date off their own. This really was not how you thought the night would go. But it didn’t bother you, at least you still got to spend the evening with Stiles. The two of you were stuck here unless a miracle happened and his jeep would magically start but you highly doubted that.

“It’s okay, stop beating yourself up over it. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, that’s why we improvise.” You pointed out, lightly pinching his cheek in a playful manner in hopes of easing his annoyance. “Come on, my backyard is the perfect place for a picnic.”

You were determined to have a date tonight with Stiles. You had been looking forward to this night for the past week. You liked him, quite a lot, and not only that, you felt bad for him. He was obviously devastated that tonight wasn’t going to plan.

“Come on, Stiles, we’re not getting any younger,” You laughed, hopping out his jeep and landing gracefully on your feet.

Stiles had let out a breath but nodded, you were right. He couldn’t let his inside out shirt or the fact his jeep wouldn’t start to ruin the romantic night he had planned for you. He hopped out and walked towards the back of his jeep, opening it and looking for the picnic basket he had borrowed from Lydia.

“Are you kidding me?” He exclaimed, his voice echoing in the night and it caused you to raise your eyebrows. You turned to him, spotting the frown on his face.

He had slaved over that food for two hours, mostly because his microwave stopped working halfway through. But he still managed to make everything perfectly and he still somehow forgot it on the counter in the kitchen back home.

“You forgot the food, didn’t you?” You asked quietly, walking towards him and placing your hand gently on his shoulder.

“How stupid can I be?” He muttered, more to himself than to you. He hung his head in disappointment and let out a sigh. “I am so sorry for tonight, I swear I’m not usually like this. I know you’re disappointed.”

You had laughed, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I am not disappointed,” You were quick to say causing him to look at you. You had a reassuring look on your face. “You’re here and I still get to spend the evening with you. So don’t worry about it. We can order pizza and we can still have that romantic picnic. Okay?”

Stiles had let out a breath and nodded his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Okay.”

#teen wolf one shot #teen wolf x read #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinsi x reader #stiles one shot #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski imagine #one shot #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski fluff

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kittykittycatnip · 5 years

Text

RUBS MY LITTLE EVIL HANDS TOGETHER

daisy you already know them and have literally drawn them before but w/e

GABE’S OCS: CLUTTERED HELLFUCK EDITION

RICHARD - 44 - WHITE-TAILED DEER - HE/HIM

Ricky is a kind soul- he's never hurt a living creature on purpose, and he rarely gets angry. He's a family man at heart, and cares deeply about his wife and children. He prefers to stay in quiet places, and can more often than not found nestled in a good book. He loves to read and tends to dress repetitively, all of his clothes being the same patterns. He's very anxious and tends to be a bit shaky, and has bad handwriting (then again he does have hooves).

YES that is the only picture of rodeo i have

RODEO - 20 - VIRGINIA OPOSSUM - HE/HIM

Rodeo is a wild guy. He is extremely erratic, sometimes bordering on chaotic and unpredictable. He's unhealthy and tends to eat a lot of junk food- literally. He eats other peoples' garbage. He can come off as a bit rude and uncaring, mainly because it's true- there's very little you can say to interest him. He's a party animal and loves to scream. He's never been seen without his trademark sunglasses, even indoors and at night.

these were my main two oc’s original bios but theyre a bit outdated (especially rodeo’s) SO ill add notes for the incorrect stuff

Ricky is a kind soul- he's never hurt a living creature on purpose [INCORRECT, he has attacked things in self defense]

, and he rarely gets angry. [kind of correct? he doesn’t show it and bottles it up but he actually does feel rage! sometimes.]

He's a family man at heart, and cares deeply about his wife and children. He prefers to stay in quiet places, and can more often than not found nestled in a good book. He loves to read and tends to dress repetitively, all of his clothes being the same patterns. He's very anxious and tends to be a bit shaky, and has bad handwriting (then again he does have hooves). [this all still holds up he’s a soft boy]

mainly because it's true- [hes a fucking gremlin but he aint a jerk]

there's very little you can say to interest him. He's a party animal and loves to scream. He's never been seen without his trademark sunglasses, even indoors and at night. [this also holds up]

aside from those, that’s very very VERY little of their actual character traits!

ricky and rodeo are also both based on two skulls i actually have!! since theyre Fwiends i have rodeo sitting on top of ricky

