#but Yee; I closed my eyes and saw him all dressed up in a pretty white tux…

[princessphilly]

Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove​ and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted. 

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

 March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.  

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name.  He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

**

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

**

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

**

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

**

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

**

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

**

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

**

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

**

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

#hockeynetwork #Jonathan Toews #smut #angst #drabbles #blurbs #blackhawks #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

[dented-nado]

Well I mean, since you asked for requests - “If you want me, come and get me.” Maybe with the trinity? I can picture Bruce saying it as Diana and Clark try and force him to go to bed like a normal person 😂 or you know, whatever strikes your fancy!

[[HELL YES. Bruce is slightly ooc because he’s incredibly sleep deprived and I saw it as an opportunity for him to act a little loopy lol. That’s how I am at least when I’m very sleep deprived, so pulling from personal experience here. Enjoy!!]]

“It’s only been one night. Give me a break.”

“Bruce, Honey, I know its hard to tell in Gotham, especially in the winter, but it’s been several nights you haven’t been getting any sleep.” Diana pulled the chair Bruce was sitting in away from the bat-computer against Batman’s wishes.

Bruce was sure she and Clark were exaggerating, it couldn’t have been that long. Besides, he wasn’t even tired, not even a little bit.

“I’m fine, you two can stop clucking over me like hens, thanks.”

“I’ll cluck all I want when it comes to your sleeping schedule mister.” Clark declared firmly.

“Especially not after you convinced me that some humans can be ‘totally fine’ not sleeping for several days and making me feel like I wasn’t quite so weird for a split second before that all came crashing down.” Clark crossed his arms, pouting just a little bit. He didn’t seem actually that annoyed but…

Admittedly, he still felt a little bit bad about that.

“I know… I lied when I said some humans. I meant me, specifically, because I’m fine, I’m great, I’m good, I’m bursting with youthful vigor now both of you let me work. There’s crime afoot.” He declared, trying to pull his chair back forward, only to frown as he realized Diana still had an iron grip on it, so instead he stood up and walked back to the computer instead.

“Bruce, your being ridiculous… and you said "There’s crime afoot” out loud. You’re tired.“ Diana said exasperated with a hand on her head.

"Also, no offense sweet bean… but you look like you’ve been through hell, you have probably the most intense looking bags under your eyes I’ve ever seen.” Clark said, trying to be gentle but serious.

“I look fucking awesome.” Bruce protested in annoyance, not even sure what he was really doing on the computer outside of looking busy. “You’ve heard Harv, I’m a fucking pretty boy. And I feel fan-god-damn-tastic.”

Clark and Diana gave each other a look that said “Yep, he’s lost it.” That Bruce didn’t much appreciate.

He forgot what he was even doing, his new ultimate goal was to not go to sleep no matter what because he was f i n e dammit.

“Bruce, please come to bed. Besides, you know, we’ll be right there with you, we miss you.” Clark pleaded, giving Bruce very tempting puppy dog eyes.

“We can spend a little time tiring you out if you want Bat.” Diana said, soothingly rubbing his shoulder.

Tempting. But he was the god damn batman, so… “No, no bribing me doing the horizontal tango, I have a job to do.”

“The horizontal…” Diana began.

“T a n g o. Bruce, pl ea se , you need to sleep.” Clark finished.

“Why can’t I use creative words without you two thinking it means I’m tired, hmm? Clark’s called me a bean before, I am but a bean, let me live my bean life.” He momentarily felt a little dizzy and a little like he was loosing track of time and space, but regardless he made his way to the bat-mobile to go… somewhere…. who knows.

“Oh-ho-ho no, absolutely not, you are not driving like this.” Clark said immediately super-speeding in front of Bruce acting as a big warm teddy bear-like wall between Bruce and his car.

“I can do what I want. I’m rich, I’m bi, I’m batman, and I fight crime. Now ”scoot your boot.“ as they say where you come from.” Bruce said, trying to move around Clark who was so freaking fast for some reason.

“I have never said scoot your boot.” Clark said with raised eyebrows.

“Really?” Bruce asked somewhat deliriously. “Seems like a cowboy thing…” He  mumbled while moving the cowl up slightly so he could rub at his eye.

“…Would you come to bed if I dressed like a cowboy?”

Tempting. But not even saving a horse and riding a cowboy could get him to give up on his current stubborn crusade that he couldn’t even remember why he had to be on so bad… why had he been up in the first place??

“…No, so yeehaw your ass out of my  w a y .”

“No way, and your yee-haw-ing your a… s…… booty up to bed now,  you’re completely delirious.”

“Fine… maybe I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, or why right now, but I’m the world’s greatest detective, I’ll figure it out.” Bruce grumbled in annoyance.

He started walking back to his computer since he apparently couldn’t go to his car, but when he tried to sit back down he nearly yelped as it seemed Diana had thought ahead, so he had sat down right into her lap and now her very strong muscular arms were now wrapped around his waist.

“Gotcha.”

“Fu c k.” Bruce mumbled.

This was quite the predicament Batman had gotten himself into! Would he be able to figure out how to escape the strong arms of the Wonder Woman? Tune in next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel!

… Bruce squirmed for a moment grumbling before bowing his head.

“Fine… you’ve won, let’s go to bed…” Bruce conceded.

“That’s more like it” Diana said with a sigh as she gingerly let go.

That was when Bruce took his chance to escape with a triumphant and slightly evil laugh as he took off into the depths of the bat-cave.

“BruCE!” Diana chided.

Bruce just continued cackling, dropping a smoke bomb as he completely forgot that would do nothing against Clark’s super vision as he decided to head for the bat-plane. Good thing he had several bat-themed vehicles.

“Bruce get back here!” He heard Clark call sternly.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt!” Diana yelled.

“If you want me, come and get me!” Bruce taunted with an incredibly delirious smile, not realizing he was about to run into a wall.

He would have, if Clark had not been in front of him again in an instant, causing Bruce to collide with Clark’s chest rather than a rock hard wall. Clark scooped Bruce up into his arms despite the Bat’s protesting and flew him back over to where Diana had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot.

She softly flicked the tip of Bruce’s nose to get his attention and to stop flailing. “Now are you going to be a good bat and change out of the suit yourself, or are we going to have to rip you out of it kicking and screaming?”

Bruce frowned, before getting another idea and perking up slightly. “…There are other ways of getting me out of it~” He said putting on his flirtiest Brucie voice.

“Nice try B, but you blew your chance at the 'horizontal tango’ when you decided to bolt like that.” Clark said looking down at Bruce now with his own smirk on his face.

“Aw, nuts…” Bruce grumbled in surrender, going limp as Clark set him down, pulling off the cowl as he knew he was defeated.

“Your not getting any nuts B, keep up.” Clark said absolutely delighted.

Diana rolled her eyes. “You pick now to make a joke like that Kansas?”

Clark grinned. “Judging by how sleepy he is he won’t even remember that I made my first ever joke like that in front of him.”

“How devilish of you.” Diana commented with an amused smile.

Bruce grumbled as he stripped off the rest of the batsuit. “I wanted nuts though.” He mumbled. “nuts sound good. I like nuts… especially cashews.”

“Your right, he’s definitely not going to remember.” Diana commented, taking Bruce’s hand once he was down to the black undershirt and thin pants he wore under the suit.

Clark put his hand on Bruce’s back as the moved out of the cave. “Come on sleepy-head, off to an adventure called 'bed-time’.”

“But I wanted to fightttt…” Bruce slurred slightly.

“You can fight exaustion by sleeping.” Diana suggested.

“I’ll kick exaust-ian’s a s s.”

“That’s the spirit.” Clark laughed as he gingerly lifted the incredibly tired bat onto his bed before going to get ready for bed himself along with Diana.

“What are we going to do with that man?” Diana whispered, unable to help a small smile, after they had changed into their sleep clothes and came back to find Bruce completely zonked out , snoring slightly with his mouth hanging open.

“We’ll force him to have a normal sleep schedule yet.” Clark whispered, getting into bed and pulling Bruce close in order to spoon him.

Diana joined in on the other side, snuggling Bruce’s head against her chest and putting her arm around both him and Clark as she got settled.

“Our new mission?” Diana suggested.

“Our new mission, will kick ’'exaust-ian’s” butt.“ Clark whispered with a grin.

Diana had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"You’ll make a joke about Bruce wanting 'nuts’ but you’ll never say the word "ass”, will you?“ She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nope.”

They shared a quiet chuckle before settling in to fall asleep themselves, their very tired, but at least now very asleep bat cuddled between them.

#causeimamerican #superwonderbat #superbat #superwonder #wonderbat #prompt fill #my writing #<3

[tillmays]

Tequila

It's Halloween 8 months has passed since Riley left to her mission. The boys are having a party at Mac's place. Bozer made the food, Mac and Desi helped with the decorations. The place was packed they were having a blast.

Mac was dancing with Desi to a slow song. Bozer started playing old romantic songs he drank all night. Desi- hey Bozer after this one. I will choose the next song. Bozer- uh uh no I am the DJ here. Desi- ugh it's supposed to be a party you know! Bozer- I'm just a little tipsy. One of Bozer’s friends- Tipsy?! Boy you are more than that. Bozer- hey leave me alone. Bozer went to grab more beers for everyone. He opened the fridge and saw a little box that said “Mac” he looked round with an extrañe look on his face until he saw Mac. Boz- Mac! Mac! Mac! Mac- geez Boz what wrong stop yelling. Bozer- sorry a lot of people in here you know. Mac- so what up?. Mac opened a beer. Bozer- I opened the fridge to get more beers and a saw this with your name on it. Mac- what? He grabbed the little box and walked a way into his room. Bozer stayed in the kitchen. He was all alone took a deep breath and nervous not knowing what was inside of who was it from Mac opened the little box. It was to little bottle of tequila shaped in the form of skulls. He grabbed them and laughed and smiled. He rushed outside and started looking for her expecting to see her, for a sign of hope he though is she here? It can't be, finally she's home. , but he didn't find her he went back to his room.

Bozer knock the door and walks in. -bro what up you ok? “Yeah” he was sitting by the bed with the two little bottles on his hands. So who is it from? Bozer already had a feeling that he knew who it was from. At that moment Desi was walking to Macs bedroom the door was a little open. She was about to knock when she heard Mac say. “Her. It's from her.” -what? you serious? “Yes. There's a story behind this” -oh it better be a good one, let me see them what is it vodka? “Tequila” -oh so you were getting lit then. So tell me the story. “It was at a mission back in Mexico. It was her second year at the phoenix. Jack stayed at a town for orders of Matty, so Riley and I had to keep driving to the next town. A little one by the way. It was “Dia de los muertos” and the guys we were tracking wasn't there yet, so anyways we were bored, and we were at this club restaurant I don't know how to call it, but we ate and it was late at night the band was playing, and we were bored. Were actually I was the one who was bored. She's the life of the party everywhere she goes, she looks the good side of everything. she was dancing and hahah the guys playing the trumpets was dancing with her on stage she's wearing this white dress a little tight but at the same time something loose...” -ok.. Mac eyes illuminated for a second and his smile was big and radiant just of thinking of her.

Flashback

Riley is dancing and sees Mac watching the bottle of beer in his hand. And at the same time alert of the door in case something happened. She walked to the bar. -hey two shot of tequila here plis”. The bartender approaches her and grabs a basquet that was at the other side of the bar. And grabs the two little bottles shaped in form of skulls. “What is this?” - oh tequila. We are giving it to the “outsiders” you know. Make it “festive” according to my boss. “Well I think they are cool.” - it's on the house. “Oh well thanks” she walks to the table Mac was distracted she appears from the back and scares him. “HHAA” - JESUS RILES.. Stop playing. She was close to him talking behind him. “Uh boo hoo you have been contemplating that beer for most then an hour. Here are pretty girls music and alcohol” she puts out the two bottles. -what is that? “Uh water duh. Its tequila” -we can't drink that. We are working. “Oh god if I knew you were going to be this lame I wouldn't have accepted this job. In fact, I would rather be in the other town with Jack” -oh now you're just being mean. “Well your boring me to dead. Come on drink it lets have fun. Those guys are not coming right now so.. drink it drink it drink it! -ok ok fine. Give me that. “yees. Come on” Riley took him dancing. The bad guys walks in and start shooting. They start running and hide behind the bar. -oh so they weren't coming? He said sarcastically. “Ups” he looked at her upset. -hey! You were the one that listened to me. since when do you hear someone else that not your head? It's your fault too. Riley grabs two more bottles. -what are you doing? “For the road” - leave that. “Alright” Mac walks out first. But as we know this girl has problems following the rules and do what she's told. She grabs them. And catch Mac, and she put them on the pocket of his jacket without him noticing. They took the truck of the bad guys. They leave the place. She said laughing. “See you have to relax more. Live the moment. Or as Jack says they said at the same time. “CRAPE DIEM” hahaha. “Here give me your jacket” -what for? I'm not giving you my jacket. “Fine” she got closer to him -what are you doing?. She put her hands inside his pocket. “One for me and one for you” - you took those? “Well yeah”. - you stole those?! “They were free! Look I don't care if you believe me. it yours now. Take it or leave it. - are you sure they were free? “Yes scout boy, they were free. Happy?” Mac was driving, so he asked her to open it for him. “Cheers” they were exchanging looks. A very very full of mischief looks. End of flashback. “And that day she reminded me that sometimes you just have to breath and live the moment. Just be and enjoy”. - mh I get it. that's sweet man, that was very Riley of her. “ahha yeah it was”. -wait dude you said Mexico right?. “Yes??” - she could be there maybe we can track her and.. “bozer no. calm down, we can't. Matty will kill us. and Riley is not dumb. She knows we will try that. She's very careful. In fact, we are the morons for thinking that she wouldn't think of us making a plan to find her. Maybe she just sent this to let us know that she ok. we can't risk it” - Riley is worth the risk. “ I know buddy. But things are what they are. That's here work now, and you have to accept it” -accept it? Dude she has been gone for 8 MONTHS when she was supposed to be gone for TWO MONTHS she should be home by now. And you're telling me to let it go? Don't you think its weird? Don't you miss her? “Of course I do. but we can't. At least for now. So chill Boz” -im sorry im just drunk. “It's ok just go have some fun”. Desi was behind the door listening to their conversation. She didn't know what to feel or think. It was weird for her. She didn't know what to do. she felt in a difficult position, but she took a deep breath and knocked the door. -hey so here you are you two! Boz let me play something it's my turn. She decided to act cool with it, like she did not hear the conversation. -no IM the dj here! -Mac help me here. I don't want to get tough on him, not today. “ Ok just give me a moment alright” Desi looked a little out of place, but she just played along with it. - ok I will be outside strangling him. “I will be outside before that happens ok” -ok. Mac took the bottles and looked at them and smiles and drank them. He put the two empty bottles on his cabinet of his nightstand. He was about to leave the room when he saw a photo in his desk. 

* Just the two of us by Grover Washington Jr  plays in the background.*  

He grabbed the photo and smiled. “uh.. * he let out a big sigh* I miss you guys. yep your worth the risk...”  his eyes focused on Riley. “you better be safe”

Desi- Bozer i swear im gonna kill you give me the phone!

Bozer- No! Mac! Mac! she's going to kill me! 

Mac- uh God.. Bozer give her the phone!!

#MacGyver #macgyver 2016 #MacGyver Fanfiction #macgyver fic #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #riles #tristinmays #lucas till #lucasxtristin #macriley #mac x riley #jack dalton #George Eads #my fic #fanfiction #My Story #thewritingofRobin

[p-artsypants]

Much Obliged

Inspired by @bugaboo-n-bananoir‘s amazing Cowboy!Adrien and Witch!Marinette Au. 

I’m probably going to write more to this later. It’s just too funny.

Ao3

---

Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity.

Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy.

It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision either. He had always been obsessed with American Westerns. Especially John Wayne. He practically worshipped the man.

He had a collection of hats, boots, spurs, and chaps. He had his favorite bolo tie, and every summer for two weeks, he helped out at his uncle’s ranch in the countryside, where he learned a thing or two about riding horses, lassoing, and other things his father would probably have heart attack over if he knew.

Yes, Adrien was obsessed with Cowboys and the Cowboy lifestyle.

So much so, that when he lost this mother, and subsequently emotionally lost his father, his closeted obsession became very public.

A 14 year old boy walking around with cowboy boots, hat, spurs and occasional chaps wouldn’t have been as jarring if they were in Texas. But given they were in the middle of Paris, France...he pretty much stuck out as a sore thumb. Even more so in the circles his father was included in. Sprinkling in a few ‘yeehaw’s, ‘howdy’s, and ‘pardner’s into his French was also pretty jarring.

And a complete embarrassment to his father, Gabriel Agreste, fashion icon.

“Adrien, I insist you stop this foolishness!” Gabriel said one day, after Adrien had turned up to a photo shoot in full gear.

“I cain’t pa!” Adrien yelled back. “It’s in my blood!”

“Stop talking like that! You don’t have a Texan accent!”

“I reckon I do!”

For a year, the arguments would continue, getting louder and louder until Adrien would plug his ears and start yodeling to drown his father out.

Eventually, they came to an agreement. Adrien would pretend to be like every normal Parisian at photo shoots, fashion shows, and big events. But he could continue to be a Cowboy at home without being reprimanded.

It worked for a while, really in Gabriel’s favor. The brief appearances of Cowboy Adrien in the past were written off as a phase.

But then Adrien demanded to go to school.

“I’m tired of bein’ cooped up here like a chicken! I want to go out and meet other folks!”

“You’re not like other folks! Er—other people!” Gabriel argues back. “You’re...special.”

“Sir, if I may?” Nathalie, Gabriel’s Stoic secretary spoke up. “Perhaps Adrien attending public school would be a good thing. It might encourage him to…drop some habits.”

Begrudgingly, Gabriel agreed, and Adrien was off to school.

Being homeschooled most of his life, Adrien didn’t have many friends. But he did have Chloe, who tolerated his Cowboy-ness with some degree of skepticism. She was never vocal about it, but she did secretly judge him, worry for his sanity. It was her school, her class, that he was transferring into today.

She waited for him at the front door, frowning slightly when she saw him exit the sedan with a white hat, flannel shirt, jeans, boots, and a wide belt buckle with a bronco on it.

But she smiled once he made eye-contact with her. After all, he was still very famous, and very handsome. “Howdy Chloe.”

“Oh yee-haw Adrikins!” She sang, clinging to his arm. “I’m so glad your father let you finally come to school!”

“Me too! But I reckon he just got annoyed with me practicing my rope tricks in the foyer all the time. The other day I lassoed a vase and smashed it. Not too happy ‘bout that, he was.”

“Oh, like he couldn’t buy a hundred more,” she waved her hand. “Come with me! I’ll show you to your seat!”

Upon entering the school, Adrien was suddenly bombarded with fans asking for autographs. It seemed everyone was just taking his attire for an interesting choice of fashion. That was what Chloe was hoping for.

But as soon as he started tipping his hat as a reply to ‘thank you’s, she started to see the eyebrows rising. People were suspicious. Maybe they’d just think it was part of the look. Yeah…maybe…

—

Marinette was not having a great day. Not a bad day though! Just not great. For one thing, she heard that Chloe Bourgeois was going to be in her class again this year. Again. Seriously, did Chloe ask to put in the same class on purpose? It was totally unfair!

But she was wearing her favorite black dress today, one that was enchanted to have a galaxy glittering on it, and if you looked closely, you could see it moving. It made her feel powerful, and not at all like the half-washed witch that she was. Sure she knew a few spells, but nothing very powerful, or life changing.

And certainly no curses, like Chloe told everyone she did. Hexes, yes, but not curses. Curses were powerful and crippling and permanent, even down bloodlines. Hexes would pass over time, like a bad pimple or excessive farting. Not really something she could claim as her work.

So that in laid the problem. A girl that calls herself a witch, but doesn’t really have the power to show it? Might as well paint a giant target on the forehead with a sign that said, “I’m delusional, please laugh at me!”

But things were going to be different this year! She was going to stand up for herself and she was going to prove she could do magic!

“Are you ready for school, Marinette?” A sweet voice, her familiar Tikki, asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go!” She beckoned the ladybug-like fairy into her purse.

But immediately after leaving her parents bakery with a box of macrons to share, she was knocked off balance by a cyclist and dropped the box. Thirteen smashed macrons on the ground.

“This is an ill omen.” She stated gravely.

“Yes, but you still have seven good ones left in the box!” Tikki reassured.

Marinette smirked. “Then lets get to school before I spill them all!”

Only a minute later did she crash again, this time only breaking one cookie. The person she ran into was another girl, a student like her.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette stated, helping the girl to her feet. “I’m so clumsy!”

“That’s alright clumsy girl.” Said the newbie. “I’m Alya.”

“I’m Marinette! You must be new here, right?”

“Yep! I’m starting in Miss Bustier’s class. How about you?”

“I’m in her class too!”

“Oh lucky break! I’m horrible with talking to new people on my own. Thanks for the ice breaker!” She laughed.

Marinette gave her a flat look. “Well, see if I ever purposely run into you again.”

Alya just laughed more. “You’re funny! Let’s sit together, and then you can give me the low down on the hierarchy of the class.”

“Hierarchy?”

“Yeah, like who’s popular, who’s at the bottom of the totem pole.”

“Oh that’s easy. I’m at the bottom!”

“No way! How? You’re so nice!”

“Well…” might as well bite the bullet. If she could tell the new kid first before someone else did, maybe she’d have a chance. “I’m sort of…a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Yeah…like…” She snapped her fingers and a small flame ignited on her thumb.

“Wow! That’s so cool! Can you teach me!?”

“Well…I’m not very good. I’m still learning.”

“Aren’t we all? I’m training to be a journalist, but I know I’m not good enough to work for any papers, except maybe the school paper. But I can teach you about inverted pyramids!”

“Sounds like a plan!” Marinette laughed. “But let’s get to class before we’re late on the first day!”

“Awesome! Day one and I already have a new best friend!”

—

Once they reached the classroom, Chloe let out a sigh of relief. She was queen here, and no one would say a thing to Adrien as long as she was around.

“This is your seat, Adrikins!” She gestured to the place right in the front row. “And I sit right behind you, so you can talk to me whenever you need to!”

“Much obliged, Chloe.”

“Oh! You want to see something hilarious?”

“You know I’m always up for a rip roaring good time!”

“Then watch!” She spat out her gum, and then held the wad out to Sabrina, who then placed the gum on the bench adjacent to Adrien. They they both started giggling.

“Why Chloe!” Adrien frowned at his longtime friend. “That’s low down, and dishonest. Why’d you do a thing like that?”

“It had to be done, Adrien. The girl who sits here is a practicing witch. We had to keep her in her place, or she’ll get too cocky and curse us all!”

“One of them spell casters?”

“Yep! A ‘bonafide witch’!” She put it in quotation marks.

“Well, I’ll be.” He knelt, and started to pick at the gum. “I’d think if you’d have a witch in your midst, you’d want to keep her happy, or else she’d hex you in revenge!”

“It was a joke Adrien! She doesn’t know any magic! She just thinks she does!”

“Ahem!” A small voice cleared her throat from behind him.

Adrien turned around to face a girl who was small in frame. She was adorable, with her black hair in pigtails, and a black dress full of a moving galaxy of stars. But her bluebell eyes shined with anger.

Adrien stood and raised the brim of his hat to her. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Yeah right, Clint Eastwood. Dealing with Chloe was hard enough, now I gotta deal with two of you!?”

“It really wasn’t—“

“First you steal my usual seat, and now you had to go and ruin my new one!”

“Please listen…”

“Forget it! Just—sit your chap-less ass over there and leave me alone!”

Adrien did as he was told, sliding into the bench next to another boy. Adrien sighed, resting his head on his hand.

“Tough break,” said the other boy. “What’s with the…get up?”

Adrien flicked his eyes over to his bench mate, a kid with glasses, headphones, and a red cap on. He didn’t have the gumption to reply with his usual vigor. “I’m a cowboy.”

“Oh.” Said the boy. “All the time?”

“Yep.”

“Oh…cool.”

Soon enough, the teacher arrived and called roll. Unfortunately, Adrien was too caught up in his gloom to realize what was happening, and his neighbor had to nudge him when his name was called.

“Pre-sent!” Adrien stood, raising his hand in the air.

The class laughed behind him.

Adrien sat back down, pulling his hat down to hide his face.

“Eager, are we?” Asked the other kid.

“Er, a wee, I reckon. Never been to school before. Never had any friends ‘cept Chloe.”

“Dude, that’s rough. Sounds like you need to make new friends! I’m Nino. Nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Niño.”

“It’s Nino.”

“That’s what I said.”

Nino quirked his lip. “Dude, if you want to get in good with everyone, I’d make up with Marinette.”

“Who?”

Nino pointed at the girl across the aisle from him.

“The witch?”

“Aw, did Chloe call her that?”

“I mean, isn’t she one? She looks all magical like.”

“I mean…she’s got some slight of hand stuff, and she’s got some pretty good hunches, but I wouldn’t call her a witch.”

Adrien flicked the brim of his hat. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Seriously dude, you always talk like that?”

“Sure! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are you like, from Texas?”

“No sir, native Parisan, born and raised!”

Nino squinted at him. “Then why…?”

“Just a pure bred Cowboy, don’t matter where you come from. It’s what’s in your heart.”

“Oh, he’s corny too.”

—

After school, Marinette stood at the steps of the school, the rain pattering against the sidewalk in a downpour. True, her house was just around the corner, but it was coming down pretty hard.

“If only I knew weather changing spells.” She lamented.

“You do! You can make it rain!” Said Tikki from her purse.

“Yeah, over someone’s head! But I don’t think that’s going to do us any good here.”

“Don’t look like it’ll let up soon, I s’pose.” Said a man’s voice from behind her.

Marinette hunched her shoulders and turned away from him.

“Aw shucks, I was lookin’ to patch things up, considering I didn’t make a mash with you back there.”

“If you’re here to tease me again, then you can right on your merry way.”

“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Little Lady. I promise, I was trying to take the gum off, not put it on. Chloe was the one responsible for that. I didn’t want to get on your bad side.”

“Why? Because I’m a witch?” She bit.

“Well you are, ain’tcha?”

She turned to face him, her lips thin. “I’m as much of a witch as you are a cowboy.”

He nodded, “That’s what I thought, darlin’. And I only meant I wanted to catch your good side, only on account I got not many friends. Chloe, and now Niño—“

“Nino.”

“That’s what I said.”

She smiled.

“And I don’t like to make enemies. Let’s start again, ah? I’m Adrien, Adrien Agreste.”

“Son of Gabriel Agreste.” She added.

“Ah, so you heard of me? Famously or infamously?”

“Alya mentioned it, actually. I’m a fan of your father’s work, as a designer. I didn’t recognize you from the ads.”

“Reckon you wouldn’t. My old man doesn’t let me wear comfortable clothes on set.” He smirked, “But your name, My Lady?”

“I’m Marinette.”

“Marinette. I like it. Like a doll.”

Now that the miscommunication was over, Marinette started to feel her chest warm at his presence. His manner of speaking made her felt safe. And he sure was cute!

“You know, I was wonderin’. If you’re a witch, why don’tcha got a big ole’ hat?”

“Oh,” she grew slightly solemn. “I did have one. But I lost it last time I went flying.” Then she winced, realizing he might not believe her.

“Flying? Like on a broomstick and everythin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that sounds mighty nice. Real nice. I wish I could ride a broomstick. I barely get to ride a horse! No where to hitch em in Paris! But a broom, why, you could just stand it up in a corner when you’re done!”

He wasn’t laughing at her. In fact, he looked genuinely interested. “I could take you sometime, out for a flight?”

“Would you? That’d be swell!” He beamed at her, setting her heart fluttering. “Here, since your hat is missing.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head, ever so carefully. “Can’t let you melt in the rain, Miss Witch.”

“Melt? Like the Wicked Witch of the West? Are you calling me wicked?”

“Never dream of it, My Lady! I told you I didn’t want to cross you. I don’t need no hexes. I left all my hexes in Texas.”

The look she gave him at that comment had him bowled over in laughter.

She couldn’t help but join him.

By time they collected themselves, a silver sedan pulled up to the curb. “Well, looks like my hoss is here. Keep the hat, Marinette. I looks mighty nice on you.”

“T-Thanks!” She stuttered.

“See you tomorrow, My Lady!” He called as he ran into the rain.

“T-tomorrow! Yes! I—wow, why am I stuttering?”

“I think I reckon!” Tikki chirped, from her bag.  

“Oh shush!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #witch marinette #cowboy adrien #AU #fluff #humor #fanfiction

[sinfulserpents]

Late Night Devil

Billy Hargrove x fem! reader

Slightly inspired by the song “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer 

warnings: billy being his usual asshole self, bitchy! reader, unprotected sex, angst

THIS IS MY TRASHIEST WORK YEE YEE IM SORRY

Billy was pissed off. 

Actually, the crushed red solo cup would probably tell you he was far past the point of being pissed, he was furious – but he knew he didn’t have the right to be this angry.

He normally enjoyed parties, and that was usually because you were on his arm for most of the night – but instead, you were on Sam Porter’s who was grinning as if he had just won the damn lottery.

He practically had.

You were dressed to the tens, the little red dress was barely covering your ass, and the fishnet tights that covered your legs sent a shiver through Billy’s spine and caused his member down stairs to tighten in his denim jeans.

Billy watched as Sam slid his grimy hand down the curve of your spine and rested it on your ass – you didn’t even swat it away which made Billy clench his teeth.

How were you okay with the blonde haired, freckled douchebag touching you like he had the night before?

Tossing the cup to his feet, Billy willed himself to look away as you led Sam to the dance floor – turning around so your back was against his front, your hips gently grinding against his.

Billy planted his feet because you were having a damn good time and he wasn’t going to be the asshole who ruined it, but the moment that Sam nipped on your earlobe and whispered something in your ear that made your lips part and your hand fly back into the boys hair; he was on one.

With clenched palms, Billy pushed past the bodies of his classmates that got in his way until he was standing in front of you. Sam’s face was buried in your neck, and your eyes met Billy’s – but you didn’t stop your movements. Instead, your hand reached out for Billy’s arm, tugging him towards you; your chests pressed together.

Billy’s hands immediately settled for their usual place on your hips, as you wrapped your arms around his neck causing Sam to finally look up with a confused expression.

Without saying anything, you began a steady rhythm against the two boys, but your focus was now solely on Billy who was pressing his forehead against yours.

It was erotic – but Billy doesn’t like to share.

So without so much as a goodbye to the flustered boy you both left on the makeshift dance-floor of whoever’s shitty house you were at, Billy tugged you behind him until you were in his car – and pretty soon in his bed.

It was a mess of tangled limbs, and tongues fighting for dominance – teeth clashing kisses and nails scratching the others back. For now you were his and Billy was going to relish in it.

His hips thrust against yours sporadically as he drew closer and closer to his edge, your eyes closed in bliss as little gasps flew past your swollen lips. 

“Y-you’re so fucking tight,” Billy grunted, his arms holding your thighs as he pushed them onto his shoulders. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum – can daddy cum in your wrecked cunt?”

“P-please,” the word was barely register-able with how breathless you were.

If there was one thing Billy Hargrove was good at, it was fucking.

Your legs shook as your orgasm came crashing through your body, hands clasping the blankets beneath you – your pussy clenching around Billy’s solid cock was enough to send him spilling inside you.

With a gruntled moan, Billy pulled out of you – placing your legs down on the bed gently before rolling beside you. Silence filled the air as you both tried to tether yourselves to reality – after a while, Billy turned his head to face you.

“I fucking love you, ya know that?” He spoke, softly running his fingers up and down your arm; it caused goosebumps to spread across your skin.

With a huff, you pushed yourself upright before swinging your legs over the side of his bed and began to pick up your clothes.

“What are you doing?” Billy furrowed his brows, quickly sitting up.

“I’m going home.”

“What?! No, it’s late – just stay the night.”

Shaking your head, you pulled the tight dress over your body before picking up Billy’s denim jacket and holding it up, “can I borrow this? It’s cold out.”

“Y/N, fuck! Just stay here tonight, I’ll drive you back home tomorrow.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled the jacket over your body before walking towards his bedroom door.

“Goodbye, Billy.”

                                                         ✧✧✧

Billy was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He knew he fucked up last night when he told you he loved you. He couldn’t possibly love you – because he doesn’t know how to.

The phone was beeping as it waited for him to press call, the little red button almost taunting him. He had to apologise to you because you were the only decent thing he had in the shitty town of Hawkins.

So before he could stop himself, Billy had pressed call; waiting for you to pick up. He knew you were home – Saturdays were for studying.

“Hello?”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Billy was half tempted to just slam the device back into its holder and go get drunk to the new Metallica album, but he didn’t.

“Y/N, it’s uh – it’s Billy.”

“What do you need, Hargrove?”

The complete emptiness of your voice made Billy shudder – it was as if you were annoyed he was calling you at all. 

You probably were.

“I just wanted to, you know, uh-apologise for what I said last night before you left. You know,” he stuttered, why was he so nervous? “When I said I love you, obviously I don’t – we promised that this was just going to be sex; so I wanted you to know that I don’t love you and I’m sorry if that made you leave.”

“Oh,” You voice was barely above a whisper and Billy couldn’t tell if you were relieved or upset by his confession. “Well, I was actually going to call you and let you know that I don’t think we should do this anymore. It isn’t a healthy situation.”

“You don’t want to fuck anymore?”

“No Billy, I want to fall in love with someone and fuck someone who I know loves me – I’ve got to go; I have a date.”

Before Billy could even start his next sentence the sound of the disconnected call rang through his ear. With a frustrated huff, Billy slammed the phone against the wall and stomped to his room.

Guess it was bourbon and Metallica after all.

                                                       ✧✧✧

The next time Billy saw you was a couple of days later at school.

You had taken two days off which made him nervous – but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. 

Your smile was bright as you dragged a boy through the school; his expression matched yours except that while you were staring at the school with wonder, the boy was watching you with what Billy knew all too well as lust.

Billy felt his heart clench as he noticed the boys hand clenched in yours; he must be the douche you went on the date with. You smiled widely as you made your way past him without a second glance and stopped at your locker that was only a few feet away from his.

“You can come over to mine after school,” you chuckled to the boy, turning your lock and opening the locker door. 

You hadn’t even noticed that Billy was staring at the whole exchange, so he slammed his locker closed to gain your attention and walked across the hall to you.

It was childish – he knew that much, but Billy was jealous.

He was jealous that this asshat that looked like a ripped off version of Tom Cruise was staring at you like he was going to take you right then and there against the lockers. He was jealous that you were feeding into it, and he was jealous that it only took you a couple of days to forget about him.

“Y/L/N,” he practically spat, completely ignoring the boy next to you – pushing himself in-between you so he could lean against your locker. Your eyes met his and Billy’s heart almost stopped; he hated the way you were practically looking through him.

“What do you want, Hargrove?”

Your tone was harsh and cold – and Billy wanted nothing more than to go back to the day he first met you when you stuttered and rambled to him about how much you loved AC/DC when you saw his shirt.

“I want you naked in my bed, tonight.”

“Fuck off, Hargrove”

Slamming your locker shut equally as loud as he had done prior; you pushed his shoulder so he had to lean against the locker to stop himself from falling to the ground; Billy watched as you grabbed the now confused boys hand and tugged him down the hall and into your class.

Fuck.

                                                       ✧✧✧

Romantic gestures almost always made Billy want to puke.

They were cheesy and disgusting, so he hated that he was standing on your front porch with a pink rose in his hand and a shitty apology planned out in his mind. Knocking on your door, Billy’s impatiently tapped his foot as you swung open the door with a tired expression. 

Your eyes immediately darted to the crimson colour that stained his broken knuckles and shirt – but it wasn’t his blood. Before you could question him, Billy rushed to speak

“He was using you,” he blurted, sheepishly holding out the rose that you didn’t take. With a deep sigh, Billy threw the shitty flower behind him. “That jerk that you went out with, overheard him in the carpark talking to his friends about how he was going to fuck you and then move on. Said you were desperate.”

“So,” you began, causing Billy heart to thump against his ribs so hard that he thought it was going to burst out of his chest. “Let me guess, you beat him up?”

“Fuck yeah I did, he was treating you like a fucking toy, Y/N.”

“Isn’t that what I was to you too? Someone you could go to, to get your fix and then leave?”

“No! God no!” He shouted, running his hand through his hair before taking a deep breath – it was late and he knew your neighbours were assholes who would probably put in a complaint against you.

“Then what was I, Billy? You said you couldn’t possibly love me.”

“But I did – I do!”

“Do you? Or do you just think you do? Do you even know what love feels like, huh?”

“You know I know what love feels like,” he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. You knew that the only person who had shown him honest and pure love was his mother. “I feel that warm feeling every time I look at you and it scares me, because I know I’m going to fuck it up. I’m a shitty person, Y/N. I’m a fucking dick, but every time I wake up I’m reaching for you, but you’re never there. I want you to be there.”

Your eyes shut as a single tear ran down your left cheek and Billy hesitantly reached out to wipe it. His calloused pad of his thumb swept under your eye lightly, and you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Where do we go from here, Billy?”

“I’m not sure, but wherever it is; I want to discover it with you. I want to fall completely in love with you – I want you to consume me, but only if you want me too.”

Pressing your lips against his, Billy felt you nod – a silent confirmation that held much more emotion than any words could.

Sometimes the devil needs love too.

#billy hargrove imagines #billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove one shot #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things s3 #stranger things season 3 #stranger things billy #stranger things billy hargrove #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things oneshot #stranger things one shot #strangerthings #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

[rendezvousroger]

Serendipity (Part 9)

Ben Hardy x Reader (ft. Harry Styles)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

A/N: sorry for the long wait! I’ve honestly been so busy lately with college and since I broke my foot my life’s been pretty crazy. here’s part 9! hope you guys like it. I will probably delete this taglist since I don’t know if all of the people I’m tagging are actually reading the story so if you guys still want to be part of it, let me know!

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

“I’m coming home. H”

Your heart felt as if it would burst out of your chest. A wave of mixed feelings made your stomach turn. You didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Excited? Intrigued?

Harry coming back to Los Angeles meant he would have to stop by your apartment, which once belonged to the two of you, to pick up his things.

You knew for a fact he would not stay over with you since you pretty much did not end things well with each other, but he had every right to stop by and pick up  what was left of his stuff from your apartment and move out for good.

“when?”

Was all you could really text back.

Your head starting thinking about all the things you would have to do before seeing him again. You were considering doing your makeup and wearing his favorite outfit on you to give him a taste of what he had lost, but you were also considering leaving his stuff outside of your apartment so you wouldn’t have to face him.

You were confused. Were you really ready to see him again after the breakup?

“The day after tomorrow.”

The day after tomorrow.

That meant you really didn’t have enough time to get mentally prepared to see the love of your life who pretty much broke you down into pieces.

“You alright?” Ben’s voice made you turn your head towards him a bit too fast.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “it was just a text from a very drunk Zendaya.”

“Well then expect to see a very drunk Rami once you come inside.” Ben smiled back at you.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you saw no other than Rami Malek wearing what you assumed was Lucy’s red carpet dress for the SAG Awards. His eyes were bloodshot and looked very sleepy, he was definitely going to regret drinking that much.

“Oh my god.” You said as you covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing even harder.

“I had to challenge my inner Freddie Mercury, dear.” Rami said as he walked towards you, his breath smelling of a mixture of alcohol.