some fun facts and trivia: -ricky’s family is mentioned but i have no idea what they look like and they don’t have names -ricky hates being called dick. he finds it annoying and obscene please be nice to him -rodeo’s real name is also ricky. rodeo’s his lifelong nickname and people just accept that’s what he was born with at this point (the reasoning for this is at the end of the post) -rodeo has those super beady opossum eyes and that’s why he wears sunglasses all the time, he’s self-conscious! -rodeo is a kleptomaniac. his fellow criminal buddy socks is too, sometimes they meet up and show all the cool things they’ve snatched from people’s pockets -rodeo always wearing sunglasses is also kind of projection! i wear a hat 24/7 and don’t take it off around other people, it helps with my dysphoria -rodeo is gay as FUCK and aromantic. ricky is cishet and probably neurotypical but he’s trying his best and im so happy for him -i’m so bad at drawing antlers that i usually draw ricky without them. i blame it on “oh deer shed their antlers every year!!! dont call me out” it only works a quarter of the time -as all my ocs from this universe are based on skulls i own, there are obviously gonna be a few that are banged up, broken or even shattered into fragments sometimes: -rodeo lost one of his closest friends (another criminal buddy) in a car wreck. this mirrors how the raccoon skull i was about to get was from a roadkill victim. it was broken and i wasn’t able to get it unfortunately. its name was bandit :[ -rodeo has ptsd as a result of the loss and blames himself for bandit’s death. he hates himself but he’d never admit it, he covers it up with fake pride -ricky really doesn’t like being involved with lawbreakers like rodeo, and would really prefer he just leave him alone. rodeo originally just did stuff to bother him, but now they kinda consider each other friends of sorts -the skull ricky is based on is from a doe, not a buck! this is another reason he usually is drawn without antlers -i have no idea what rodeo’s sex was when he was alive -my brother gave me ricky, and originally thought he was a dog skull. now that i know what those look like i can see how obnoxiously wrong he was. he was originally a badass biker wolf with rodeo’s personality more or less -after realizing he was a deer, his design was changed to match that; his new name was sputnik, a deer with the colors of the bisexual flag -sputnik is still technically an oc i guess, but his colors were lightened big time when he was basically converted into ricky -sputnik’s personality was very similar to ricky’s though with much MUCH less development. he was more of a hippie -rodeo was my first skull ever and after realizing opossums are also badass bikers, just more like rats, i projected ricky’s original personality onto him and it’s stuck ever since! -since ricky was rodeo’s original name, i kinda just tacked that on as being his real name -sputnik doesn’t --- wait hold the FUCK UP i can ditch ron gta 5 deer skull edition in favor of an actual oc NICE -socks doesnt even have a real name theyre just named socks BDGHJBFGJ -this is rodeo in real life! -and here’s ricky in real life!

okay holy FUCK that got long. oops!! ahh rant over

#my ocs #my skulls #oh god this is so bad and cluttered and infodumpy :pensive:#my art

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aragoncake · 5 years

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Survivor

This here is difficult, not being able to see. I'm laying here in a bed not being able to see anything but hear everything. Day after day goes by as I hear my best mates and girlfriend cry over the fact that I'm in a coma. Yeah, you heard me right, a coma. Being in a coma absolutely sucks. I tell my body to move and it just denies my request. I'm in a complete blackout. All I see is darkness. When I do see something it's the accident all over again, like it's on replay. It kills me a little more everytime seeing the collision. The picture is so vivid.

"Beatrice, let's go!" I yelled making my way towards the car.

Beatrice has been acting weird lately. Once we got in the car I saw right through her. She wasn't herself. I just got home from tour and ever since she hasn't been herself. It looked as if she hasn't slept in days. She looked drained from life.

"Are you okay?" I asked driving out of the drive way. Beatrice completely ignored me. "Bea, I know something is wrong." I told her. "I'm fine." She simply replied.

"That's a total lie. I know you too well." I wanted to know what was wrong but she wasn't telling me. "Michael, I'm fine." Beatrice said once again. "Beatrice, stop lying to me." I was becoming upset.

"Michael, just drop it." She sighed. “No I'm not going to drop it! You're not yourself! Why can't you tell me what wrong? I'm your boyfriend, bestfriend. You can tell me anything but you not. Just tell me. Lying doesn't- " Beatrice cut me off.

"I'm pregnant." Beatrice whispered.

"What?" I asked, shocked. I didn't know how to react. “Yeah, I'm pregnant." Beatrice cried. “Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

“Why didn't I tell you? For many reasons. You're fans. Fans try to hurt me already, bringing a baby into the equation doesn't help. You're constantly on tour. I don't know how I'll raise a baby on my own." Beatrice started to cry. “Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

“You still should have told me!" I yelled. “No, I couldn't. Everytime we talked we argued. What was I just suppose to be like, 'Hey babe, I'm pregnant, let's stop fighting.' No, because you've been even worse. I can't deal with this anymore." She cried more.

"Why are you so selfish! We're in this together-" I yelled. “Oh I'm selfish. You're the one that acted like I didn't exist while you were on tour." Beatrice yelled back.

"This is not about me it's about you lying! Why couldn't you just tell me!" I yelled some more. "I hate you! You're such a jerk! You have changed!" She yelled. "Oh I'm the jerk! Why does this happen all-" I was stopped by Beatrice.

"Michael!" Beatrice screamed. I saw headlights of another car coming towards, then there was the impact. I remember looking over and seeing Beatrice's body next to me her face covered in blood and ambulance sirens in the distance. "Beatrice." I struggled to say. I grabbed her hand because I didn't know if I would ever see her again. Before the paramedics got there I passed out.

Beatrice and the baby were okay. She told me. She comes in and talks to me all the time. I feel better that it was me in a coma instead of her. Bea could've lost the baby if she have went into a coma. It was all my fault this happend. If I had controlled my anger, we could've talked it out. I'm not even sure if we're still together. That doesn't matter right now. I'm glad they're okay.

"Hey, Michael it's Bea."

I know.

"I miss you. It's been 2 months since the accident. I'm almost 3 months along. I wish you were here to see our baby develop. I get to know the gender soon. I just wish you were awake. I'm sorry for everything. I just want my boyfriend back. Please come back to me and our baby." Bea grabbed my hand and started to cry.

It's been 2 months already? I miss you so much. I always try to wake up but my body won't let me.

"I'm not giving up on you, Michael. Im going to stay because you're my love, my partner in crime, and my best friend. I need you to get through this. I love you." She kissed my forehead.

I love you too.

"I need you to come back to me. I can't raise the baby without you. Our baby can't live without a father." Bea cried.

I'm trying baby. I'm trying to get out of this but it's hard. I'm trying so much it hurts.

As you see, being in coma is difficult. It kills me more because I can't see anyone I love. I don't get to see my beautiful girlfriend go through the process of being pregnant. I don't get to see my baby grow. I don't get to write music. I let my girlfriend, mates, and fans down. I need to get through this.

I heard someone walk into the room

"Hey Mike, it's Luke."

Hey buddy, I miss you.

"The tour and the album is on hold because of the accident. All fans are devestated. There are some fans outside the hospital right now."

I can imagine. Those fans need to go home. Who knows when I'll wake up.

"You're parents have came to visit you. They stood as long as they could. They're coming back soon."

I can picture how heartbroken they are. I'm their only child and I have a possibility of dying.

"I overheard the doctors talking to your parents, if you don't wake up within 3 months they want to pull the plug."

Well it's nice to know that the doctors have faith in me waking up.

"It's weird I'm talking to you and you probably don't even hear me." Luke paused for a moment.

Oh, I hear you. Loud and clear.

"We're all a wreck. Bea and Cal cry together. It's sad. It's hurts Cal so much he hasn't came to see you at all. He tells Bea not to come either because to much stress on her is not good from the baby. Yet, she doesn't listen. She's been here everyday to see you."

You're killing me man. I know my girlfriend and Calum are suffering, don't have to remind me. You make me miss all of you more than I already do. It doesn't help.

"I really need you to wake up man. We can't get through anything without you."

Trust me you can. You can do it. I want to wake up from this darkness and if I don't, I hope you know to take care of my girl and baby.

Ashton finally came to visit me. Worst part, he came on his birthday.

"Hey, it's my birthday. No one wants to to celebrate because we're all worried about you, so I decided to spend my birthday with you."

Awe, how sweet. Seriously though, you shouldn't be here. You're just going to make yourself depressed. You're suppose to be happy on your birthday.

"We've told Bea to take it easy on visiting you because of the baby."

That's a good thing. I don't need her to lose the baby.

"We've stopped writing and making music. It's just not right without you. It's not the same. If you don't make it, I don't think we'll continue with the band. Luke, Calum, and I have been talking about it. It hurts to think you won't make it."

Don't do that. You guys love music, don't stop doing what you're doing because of me. You guys are extremely talented. If you stop, I'll be hurt.

"It will be okay because you'll make it. You're going to be a survivor, Michael." Ashton said.

That's the thing, Ash. What if I don't make it? What if I can't escape this darkness, this blackhole? This isn't a dream that I'm going to wake up from. This is reality.

I overheard the doctors talking about me in the room. "Your son isn't going to make. There are no signs to show that he will wake up. We've tried everything to help. I'm so sorry." The doctors told my parents. I soon hear my mom break down in tears.

"We're going to lose our son, our baby." She sobbed to my father. I can picture her in my father's embrace crying her eyes out.

That's it. I'm going to die. I will never play music again. I won't ever see my baby grow up to be successful. I'm forever going to be stuck in this blackout.

#michael clifford #michael 5sos #michael 5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #imagine #oneshot #michaelcliffordimagine #michaelcliffordoneshot #michaelimagine #michaeloneshot

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behindtheireyes · 5 years

Text

OC’s for my upcoming multi muse.

If you might be interested in interacting with any of them please let me know.

Under read more for length:

Ren Winchester

Due to a medical condition known as heterochromia iridum, where the irises have different colors. One eye (left) is brown, and the other (right) is green.

Special talents besides hunting: (All verses) Serenity is musically gifted. She sings very well and can play guitar, piano, drums, bass, and violin as well as compose music. She also has an eidetic memory which has come in handy on a case or two in the past. Other information: She was off helping an old high school friend with a slight ghost problem when Adam is found out about and had already left the hunters life behind when he came back as Michael’s vessel. To this day she doesn’t know she has a younger brother trapped in Lucifer’s Cage. She didn’t know who her father was until her mother died two weeks after 17th birthday when she found her mother’s journal and her birth certificate naming John Winchester as her father. Having suffered all manner of abuse by her junkie mother Ren wasn’t looking for a parent when she sought out John, all she wanted was was for him to sign her emancipation paperwork so she wouldn’t be stuck going into the foster system. She is independent, stubborn and the last thing she wanted or felt she needed was a family.

Mackenzie Williams:

Bio:

Mackenzie Williams was the youngest of four girls; her father was a horse rancher and her mother a writer. While her father loved all his girls the same he had always wanted a boy to take out hunting, fishing and teach how to shoot. By the time Mackenzie came along he had decided screw it and treated her like the son he always wanted as soon as she was old enough to hold a fishing pole he started teaching her how to survive in the woods.

By the time she was 12 she had won multiple awards for shooting and surpassed her father as a hunter and tracker.