Lucy’s laugh could be heard all around the room as she recorded Rami on her phone, Joe was trying to drink what was left of the tequila bottle and Gwilym was passed out (probably drunk too) on the coach and Ben was also laughing at Rami.

You realized how happy it made you to be around them and how they made you forget the shitty things you had gone through.

“It’s pretty late already so I was wondering if you want to stay here?” Ben asked you.

You looked at your phone and saw it was already 5:30 in the morning. Luckily you didn’t have much to do the next day (well basically this day now),  so you did not freak out.

You considered Ben’s offer but you weren’t really prepared to stay over yet. You were tired and needed the warmth and coziness of your own bed and you also wanted to go over Harry’s unexpected come back.

“Thank you so much though.” You politely declined Ben’s offer and gently took his hand.

“It’s alright,” Ben smiled again, “let me walk you to the door.”

You walked holding hands with Ben, the sun was starting to come up and the streets were empty and silent. You felt a wave of peace hit your soul as you waited for you chauffeur to pick you up and stood there next to Ben’s presence.

Not even 10 minutes went by and Dustin, your chauffeur, arrived.

“I had such an amazing time.” You smiled at Ben.

“I did too.” He replied.

“Thank you for this.” You genuinely said.

“I hope we can see each other soon.” Ben said, his cheeks warming up.

“Of course we will.” You assured him and went up to hug him.

He hugged you tightly and you felt so comfortable in his arms, you really did not want to let go but you figured Dustin would get uncomfortable.

Ben opened the car door for you and you smiled as you got inside the car and waved goodbye at him.

Once you got to your apartment you shut down all the curtains and made your room as dark as possible so you could get some sleep, your mind kept going through the thought of Harry coming back but you also couldn’t stop thinking about Ben and the way he had made you feel.

To say you were confused would be the least.

You fell asleep and were woken up by a call from your manager Andrew. You rubbed your eyes and felt your head hurt slightly as if you could be hungover but not really.

“Yeah?” You asked, looking at the clock and realizing you had slept 5 hours.

“I see you had a night.” He said, you couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or excited.

“Well I did win the award so.” You replied, a bit confused and pretty sleepy.

“I’m not talking about that.” Andrew said and you were too tired to understand what he was trying to say.

“I have no idea wh-“

“You’re already all over the news with your new blondie dear.” He cut you off and then it hit you.

Ben.

You quickly opened up Twitter and saw your notifications were filled with pictures of you and Ben hugging outside of Joe’s house.

Articles had already been made about those pictures and all of them were about “Y/N’s new hottie.” “Y/N and Bohemian Rhapsody’s star.”. “Y/N and Harry Styles are really over.”

The media had started talking and making up rumors about you spending the night with him and leaving the house early in the morning after sharing an “intimate hug”.

You closed your eyes in frustration and felt a few tears stream down your face.

You hated this.

You hated the media.

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

PART 10

are you team Ben or team Harry? - L

taglist: @rinastylesworld @getmealife @itsametaphorbriansblog @joalsglasses @onceuponadetectivedemigod  @peter-parkersbb @mydogisthebest @secretsweetscollectionblog @dreamer821 @allieburakovsky @yourwonderbelle @harryskillerqueen @rosedeacy @getmealife @rockyroadthepastryarchy @sherlocked-to-the-tardis @lovinnholland @onexlittlespark@kellysimagines @hazme2 @spreadymercury @queenlalybug @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @toomuchtellyneck@lovesaweed@ifilosemyselfagain @kittygirlno @huntersstuff591@jerricainthebox@sleepyblossom @marvel-ousnesss @sleepydreamqueen @moonlightbae14 @orchideax @weakling-grace @notexactlythatgirl @bellamy1998 @multisuperbananas @hockeyshmockey​ @ken-yee-not​ @ilostmydeacy​ @malikbruhh​ @freddieandrogerandbriananddeaky

#ben jones #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben insta #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy preference #bohemian rhapsody #Harry Styles #BoRhap #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #solo harry #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader

[cake-writes]

Little Lies (Kentucky)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader (mentioned)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Oral (Receiving), 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Master List

August 2015

Kentucky was absolutely sweltering. It was a hot summer, for one, and for two, Steve was from Brooklyn. He wasn’t used to such sticky, uncomfortable heat because New York summers were much milder than this and Germany’s were much of the same. He wasn’t used to the humidity, either, even after you’d managed to wrangle him into a tank top, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. It was much less stifling than his uniform or even his civvies, but he felt out of place in such bizarre, 21st century clothing.

Then again, that was exactly the point. He was undercover. You both were.

You, on the other hand, seemed right in your element as the two of you unloaded the moving van you’d just picked up a few miles away from one of Tony’s associates. It was stocked full of boxes – mostly empty ones, just for show – along with a couple pieces of furniture: table and chairs, a small sofa, and a bed.

You were wearing a tee shirt with some faded band logo on it – Steve didn’t recognize it – and a pair of short denim shorts. Those he recognized only because Sam had teased you about them right before the two of you left the compound – called them ‘Daisy Dukes,’ whatever that meant. You’d just winked at Sam, made a lasso motion with your hands and cheered, “yee-haw,” like a cowgirl. Then you and Sam shared a laugh. It was a reference that Steve clearly didn’t get, but that was fine. It gave him something to think about, to distract him from how short those shorts really were.

The flight to Kentucky had been fine. You hammed it up a bit, already putting on the newlywed façade – told the flight attendant that you’d just gotten married and darlin’, isn’t my new hubby just the greatest? and it flustered him. You were showing him off. Even if it wasn’t real, he couldn’t help but preen a little.

That said, there was no doubt in his mind that someone else would have better suited the role than him. The decision wasn’t up to him, though; there had quite literally been a vote to see who should take this mission, and he’d been selected the prime candidate because of course he was. Everyone thought it would be hilarious to shove you and him together in a box for a couple weeks, like some warped version of Seven Minutes in Heaven: you, the scandalous minx you were, and him, the prude.

Steve didn’t mind it, really. He was actually a little excited for it. Nervous, too. He was in love with you, had been for months now. He knew should have said no to the mission because of the clear conflict of interest but he didn’t.

His attraction to you started out as an objective appreciation for the way you could handle yourself in the field. He noticed the glimmer you got in your eyes from a fight, when you did something perfectly or landed a particularly good blow or when he saved your ass at the last minute. He noticed the excited flush that came over your cheeks and the mischievous look you got when you fought alongside him, the two of you working together so well that it was almost like an elaborate dance.  

He’d had always known how attractive you were in other ways, too. Every now and then, he’d catch the slip of a bra strap, or you’d lean over and your shirt would accidentally reveal far too much cleavage. Sometimes, you’d wear a short, tight dress and go out to a nightclub with Natasha, and he could barely keep his eyes off of you. Other times, the hint of your thong peeked out of the top of your tac pants. Not often.

He tried not to look. You drove him crazy.

The mission itself was the easy part. The two of you were undercover in this small Kentucky town to find out where some particularly important intel had been downloaded. Tony’s satellites had only been able to pinpoint it to a one block radius, which coincidentally was smack dab in the middle of suburbia.

Your new residence was a charming little house at the end of a cul-de-sac, two bedrooms, one bath. A white picket fence bordered the yard, with pretty pink and purple flowers blooming under the windowsills and in the front garden. The exterior was painted light blue and it seemed a bit older, likely heritage – almost looked like something from his childhood, if he was being honest.

The moment Steve saw it – really, truly took it in – it made him stop in his tracks.

Some people actually got to have lives like this. They married, settled down, popped out a couple of kids, maybe got a dog. They had normal, ordinary lives. He wondered for a moment if this was what it felt like.

Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way up the paved driveway, carrying a big box. You were humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He just stood there like an idiot, watching you as you went inside to add the box to the ever-growing pile and when you came back out, you waved at someone – one of the nosy neighbours, no doubt.

Then you gave him a sweet smile. “Honey?”

God, the word was so, so sweet on your tongue and it made his heart race. Somehow, he managed to get out an easy, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

It felt so strange and unfamiliar to use such words of adoration for you, but he certainly didn’t mind it in the least. It felt nice. While he called you ‘doll’ every now and then out of habit, he tried not to out of respect for you. Now he didn’t need to hold back.

“Do you wanna come help me with this? I can’t lift it.”

“Of course,” he responded, readjusting his grip on the box in his arms before he started up the walkway.

You waited for him at the door. When he got there, you gave him another one of those sweet, disarming smiles, and then you kissed him on the cheek, batting your eyelashes at him.

It was an act, of course, to appease the nosy neighbours and it also helped the two of you blend in. You were just trying to sell the story, and he knew that – but this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure how long it would to take to finish the mission, but he hoped it was sooner rather than later. You were going to be the death of him with the pet names, the southern drawl, the skimpy outfits and, just – you.

The house was pretty much already stocked with anything either of you would need. There were two bedrooms, one for each of you, but you’d have to share a bathroom. That was fine, because you’d done it plenty of times before during other missions. It was actually pretty nice that you had your own rooms, for once, because you usually had to share a single motel room or set up camp somewhere outside.

The first night, you ordered takeout because that was pretty much a moving day tradition. The two of you joked around like usual and talked about all sorts of things, but none of them were really personal. You kept the conversation breezy and light, even when it drifted to the mission at hand. Over beer and pizza, the two of you developed a plan to canvas the area. You’d distract the neighbours while Steve got into their homes and searched for the intel. Easy as pie.

Quite literally.

Steve was a heavy sleeper, but he woke to the smell of warm apple pie wafting through the house. It was still relatively early, sun just rising above the horizon, but you were already putting the plan into action.

When he came downstairs, he caught a particularly nice view of your ass as you leaned over to pull the pie from the oven. You weren’t wearing those short denim shorts anymore, but a pair of tight high-waisted jeans and a crop top.

“Mornin’, sugar,” you said with a wink.

It caught him off guard. He remembered that the two of you were undercover, but it wasn’t necessary behind closed doors like this. You were purposely trying to get a rise out of him.

He gave you a deadpan look, but he still felt his cheeks flush and, when he saw your eyes shine mischievously, he knew you’d noticed it too.

“Didn’t realize apple pie counted as breakfast nowadays,” he commented.

“Come on, Cap. We deep fry everything nowadays. Of course it’s breakfast,” you told him, laughing. He studied your face for a moment, and then, when he actually went to reach for the freshly baked pie, like this was yet some more knowledge that he’d never learnt while he was frozen – you gently pulled his hand away. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, Rogers. It’s for our cover.”

You rarely apologized for anything, but for this – for him, you did. The fact that he’d been frozen for so many years wasn’t something to joke about to you, even if it was unintentional. You hadn’t meant to make a joke of it.

Steve looked a little surprised by that. It didn’t really bother him all that much when people made jokes at his expense. Sensitive topic, absolutely, but the jokes were never malicious and he knew that. It was more prodding fun at the fact that while yes, he’d certainly missed a lot, it also meant that people were looking out for him, suggesting to him things that he should look into.

Your warm fingers lingered on his hand just a little longer than they should have.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. There’s a lot of stuff I need to catch up on.”

“Got a list going, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a grin, pulling a small notebook out of his pocket. “Sure do.”

That morning, the two of you went through his list one by one, and you gave some comments and suggestions of your own. Instead of writing them himself, like he usually did, he relinquished the pen and paper to you.

Steve inadvertently wound up saving those notes, and on particularly bad days, he found himself studying every curve of your handwriting, like it held whatever answer he was seeking.

Over the next few days, he came to realize that you were purposely fucking with him.

You’d always been a tee shirt and jeans kind of girl, at least in the couple of years he’d known you, but for this mission all you wore were cute, dainty outfits. You started wearing floral dresses or the occasional blouse and skirt, paired with light makeup and heels. You hardly ever wore makeup or heels unless you were going out with Natasha.

You were playing a character. He knew that. But seeing you in such a different light, so sweet and girly, it did something to him. It sparked something in him – or maybe it just added fuel to the fire that was already burning for you.

He’d always treated you respectfully, at least he liked to think so. Even though he’d had an undeniable attraction to you for a long time – longer than he’d been in love with you – he’d always treated you like an agent first and a woman second. Seeing you like this, though, it made that an extremely difficult task to accomplish, especially when you were calling him, “Honey,” and “Baby,” and introducing him to your new neighbours as your husband.

He loved seeing that ring on your left ring finger. There was a matching one on his, and a large part of him wished it was real.

After about a week, neither of you had made any headway in your mission yet. The two of you had tried multiple residences nearby, now, but no luck so far. It became routine, almost, the way you went about your days.

Steve was a morning person. He woke early to go for a run, much earlier than you, even before the sun started to rise. The small house you shared was a little older, and the floorboards creaked as he crept past your room to go downstairs in the early hours. It never failed to wake you, but hearing the gentle creaking every morning soon became a comfort that you never realized you’d miss until after it was gone.

You, on the other hand, were a night owl. You stayed up late on the sofa downstairs, using your work tablet to investigate new leads and potential suspects well after Steve went to bed. Of course, that only did so much to distract you from the fact that the eerie quiet of the small town got to you. It made you relive memories you’d rather forget.

When you were alone, that was when you suffered most. Unfortunately, Bucky wasn’t here to help you. You’d only recently discovered how good he was at making you forget, but for this, you’d just have to make do on your own like you’d done for so long already.

It was more difficult than ever before.

You followed Steve up to bed once, with every intention of starting something you knew you shouldn’t. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he found you standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him in a way that just a little bit unsettling.

He pulled his toothbrush from his mouth and asked, “What’s the matter, doll?”

He was too sweet. You lost your nerve.

“Forgot my phone,” you said blankly, before you held it up like it was proof that your intention hadn’t been anything but innocuous.  

Steve just shrugged and went back to brushing his teeth, completely oblivious as to what you’d nearly done. You’d nearly crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Not again. You’d already done it with Bucky. You didn’t need to do it with Steve, too.

Despite it all, some nights you needed to be held – especially here in this awful quiet town that made it so easy for you to lose yourself in your memories. You needed to be treated sweetly, and in a lot of ways, Steve did that for you. Not intentionally, of course; just a kind look here, a gentle hand on your lower back there, not to mention the praise he offered you sometimes. He often told you after missions that you’d done a good job.

Good job. From his lips, it almost sounded like he was saying good girl.

What really did it for you, though, was that you didn’t even have to say a thing for Steve to know you were doing your best. He didn’t know you, not really, aside from one single side of you that he knew almost too well – the small part of you that wanted his praise, along with his acceptance of your mistakes. Steve had seen you make a number of them over the past couple of years, and despite them all, he always treated you so kindly. He never judged you or blamed you for them.

You never, ever let anyone else see you that way, let alone Bucky because if he did, then he’d have seen far too much. You only let people have a glimpse of who you truly were here and there, because if they saw too many sides of you, then they’d be able to piece together who you really were deep down. It wasn’t pretty.

You offered Bucky the dangerous, broken part of yourself, the one that killed and murdered and didn’t feel a lick of remorse. You got him to punish you, ruin you, break you, because that was what that part of you deserved – and he was so, so good at it. You loved him for it. You thanked him. That side of you well and truly belonged to him. You never showed it to anyone else.  

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

The other part of you that Steve got to see – the sweet, clueless girl who did her best and it just wasn’t good enough sometimes – that part of you was all his.

Not that you’d ever tell him that, either.

Your weakest point was always late at night when you were alone. You found yourself coming closer and closer to climbing into Steve’s bed more frequently as the days passed, but you held strong. Somehow, you managed.

Sometimes you stopped yourself when you got to the top of the stairs, staring at his closed bedroom door. Other times, you found yourself in his bedroom, taking in every bit of his peaceful, sleeping face. Once and only once, you ran your fingers through his hair and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. On that particular night, you very nearly hadn’t stopped there – but you managed.

You always managed.

During the day, you put on a façade just like you’d always done. It was routine. It almost felt normal to do this – to cohabitate, to get groceries and toilet paper, to worry about how your lemon bars were going to turn out today – but you never let yourself fall too deep into that normal, ordinary line of thinking because you knew how hard it would be to pull yourself out of it.

Every day, Steve went for an early morning jog, and after he’d come back and showered, you finally started to rouse. By the time you sluggishly made your way downstairs, he was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the two of you. He never failed to have a hot cup of coffee waiting for you with the exact amount of cream and sugar you liked.

It was the same every day, and some part of you – that sweet, clueless girl – loved every part of it. The normalcy. The domesticity.  

Your pet names for each other started to become insufferable in the best way. You used to greet him with normal ones – honey, baby, sweetheart – and he did the same. As the days passed, though, in private the two of you got more and more ridiculous to the point that you made each other laugh with them. And, every now and then when one of them slipped out in public, it only added to your newlywed persona.

“Good morning, honeybun,” you said airily, taking a seat at the counter where you’d plugged in your work tablet the night before.  

Steve gave you a grin just like he always did when you said a particularly silly one. “Morning, gorgeous.”

He didn’t blush as easily anymore when he said such sweet things to you. You assumed that he must have just gotten used to it, but it was a little bit disappointing. You loved to rile him up.

As he dished up two plates of pancakes, you took a sip of the coffee he made for you and scrolled through the new intel from HQ that had come through during the night. There wasn’t much, just another potential location to check out.

After a quick breakfast, Steve did check it out, and it was yet another dead end. It was well into the afternoon by the time he was finished. On your side of things, you spent the day distracting the residents of that particular home so that Steve could get in and out unseen.  

You met up a block away, and on your way back to your new home, you remembered that you needed to pick something up for dinner. The two of you took a detour to the corner store where you usually got your groceries.

Steve was wearing his favourite baseball cap and sunglasses, and you were in a particularly flattering sundress and wedge heels. The mid-afternoon weather was lovely – hot, but not quite as sweltering as most other days. It was nice.

It was almost second nature at this point for you to reach out and lace your fingers with his. The first time you’d done it, he looked surprised as hell and the flush that came across his face made your heart race. Now, he just offered you a small smile and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand like he’d done it a thousand times before.

It still made your heart race.  

All things considered, it seemed like a normal day – except it wasn’t. You should have noticed the extra staff at the corner store. You should have noticed the bulk around their waists – guns – but you didn’t. You were too focused on what to make for dinner. For the first time in a very, very long time, you let your guard down. You forgot.

Steve did notice, but it took him a little longer than normal, too. When you felt his familiar hand on your lower back press against you just a little more firmly, you immediately knew something was up but you continued to act like everything was just peachy, even when he whispered into your ear, “We need to go.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You grabbed a couple of random things from the shelves: two tins of beans, a bag of chips, and a candy bar, and then the two of you made your way to the register. You paid in cash. Steve carried the bag for you on the way out.

It wasn’t difficult to notice the two men on your tail. Your cover was blown. Somehow, your cover was blown and you hadn’t even fucking noticed because you were too distracted by this newlywed façade. You were too distracted by what it felt like to be normal.

Steve took your small hand in his free one, then, and gave you a gentle squeeze – as if to reassure you. When you glanced over at him, the way he smiled at you made your heart flutter just a little.

This isn’t your fault. Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.

You believed him.  

You made your way to another house, one that had no cars in the driveway and no garage. Hopefully no one was home. It was some random residence a couple of blocks away from your safe house, but you picked the lock so quickly that it looked like you were just opening the door with a regular key. Then you and Steve walked inside like that was where you’d been living this whole time.

You watched from the second-floor window as the two men on your trail radioed something in, probably your location – and then you both slipped out the back and hopped the fence. It was a little higher than you’d normally be able to scale, and Steve helped lift you over. He put his hands around your waist to lift you up, first, but you still couldn’t quite reach, so you quickly told him, “Grab my ass, Rogers.”

Steve’s grip noticeably faltered at your request and your sundress fluttered in the breeze, but he did as you asked – slid his hands from your waist to your barely-covered ass and soft thighs, which provided just enough height and leverage to finally pull yourself over the fence.

When you landed on the other side, you felt like you’d just run a marathon. His touch had been so hot, almost burning, and he’d gripped you so firmly, so close to where you’d been wanting him to touch you for what felt like ages that wet, sticky heat had started to pool in between your legs.