At 15 her father put a gun to his head in the form of a bottle of whiskey and sleeping pills after her mother and sisters were killed in a car wreck.

She spent the next three years in and out of different foster homes. She was a punk kid with a chip on her shoulder and was pissed off at the world.

That all changed the day she sat down at an outdoor café to write and an Irish brogue asked if he could join her, she looked up into the most amazing pair of blue eyes she had ever seen and said yes.

She and Sean were married 6 weeks later

They had been married almost 15 years before Kenzie was able to get pregnant

Sean was infected early on when he was bitten by what he thought was a strung out junkie during one of his graveyard EMT shifts. Kenzie, sent him to bed with a kiss and during their sons naptime went to her her darkroom to develop the photos for the book she was putting together. When she heard Liam screaming and a growling noise through the baby monitor she grabbed the gun from her desk and ran to his room.

A perk of being married to a hot headed Irishman that refused to curse, for the most part, around a woman for fifteen years was that she picked up how to swear in Irish. A skill she used when she walked into her infant sons room.

“Cad é sa diabhal atá ar siúl?”

At the sound of her voice Sean, or that thing that had been Sean, looked up at her with chucks of their child’s flesh hanging from his mouth. It hadn’t even taken two steps towards her before instinct took over and a shot echoed through the room.

She crumpled to the floor as her heart shattered and quiet sobs filled the room, in the space of a few minutes her world had come crashing down around her. She couldn’t remember how long she had been sitting there when she heard soft growling mews coming from Liam’s crib. Without a second thought she stood up and went over to the crib, there was no emotion in her as a second shout filled the room.

Within the space of an hour she had gathered up what weapons and supplies she could; she also had gathered together a few photo’s, Liam’s favorite stuffed bunny, Sean’s family bible and rosary, as well as his wedding ring and cross that he always wore. Before she left she placed a lit candle on the counter by the stove and blew out the pilot light, she wanted to be far away before the house went up destroying everything that was in it.

Wearing her husband’s cross around her neck along with his wedding ring and his rosary around her wrist she drove to the one other person she still had out there, she didn’t know if Phillip would believe her about what just happened but she had to try.

Harley Lucille:

Bio:

Harley doesn’t remember much about her life BN (Before Negan) as she calls it, fuck she doesn’t even remember her name from before she met him. There’s shadows of ballet class, a dark haired woman who smelled like cookies and a tall man who called her Princess but that’s all. Her strongest memory before meeting her new father was of being shoved in a closet by the tall man being ordered to not leave unless he or the woman came for her. Then there were screams, gunshots and a deafening silence that lasted until hunger finally drove her out of the closet.

After running to the kitchen to grab a pop tart she found both her parents dead on the floor. At nine years old her mind started shutting down and just curled up with the woman as she ate.

The little girl didn’t know how much time passed but it was long enough for the other bodies to smell and decompose. When it got to the point that she couldn’t stand the smell anymore and was covered in just as much gore as her parents she left the house with just the clothes on her back with a box of stale cereal in her hands.

It was probably the fact that she was covered in the gore that allowed her to survive until Negan found her wandering around completely lost. It wasn’t long after he left the hospital so the pain of losing Lucille was still fresh in his mind, this terrified child that couldn’t even speak gave him something else to focus on for a while. It wasn’t his plan to keep her but the first time she actually spoke was to call him Daddy. It was at that moment he named her Harley Lucille, partly for the child he and his wife had so desperately wanted.

And as another way for the baddest bitch he ever knew to live on.

#Out feeding birds (ooc)#new blog news

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jamiebluewind · 5 years

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Thank You

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for being kind. I know some of you must be... annoyed that I haven't been sharing anything lately (I have too if I'm being honest), but nobody has thrown any hate at me for it and for that, I'm grateful.

I've been resting up since I got out of the hospital, a fact that has been driving me crazy if I'm being honest. Only so many hours in a day and I'm spending so many of um in the bed (doesn't help that dad fussed at me for it)! Then I tell myself that if one of you were in the same position, I'd be fussing your ear off for thinking such a thing and trying to get you to rest, so I'm trying to give myself the same courtesy.

I'm... hesitant to share what went wrong, not for embarrassment but because I don't want yall to worry. Then I realized that this post has probably already make you think far worse, so here goes...

WARNING: Blood mention, illness, body function mention, pain, menstruation, confusion, dehydration, (please tell me if I missed any!)

I got an IUD put in. I didn't want it, but my periods are bad and my insurance wouldn't cover just removing the parts before trying this first. It caused a lot of pain due to having nothing for pain, the person putting it in not knowing what they were doing, and them using silver nitrate without rinsing it off which gave me chemical burns on my cervix. I stayed in pain and they responded saying to take a tylenol and I'd eventually be fine. During this time, I bled constantly. Not a lot, but some. I also had my normal periods to deal with. I found out it was even effecting my mood and making me tired (hormones, constant cramping, or both, you be the judge). Two months in, I wanted it out. They said I just needed to tough it out and I would be fine by 6 months. I'm pretty sure my face did a thing that symotaniously screamed confusion and "fuck you", but I did as I was told.