Neither of you discussed it.

The run home was fast, but silent and uncomfortable. You didn’t speak much, and neither did he. You shared a dinner of canned beans and potato chips, but neither of you had much of an appetite. You needed to figure out what to do, now, but you barely had a chance to discuss it when the loud sound of an explosion shook your quaint little safe house.

You both immediately knew what it was.

The perp – whoever the hell it was – had blown up the house the two of you had gone to earlier. It wasn’t your house. It belonged to some random family. You could recall seeing their photos on the walls, a happy family of four.

Steve said something to you, but it didn’t really register. He pulled on his uniform and went to check it out. That didn’t really register, either. All you could focus on was the fact that you’d very likely gotten people killed because you’d been too stupid and distracted to notice that your cover was blown.

By the time he returned, you had turned on the news to find that the explosion was being blamed on a gas leak. The grim expression on his face told you that definitely wasn’t the case, but you already knew that.

A couple more hours passed in silence as you stared blankly at the television. You weren’t watching it. You weren’t paying attention at all. Instead, you were reliving every single mistake in your career and as much as Steve desperately wanted to reach out and hold you, help you feel better, ease your pain, he didn’t.

Things like this always hit you hard, but you never wanted comfort. You always had to handle it yourself. He’d tried in the past to help – told you that it wasn’t your fault, gently rubbed your back – and you’d shoved him away. You didn’t want to be coddled. You didn’t need it.

Except tonight, you did.

Steve went to bed first, sometime after eleven. It wasn’t that the night’s events didn’t bother him, because they certainly did. He’d just experienced things like this a lot more than you, especially during the war, and he knew how to compartmentalize. Somehow, he could still sleep at night, whereas he knew you probably wouldn’t get a wink of it.

He’d help you pack in the morning. He’d contact HQ. He’d write up the mission report. He’d do all of it for you, because he loved you. He’d do anything for you.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you stopped resisting your impulses. You crept up the stairs and, for a brief moment, paused as you stared at Steve’s closed bedroom door for what was probably the umpteenth time.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears as you slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

The moonlight was streaming through the open curtains onto the bed, where you found him fast asleep. Of course he was. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, even now.

You brushed away a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, and he almost seemed to lean into your touch; then you trailed your fingers down his bare chest, further south, pushing his sheets back along the way. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of soft plaid sleep pants that you’d teased him about once – said they suited him, the old man he was.

Right now, though, they were almost too low on his hips. Must have shifted sometime during the night.

His skin was damp to the touch from the summer heat. As your eyes trailed over him in the moonlight, you had a fleeting thought of how perfect he was and you stopped holding yourself back.

Your lips were hot on the sweat-slicked skin of his abdomen. He tasted like salt and smelled like heaven – like soap and fresh laundry, clean, with the slightest undertone of musk.

It turned you on.

You kissed your way up his body until he stirred with the softest, quietest moan, his muscles shifting under your touch. You didn’t stop. Instead, you met his dazed, half-lidded eyes with a sinful smile.

“Wait, wait,” he breathed, fumbling to take your hands into his. His voice was rough from sleep. “Talk to me, doll. Please.”

You didn’t.  

Instead, you nudged your dress out of the way and straddled his hips, which let you feel exactly how much you’d affected him. His cock was rock hard and straining against his pajama pants, and you did nothing to soothe it. Instead, you rolled your hips against him.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, his head lulling back against the pillow. “It’s been a bad night. We shouldn’t.”

He didn’t mean it.

When you laced your fingers with his, he was so receptive – squeezed your hands right back, especially when you leaned down to kiss him. Your breasts nearly spilled out of your bra when they fell against his chest. With your dress half-unbuttoned, you saw his eyes flicker down to your cleavage for a split second before he looked back up at your face in awe, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

You kissed him, then, softly and sweetly, and sighed against his mouth, “Make me forget.”

Almost instantly, his hands left yours to cup the sides of your face, and he kissed you so deeply, so passionately that all you could think about was him. His lips were soft, but his kisses weren’t, especially when his tongue swept into your mouth as if to claim you, make you his, make you forget.

Then he trailed his fingers down the sides of your body, feeling every inch of you against him before they settled on your hips. He held you in place as he ground his hips up into yours, and you gasped against his mouth, relishing in the feeling of his hard cock against your folds – clothed or not.

The way he gathered you in his arms and lay you down on your back was sweet and gentle. He peppered kisses down your neck and torso as he finished unbuttoning your dress, before it was off entirely, discarded haphazardly to the floor – and then he sat back on his heels to just look at you.

You weren’t fully revealed to him yet, still wearing a lacy peach-pink bra and panties, but you felt absolutely naked in front of him. You were attractive, you knew that much – but the way his eyes took in every single one of your curves made your face flush like that stupid, clueless girl that had gotten people killed tonight.  

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss you again.

Something about the way he said it made you want him even more and you whined – actually whined – against his lips, “Baby, please.”  

Jesus Christ, he could have come right then.

Instead, he pulled away just enough to press a kiss to your stomach, your navel, your hip – and then he tugged your panties down and off before he buried his face between your thighs. He’d been wanting to worship your body for ages, and you deserved it now more than ever.

Your reaction was immediate. You gasped and writhed against his mouth, so much that he had to firmly hook his arms around your legs to hold you in place. You were so god damn responsive and it drove him crazy, especially when you gripped his hair in your fingers and pulled him closer to grind your perfect pussy against his face.

The taste of you was intoxicating – sweet, just a little tart – and he barely even realized what he was doing when he slid two fingers inside of you. Not one to start like he normally would have, but two, because you were so fucking soaked and desperate for him already.

“Stevie,” you whimpered when he curled his fingers up in a particular spot that sent you reeling.

God, he loved the sound of his name on your lips.

“Does that feel good?” he cooed against your slick folds, his hot breath sending a chill through you.

“Yeah,” you responded breathily, and you whimpered when he did it again. “Yeah, honey, just like that—”

Honey.

The word spurred him on and he went right back to devouring you, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers curled roughly against your g-spot over and over. It brought you higher and higher and higher until he couldn’t hold you down anymore and your back arched off the sheets, legs shaking against his shoulders as you came with a sharp cry.

When you collapsed back against the sheets, he crawled up your body to see your flushed, fucked-out face. Before he kissed you again, he went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand out of consideration for you – but instead, you tugged on his arm and pulled him down to settle in between your thighs.

“Kiss me like that,” you told him, and he readily complied. You could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was the sharp breath he took in as you slid your hand into his pants and wrapped your fingers around him. His cock was hot, thick, and heavy in your palm, and you wanted him inside of you.

Your other hand slid his pajama pants down just enough to pull him out entirely, and then you ran the head of his cock back and forth through your slick folds.

Steve broke away from the kiss to lean his forehead against your shoulder. His voice was unsteady when he started, “If you’re not sure—”

But you just wrapped your legs around his waist, then, and used the leverage to drag him inside of you. All you could manage was the tip because of the angle, but at your eagerness, he actually growled – deep and feral before he slid the rest of the way inside in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you gasped, “You feel so good—”

Then his lips were on yours again, swallowing every single word you wanted to say. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t exactly gentle either as his hips rocked into yours so easily – almost like this was meant to happen, like the two of you should have been doing this all along. His tongue dominated your mouth as his hands caressed your body all over, palming your breasts, your hips, your thighs as he made love to you.

That’s exactly what it was. You knew it, and he did, too.

The realization of that brought you to the brink almost in an instant.

When he hiked one of your legs up higher around his waist, you felt even closer – both to him, and to your orgasm. It was intimate. It was perfect. The new angle was incredibly deep, and his cock reached spots inside of you that you’d never even known about before.

You broke away from his mouth to bury your face in his shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his neck. “I’m close, god, I’m so fucking close, Steve—”

Judging by the way he was throbbing so much inside you, he was close, too. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear when he rasped, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back. “Fill me up, honey, please.”

His hands gripped your thighs even more firmly as he held you in place, his thrusts stuttering just a little at the knowledge that you didn’t want him to pull out, no—you wanted him to come inside you. You wanted him to fill you up. You wanted him to give you every single fucking drop of his cum.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m coming, I’m coming—” you babbled mindlessly against his neck, wrapping your legs around him even tighter as you reached your peak, pleasure cascading around you in waves.

Those breathless moans paired with your walls clenching down on him so tightly were what pushed him over the edge, and he buried himself to the hilt, filling you up just like you’d begged him for with a groan of your name right into your ear. It might have been the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your life, but your mind was blissfully blank.

He left to get you a washcloth to clean up – the two of you had made a mess after all – and unlike how you’d been with Bucky, you let Steve take care of you. You needed it.

After he wiped you clean, you curled so snugly into his side, using his chest as a pillow. He pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head and muttered sweet nothings to you, and his soothing voice eased you to sleep.

For the first time in a very long time, Steve overslept.

At first, he thought he forgot to turn on his alarm. Then he remembered that it automatically set itself every morning. He didn’t forget to turn it on. 

You’d purposely turned it off.

He knew that because by the time he woke, you were gone. He found a note from you downstairs, on the kitchen counter where you used to have breakfast every morning.

Headed to my next mission. See you around, Rogers.

It was that same curly handwriting as what you’d written in his little notebook. He recognized it in an instant, but when he realized what you meant by it – that this was a one-time thing, a moment of weakness, a lapse of judgement – he couldn’t say it didn’t sting.

What hurt worse was that, when he tried calling you, it went straight to voicemail and when he sent you texts, you read and then ignored them.

You brushed him off, because you got what you wanted.

He made you forget.

Master List

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #little lies

[untitled5071]

Maitland Kids AU Part 2

@blind-band-geek Oliver says Yee Haw

---

“Oh Adam, look at them! They looked so sad a moment ago, they all look like they’ve aged a year! Oh, my poor babies!”

“I can’t believe Fuzzy was fake! Why didn’t any of you tell me! I thought I was humoring Oliver, it shouldn’t be the other way around!”

Adam and Barbara Maitland stood on the attic staircase, watching as their children bustled inside of different rooms as they packed their own belongings and a few of their parent’s, stepping over wallpaper and paint cans that would sadly never be used. Adam adjusted his glasses as Barbara nervously slid her hands in and out of the pockets of her dress. She looked over at her husband and frowned. 

“Oh for goodness sakes, our children are grieving and all you can think about is a fake spider? And it was so obviously fake, for the love of Pete he bought it from YOUR hardware store!”

“I don’t keep track of EVERY Halloween decoration on sale! I just-”

Barbara cut him off by placing a hand gently over his mouth. Adam looked at her and waited for her plan. 

“Adam, we need to focus! Our children have returned home for the first time in months, and this very well may be the last time we see them before the new family comes in! If you don’t help me find a way to communicate with them then I’ll do it myself and I’ll let them know that their father is too preoccupied over a Halloween decoration to talk to them!”

“Okay, okay. What do you propose, darling?”

Barbara pushed her lip out as she concentrated. The Handbook was absolutely no help in the matter, and what few skills they HAD acquired would do no good if the people in question couldn’t see the ghosts. Adam looked at his wife fondly. She always looked so cute when she was scheming.  

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But whatever happens, we HAVE to make them see us before they leave. I can’t let our children keep living like this, without knowing that we’re still here!”

“But Barbara, we’re not really still here…”

Barbara huffed and gestured to Oliver, who had just come out of his room wearing a ridiculous cowboy hat from Halloween a few years prior. 

“I know that, Adam. But we’re here in spirit, and ghost parents are better than no parents at all!”

Adam still looked unsure, but Barbara gently took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. 

“We have to at least tell them we love them. One last time.”

Adam melted under his wife’s touch, and when he composed himself, a new fatherly determination filled his eyes. 

“You’re right as always, Honey. One last time.”

As Adam and Barbara composed a plan, Delilah finished up the box of her stuff from her room and took it downstairs, putting it on her favorite window seat. Grabbing a new empty one, she jogged back up the stairs and steeled herself. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to herself, 

“Okay, here we go. For Mom and Dad.”

Closing her eyes, she pushed open the door to her parents' room and instantly was hit with a monsoon of memories, all of which hit with a new intensity as she looked around the room. She saw her parent’s old wedding photos, their houseplants, their quilt, and she could have sworn that she felt her parent’s presence with her in the room. Setting the box on the bed, she took a long look at the room that her parents had shared. 

“Oh, boy…”

She picked up one of her parent’s old wedding photos and smiled. They looked so happy, so fulfilled, so…

Alive. 

Delilah stroked the glass of the picture frame with her thumb and began to delicately place them in the box, one after the other. She then moved to their wardrobe. Everything in their closet displayed her parent’s personalities, to the point where Delilah couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed as many of her father’s shirts and sweaters and her mother’s dresses and blouses as she could before dropping them in the box and going for another armful, until eventually the box was filled with clothing and quilts, with just enough room for some smaller objects. 

And Delilah knew exactly what they would be. 

Walking over to the wardrobe next to her parent’s bed, Delilah opened her mother’s jewelry drawer and sucked in a breath. Her mother’s favorite jewelry laid in front of her, the necklaces and rings that she and Amanda used to put on just to strut in front of their parent’s mirror in a child-like fashion show. She picked up a favorite necklace of her mother’s; a simple pendant with a heat charm attached. The locket contained a simple design; a heart with the letters A and B printed and intertwined, with the smaller letters D, O and another A surrounding them. It had been an anniversary present from Adam, and Barbara had cried when she received it.

Delilah was crying looking at it. 

She clasped the necklace around her own neck, looking at the gold engravings and sniffing. Composing herself, she gave the jewelry a slightly gentler treatment than the clothing as she scooped all of the jewelry into the box, including a few of her father’s rings and watches. Once all the precious items were secured in the box, Delilah looked around for anything she missed. She caught her breath when her eyes swept over the corner of the wardrobe, where two small glass bottles were sitting. An idea struck Delilah and she called out. 

“Oliver! Amanda! Come in here!”

Her siblings rushed into the room, eager to see why their sister was so adamant. 

“Come here guys, I had an idea.”

Her siblings came closer as Delilah took a bottle in each hand. 

“Hey, is that…”

“Mom’s perfume and Dad’s cologne? Yeah, it is. Give me your wrists, ‘Manda.”

Amanda held out her wrists as Delilah popped both the bottles open. She sprayed Adam’s cologne on one of Amanda’s wrists and Barbara’s perfume on the other, and then she did the same to Oliver and finally, herself. Upon seeing her sibling’s confused looks, she said, 

“I used to do this when I was little. You remember how Mom and Dad used to go to those town parties that we were too young for? I used to sneak away from the babysitter, come in here and put on Dad’s cologne and Mom’s perfume. That way, when I missed them, I could just wrap my arms around myself and it would be like a hug from them. I figured it would help a bit.”

In unison, the three living Maitlands put their wrists to their face and inhaled. Delilah was right, it did make it seem like their parents were there. 

“See, I told you! Hey, look at what I found..”

Delilah was about to show her siblings the mountain of clothes and jewelry that she had collected when all of the siblings stopped dead in their tracks. For a second, they weren’t sure if they were hearing it, but after a while, it could not be denied. The rich tones of Harry Belefonte were resonating throughout the house, and none of the siblings were anywhere near a record player. 

“Shake, Shake, Shake Senora, Shake your body line! Work, Work, Wo-”

The three looked at each other. 

“Where on earth is that coming from?”

After a second of careful listening, Delilah spoke up.

“I think it’s coming from...the attic?”

Delilah crept out of the room, Amanda and Oliver close at her heels (Oliver had grabbed a bat for self-defense). The three of them crept up the stairs to the attic, the music steadily growing louder the closer they got to the top. Once they reached the door, the three looked at each other in confusion. Oliver raised his bat in preparation. Rolling her eyes slightly, Delilah creaked open the door to the attic, and all three gazed around the room at the same time. 

The attic remained just the way it always did, with their father’s fourth child- the model- standing front and center in the room. Amanda looked at the record player in the corner while Oliver crept around the attic, looking for any kind of wild animal that could have set off the music while Delilah examined the model. 

“This is so weird. I didn’t set this off, but this record definitely wasn’t on the player before. Shake Senora is the third track, so there’s no way it could have just started here..”

“And there’s nothing up here that could have set it off. No racoons, no bats...well, except for this one.”

Oliver dropped his bat as he and Amanda looked at each other and shrugged in unison, as twins do. They looked at Delilah to ask her opinion, but stopped when they saw the intense look of confusion and concentration in her eyes as she examined the model.

“Guys….you didn’t sneak up to the house without me, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that no one else would have carved our parent’s gravestones or put a realistic hole in the bridge.”

“What?!”

Oliver and Amanda looked at where Delilah was pointing, and sure enough, there were two photo realistic headstones in the graveyard, the same that the kids had buried their parents under, and a hole in the bridge that rivaled the real thing. The craftsmanship was obviously their father’s but…. 

“What the…”

Just then, the electric stars and solar system above the model flicked on, causing all the kids to look around wildly. Upon realizing that none of them were anywhere near the lightswitch, the kids were all about to mildly freak out when they heard some all-too familiar voices.

“Oh, do you think it worked? They don’t seem to be reacting!”

“I’m not sure Barbara. They seem to be in shock.”

All three children turned simultaneously to the corner of the attic and the source of the voices. And there, standing and fretting, were their parents. Ghostly and pale, but there. Neither of them could speak. Delilah seemed to regain herself first.

“M-Mom? Dad?”

Adam and Barbara ceased their fretting and looked at their oldest daughter, and then to the twins, who were looking right at them, against all odds. Barbara shook herself off and took a small step forward, grabbing Adam’s hand for support. 

“Delilah? Ollie, Manda? Can you...see us?”

The children’s moment of stunned silence ended in a millisecond, as all of the children tore up from the ground and barreled towards their parents, tears streaming down the faces of the living and the dead alike. Adam and Barbara wrapped their arms as tightly around their kids as they could manage, and the kids ignored the freezing temperature of their parent’s bodies in their elation. For a second, everyone was able to forget that they existed on different planes of existence, and for a moment the family was reunited. The kids laughed in disbelief as Adam and Barbara peppered them with kisses and rocked them side to side, letting them cry out their feelings and confusion.

After what felt like forever, Delilah sniffed and pulled away from Barbara, being held at arm’s length by her mother. 

“Oh my God, oh mY GOD! You’re here, you’re here! But...how? You guys are dead! We were at your funeral! HAve you been hiding from us? Have you-”

Barbara wiped the tears from her eldest daughter’s face and smiled softly at her, both mother and daughter crying softly while Adam cradled the twins. 

“Oh Darling, we’re so sorry. We’re still not entirely sure what happened either, but don’t worry, we haven’t been hiding. But darling, we are dead. But we’re here, too.”

Delilah was still crying, but now her tears of elation were mixed with tears of confusion. But in one second, she understood.

“You guys are here, but dead. But that means you’re…”

Adam and Barbara looked at each other, then nodded and said, in unison;

“Ghosts.”

They laughed off the little moment and Adam continued for Barbara. 

“Yes, we’re ghosts. Don’t worry, we were as confused as you were. But the point is, we’re here and we love you kids so much. We’re sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but we didn’t know how! We can’t call anyone, and the handbook says the living usually won’t see the dead.”

Oliver pulled away from his father and looked at him.

“Handbook? You guys died and all you want to do is read?”

The entire family laughed, and Amanda pressed herself into her father’s chest. 

“Yep, definitely ghosts. You guys are colder than Jane’s heart.”

Adam and Barbara rolled their eyes as Delilah and Oliver groaned.

“You’re telling us. She didn’t even wait until after the funeral to sell the house! And she sent us to group therapy after the accident to help us ‘sort out our feelings’. Honestly, it made everything even worse.”

“Oh my goodness. She needs to be stopped.”

“You’re telling us! She came to therapy WITH us, and afterwards she just tried to lecture us about the importance of getting over grief quickly in order to be efficient, and how we can’t grieve too hard or we’ll start hallucinating and go crazy.”