In the meantime (during December and even now), my heater thermostat started doing something weird. I set the temp, but it would let it get down to like 55° F (12.7° C) at night when it was set on like 68 (20° C). During the day, it would get about 10° F warmer than what it was set (so like 78° F or 26° C). It was kicking on, but not regulating it how it was supposed to. I told my landlady, but they take for-freaking-ever! So out comes an electric blanket to keep me warm at night. I basically lived under the thing after the sun set! I just kept it on one or two so I wouldn't get too warm. I was also feeling crapy (*gestures to previous paragraph*), which meant more bed time than normal.

A few days before Christmas, I got a shot that was supposed to last a month and help block a nerve that causes migraines. I have debilitating hemiplegic migraines and the risk was very low, so I decided to give it a shot. The medication is very new and due to my rare form of migraine reacting atypically to medications, you would think I would know by now not to try medications that haven't been out long.

The fourth and final domino in all this was all the running due to the holiday season. I'm disabled and I have a weak immune system, but I kept pushing myself. I walked so much price shopping for things for everyone that would both mean something and not break budget (even when me left leg wanted to nope out) because Dad gave me a bit of money last minute to help me buy gifts and I only had a week. I wrapped gifts for dad and myself. I cleaned and did some baking. Then there was the driving and the great but exhausting time with family and playing catch with my youngest nephew until my arm was nearly falling off. When I eventually got back home, my whole body had this bone deep ache. Not like overworking muscles after not using them for a long time, but like I had the flu. This is on top of the cramping.

*Note: Some of the information past this point is things the medical staff told me happened, things my dad said happened, and texts*

I would get better and worse. Always worse when I first woke up (remember the blanket?). I went to dad's for a traditional southern New Year's meal. He said I was spacey, lethargic, and far more quiet than normal. My eyes had trouble focusing and I had trouble concentrating. I looked tired so, he made me sleep before driving home. I woke up about 3 am, drank a glass of water, drove home, wrote a post about it (which took entirely too long for me to write), and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up and just... laid there. I was having trouble figuring out where my body was. It just felt numbed somehow. I called my neurologist thinking it was a side effect the the drug. I'm not sure what I said, but they made me go to the ER.

I'm not sure how I drove there to be honest. I do remember somebody honking. I'm glad it was close, but still. It's a wonder I didn't get in a wreck!

I don't remember much. A yellow floor sign. A woman writing with a marker. Another woman with brown drawn on eyebrows. A machine that had a small piece of that brown first aid tape stuck to it. A name that made me think of the green emoji face (which my normal brain has yet to figure out). I had trouble talking and thinking. I remember repeating "stay still" over and over the (I think it was) several times I was instructed to, because if I didn't, I'd forget. I'm pretty sure I left my room several times. I know I went to my car once. I remember eating food, but I only recall a pineapple cup because I realized partway that I had a spoon that I could use. I kept forgetting to tell them I was hurting when they asked. I had a headache and sick stomach. I also felt so cold and my feet were like ice, but I was running a low grade fever after all.

I started feeling a little better, but the doctor still admitted me. I had a white count, but they couldn't figure out from where. I messaged a few people to let them know what was going on finding typing easier than talking. I used that to my advantage and typed out my allergies to show a nurse.

They struggled getting the IV in, even on my hand. When it finally was in I was hooked up to fluids to keep it open. More blood taken to try and figure out what was wrong. I gave them what urine sample I could which was tinted (I couldn't help it). They had already done some type of brain scan (but I didn't remember it). I kept having minor dizzy spells, but I attributed it too all the blood they took.

They kept giving me stuff, but nothing helped my headache. It wasn't a migraine, but still very nasty. I was grateful when something finally seemed to help.

My nurse came back with lots of juice to go with my super so I'd have something to drink and a container of ice water. She was new to the hospital and hung around at times just checking on me and talking. Just a nice person. It was otherwise a lot of sleeping.

The longer I stayed, the easier it was to communicate, but the tests couldn't figure out why. They ruled out seizures and a stroke. A mini stroke was highly unlikely and didn't fit. They couldn't find an infection anywhere. My white count went back to normal. They couldn't figure it out.

That was until my nurse from the previous day came back. We just talked about general things until I made a joke about the urine sample from the day before. She asked if it was clean catch and I said yes, but just barely. That ended up causing questions and her checking charts. Turns out that despite being there since the morning before, I had peed twice (with the last time hours before). She pressed on my bladder which wasn't distended. 3 bags of fluid, 3 meals (2 of which I know I ate all of), plus whatever I drank. I had been dehydrated to the point that it had caused my white count to go up and was the reason behind my confusion, lethargy, dizziness, headache, nausea, and low urine output. I was pretty surprised. I was released before lunch.

Pushing past my limits, minor medication side effects (including one long term med), staying under an electric blanket too much to stay warm (combined with exhaustion which meant longer in bed and less time awake to drink water), and pain and constant bleeding due to my IUD... all those things combined causing it to happen. I'm still... oof. Still tired. Still weak. Still recovering. Sleeping so much that the days fly by. Drinking lots of water. And otherwise doing just fine (save for my sleep schedule going to shit again). I still love my electric blanket; it's just been temporary retired until I can get myself rehydrated again. That means my other blankets are out of the vacuum bags and piled up to keep me warm ^_^

Speaking of warm, I have my very own love bug/velcro/snuggle buddy Danny who has been on me like white on rice since I got home. He's a good boy

#bluewind talks #story time #dehydration #cat danny #danny is a good boy #tw blood mention #tw menstration #tw illness

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unkindnessofone · 6 years

Text

Young & Proud

Luke Hemmings smut. I’m definitely going to Hell. I haven’t written a big smut story like this in years so…

Only read under the cut if you’re 18+ and into smut.