Oliver stopped for a second and looked suspiciously at his two ghostly parents. 

“Wait...you’re not hallucinations right?”

Adam and Barbara smiled and grabbed each other’s hands, pulling all their children into a hug again. 

“Nope. Definitely real ghosts.”

Delilah sniffed and wiped her tears away. 

“I have never been happier to believe in ghosts in my life.”

The family chuckled and held each other closer. Barbara planted a kiss on Delilah’s forehead and said, 

“Us too, darling. Us too.”

And the Maitlands stayed like that, in their old family home, together again. 

#adam maitland #barbara maitland #maitland kids au #maitland kids #oliver maitland #delilah maitland #amanda maitland

[god--baby]

let loose (sfw)

henry bowers x ambiguously gendered reader

anonymous requested: Reader is an overachiever but never really achieves. Tired. They are smart and very hard working in school but stress gets to them easily. They don’t smoke, they don’t drink, they don’t go out much, and they avoid people even their family. The reader meets Henry one day and he teaches them how to relax a little more and have a little fun.

summary: you’re a hardworking person. you don’t do much except your homework. but Henry Bowers takes a shine to you, determined to show you a good time. 

word count: 3204

tag list: @heckstetter @tonguepopperr @cutegoat-boy

God, you were exhausted. Another night spent studying, all night, barely getting any sleep at all. And for this? For you to just stare blankly at the test in front of you, nothing coming to mind. You were supposed to write three sentences for this question, but you couldn’t even think of a couple words.

In the end, you were fairly certain that you’d just barely passed the test. Some parts of it were easy, but those short essay questions, fuck. Nope.

You weren’t doing as well at this new school as you’d hoped. You were disappointed in yourself.

You went home, walking the long way, not ready to go home and have to see your parents. They were kind to you, but you just… didn’t care. You didn’t care for many people. If any at all, now you thought about it.

As you walked along a residential street, a loud rumbling came from behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see Henry Bowers and his crew streaming down the street towards you, Henry hanging out the window of that frankly beautiful car. He whistled at you, and your cheeks colored.

“Damn, pretty little thing,” he called, one hand cupped around the side of his mouth. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

You looked away, quickening your step.

“Hey!” he yelled. “I’m talking to you.”

You got brave, though your nerves were hanging on by just a thread.

“And I’m walking away. You blind?” you shouted back.

You heard him laugh, and as the car passed you, he actually blew you a kiss.

You didn’t want to, but a laugh bubbled up out of your throat.

When you got home, you could barely focus on your new batch of homework, thinking again and again about the kiss.

You shoved it from your mind and got to work, struggling through your trigonometry work. And then your English. And then your Spanish. And by the time you were finished, you weren’t thinking about Henry Bowers at all.

Oh, but he was thinking about you.

In the hallway at school the next day, he caught up to you and took you by the arm.

“I said hey to you yesterday,” he said, eyes shining. “Why didn’t you say hey back?”

“You uh, didn’t say hey to me,” you pointed out. “You asked me where I’ve been all your life.”

He huffed out a laugh.

“And where is that, exactly?”

“Dallas,” you said, simply, digging around in your bag, making sure you had what you needed for your next class.

“Dallas,” he repeated. “Yee fuckin’ haw.”

You looked up at him, a snort coming out.

“I’m not that country,” you said.

“Yeah, but it sure makes your accent make sense,” he said.

“You have an accent, too, you know,” you said.        

“Oh, really?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“It’s not like it’s a bad one,” you said as the warning bell rang, telling you to get to class and get there quick. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he said. “Or you could skip with me and the guys.”

You actually laughed.

“Yeah, right,” you said.

“What?”

“I don’t skip. Ever.”

“You should try it sometime,” he said.

“I’ll uh, take that under advisement,” you said, pulling away from him.

“See you later, pretty little thing,” he called after you.

Again, your cheeks heated up. And the other kids in the halls noticed. Noticed you talking to Henry Bowers, notable bad boy and bully.

But you weren’t being bullied.

Right?

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

By the end of that class period, you were certain that he had been pulling your leg. So when he found you after school as you were walking across campus, and he put his hand on your shoulder, you shook him off.

“Quit it,” you said.

“Quit what?” he asked.

“Don’t do this shit to me,” you said. “Don’t… don’t play with me like I don’t know who y’all are.”

“Y’all,” he whispered. “You really are from Texas.”

“I said I was,” you snapped.

“Jesus,” he said.

“Just… cut it out, okay? I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as the rest of his crew caught up to the two of you.

“You’re… you’re picking on me. Playing nice until I get my hopes up.”

“I never play nice,” he said, putting a hand under your chin. “I’m nice or I’m not. I don’t play.”

You tried to get him to let you go, but he couldn’t be moved. His hand on your chin was so firm, and when you swallowed, hard, you knew he could feel it.

“Please let me go,” you said.

“You always this polite? Some kinda southern charm?” he asked.

He finally took his hand from your chin, and you took a step back, right into a brick wall of a boy. You looked up over your shoulder, and saw it was the one called Belch. He clapped a hand to your shoulder and took it right back.

“I guess I always am,” you said. “Y’all… I’m gonna go, now.”

And you walked away.

You looked over your shoulder for a moment to see Henry rub his jaw, and Patrick, dangerous Patrick, waving at you, giving you a slick smile.

You swallowed again, just as hard, and kept on walking.

The next day was a Saturday, and with nothing to do, you figured you may as well go to the park. It wasn’t that far of a walk from your house, so why not?

You even got a little dressed up, hoping to cheer yourself up.

You walked to the park, only to see that blue Trans Am parked outside it. Before you got the chance to turn and walk away, you heard Henry yell out.

“Well, look who it is!”

“Shit,” you muttered.

He ran up to you and grabbed your shoulder.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he said.

“I’m starting to think you’re following me, Henry,” you said lightly, looking away from him and shrugging his hand off.

“Now, how could I follow you if I got here first?” he asked. “C’mon. Come meet the guys.”

You weren’t sure you wanted to. But he dragged you in their direction, so you went, figuring you’d say hey and then leave again.

The guys were sitting in a circle on the ground next to the jungle gym, two of them smoking.

“This is Belch and Vic,” said Henry, first gesturing to the big one, then the other blond. “And Patrick. But I’m sure you know Patrick.”

“Everyone knows Patrick,” you joked, giving the dark-haired boy a furtive glance, then looking away. Not before you noticed him wink at you, though.

“Yeah, they do,” Henry laughed. “For good fuckin’ reason, too.”

“Well, it was nice to meet y’all,” you said.

And you turned to walk away.

Henry caught you by the arm.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Uh, home,” you said.

“See, you probably don’t have anything to do. Why don’t you hang out with us?”

“Uh,” you said, so eloquently.

“Please,” said Patrick, gesturing to the ground next to him.

You looked at each of the boys. None of them were smiling, but they didn’t look like they were going to kick your ass, either. So, you sat down next to Belch, and Henry sat next to you.

Vic held his pack of cigarettes out to you. You shook your head.

“I don’t smoke,” you said.

“Why the fuck not?” asked Patrick. “Aren’t you one of those people who stresses themselves to death?”

“Uh, yeah. Why would that make me want to smoke?”

“It’s relaxing,” he said, as Henry pulled a cigarette out of Vic’s pack and held a hand out to Patrick. Without a word, he handed Henry a fancy silver lighter. Henry lit up his cigarette and took a long drag.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to you.

You took it and stared at it. This reminded you a lot of after school specials you’d seen. First you fall in with bad kids, then they get you to do bad things.

That didn’t make you a bad kid, did it?

“Do I just… inhale?”

“Do it like,” said Belch, “suck it in with the back of your mouth closed and then suck in a breath with it open.”

“Uh, okay.”

You held it like Henry had, between your finger and thumb, and took a drag, coughing a little bit on the exhale. Belch pounded you on the back until you sat forward saying, “Jesus, big guy, stop. Stop.”

Patrick laughed, all cruelty, at your discomfort, but Henry watched you with quiet approval.

“There, now,” he said, taking the cigarette back. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, I… I mean, I’m kinda seeing spots, now,” you said.

“Yeah, you can get a buzz from it,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Oh… okay…”

“You’ve really never done anything before, have you, baby?” Patrick asked.

“Mm, I’m not your baby,” you shot back.

He ignored you.

“Never smoked before. I’d bet my left arm you’ve never drank before, never fucked before. Nothing.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, looking down.

He absolutely cackled in response.

You looked up as Henry was hitting him in the chest.

“Cut it out,” he barked. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Patrick, eyes sparkling darkly at you.

You swallowed and looked away.

Then, you looked at Henry. He was watching you, eyes quiet… and something else. You wanted to call it hunger, but you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“How ‘bout we take you back to my place,” he said slowly. “My old man’s out all day. We could show you a good time.”

“I’m… not sure what a good time looks like to you,” you said.

“Getting high,” said Vic lightly.

“Getting loaded,” said Belch, nodding.

“Um,” you said.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. What else did you have planned for the day?” asked Henry.

“Homework,” you said.

“You got all of tomorrow for that,” he said.

He had a point, and he could see that it sunk in.

“There,” he said, grinning widely. “Let’s go, fellas.”

The guys got up and wandered back to the car. You followed them, a little dizzy. Henry shoved forward the front passenger seat, and Vic crawled in.

“After you,” said Patrick, giving you a highly sarcastic bow.

“Okay,” you said.

And you climbed into the car after Vic, having to sit bitch between him and Patrick.

You pressed yourself close to Vic, and he gave you a frankly scary grin.

“Hen, I think your pet project is warming up to me,” he said.

You blushed, a deep, deep red.

“Better you than Patrick,” you muttered.

You’d hoped it would be quiet enough for Patrick to not hear you, but he did. He smirked at you.

“What, baby, you don’t like me yet?” he asked.

“Again, I’m not your baby,” you said.

“You could be,” he replied, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Uh, no offense, but I don’t think so,” you said.

He snapped his teeth at you and you flinched away.

“Patrick,” Henry said sharply. “Cut that shit out. Now.”

Patrick turned and glared at Henry, but he took his arm back.

The rest of the ride to Henry’s house was quiet, and you took the time to wonder exactly what you got yourself into. What were you doing, hanging out with the guys who had half the town on its knees? You had just smoked, for god’s sake. Not a whole cigarette, but still. And now… they were going to show you a good time.

Whatever the hell that meant.

You arrived at Henry’s house, and all of you piled out of the car, going inside. You looked around you as you walked through, noting the beer bottles scattered around an easy chair. You’d bet it was Henry’s dad’s stuff. Henry paid it no mind, though, and guided you to his bedroom. Out of a cooler tucked into the closet, he pulled a bottle of liquor. Vodka, maybe, you thought.

The guys sat down again, in a circle on the floor at the foot of the bed. You followed them, sitting again next to Vic, who you figured was harmless. A snarky piece of work, but okay. Again, he lit a cigarette, and handed you one. You shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant, and leaned in as Patrick flicked open a flame for you.

You smoked. You were smoking.

It was going to be okay. This didn’t make you a bad person.

Henry grinned at you and watched as you smoked your first cigarette down slowly. Then, he opened the bottle and handed it to you.

“Just take a sip,” he said. “You take a big swallow, and you’re gonna hate it.”

“What is it?” you asked.

“Vodka,” Belch said.

“I thought so,” you murmured.

You took a sip. It burned. You kept yourself from coughing, though, and that made you proud.

You looked to Henry, and could see that he was proud of you, too.

“There,” he said. “You’re doing great.”

Patrick pulled something out of his shirt pocket and lit it like a cigarette.

A joint. He had a joint.

They weren’t joking when they said they got high.

He saw you staring and held it out to you. You took it, a little hesitant.

“You smoke it like a cigarette,” said Vic.

“…okay,” you said.

You took a drag. And coughed. A lot.

And Henry? Henry rubbed little circles on your back until you stopped.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Promise.”

You laughed. He smiled.

“If you say so,” you said.

You sat like that for another half hour, passing the vodka around, passing the joint around, putting your cigarette butts in a tin can in between all of you.

You felt… you felt amazing. For once, you weren’t worried about school or how you had no friends. You weren’t tired. Sure, you could go for a nap, but that was only because the weight of the world wasn’t on your shoulders for once.

“My first kiss?” asked Vic. “Mm. Let’s see… Toby Lieberman. Third grade.”

“What?” cried Belch, more animated than you’d ever seen him be. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” asked Vic.

“He’s such a jock,” said Patrick with disdain.

“He wasn’t then,” Vic said. “He was just Toby. We were kids.”

“Well, what about you?” asked Belch, looking at you. “First kiss?”

“I…” you said, slapping your knee, “have never been kissed.”

“What?” asked Patrick.

“I know!” you cried. “Never. And don’t I… don’t I look kissable?”

“You sure do,” Henry said quietly.

It was immediately drowned out by Belch and Vic loudly assuring you that yes, you looked very kissable. Extremely kissable. And that this was a damn tragedy, an absolute travesty.

“Henry,” you said, putting your hand on his knee, having not heard what he said. “I said, don’t I look kissable?”

“I said… you know what? C’mere.”

“Huh?”

“C’mere,” he said, patting his lap.

You went to kneel in front of him, and he grabbed your waist, pulling you in towards him. He grabbed one of your legs, putting it on the far side of his hips, having you straddle him. He kept his hands on your waist.

“Uh, Henry?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“What you doin’?”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said.

The other boys let out a chorus of oooooooohs and you blushed.

“Oh… okay.”

“That okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Now, just kinda — just kinda grind down on me,” he said.

“Why?” you asked.

“Feels good,” he said, shrugging.

“Are you… are you sure we should do this with the guys watching?”

“Sure,” he said, pushing part of your hair off your forehead. “They don’t mind, do you, boys?”

“No, no, please. By all means, give us a show,” drawled Patrick around the filter of another cigarette.

You blushed deeper and looked at Henry.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, guiding you down on him.

You rolled your hips, grinding down on him gently. He was right, it did feel good.

“Is that good?” you asked.

He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “That’s good. Keep doing that. Now, close your eyes.”

You smiled and did it. He took you by the back of your neck. You felt his breath on your face. He smelled like cigarettes, and when he licked your top lip, he tasted like it, too. He pulled back and pulled your bottom lip in between his teeth, worrying on it for a moment before swiping his tongue over it. Then, he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed, putting your hands on the back of his neck, mirroring him, not sure what else to do.

He kissed you, starting out soft and slow and picking up speed. You followed along, sliding your tongue up against his, licking at his top lip when he pulled away.

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. One of the boys whistled. You blushed again, at this point a constant flush.

“How’s that for a first kiss?” Henry asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Good. Real good.”

You found that you were still grinding down on him and stopped abruptly. Not that you wanted to. It made you feel really good, and you kinda wanted to do that for a few more hours.

But you wouldn’t do that to Henry. You barely knew him.

You scrambled off of his lap and held your hand out for a cigarette, for the vodka, for anything to do other than think about how you’d kissed a near stranger, and it had been really good.

Vic handed you a cigarette and lit it for you and you took a long drag.

Henry scooted over beside you and put his arm around you. You looked at him with a question in your eyes. He kissed the side of your face, a little too forceful to be gentle or sweet.

“Let’s do that again,” he said.

You huffed out a laugh and grinned, blowing your smoke away from his face.

“That good, huh?” you teased.

He grinned, licking his teeth.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you,” he said.

“What, two days ago?”

“Try two months ago,” said Vic, snorting. “He’s been waiting on a good time to get you alone.”

You smiled at Henry.

“Oh, really?”

The tips of his ears were pink.

“Yeah,” he said.

You leaned in and kissed him again, starting out with just a peck, then settling in, the hand that wasn’t holding your cigarette going around to the back of his neck. You only stopped when you accidentally dropped your cigarette, and it fell on your foot. You jumped and carefully scooped it up to the sound of the boys laughing, even Henry.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Like you’ve never done it.”

“Yeah, I once spilled a whole beer on a girl I was kissin’,” Belch said, chuckling.

“See? Could be worse,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah, it could, baby,” said Henry.

And then he kissed you again.

#the bowers gang #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #vic criss #henry bowers x reader #mine

[tozierswheelers]

being the elder henderson sibling [headcanon]

Requested?: Yee my dudes. Anon: “I absolutely loved your Wheeler and Byers middle child imagine! can you make one for Dustin’s older sister? Love your blog btw “ (idk who you are but i’m glad you enjoy my blog <3)

Pairing: Dustin Henderson x reader (platonic, family), Steve Harrington x reader (romantic oops) 

((btw guys if you’re getting annoyed at all of these turning out as romantic Steve things, pls let me know))

((once again, season 2 below the cut))

you were Claudia Henderson’s pride and joy

well you were, until Dustin was born

but you couldn’t complain

Dusty was your pride and joy as well

you were always so supportive of him 

((especially whenever him and the rest of the party won the annual science fair))

you would always help Mr. Clarke with the AV club

the fact that you were always around meant that you were always the one constant in the Party’s lives.

they loved you

((you were the og group mom))

no matter how cool you were to The Party, you were unapproachable at school

you thought it was because you were a certified Loser™

in reality, it was because you intimidated everybody

you were so pretty and kind and smart that people saw you as unapproachable.

well, everybody except your closest friend

((aka Jonathan Byers))

you always had your nose stuck in a new book, oblivious to the awestruck glances aimed at you.

Jonathan would always snort at the glances you’d get from half of the basketball team ((yes, including Steve Harrington [pre-Nancy]))

when Will went missing, you swear you felt your heart break

but you didn’t cry because Dustin was distraught and he needed someone to comfort him.

in fact, you comforted all of The Party, Jonathan, and Joyce.

you caught Dustin sneaking out of the house to go look for Will one night

instead of ratting him out to your mom, you went along because “there’s no way I’m leaving a dumbass like you all alone in the woods.”

The Party was relieved to have you tagging along

you made them feel safe.

you’re skeptical about Eleven at first, and take Lucas’s side for a while.

soon, you begin to see that the young girl can actually be a highly useful asset.

the next day, you find yourself being extremely surprised.

when you hear that Barb is missing, you’re pretty rattled.

first Will, now Barb.

what was happening?

after school, you find your way to the parking lot

you see Steve and his little crowd mocking Jonathan 

you approach them right as they break him camera.

pissed off, you begin shouting obscenities at them, shocking everyone.

sweet, beautiful, caring (Y/N) Henderson knew how to curse?

when Carol starts making remarks about Jonathan, you lunge at her.

Tommy intervenes and before you know it, his fist has met your face.

everyone stops.

they all stare at you 

you simply crack your neck and deliver an equally devastating blow to Tommy’s face.

((at this point, Steve is feeling guilty because he just knows he’s fallen in love with you but Nancy is still in the picture))

but damn can you take a punch 

Tommy is on the ground, in pain, and you simply grab Jonathan’s hand and threaten the little group.

your foot hovers over Tommy’s crotch before you speak.

“if you ever pull a little stunt like that again, you can say goodbye to any future children you were planning on having,Tommy. you too, Harrington.”

Steve simply stares at you and Jonathan groans because he knows what that look means.

he’s seen it too many times on his brother’s face and on the faces of half the school’s basketball team.

Steve. Is. Absolutely. Smitten.

eventually you find out about Will’s body being found.

you reluctantly head home to be with Dustin...

...who sends you right back to the Byers residence, insisting that Jonathan needs you more than he does.

although hesitant, you listen to your little brother and spend the night with Jon.

you help calm Joyce down when they have to go identify the body.

you eventually tag along with Nancy and Jonathan when they go looking for the monster.

you notice Nancy is missing and follow her into the Upside Down.

when the monster chases you, you make sure she goes back through the tree first. 

you barely make it through, the Demogorgon clamping onto your leg and leaving you injured.

you refuse to go to the hospital, and Nancy proceeds to patch you up. 

when you go to the store to buy your weapons, you’re the one who sees the movie matinee first.

you try to keep Nancy away from it, but she sees it anyways.

when she runs off, you grab Jonathan’s hand and tug him along.

“oh look, Nancy the slut and the creepy couple”

“shut up Carol. just because Tommy is the only one who wants to fuck you doesn’t mean you have to be bitter all the time.”

Tommy takes a step towards you but stops once you arch an eyebrow. 

Steve looks at your hand in Jonathan’s and starts talking shit.

“really Nance? you had to go after Byers? I bet you, him, and Henderson there had a lot of fun together eh?”

you’re the first one who swings and although Tommy is urging Steve to fight back, he knows that he can’t hit you.

so he hits Jonathan instead.

you wind up at the police station

where you eventually spill the whole story to Hopper and Joyce, showing them your wound as proof. 

when you contact The Party, you’re the one who has to speak to them 

you’re the only one that they truly trust.

you don’t want to leave them but Nancy insists that she and Jonathan need your help.

Jonathan is your best friend and although you don’t know Nancy that well, she is a sweet girl.

so you agree and go with them. 

when Steve arrives, you’re the one who opens the door and tries to keep him out. 

eventually, the Demogorgan arrives and you have to keep it away from Steve, who is unarmed.

when he helps you fight back, you realize that maybe (just maybe) he isn’t a self-centered, big-haired douchebag.

fast-forward to the end of the fight 

everyone is safe, except El.

although you’re sad that she’s gone, you know it’s nothing compared to what Mike is feeling. 

when Will awakens, you’re right by his side

along with the rest of The Party.

and when Jonathan sees the way Will looks at you, with that dazed, dreamy look,

he knows that things might turn out okay.

you hug Dustin tightly and tell him how much you love him

Dustin whispers the same things back to you before pushing you off and rubbing his neck in embarrassment

the rest of the evening is spent in comfort as you all realize that you still have each other.

things slowly go back to how they were

you’re still the mom of the group

you and Jonathan are still as close as ever, especially with Nancy becoming closer to you as well.

unbeknownst to you, Nancy and Steve are having problems because Nancy is too focused on Jon and Steve is too focused on you.

you inevitably meet new kid Billy Hargrove and his charming kid stepsister Max ((who you take an instant liking to))

you met them in the parking lot on Halloween, where Billy asked you to go to Tina’s party with him and you “agreed”

((you said “sure, I’ll see you there” but the wink you gave Max showed that you had no intention of ever showing up))

you choose to supervise The Party instead, and even dress up as a Ghostbuster with them.

((they are beyond excited about that))

when Max surprises them and sees you, she immediately starts laughing

she explains to The Party that you just stood her dick of a stepbrother up on Halloween.

((Dustin is super proud of you bc he’s heard so much shit about Billy))

anyways,

you don’t know it, but Mike and the rest of The Party are keeping Will’s visions a secret from you because they don’t want you to worry.

you know something is going on but you think it’s just normal teenage boy stuff

so what if they’re keeping secrets. they can’t tell you everything, ya feel?

after trick or treating, you and Dustin walk home

and find a lil thingy in the trash can.

you and Dustin are both intrigued by this...thing.

so you keep it

and name it Dart. 

and then it all goes to shit

I mean, first it escapes at the emergency AV Club meeting

next thing you know, Will is infected by that shadow monster.

you’re pissed off at the kids for not telling you what was happening with Will

like you yell at them

y e l l

they had never seen you so upset and The Party felt so guilty that they had caused this.

you give The Party the silent treatment until Dustin runs up to you in a panic, telling you about how Mews is dead.

you sigh and roll your eyes because “dammit Dustin I really can’t leave you alone because you always mess things up.”

Dustin grins because he can see you fighting a smile and he knows that you’re not upset with him anymore. 

“alright (Y/N), we’re gonna go over to Mike’s house because none of those sons of bitches are answering and we really need their help.”

you reluctantly hop onto Dustin’s bike and make your way over to Mike’s house

you run into Steve there, a bundle of roses in his hands.

“(Y/N)? what are you doing here?”

“i’m looking for Mike. or Nancy. but they’re not here so we’re leaving.”

you’re tone is pretty rude and Steve is pretty shocked.

you grab Dustin’s hand and begin to walk off but he stops you.

“wait. he fought the Demogorgon with you last year didn’t he?”

you sigh and nod your head.

“then he can help us.”

Steve agrees to help because he wants to win you over

you find yourself going down into the cellar first, holding a crowbar and getting ready to defend yourself against Dart.

Steve almost has a heart attack and races after you.

you propose the idea to lure Dart to the junkyard with raw meat.

when walking towards the junkyard, you trail slightly behind the two boys, snorting whenever Steve gives Dusty advice.

“what? you got better advice Henderson?”

“yeah. Dusty, do exactly the opposite of what he says. his advice is bullshit. i’m not sure how he ever got Nancy to agree to go out with him.”

Steve frowns at your words before speaking. “Nance and I aren’t together anymore”

you look at him, eyes wide in apology.

Steve stares right as you before continuing,

“turns out, we were way too focused on other people.”

you look down awkwardly, an unwelcomed blush painting your cheeks

Dustin simply grins widely as he looks between the two of you, causing Steve to scoff and ruffle his hair.

at the junkyard, you and Max do most of the work

Dustin and Lucas are too busy chatting and Steve is too busy admiring you.

while waiting for the demodogs, you find yourself sitting next to Steve, head thrown back against the wall of the bus and humming a song under your breath.

you only stop when you hear Steve chuckle breathlessly

“are you humming AC/DC, Henderson?”

you blush and nod your head 

“never took you as that kind of girl.”

“what kind of girl did you take me for Harrington?”

Steve stares at you for a moment before looking away, distracted by Lucas shouting.

“they’re here!”

when Steve goes outside, you feel kind of guilty

you know you should be helping him but you want to keep the kids safe.

you fight off the demodogs that try to attack the inside of the bus.

after making sure no one is hurt too badly, you lead everyone to Hawkins Lab, following the mini demogorgons.

back at the Byers house, Joyce has you stay with her, Hopper, and Mike when talking to Will.

she knows that he’ll feel safer with you there as well.

since you’re the designated babysitter, you stay with the kids 

they quickly become restless and so do you

when Mike begins to talk about his plan, you can’t help but agree with him

after Steve disagrees, they all turn to you.

“hey you dipshits, why aren’t you listening to me?”

“(Y/N) is the leader. she’s our babysitter, not you Harrington. we listen to her.”

you smirk at Steve.

“that’s right. i’m in charge. and I say we go.”

the kids all cheer and start to gather up whatever they need.

Steve narrows his eyes and glares at you.

“it’s on Henderson. I’m gonna be the best damn babysitter these kids have ever had.”

“dream on Harrington.”

you and Steve are now in competition to see who is the Best Mom™

Steve is super upset bc you’re making him flustered just by looking at him.

Dustin walks back into the room during your intense stare off

“goddammit guys. we can feel the sexual tension all the way from the back of the house!”

when Billy arrives, you step in front of Max and Lucas

Billy ends up cornering you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“y’know princess, what you did to me at Halloween wasn’t very nice.”

Steve is by the door, ready to attack the mullet-headed dick

you totally save yourself though, pulling his mullet and kicking him until he lets you go.

when Billy tries to lunge at you, Steve steps in

“don’t you dare lay a hand on my girlfriend Hargrove.”

you pretend not to hear the kids cheering at his words. 

even though Steve gets his ass kicked, you’re still grateful.

in the tunnels, you make sure that Dustin is by your side the whole time.

except when Mike is caught

that’s when you separate yourself and help Mike get free

you and Steve make sure that the kids get up first

when you see the demodogs running at you, you yelp

Steve follows your gaze and grabs your hands.

“listen Henderson. if we’re about to die, there’s something I've always wanted to do.”

you glance at the demodogs hesitantly, before turning back to Steve.

“you might wanna hurry up then Harrington.”

Steve immediately presses his lips to yours.

and you’re kissing

as all the demodogs run around you. 

you pull away awkwardly

but you can’t deny that it was the best kiss you’ve ever had

((not that you’d ever admit it))

once you exit the tunnel, you’re met with the smug faces of The Party.

“well, i’m glad you got that out of the way.”

“shut up Dusty.”

you avoid Steve afterwards, too stubborn to admit that maybe you have a crush on him.

Nancy and Jonathan try to get you to talk to him

“c’mon (Y/N). he really likes you!”

“you guys were together???”

“well yeah, but he always liked you and I always liked Jonathan.”

you notice him spending more time with Dustin and it warms your heart.

Dustin definitely brings him up in random conversations you two have.

“hey (Y/N), this pasta is great. you know who else likes pasta? STEVE!”

“hey have you seen my walkie-talkie? by the way, STEVE IS DOING PRETTY WELL TODAY!”

eventually, Dustin asks you to help him get ready for the Snow Ball.

((you definitely laughed when he told you that Steve told him to use the Farrah Fawcett Hairspray)).

he also begs you to go drop him off with Steve.

when Steve first sees you, it’s awkward as hell.

but you just brush past him and into the car

when he gives Dustin advice, you roll your eyes and lean forwards.

“don’t listen to him Dusty.”

you kiss his cheek and he smiles before getting out of the car.

“alright, have fun you two. but not too much fun.”

“Dusty what are you-”

Dustin points to the roof of the car smugly

hanging from the car’s roof is a sprig of mistletoe

((where did this dipshit get mistletoe??))

you and Dustin have a mini stare-off before you groan and turn around, taking Steve by surprise and kissing him harshly.

“wow”

“you got that right Harrington,” you grumble.

“does this mean you like me Henderson?”

“don’t push it dumbass.”

Steve chuckles before turning serious.

“I really do like you Henderson.”

a pause. then...

“i know.”

“did you just Han Solo me?”

“yes but i like you too so shh.”

Steve Harrington might have been a douchebag but he cleaned up his act.

The Party was super happy that you were together now

especially Dustin.

((you were still the favorite babysitter though))

(((shh don’t tell Steve)))

Tags: @delicrieux, @broken-pieces, @toekeery, @stanleyurisalive, @tapetayloe, @thekidsofneibolt ((if you wanna be tagged, let me know))

#steve #harrington #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #dustin henderson #dustin x reader #dustin henderson x reader #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #eleven #jane ives #jane hopper #jim hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #billy hargrove #max hargrove #max mayfield #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things 2

[karnivalkrew]

Event: Bon Bon Voyage

The party was going great, in Beppi’s opinion. Sure, there were lots of people he didn’t really know, and he reluctantly had turned down any booze that was offered, for Bonnie’s sake, but he was rather enjoying himself. Being with his friends made him feel like he wasn’t being forced to stay in a character. 

Of course, the balloon always stayed somewhat close to Bonnie, wanting to make sure she didn’t feel unwelcomed or out of place, but he also did his best to make sure she didn’t feel like he was constantly breathing down her neck.

Yet as time went by, Beppi couldn’t help but notice Bonnie began to enjoy herself less and less. She looked uncomfortable. Like the novelty of the bash was starting to wear off. Bon Bon was feeling as if she’d been spending too much time away from her royal duties. Holiday or not, she was still Baroness, and she had important matters to take care of. The break was certainly nice, but she hadn’t expected this to last so long. Things weren’t getting done with her here, and she was growing anxious about it. Not to mention how her feet were hurting her now...But Beppi seemed so excited to have her here. 

Beppi caught her gaze and waltzed up to her with a smile.  “You worn out?” Bonnie cracked a small smile of her own, shaking her head slightly as she chuckled. “Is it that obvious?” Beppi placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll walk ya home.” “Oh, no, it’s fine, I can just call a carriage.” She assured. “Nonsense!” Beppi waved. “It ain’t that far, just a short walking dead!”  “Ughh. Really?” The groan earned a giggle out of Beppi. Although, Bonnie could tell by the look on Beppi’s face that the offer was genuine. Beppi knew that he and Bonnie never got the chance to talk just between the two of them, so he figured now would be as good a time as any to do so. Besides, everyone was here anyway, so what’s the worse that could happen?

Bonnie nodded and accepted his offer. “Alright. If you’re certain.” “Great! I’ll let Djimmi know.” Bepp turned around, only to find the ex-genie dressed as a mummy, singing karaoke to Mysterious Mose on the stage. Beppi really didn’t want to wait for the end of the song just to tell Djimmi where he was going, and that he’d be back. He made a few hand gestures, but Beppi had the feeling Djimmi didn’t see him. Rats. 

A light bulb appeared above Beppi’s head as he got an idea.  “Oh!” He snapped his fingers, and a balloon appeared between his middle and pointer fingers. He inflated the balloon, and said something into the end before he tied it shut, pulled out an ink pen from behind his back, and wrote Djimmi’s name on it. Then he tossed it up into the air, and spiked the balloon towards Djimmi. He’d surely get that later when he was done.

Beppi stepped out the door with Bon Bon, his face relaxing just a bit, but a genuine smile still present.  “You ready?” “You do know the way back, yes?” “‘Course I do! We ain’t to far from Isle Two. It’s this way,” Beppi motioned, “C’mon!” Bon Bon wobbled on her heels slightly as she followed Beppi off the porch steps, and into the streets. “Slow down, you simpleton! I can’t keep up in these shoes!” “Oh right, heels.” Beppi remembered, stopping to wait for his friend. Surprisingly, Beppi knew Bonnie had never worn heels before, so he was going to go slow out of respect. He’d never worn heels, and considering how painful he’s heard they are, he had no plans of wearing them either. “Did you have fun though?” “Yes! It was quite enjoyable, but I’ve many things to take care of tomorrow...” “That’s understandable.” Beppi shrugged. “I’m just lucky that I have the day off tomorrow.” Beppi glanced over to Bonnie as she walked next to him. 

The two continued to converse as they made their way back to the second isle. For once, Beppi seemed rather relaxed to Bonnie. He wasn’t making a stupid pun or a silly joke every other sentence, that was for certain.  “This is nice, Beppi. I’m glad you suggested this.” 

Beppi however, wrapped an arm around the Baroness and gently pulled her closer to him. “Look slightly down, and be quiet.” Bonnie could hear a serious tone in his voice that sounded completely foreign  for him. If something was going to make Beppi, of all people, get serious, then she wasn’t going to question it, so she did as instructed.

Beppi tried to avoid eye contact with the trio of wolves that were walking past them. He didn’t recognize them, no, but with suits like that, they were either flatfoots or gang members. And as far as Beppi knew, any gumshoe would be wearing a trench coat in this weather. Either way, the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to him and Bonnie. Just act natural. He told himself.

Unfortunately, Beppi didn’t know them, and because of his curse, he had to fight to keep himself from smiling. The more anxious Beppi got, the more he could feel the corners of his mouth twitch and try to force their way to a smile, but the more his mouth tried to smile, the more anxious he got. He was starting to get scared, too, which only caused giggles to begin to bubble up inside him. Dang it, the stupid contract was burned over a year ago, why can’t the effects go away too?!

Luckily, the two passed the three wolves on the street. The feelings washed away, and Beppi heaved a silent sigh of relief. 

“Boss, did ya see dat lady with dat ugly joker?” “Yee. She sure looks miiiighty rich.” The middle wolf mused, a smirk holding the cigar between his teeth. “We gonna do somethin’ Boss?!” Another wolf beside him asked. “Of course.” The boss’s smirk grew even wider. “We wouldn’t be The Wolf Gang if we didn’t try and get some dough outta the valuables.” The trio turned around to face the duo behind them that was walking away.  “Eddie? Teddy? Give ‘em th’ Bums Rush. Just make sure the little lady gets finds her pretty little self in my possession.” “You got it, Boss!” The two other wolves lowered themselves, and suddenly rushed towards the two unsuspecting carnies.

Beppi was suddenly knocked forward when a wolf tackled him from behind. “Beppi!!” Bon Bon screamed, just before she felt a pair of furry, clawed hands forcefully grab her by the waste. “Ah!” “Good goin’ Eddie!” “Get off!! Unhand me you foul brute!!” She spat, trying to pry herself out of his grip. “Not so fast, toots.” Eddie growled, licking his lips. “Boss thinks you’re worth a pretty penny!” The wolf cackled. Bonnie looked around, trying to find a way out before her eyes locked onto her heels, then onto the wolf’s exposed paws.  “I said let! Go!” The Baroness stomped the heel of her foot onto the other’s paw, breaking the chocolate heel instantly. Eddie howled in pain as he let go of Bonnie, and held his foot in pain as he hopped on the ground. “And you!!” Bonnie quickly pulled out her trusty peppermint double-barreled shotgun from behind her back, and twirled it around in her hands. “Get off him!!” She screamed in a low voice as she whacked Teddy off of Beppi with the butt of her weapon. “Beppi, get up!! Are you hurt?!” She asked, pulling her friend off the ground by the hand.

Bonnie was rather off put by Beppi. He was holding his side as if he were hurt, but he was smiling.  “Beppi?!” Had he hit his head?! It didn’t seem like he had when Bonnie watched him fall.  “Let’s make like a banana, and split!” Beppi suddenly grabbed Bon Bon’s wrist, and began to run, but thanks to the broken shoe, Bonnie tripped, and would have fallen onto the wet ground if Beppi hadn’t have caught her. “Augh! My ankle!!” Beppi placed a hand on Bonnie’s back as he tried to help her stand, his whole body shaking as he started giggling. “Well, I guess it’s pain to see we can’t run!! Ahahahahaha!!”  “Why are you making jokes at a time like this?!” 

“Wadda we do now, Boss?!” Teddy asked. “Let’s give ‘em the ol’ Bada Bing Bada Boom!” The wolves each pulled out a bomb with a lit fuse, which could just barely be heard burning over Beppi’s laughter. Bon Bon knew there was no way to flee now. Not after twisting her ankle like she just did, so she raised her shotgun and took aim. 

One by one, The Wolf Gang threw their bombs at the duo, and Bon Bon managed to shoot swirling cotton candy puffs out that hit the first and second incoming explosives, but as the third one came in too close, Bonnie had to swing her shotgun around like a baseball bat to knock it away.  “Beppi, stop laughing and do something!!”  “A-aw, come on, Bonnie!! No need to be all gloom and boom all of a sudden!!” “Beppi, now is not the time!!”  "Nice heater there, sweet cheeks!” The boss grinned. “Let’s see how ya like mine.” The boss pulled a machine gun out from his back, and began firing rapidly, but the gun was too big for him, so the wolf ended up shooting in every direction. “Shoot!!” Bon Bon backed away, glancing around to try and find some sort of source of cover. “Bang reload!! Ahahahahaha!!” Beppi might have been laughing uncontrollably, but he still did his best to try and pull Bonnie back and out of danger. If only he didn’t have the strength of a party balloon. He’d be able to at least try and carry her to safety. 

What the duo hadn’t seen was Eddie sneaking around behind the pair while they were distracted, up until something struck Beppi in the side of the head, launching the balloon away from the Baroness. “Beppi!!” 

Beppi groaned as he struggled to get back up, before he started laughing even harder. He had to think of something!! Charlie was back in the carnival, so was Jerry, literally, anything he could use to fight was at the carnival! All he could do was signal his Balloon Dog Brigade, but he was laughing too hard to whistle! 

The boss stopped firing his gun and smirked, pulling out his pistol while the lady was distracted. Bonnie was about to fire at Eddie at point blank, but she saw the other pull out the gun in the corner of her eye, and quickly tried to shift her aim, but she was too late. The boss shot his pistol just as she fired, the letters B-A-N-G-! flew out of the pistol’s barrel, and into her shotgun, clogging it up and causing the peppermint to curl up around the sides with an explosion, completely destroying the weapon. “My shotgun!!” The Baroness exclaimed as she dropped her gun. 

“Take care a dat clown, Eddie!” The boss ordered.  “Makes sure he’s stays a witness!” “Right!” Eddie nodded, pulling out a nice, heavy anvil, and dropped it onto Beppi’s back, trapping him onto the ground. 