Where was your blue ribbon? It had not been easy to ignore Luke’s text messages, 4 AM phone calls, and private Instagram messages, but it had been a month and you denied yourself of all contact with the long haired musician with a penchant for drinking himself into clumsy oblivion. To call the three month relationship dysfunctional would be complimentary. It just didn’t work. He was nowhere near as ready for commitment as he swore up and down that he was, your schedules barely had time for morning coffee in the same city let alone cafe, and you had expectations that he was reluctant to meet. It was a mess. Of course, the sex had been delicious. It was always there between the two of you, an undeniable lust for one another’s flavor, and an almost primal need to torment one another’s bodies. That was probably the hardest part of ignoring his messages. He would bring up memories of your aching thighs on either side of his face, recall the time he poured champagne down your body and lapped it up from pussy to breasts to tongue, and even sent a picture of how hard his morning wood was due to a dream he had that involved you being throat fucked with your head at the edge of some hotel bed or another. It was not easy to pretend you weren’t inspired to speak to him. You wished privately that Hailey was having her birthday somewhere other than a club, but you weren’t surprised that she was throwing a massive bash inside 1Oak. She wasn’t really the cake at home with a few friends type. It crossed your mind not to go since Luke would most likely be in attendance, but your publicist was aggressive in her desire for you to go. It would be great publicity and with the way the season three ratings of the medical drama you played a novel paramedic on, you needed publicity. You knew enough people going that you convinced yourself it would be fine. “The guest list is over 200 people,” Through speaker phone while you were wiggling yourself into skin tight leather leggings, co star and friend, Nicola Peltz, tried to be assuring. “You probably won’t even see each other. Plus, Nick is going to be there. You can spend your time all over him.” She teased kindly. “You don’t know Luke.” Laughing back as you took a chance to catch your breath from wrestling the tight material over your hips, and thought about how tenacious your former boyfriend could be. When he wanted something, it was as if he had tunnel vision. He worked tirelessly until it was. You weren’t even slightly surprised when he appeared through the crowd to the balcony you were standing at, watching people dance, chat, and fight. You had been there a grand total of twelve minutes. Not even a drop of alcohol in your system yet. “Your usual.” He extended his arm out and offered you the drink he was holding from the rim. In his other hand, he was nursing vodka on the rocks - his favorite when he was looking to go wild. “Thank you, but I have a drink coming.” Trying to be polite, but vacant, you answered with a sucked in grin. “You trust that Jurassic World twat to get you a drink? I don’t.” He scoffed and leaned closer to you. You had turned to hold the railing with both hands, giving him your blouse covered shoulder and nothing else. “I do.” Not even bothering to slant your eyes in his direction, you grumbled. “Did you get a new phone?” He knew through mutual friends that you hadn’t, but he didn’t want to come across as creepy by making it obvious that he knew that. He had to play dumb for just a second. “I’ve been texting you.” “I’ve been trying to move on like you shouted at me to do.” As hard as you could without breaking skin, you bit into your bottom lip. He had won your attention by hitting a nerve and you were disappointed in yourself for turning to face him. “I was drunk.” Luke tried to excuse himself. “And exhausted.” You two had been mid-sex when the break up happened, him growling naked at you from the bed while you scoured the room for your dress and shoes, telling him to fuck off over and over. “You were tired too.” He offered you the drink again and reluctantly you took it straight to your mouth, gulping a first taste. “Can we talk?” “You don’t want to talk!” You laughed directly in his face. Behind you, Nick appeared with his drink and yours as well. He was timid about interrupting the conversation. He saw the blue daggers Luke threw at him over your head before fabricating a smile on his face and waving at him. “You’re right.” He agrees before leaning down and whispering directly into your ear, “I want to devour that ass one more time.” He let the tip of his tongue tease the bottom of your ear and then bit his tongue tight between his teeth. He wiggled his brows at you and stood up straight, walking away by way of Nick, nudging him playfully before going to find people he knew again. You finished the drink Luke gave you quickly in order to accept Nick’s. This was where you were supposed to be. You had fled Luke like the burning shack he was with good reason. It was just after an hour since you first stepped foot into 1Oak, but you felt like you had met your obligations. You hugged the birthday girl, danced for three songs with her and a group of her friends with cheekbones that could draw blood if you ran your finger across them, you snuggled with Nick and shared a few drinks along with giggly whispers. It was time to return home to your unfurnished bungalow in Brentwood and crash. Being with Luke for three months bored you of the club scene, you had been maxed out from feeling permanently hung over and wrecked.

Five steps away from you, just a bit to your right, Nick was hugging one of his friends from an upcoming film and saying goodbye, car keys in hand, while you listened to a girl you barely recognized drunkenly ramble on about how good it was to see you, her hands gripping your shoulder. Behind her, Luke was lazily leaning low against the back of a leather booth, eyeing you with such force it suggested that he thought his stare could harvest enough power to draw you onto his lap. He had his one ankle resting over his knee, boots tapping to a remix he hated of a song he didn’t like either while two girls were draped over either side of him. Since you saw him earlier, his flannel shirt had been unbuttoned twice more and the stoned girl with a black Dora the Explorer wig on to his left had her hands combing through what you could make out of his chest hair. You were trying to give the girl talking to you your attention, but you stared at the sight behind her and rolled your eyes right at Luke. Without meaning to, you provoked a pleased smirk from the boy.

Moving on, you hugged Hailey goodbye once more and looked around for Nick. He couldn’t have strayed too far since you two were planning to leave together. You turned to your left and then back to your right, but this time Luke’s body was blocking you.

“I don’t get a goodbye hug?” He asked, feigning sadness through a dramatic pout.

“Goodbye, Luke.” Just like you said it when you left him alone last month, you muttered in monotone. With one hand, you pat his upper arm and then side stepped away, but he stood in your way with his own step.

“I saw you roll your eyes. You don’t like other girls on me?”

“I don’t care.” Shaking your head at him, you almost stuck out your tongue childishly, but kept it together. “I just think it’s gross to do it right in the middle of a place.” You held back from accusing the girl you didn’t know from not having any class.

“You didn’t mind when it was you.” Smug, he wiggled his brows up and smiled as he pointed out a true fact.

“I never pet at your chest in the middle of a club.” Backstage surrounded by friends and opportunists alike, maybe. On the floor of a random party after four rounds of tequila shots, absolutely, but you were his ex girlfriend now it was almost mandatory for you to judge.

“We could change that.” He took your wrist in his hand gently, grazing his thumb over the vein that always fascinated him with how it protruded more so than the others running down your arm.

Falling into his blue eyes that had pulled you into a trance so many times, you found yourself softening at his touch. There was a strong desire rushing through you to just lean into him, arms around his waist and breathe in whatever warm cologne he had chosen to spray over his chest. Something held you back though; your phone buzzing in your free hand with a text from Nick, asking where you went.

“I’m leaving.” As fast as you could without whipping his hand away with yours, you separated yourself from Luke and stalked away. It was hard to keep a fast pace through the large crowd, but you tried to shake Luke’s gaze off of you as you went to find your ride.

The paparazzi lights and excited gasps from people waiting in line when you emerged couldn’t distract you from lingering sexual thoughts about Luke. Just the simple touch of his thumb print over your wrist had chills still hanging out on your arms and backside. Sexually, he was like a drug to you and you had managed to quit cold turkey, but his touch had given you the smallest hit and now your memory was practically screaming about all the good times you two had, all the different positions he folded you into, and the way his load tasted first thing in the morning when you both should have already been somewhere else for work. Nick had just handed his keys to the valet when you texted Luke, caving in, to come over tonight.

“It was very cute to watch you resist me tonight.” Through the phone Luke growled in a low tone from the backseat of a town car. He was too drunk to drive, but not to drunk to already be semi hard at the sight of having you again. “Are you home or are you still with him?” Luke checked before glancing at himself in the backseat window. His hair wasn’t behaving how he would have liked, but he also knew how much you were destined to pull on it anyway. It wasn’t as if it would look any better after you had your way with him.

“I’m home.” You had him on speaker phone, resting on your pillow, as you tried to dance your way gracefully out of the leather leggings. It wasn’t as if Luke would take them off of you without ripping them to pieces.

“Good.” Luke would have said the next thing whether or not you were alone, but he was glad to have you all to himself even if just over the phone at the moment. “I want you to get naked.” He instructed with obvious seriousness to his tone. He didn’t care if the driver was listening, he had to listen to their talk radio so it seemed like a fair exchange to the musician. “Are you taking off your clothes, baby?”

“Yes.” His voice and instructions were making your body shiver and your nipples grow firm. You sat at the edge of the bed and worked the leggings off of your ankles one by one and then slipped out of your black thong.

“What bra were you wearing?”

“Red, the one with the deep V.” It was from La Perla, but you doubted Luke ever spent enough time looking at it to see the tag. It was always just about your cleavage and then getting it off of you. With both arms behind you, you unclasped it and left it on your velvet blue chair by the window with your blouse.

“Go downstairs, walk by all your windows, and unlock the front door.” Luke instructed, his free palm adjusting his growing erection in his tight dark wash blue jeans.

Biting down on your lip, you took your phone and did just as he said. In front of your bay windows, you marched by naked and went the front door to unlock it.

“Are you almost here?”

Luke ignored your question, “Alright, baby, lay down on that day bed and get yourself wet. I’m going to be very disappointed if your sexy little pussy isn’t glistening wet when I get to you…”

It sounded like a warning and it was enough to kickstart what he wanted.

“I’m laying down…” Meekly, you assured him as you laid on your back and put the phone down by your head and ran both your hands down your stomach to your aching pussy.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How many fingers?”

“Just one.” You had your index finger rubbing a slow half circle, left and back, just softly.

“Put two inside of you.” He cleared his throat after guiding you to do what he wanted. It was turning you on too, the way he could control you just through the phone. “I’ll be there in five.” He recognized the street the driver turned onto and ventured an educated guess. “Keep touching yourself. Two fingers.’ He reminded before hanging up right away.