Beppi laughed even harder now. He struggled and squirmed, and fruitlessly tried to push himself up, but to no avail.  “Now then!” The boss marched right up next to the Baroness, and yanked her by the arms. “Yer comin’ with us!!” Bonnie screamed as she squirmed and pushed and tried to get away.  “Let go! Let go of me!!”

Beppi raised his head at that. His sides hurt like the dickens, but he just couldn’t stop laughing. Tears began falling from his eyes as he was forced to watch one of his best friends be dragged away by these bums.  “H-hehahahelp!! Ahahahahahahahahwahwhahelp!! Heeheeheehehehelp!! Somebody, hahahahahahahaha!! Helpaahahahahahaha!!”

“Eddie! Shut him up!” “Yes, Boss!” Eddie lifted a baseball bat up high in the air, before swinging it down onto Beppi’s head. Beppi felt the bat smack the back of his head, causing his face to slam into the pavement, then bounce back up into the bat again.

Beppi was just barely conscious after that. A few weak, airy chuckles escaped him as he watched the three wolves drag Bonnie away in a hazy vision.  “Hahahaha...Bonnie....” As Beppi watched the group get further and further away, laughs slowly turned into sobs, until his smile at last fell. “...Bon...nnh...” Beppi blacked out after that.

Event Start.

#Event: Bon Bon Voyage #Beppi the Clown #Baroness Von Bon Bon #Bada Bing It's the Thing {The Wolf Gang} #Drabble

[takadasaiko]

Breathe Again Beneath the Flames: Chapter Thirty-Two

FFN II AO3

Summary: Tom meets with the board at Halcyon.

Chapter Thirty-Two

He had spent so long fading in and out of different roles over the years that this should have been a breeze, but as Tom stood staring at his reflection in the full length mirror in a room in a house that he still couldn't drag from the depths of his memory, he felt more like he was simply playing a part than he ever had on an undercover operation. He looked like himself, more or less. Maybe a little cleaner cut and dressed a little nicer than his more comfortable jeans and t-shirt. This must have been what Christopher Hargrave was supposed to look like, if he hadn't been taken. Tom winced a little at the idea. It was the thought of walking through those boardroom doors and finally calling himself by the name that he'd been born under that left him feeling off balance that late morning. He couldn't remember anything that he should and this wasn't something that he could roll with. It wasn't a cover that he could play with the details to manipulate them to fit what he needed. This was his life. A life that he couldn't remember, but it was the life that supposedly gave him the claim on the company they needed to make this work. And if he was going to protect his family, he had to make this work.

"When this is over, we're getting dressed up more often," Liz said, startling Tom out of his thoughts and drawing his attention to where she was leaning gingerly against the doorframe leading into the room they had claimed in Howard and Scottie's house.

He shrugged his coat over his shoulders and into place, trying to offer his wife a small smile as he struggled to push down the conflicting thoughts that warred inside of his mind. "It always makes me feel like I'm going undercover even if I'm not."

Her smile lit the room and she crossed the space between them, reaching to adjust his collar. "That might be fun. A fancy dinner, dancing, a little mystery. Very James Bond style." She looked up at him and mischief danced in her eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked, finally cracking a smile of his own that felt real. "I think I could get behind that."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, still smiling. "Like when we were first dating with those clandestine meetings at Wing Yee's…." She tipped up on her toes at the same time she pulled him down into the kiss and Tom felt his increasingly tattered nerves ease a little. If she knew that he was dreading this meeting or she had just chosen the perfect moment to tease and flirt, he wasn't sure. Whichever one it was it was still working. All he wanted in that second was to sink into her arms and remember exactly who he was. That was the man that he'd chosen to be. She helped ground him.

They broke after a long moment and he followed after her, not quite ready for it to end. Her laugh was soft and she let her hands drop down to his. The smile sank downward just a little and he tilted his head in question. "Your hands are shaking," she murmured.

"They do that these days," he huffed. He pulled one free and frowned as he saw the way it trembled a little more than it had been. That wasn't good. It certainly wouldn't instill a lot of confidence in the board that he was a solid option to fill in for an injured Howard.

"Is it the new meds?"

"Maybe. This is my second day on them."

Liz's gaze fell to his wrist. "Your watch hasn't been sounding off like it did that night at home."

"It got damaged in Costa Rica."

His wife blinked at him. "Why haven't you had Dumont fix it? If the medication isn't-"

"Babe, it's fine. Gramble knows she's not getting the readouts. I have that appointment with her this afternoon, remember? She'll run some blood work and see if anything needs to be adjusted. I just need to get through this meet first. If I'm lucky, maybe you'll even still be there."

Liz didn't look convinced. He offered her a lopsided smile and pulled the hand she was still holding up so that he could kiss her knuckles. "Are you sure you don't want me there today? Gramble can wait. I'm feeling better."

"Want you there? Absolutely. I'd much rather have you there, but Howard hasn't even told them I'm coming to the meeting yet. He and Scottie think that the best way to contain it is-"

"To blindside them?"

Tom chuckled. "Basically."

"I'm sure that's going to go over great after the stunt you and he pulled a couple of years ago to get Whitehall out."

The smile stretched into more of a grin. "Yeah, we're trying to find a balance between keeping it quiet and not spooking them."

"You're going to do great, you know that right?"

He snorted. "Long as I can convince them of that."

"I'm serious." He looked at her and found his wife's clear blue eyes fixed on him. "I know you're an amazing operative, but this… running Halcyon, I think you'd be really good at it."

"Wouldn't hurt having me out of the field, huh?"

She grimaced a little. "That's not what I'm saying."

Tom's smile didn't fade as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her forehead. "I know."

"I'm saying that you told me that the Major trained you to take over St Regis. This may not be exactly the same, but you have the background for it. You'd be really good."

He waited a moment, letting her words sink in and he felt the knot in his chest loosen just a little. "What would I do without you?" he murmured.

"You're never going to have to find out," Liz answered firmly. "Now go. The car'll be downstairs any minute and you know Agnes isn't going to let you walk out that door easily."

"We may not get date night alone after this," he laughed.

"She'll be okay. Once things settle back out, she'll be okay."

Tom nodded and stole one more kiss. "I'll call you when it's done," he promised before he moved to walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. At least he could tell his little girl in all honesty that he'd see her in just a few hours. Soon this would be over, and once the Cabal was finally gone and Garvey with them, his family would be safe.

They had put together more of a paper trail for this meeting than Tom had likely had in his lifetime. Howard flipped through the files of research from Christopher's disappearance as a small boy, adoption papers for Jacob Phelps, and a few medical and educational records that they had been able to uncover. There hadn't been many with most traces of Jacob Phelps wiped clean when he had joined St Regis. While his juvie records were probably better left undisturbed anyway - Howard knew the types of children that Bill McCready had gone after in his days as the Major and he wasn't under any disillusions that his son hadn't fit the profile - they hadn't found any trace of those in the search. There were photos that Pendergast had delivered to him over his years of searching. At the time the first photos had been taken - some five years or more now - Tom had been one of several young men that Howard's PI had suspected might be Christopher. He'd just returned from Germany at the time and already had one death certificate under the name Tom Keen, even if it had since been buried along with the annulment papers and the charges filed against him when Liz had found out that he wasn't who she had thought he was. It hadn't been until he was shot and Pendergast had used his connections at the hospital to get a direct DNA sample that he'd made the match.

"It all looks like more than one person can live through when you see it all laid out like that," Scottie murmured from the door.

"Look at our lives," Howard countered and he saw her frown.

"I've wondered if it would have been better or worse for him if he hadn't been taken."

Howard pulled in a deep breath, closing the file and turning his full attention on her from his place at the long, empty conference table. "I'd like to say we would have protected him, but…"

"But there's not guarantee of that."

"No." He felt Scottie move behind him and her hands were on his shoulders. He leaned back in the chair. "Even if we had, he wouldn't be where he is today or who he is today That life took him to Liz and Agnes, and we found him."

"You found him," she said softly.

"We found him. I think he turned out pretty good for all this. Is he on his way?"

"Should be here any time." Scottie circled around and took a seat next to him, holding out one last file. "Harold Cooper sent this over this morning. I thought it might put the board's mind at ease to have one more DNA test that didn't come from us."

"I like that man."

"He has his uses."

Howard offered her a wink. "You just don't like him because he let me out of your nut farm."

"You were dangerous."

"So were you."

His wife hummed an amused sound. "I think the world's a little safer when we're on the same side."

He reached over to where her hand rested on the polished wood and her long fingers curled around his. It felt so natural, so right. It had been for so many years, and it was easier to let everything that had happened be pushed back with only small jabs for now. Sooner rather than later this would be over, though, and they would have to face what they had done to each other and truly begin to heal. He wasn't sure what that looked like, but he knew that he wanted it.

"What are you thinking?" Scottie asked quietly.

"That when this is all over you and I should take some time. Maybe Europe? You love Paris this time of year."

"I do, but Tom-"

"Will be fine. I'm talking about us. You and me trying to get to know each other again."

Her expression melted into a tentative smile. "I like that."

A knock at the door drew their attention and Phyllis stood in the opening. "Tom Keen is here to see you and the board members are starting to come in."

"Send Tom in," Howard instructed. "Thank you."

Their son rounded in almost immediately and Howard spun his chair rather than risk putting weight on his stiff leg. Tom offered a lopsided smile and there was a calmness about him that Howard hadn't expected. It was put on, he realised after a moment, but that was just as well. The board was a whole different battle that Tom wasn't used to, but weakness didn't have any place on display there than it did in the field.

Scottie stood. "They're on their way in. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Tom answered, his gaze flickering down to the documents. "That the DNA test Cooper was sending over?"

"It is." Howard quirked an eyebrow. "They're a skeptical bunch, but four tests performed by four different labs should help ease their minds."

"Yeah, because no one's ever faked a DNA test before," Tom grumbled and took a seat.

"Your wife's experience with DNA tests may not be the best thing to talk about today, son."

That finally pulled a small, real smile from the younger man and Howard closed the file as board members started to file in. He didn't move, but instead waved and greeted them along with Scottie, their cheerful attitudes doing nothing to ease the nerves of a group of people that consistently found themselves guessing at the Hargraves' motivation.

Once they were seated, Howard stood, pulling all eyes towards him. "I'd like to thank you all for clearing your schedules for this. I know that a couple of you had to cut family vacations short, but Scottie and I didn't think it would be right to leave any of the board from this announcement."

"Nearly a year ago you gave Howard and I an ultimatum," Scottie said from her place, her voice commanding the respect of everyone in the room. "We agreed to it, and now we're going to live by it."

"Haven't you been?" Alice Washington, a board member that had been with Halcyon for decades now, asked from her place.

"Howard has decided to officially take time off from his duties because of his injuries -"

"Something he still hasn't fully accounted for," Theo Maddens grumbled.

"-and I'll be stepping down with him for the time being."

A quiet murmur stirred through their board and Howard wasn't surprised that Theo was the one to pipe up first. "And who do you expect to run the company in your absence?"

"I will," Tom answered and for the first time since they had entered all eyes turned towards him.

"And who are you?" Theo grumbled.

Tom drew in a deep breath and Howard could see his son steadying his own nerves. "My name is Tom Keen, but I was born under the name Christopher Hargrave."

The words hung in the air for for just a moment before questions erupted all at once and Howard retook a seat. It was going to be a long morning.

He had always known that bureaucrats could drag a meeting out, but Tom hadn't expected to be stuck in that boardroom until dinner. They had spent all day in that room, various men and women drilling him for information that he didn't have. Some of the gaps were easily filled in by the information Howard and Scottie had put together, but other things - details about his kidnapping, what happened to him after - were pieces of information that he didn't have. Scottie and Howard had been united on that front, though. They had both been convinced that Tom should be honest about the gaps in his memories, but as he pulled himself out of the back of the car that had delivered him to the home that he'd supposedly spent the first three years of his life in, he was regretting not tossing something out there to distract the hounds. They had ended the meeting without resolution and a lot of distrust on all sides. The plan was that they would go home and sleep on the new information and reconvene the next day. The thought of going back into that room and sitting through a replica of the day he'd had made Tom cringe. Right then he needed to get inside, see his family, swallow some food and pills, and get some sleep. Somewhere in there a shower wouldn't hurt either.

"Mr Keen?"

Tom was halfway up the steps to the front door when he heard his name and turned, squinting against the setting sun to see one of the board members that had picked every inch of the information provided to pieces over the day. Madden. Theodore Madden. Howard had said he was a lawyer. Great. "I thought we decided to put things on hold until tomorrow."

The tall, thin man tilted his chin just a little and his lips twitched downward. Tom felt like he was on display in front of him where he stood, and consciously squared his shoulders a little. He hoped that he didn't look as rundown as he felt.

"I knew Christopher Hargrave," Madden said slowly, his words deliberate and his gaze piercing. "Scottie and Howard would bring him into the office. We all felt their loss when he was taken away."

Tom blinked slowly, his expression carefully guarded as he waited for Madden to get to the point.

"I took some time to look over the files Scottie had on you in your brief time with Halcyon-"

"Yeah, where'd you fit that in?"

Madden snorted. "Scottie has a habit of leaving her files on the thin side, but I've known her long enough to read between the lines. You're a gifted operative, but a liability. You worked a brief job with our company that was classified under Grey Matters and then she brought you on full time a year later to continue working with the team that specializes in our black ops division. You then, somewhere along the way, decided to switch your loyalties to Howard, or did he send you in to begin with?"

"I just wanted answers," Tom said honestly.

"And you got them the only way you knew how?" Madden asked skeptically. "By lying and deceiving those around you. That doesn't instill confidence."

"Listen, if you think I'm…. I don't know, playing them? Or something? I'm not. Howard sought me out."

"So you didn't know when he approached you?"

Tom set his jaw a little, the phone call that had saved Scottie's life flashing across his memory. Reddington had told him, supposedly, to keep him from making a mistake that would have haunted him. Strange, considering how little care he had for Tom on his own and how he'd believed Liz to be dead at the time. "I'd heard rumours from an unreliable source," he said after a moment, "but I didn't follow up on them."

"Why?"

"Because I had a family of my own."

Madden hummed, but looked entirely unconvinced. "The board doesn't need to know our field operatives' backgrounds, Mr Keen. In fact, it's often better if we don't. That doesn't mean that we're entirely unaware of the types of people that are hired, especially in the Grey Matters division. Some are military intelligence, sure, but others - many - come from much less reputable sources all over the world."

"Are you planning on getting to a point some time tonight?"

"Our operatives don't have the clearance to do enough damage for that to be too much of a worry. Not on a large scale, but if one of these organisations put a mole in, convinced two parents - still grieving thirty years after they lost their child - that this man they've run across is theirChristopher, that would open up a lot of doors for them. Especially if that man were to take temporary ownership op Halcyon."

"The multiple DNA tests weren't enough, huh?"

Madden shook his head. "There's something about you, Keen. Maybe you faked them. Maybe you are him and are still working for someone else."

"You think I'm trying to sink my parents' company?"

"I think by your own admittance you don't have any memory of them being your parents, so why should I hang my hopes on the idea that you'd be loyal to them?"

Tom shook his head, rolling his eyes a little as a chuckle road out on a breath. He made a split second decision. "Howard saved my life. He used a drug that was developed by Whitehall's technologies to bring me back after the doctors had given up. He sat with me through my recovery and he made sure that I survived it so that I could get back to my wife and daughter. Now he's hurt, he's stretched, and he needs a break. After everything he's been through for me, the least I can do is offer him one."

"Scottie doesn't have to step down with him."

Dark blue eyes darted away and Tom reached up, running his increasingly shaky hand along the back of his neck. "You're right, Madden. I didn't have a great childhood. I was taken and thrown into one crappy situation after another. I thought, for the better part of my life, that my parents were responsible for those circumstances. That they hated me so much that they tossed me out. They found me, years later, and they didn't hate me, but they hated each other. They're trying now. Why would I want to get in the way of that?"

Madden stared at him for a long moment and Tom felt the tension building in his head, the headache that he'd only barely kept at bay during the day growing and pushing his limits. He was exhausted, stressed, and hungry. His medication was off and he was behind on what he had. He had hoped to have time to meet with Gramble that day to calibrate it, but he hadn't had the chance. The last thing he wanted to parade in front of this man was any sort of weakness. The truth could be given in small, curated bites, but he had no interest in sharing with him anything about his health.

There were some things that not even he could hide though.

"Get some rest, Mr Keen. You look like you could use it, and we're all in early tomorrow morning." With that, Madden turned and started down the path.

Tom stood there for a long moment, even after he'd gone, before he finally moved for the door. His hand was trembling as he reached for it, the key missing a couple of times before he finally fit it into the lock and turned it, letting himself in. By this point he could feel all the signs of what he thought he was over and he just wanted to find a place to lie down.

"Tom?" Liz's voice drifted in from another room. "Hey, you didn't show at Gramble's appointment earlier and I thought…. Babe, you okay?"

He blinked hard, focusing on her and suddenly she was right in front of him. "Just a long day."

"I'm calling her."

"I'll go in tomorrow." He turned, regretting the motion instantly as the floor seemed to shift beneath him. Her hand was in his arm instantly.

"Tom."

There was no arguing with that tone, and from the look on her face he knew he'd given her reason to worry. "Okay. She's not going to be at the office anymore."

"I have a feeling your parents pay her enough to come here."

He had been doing better. As long as he stayed on top of his medication and paid attention to the warning signs his body gave him, he hadn't had an episode like Liz had seen their first night back together since then. He got run down a little bit easier and was a little stiffer first thing in the morning than he ever had been before, but all in all he had been doing fairly well.

Until now. Liz frowned from her place at the bedroom door where Dr Gramble was drawing blood and giving instructions. Tom was stretched out and he looked like he was coming down with something. Maybe he was.

"Nothing we haven't seen before," Gramble told him as she tested the syringe in her hand. When she was satisfied it was ready she instructed him to make a ball with his fist and Liz saw her husband watch the needle as it slid in. "With your…. heightened activity level the dosage needs to be adjusted. This is what happens when you skip scheduled appointments and don't fill me in."

Tom shot her what might have been an innocent grin. "I hadn't exactly planned on making the board meeting an all day affair."

Gramble snorted. "You should rest tomorrow."

Tom leaned back against his pillows. "No time. You think I'll be good to go in the morning?"

"Get a good night's sleep, add a half pill to your dose in the morning with breakfast, and you probably won't look like death warmed over by the time the day's done. Probably."

"You're the best, doc."

Gramble made a small, discontented sound as she put her tools away and turned towards Liz. She motioned very subtly and the dark haired woman blinked in surprise. Funny. Gramble never had any interest in discussing Tom's health with her. She risked one glance back to see he was already slipping towards sleep before following the doctor out into the hall.

The other woman didn't say anything for a moment, but simply stood and looked Liz over. Her lips twitched downward. "He asked for you when he first came around," she said abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tom. He went into such a panic that I had to sedate him to make sure he wasn't going to hurt himself again." She closed her eyes and sat back in her chair. "He had two surgeries. One as soon as he came in to try to finish what the ER team had stopped because they called his time of death and a second a week and a half later. We kept him in a medically induced coma to give him what chance we could to let him heal, and even when he came out of it everything he did, every inch he fought, was to get to you."

Liz found herself staring at the blonde woman. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because your husband is the most stubborn patient I've ever had, Agent Keen, and I've treated his father. He fights like hell and, in part, it's why he's still alive. It's also what could get him killed."

"Tom's good at what he does," Liz said very carefully. "He knows how far to push the risks."

"He doesn't know the risks. None of us do. Whitehall's formula was cracked, yes, but he's not overseeing the process. It's different, slower, and while Dumont is fixing and reconfiguring Tom's watch, we're back to the guessing game. You didn't see him during that time."

"He's better now," Liz argued. "Further along in the healing process."