Your head was thrown back and you were crying like a hungry kitten on the chaise lounge, one foot flat on the satin fabric while your other leg shook from the pleasure of plunging two fingers inside of your wet and warm mound. Luke’s hands surprised you and jolted your eyes open. At your ankles, he was smiling as he knelt down to take a front row seat to your private show. He licked his lips as he pulled himself out of his zipper and boxer briefs, pumping his cock with one hand while the other slid up your leg and took over working your clit, so you could push your fingers in deeper.

“Such a pretty, pretty girl…” Luke almost sang under his breath before standing back up and showing off his stiff cock in his hand.

“I need it. I need you.” You moaned at him, but he just smiled and let his free hand roam freely around your body. He had missed it’s hills and valleys and was eager to explore the places he used to feel that he had kingdom keys to. Luke shuffled off his pants from his feet and took his hand from his cock in order to pull his flannel shirt over head. Once he knelt over you, straddling above your free breasts, he pointed the tip of his dick, a droplet of pre cum waiting, at your mouth like it was a bullseye.

“You think you can still take it all?” It had been a task the first time, but after much practice, you could deep throat Luke like it was as common as brushing your teeth before bed. You dropped your bottom lip open and took your fingers out of your pussy in order to wrap a hand around his shaft and lead it into your mouth. He shuddered at the teasing lick of his tip that you took and then the slow, but needy strokes of his cock from base to head. Once his shaft was half way buried into your mouth, he reached behind himself and pressed his thumb up against your clit, rubbing it more assertively while his finger plunged into you, causing your back to arch and a moan to coat his penis.

“Take a little more, [Y/N], don’t be shy.” He coaxed you as you leaned upward, stopping yourself before you choked. “Fuck, that’s right. Yes.” He loved when you tightened your mouth around his cock as hard as you could and then licked over and over at his suffocated tip. His eyes shut, but also rolled back as he succumb to the pleasure you showered him with. “You know when you’re a good dirty girl like this that I have to reward you…” His hand pat your pussy behind him four times before he brought his finger to his mouth to taste the spot he had missed so dearly. It might as well have been a year since he was last inside of you. A month was too long for Luke.

“How?” Going along with it, you asked with eyes fluttering up at him. You were still stroking his cock above your face. You could regret tonight tomorrow, for now you were in heaven.

He rested himself over you and teasingly poked at your wet lips below with his equally soaking cock, “I got to fuck you hard, baby.” He whispered into your ear, a secret he didn’t want to keep. “I got to give it you just the way I know you like it.” He still remembered how a director called you ‘wholesome’ and ‘delicate’ and it always made him laugh because Luke knew a different side of you. He knew the girl who pulled her knees to her chin so that he could pound deeper. He knew a girl who reached down to choke him while she rode him like she grew up on a ranch. He knew a girl who screamed his name loud enough to wake up Calum three hotel rooms down. He knew a girl who made porn blow jobs boring because his real life was better.

As Luke nibbled on your ear and you combed all of your fingers through his hair, gripping it, he drove his palpitating cock into you and let your whimper inspire him to thrust harder. Luke pulled on your legs from the thighs to bring you even closer to him, his base colliding with your aroused lips. Out of reflex, to make room for him inside of you, you lifted your knees to your bouncing breasts. He picked up the pace and panted as he watched you shake and shiver beneath him on the lounging chair. The only thing that turned him on more than how tight your pussy was gripping his shaft was watching you quiver with the ecstasy he was delivering to you.

“Yeah, take my dick.” He growled, head rolling back as you rested a hand on his hip and encouraged him to go harder. “Take my fat cock, baby.”

“Give it to me, Luke. Fuck me like I’m still yours.”

Your words of encouragement were more than enough for Luke to lean down and drill himself into you. He grunted as he clutched your legs from under your thighs, forcing your knees lower onto your chest.

“I’m going to cum. Are you going to cum with me, baby?” He asked as your free hand snaked down to rub at your clit. “Fuck, I can’t….” He was too close to wait.

“I’m cumming, Luke. Holy shit.” Your face turned to bury itself into the one arm of the chair as your legs shook without control in his hands. Luke pulled himself out as you came and let himself spray over your gorgeous breasts. He preferred them covered this way than by your knees anyway. Panting, Luke crawled off of you and laid at your side, pulling you closer to his chest and resting an arm over your messy hair. “You’re still incredible.” You gasped, legs still shaking subtly and your pussy twitching from the sensation it had missed for so long.

“That’s what you get for hanging out with that guy all night. Drove me fucking mental…” Luke pushed his long hair out of his face and sighed, trying to steady his heartbeat and catch his breath. You rested your head onto his shoulder and closed your eyes to concentrate on how fast his heart was racing under your head.

“Are we going to shower together or is that too much like old times?” You couldn’t be sure how this was supposed to go. It seemed through all his messages that he wanted to be back together, but this could have just been an intoxicated fuck. After all, sex was what you two did best together.

“I will never turn down a chance to soak up your tits.” Honest and crass as usual, Luke smiled to himself before looking down at the white mess he had left on your breasts like an unfinished Jackson Pollock. “Besides, the shower seems like a great place to lick your pussy.” He would have liked to earlier, but he was dying to be inside of you again.

#luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings au #luke hemmings smut #5sos au #5sos smut #5sos imagine #luke hemmings imagine

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