"Better, yes, but not well. The concussion he received in the car crash didn't help." Gramble pursed her lips together thoughtfully. "I don't know what you're all planning. I don't need to know every detail, but I've never been on board with putting him in the field even when his medication was balanced. I wouldn't clear him for it."

Liz watched the older woman for a long moment. "Why aren't you having this discussion with him?"

"Like I said, he's stubborn. It'd be a waste of breath, but from what I've seen, he'd do anything for you."

The memory of Tom's pained expression when she had asked him to sit out of Garvey's arrest flashed across Liz's mind. He had done it because she had asked him to. If he would do it again or not didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. They were a team and she had promised to trust him. She met Gramble's eyes. "I won't manipulate my husband into sitting this out. If you think he's in danger because something might go wrong here, fix the problem."

"I'm doing my best," Gramble promised and motioned back towards the bedroom. "The dose I gave him tonight should help balance his system out. If he's still running a fever in the morning then he needsto stay here."

Liz watched as the doctor turned and left without another word. She stood there and listened to the footsteps echo down the stairs to let herself out before she looked back towards the room, inching forward as quietly as possible so that she wouldn't wake Tom. He was dozing, looking much more comfortable than he had when he had come in a couple of hours earlier. He was still a little pale under the slight flush against his face, but his breathing was even and when his eyes fluttered open they were clear. He smiled for her. "Hey you."

"Hey," she greeted back, reaching forward and running her fingers along the side of his face. He leaned into the touched before lifting his own hand to hold onto hers. "How're you feeling?"

"Better. Gramble say anything else?"

"Just a lot of warnings."

"She's good at that."

Liz tightened her grip on his hand, taking a careful seat next to him. "She wants me to talk you out of doing what we're doing."

Her husband blinked at her. "Are you going to?" he asked carefully.

She paused a moment, letting the question weigh on her before she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. "No," she murmured, barely breaking the kiss. "I'm going to trust you, like I promised I would. If you tell me you're coming home to me after this, I believe you."

"Thank you."

"We're doing this together."

He nodded, his eyes already drifting closed. "You coming to bed?"

"I just need to check on Agnes one more time and I'll be right in."

"'Kay."

She squeezed his hand. "I love you."

"You too," he whispered and the last word faded as he drifted back to sleep.

The sun had long since set as a black town car pulled up alongside Doctor Meredith Gramble just a few steps after the taxi had let her out. Town cars in this part of town weren't uncommon on Park Avenue, but this one seemed to be creeping right along at her pace, slowing as she did, and finally pulling to the side. She should have kept walking. Everything in her told her she should have kept walking. It wasn't far to the door of her high rise apartment and whoever had been was in the car wouldn't dare follow her in there with the security that was kept. Curiosity had always been her downfall, though. It's what had brought her to Halcyon to begin with.

She stepped closer to the edge of the sidewalk and as she leaned down the rear passenger's side window rolled down as well. A well dressed man smiled charmingly at her. "Dr Gramble, I presume."

Her lips twitched downward. "And who are you?"

His smile only widened. "My name is Raymond Reddington and I'd like a few moments of your time."

Notes: I've decided I really like Dr Gramble. She began in this story as a very minor character but has stuck around. And now Reddington has a hold of her... that's never good. And poor Tom. This guy just needs a vacation. A nice long, no one shooting at him styled vacation.

Next Time: Reddington enlists Liz's help for the next step of the plan and Halcyon's board makes their decision about Tom.

#the blacklist #au fanfiction #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Raymond Reddington #Scottie Hargrave #Howard Hargrave

[mysteriouslyhopefulstranger]

your least favorite memory compared to your most favorite memory. (for the drabble thing)

So many foul memories, yet plenty of good ones. Which one should she pick?

Senior year, a dance/karaoke night. Alice was trying to keep up with the freestyle dancing, but what caught her eye was the karaoke option. She went over to the binder that listed the songs. So far, she saw some older songs, created before she was born. But then she spotted one old song that she knew: Hit Me With Your Best Shot. She went up to the guy running the machine and told him her selection. He placed her turn in the list of other contestants.

So far, the people who were singing were....not good. They were having fun but for her sensitive and experienced ears, uhhhhhh...Well, more concerning, they were singing todays pop songs. Where were those in the binder?! Then her turn came up. The kids "ooo'ed" with interest. This was the most invisible if not unfriendly girl in the school, and she's singing?

Alice went up to the mic. "Uh, I didn't know that we could pick recent songs, so uh, I wound up picking an old song."

They didn't seem to care; they wanted to hear what she could do. The song started. They seem to like this song. Well, it was in Guitar Hero. She opened her mouth and belted with attitude, "Well you're the real tough cookie-" Everyone cheered and scream in surprise! She can sing! Alice confidence was growing, she even sung the chorus with a higher harmony. During the music break, they were chanting her name! Her singing didn't falter.

The guitar ended the song. Everyone screamed and gave her high fives. The guy running the karaoke gave her a gift card! There was such a high in her heart!

1999. A train station. Alice was 6 years old. Her mother and father were by her side. They were coming home from their vacation. Little happy and naïve Alice was swinging her self around when a buzz in her head lured her to a bench. A ghost dressed in rags waved at her. She trotted up to him, "Hello!" Her parents just shrugged. An imaginary friend perhaps?

"Hello, little girl! What's your name?" the ghost asked.

"I'm Alice!" She beamed.

"Hello Alice! Say, you look like a nice girl, think you can cheer up that woman over there?" He pointed to a woman with long dark hair, wearing white clothes. She was standing very close to the yellow line, her posture droopy.

"Ok!" She said. She ran up to the sad woman. "Hi! I'm Alice! What's your name?"

The woman turned to look at her. She looked like the light in her eyes had died out. “Sylvia.” She sounded dead, too.

“I’m coming home from Disney Land!” Maybe a happy story would cheer her up? “I met all the princesses and Mickey, and Goofy, and Donald, and Minnie, and Daisy! I even went onto Splash Mountain even though I was scared! Did you go there, too?!”

“I...didn’t.” Her voice was soft, “I’ll just sully a place of innocence. I can’t even go home. I’m not worthy of going back. I’m a disgrace.”

“Why?” Alice tilted her head. “And what’s ‘sully?’“

“...You’re too young to know about this. And ‘sully’ means ‘ruin.’ I’d ruin it with my presence because I’m a horrible person.”

“But you seem nice....and you’re very pretty.” The tiny red-head didn’t know what happened, but she doesn’t seem like a bad person. Don’t bad guys like being bad?

Sylvia was taken aback by the compliment. She looked like she was going to cry.

“NOW ARRIVING NUMBER 10. EVERYONE STAND BACK.”

Sylvia exhaled and faced forward. “Alice, was it? Please look away.”

“Huh? Why? Yee!!” Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her away. It was her daddy.

“Alice, don’t talk to strangers.” He lightly scolded her.

“But she...” Alice turned and pointed at Sylvia only to see her stepping over the yellow line. Head lights shone through the tunnel.

“Hey!!” Alice yelled at her, “You’re not supposed to step over the yellow line!!”

The train was visible now.

“You can’t-”

She jumped. Right in front of the slowing train.

Alice froze. The adults screamed and shouted. Even her parents were yelling. The adults crowded around the spot where Sylvia jumped. Voices everywhere.

“OH MY GOD!!!”

‘SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!!!”

“Alice, don’t look!!!” That one came from her father.

Tears welled up in her eyes. What happened?! Everyone’s panicking. What did she do?!

“?!” There’s a buzz coming from in front of her. A dead heart rose up and through the crowd. Nobody’s reacting to it. Something was forming around it. A ghost is coming out?! Was it the man on the bench?! If he going to yell at her?!

Arms grew out. Then a skull. Then long black hair. Then a white shirt. But no legs. The ghost hit the ground, and slowly picked herself up from the ground with her arms.

“Wh-what the?!” She spoke. Her eyes wide with confusion and surprise. “I can’t feel...” She turned her head 180 degrees to look behind her. “Ha...?! AAAUUUUGGGHHH??!!!”

Alice fell to the ground, startled by her screams. She could feel her distress. It made the tears spill out faster.

The head swiveled back around. It had a face now. Alice gasped, “You?!” It was Sylvia! She’s a ghost now?! How did she..?!

“WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LEGS?!” Sylvia’s hollowed eyes darted around. “THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO END MY PAIN!! NOT-” She saw the frightened Alice. “YOU!!!” She snarled. 

Alice tried to scramble away. 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME?!”

Alice stood herself up. She could feel something...angry. Violent?! “I...I....”

“Stop looking at me, you little bitch!! STOP LOOKING AT MEEEEE!!!” Sylvia charged at her. 

Alice turned to run away, screaming, but something grabbed her by the head and forced her to fall flat on her back.

“Allie?!” Her mother’s voice.

Nails dug into her brows. “Ow ow ow ow!!! You’re hurting me!!” Alice reached up to grab the hand.

The hand traveled back, clawing skin off of her forehead. Alice shrieked. The adults turned to look at the noise. The footsteps grew loud. She could hear her parents scream her name. The hand came off as her mother reached for her. Blood drenched her face. Alice could only scream and cry, “MOMMY DADDY IT HURTS!!! IT HURTS!!!”  

#anon #anonymous #long post #tw: suicide #tw: blood

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Far Gone (Jasper Hale) (1)

Pairing: Jasper Hale/Reader Words: 1600+ Warning(s): Angst, alcohol, mentions of smoking A/N: yee, I wanted to make this two parts~ I hope you enjoy. Sorry the first half of this part seems rushed Request:  Hi.. could you write a jasper fic where she accidentally gets hurt badly and so he leaves for a while and while he's gone she goes on a spiral downward and starts doing stupid shit to get her mind off him (ex: smoking/drinking/partying too much) and he asked Alice to keep an eye on her and she told jasper the readers spiral down and he comes back and kinda like scolds her and tries to get her to realise that these things she/he/they are doing are hurting and bad for the reader and he tries to help and can the reader like break down because they're trying but it's hard and jasper comforts them???? Does that make sense? I'm sorry I'm so shit at this Part 2: Coming soon

   The sun was covered by clouds, but that didn't stop you from going on a forest walk with you vampire boyfriend Jasper Hale. It was damp and a bit slippery on the walk, and you were a bit cold but it was fine. You were spending time with Jasper.

   "You want my jacket, sugar?" Jasper ask, noticing you shiver while you both walk along the path.

   "I'm fine Jas! We are almost back to your house anyways, I can last." You giggle. You smile and step ahead of him.

   "Watch your step, (Y/N)."

   "Don't worry so much." You said all too soon. There was an especially wet patch of fallen leaves that caused you to fall forwards. Luckily Jasper caught you before your face hit the ground, though your leg wasn't unharmed. A sharp rock under the leaves had caught your kneecap, giving you a deep and bleeding cut. You looked to Jas and notice his eyes were pitch black and his jaw was clenched.  

   He didn't hesitate to lift in his arms and take off running to his home. You gripped onto him for dear life until he came to harsh halt at his door. Carlisle swung it up and you were immediately brought into his study. You stared at Jaspers face, it was strained and it seemed like he was in deep thought.

   "Jasper you should leave." Carlisle spoke with concern lacing his voice. Jasper nodded and left, leaving you watch his backside quickly disappear. "Don't worry, he will be fine, (Y/N). He is still getting used to blood. Now, let's get that leg wound cleaned.

--

   You were back home. Emmett offered to take you home since Jasper was still out somewhere. Emmett gave you one of his signature bear hugs before you went inside your home. You pulled out your cellphone and dialed Jasper to check up on him. It went straight to voicemail, which concerned you but you dismissed it. He was probably clearing his head, right? You limped to your room, and got ready for bed.  

   You lay awake in bed. There was something about his face that worried you. You hope he would be okay tomorrow. At least at school you could pull him aside and talk to him. You yawned, a sudden wave of drowsiness hit you like a car. You closed your eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

--

   It has been a week and a half since your fall in the woods and you haven't seen Jasper at all. The other Cullens were all at school with you and still talked to you, except for Jasper. You tried calling his phone multiple times and stopped by the house to check up on him, but he wasn't anywhere. The Cullens didn't know either, or claimed they didn't know.  

   Without Jasper, you anchor, your mental state started going down. You fell into depression and your anxiety was always on. You were so used to the southern vampires' secure presence, without him by your side, you felt lost. In school you weren't used to the chair next to you being empty or your walks to the cafeteria being lonesome. At least Alice, Rose, Edward, Emmett and Bella always kept you company during school. Though it always seemed like they tip-toed around the subject of Jasper and always tried to keep you close to them. It felt like you were being coddled.

   You were on your way to the cafeteria when you over heard Jessica and Angela talk about an open party happening tonight. You let your impulses control you. You stopped going towards the cafeteria and walked up to the two girls.

   "Hey, sorry to ease drop, but I heard you guys talking about a party?" You smile shyly as they both looked at you.

   "Oh yeah!" Jessica grinned. "It's at Roman's house in Cherry Court. Anyone who knows about it is invited. I didn't take you as a party girl, usually you stay with the Cullens."

   "I am a big partier." You gave a tight-lipped smile. You've only been to birthday parties ever. "I'm just always with the Cullens, I never hear about any parties."

   "Well I can't wait to see you there!" She smiled and you waved goodbye, entering the cafeteria. You took your seat next to Alice and Rose. You didn't even pull out your lunch before Edward slammed his fist on the lunch table.

   "No, (Y/N)." He muttered.

   "No, what?" You ask innocently, but you knew full he could read your mind. You looked to the other Cullens and the only one who seemed to know was Alice.

   "You shouldn't go to that party."

   "And why not, Edward?"  

   "Because it is dangerous. Romans parties are known to be wild."

   "Okay? I am still going to go." You snapped while standing up. "You don't own me, Edward. You don't control me. I'm sick and tired of this over-protectiveness."

   "(Y/N), we are just looking out for you." Alice said, putting a gentle hand on your arm. "Jasper-"

   "Jasper what, huh?" You exploded. "Every time I mention him you guys, you avoid talking about it. I get it. He left me. Now stop trying to protect me. I'm done with you guys. I'll keep the secret... just don't talk to me anymore." You grabbed your bag and walked away from the table of vampires. You were going home early to get ready for the party.

--

   You stepped into the Brad's house with nervousness hanging around you. You did your make up heavily; dark eye-shadow, red lips. You wore a tight dress you didn't even know you had that reached just above your knees. You could feel eyes burning into your form.

   The house was large and still packed with people dancing, drinking, smoking and making out. You gulped and wandered around, hoping to spot Jessica in the crowd. Luckily you saw her curled, red hair by the beverages.

   "Hey Jess." You smiled as you approached. She turned around and gasped.

   "Oh my gosh! You look amazing." She gushed. "Did you just get here?"

   "Thanks, you too!" You smiled.  "And yeah, I did."

   "Well you look all stiff, here." She turned around and grabbed a cup from the table before handing it to you. "This should make you relax."

   "Wh-What is it?"

   "Just lemonade." She winked. "And some whiskey. Don't worry, it's good. I already had a cup."

   "If you say so." You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip, the alcohol making you wince slightly. "It's pretty good."

   "Good!" She grinned. "Well I'm going to go off and find Mike." She did a little wave, before disappearing into the sea of dancing teens. You gulped and took a long drink of the beverage. You never drank before, but you could tell you were already feeling the alcohol in you system.  

   “Fuck it.” You mutter to yourself before you downed the rest of your drink. You almost gagged at the alcohol but you kept it down. You sway on your feet but steadying yourself.

   “Damn girl, you know how to pound one.” A male voice spoke. You jumped and saw Roman and his girlfriend. “I know I haven’t seen you around here at a party, but I’ve seen you with the Cullens.”

   “Yeah, we aren’t really friends and Jasper is away.” You spoke, your words started to slur. “This is an awesome party.”

   “Hah thanks. You know, my buddies and I are doing a little get together a day after tomorrow. You seem like a cool chick so you are invited.”

   “Thanks!” You grinned and watched him and his girlfriend walk off. You grab another drink and take another before merging with the dancing crowd. You swayed your hips with your hands. You didn't care you were grinding on others. You slowly forgot all about Jasper and that was something you were thoroughly enjoying that.

--

   Its been two months after that party.

   Roman and his group always invited you to parties or just hang outs and you went to every single one. You started drinking more and took up to smoking cigarettes and marijuana when you went to those parties. It helped you forget about Jasper Hale. The alcohol and smoking made you feel good in the moments, and that was something you needed the most. The rest of the Cullen family were hardly at school due to the recent sunny weather. Bella always seemed to try and start and conversation but they always ended awkward.  

   You were at home alone. Both your parents were out on a marital vacation. You were more than ecstatic because that meant more drinking at home for you. You were sipping on whatever you were able to get your hands, whatever would make you forget for a night about the depression Jasper caused.

   You were already drunk off your ass, but the alcohol wasn't taking away the thoughts. You grew angrier and angrier as his stupidly handsome face kept coming into your mind; his laugh, his smile, his sparkling skin. You just wanted all those memories gone!

   You get up and wander into the kitchen, the neck of the bottle in your hand as you paced. You were impaired, not thinking straight when you screamed in anger and in pain.  

   "WHY JASPER?!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face. You look down at the bottle in your hand, piecing together in your drunken mind that this bottle of booze was causing these thoughts. With no hesitation, you slammed the bottle onto the kitchen floor; glass and liquor went everywhere. You collapsed to your knees, not fully aware of the glass shards imbedding themselves into your legs.  

   You felt dizzy, collapsing on your side as you stared at the cabinets.

   "Why did you leave me alone...." You slurred, your vision darkening before you blacked out.

#jasper hale #Twilight Jasper #jasper whitlock #jasper #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale imagines #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #twilight imagines #twilight imagine

[blacklister214]

Second Son Update: Guardian Felon

Another chapter of Second Son ready to go! Enjoy!

Liz had chosen to face Wing Yee's primary entrance when she'd taken her seat. She may not have been an official law enforcement agent yet, but it was good to practice the appropriate habits. Even without Quantico training, she had her concealed carry permit, and thanks to Sam, the know-how to use her personal weapon. In the unlikely event of a violent incident, for example a rampage shooter, she was well positioned to see it first and respond.

Liz sipped her tea, remembering the other lessons her ex-grifter father had imparted. It was ironic that the skills she absorbed at the conman's knee were the same skills government agents were expected to hone. Sam had trained her to be constantly be aware of her surroundings, and to observe the habits of people in her vicinity. He'd used to take her to places like this and they'd play games where she's have to name the number of people in the restaurant or the color shirt of the person sitting behind her. Those games were the reason she'd chosen to eat in, rather than simply picking up her order and heading home. She needed the distraction after the day she'd had. Something to focus on besides the memory of the woman who'd died in her arms. The woman she'd failed to save. Liz slammed the breaks on that thought. She would not allow herself to get sucked down in that pool of self-recrimination.

A new customer emerged from behind the brick wall and Liz felt an immense wave of gratitude. He a perfectly timed diversion from her mind's darker musings. She cut a piece of her garlic chicken, using only her peripheral vision and her initial first glance to compile her list of attributes. Lean, athletic build. Around six foot. Grey wool overcoat. Black suit jacket, with a white collared shirt underneath. Black suit pants. Black leather dress shoes. Short dark hair. Stubble. Handsome...and familiar. There was a tickle in her mind, telling Liz she had seen this man before.

She resisted the urge to lift her gaze. The whole point of the exercise was to observe without drawing attention. The server seated the man directly across from Liz, albeit a few tables down. At least she'd have the time to place him. Liz decided a casual glance wouldn't be cheating, not if it appeared natural. She raised her teacup to her lips, and gazing over the top, found herself unexpectedly making eye contact with her subject. He offered her the small, polite smile of stranger, before looking down at his menu, but it was enough for Liz to trigger a spark of recognition.

"You!" The words were out of Liz's mouth before she had the sense to censor them. The man looked up, his eyebrow raised, and glanced briefly over his shoulder. After verifying there was no one there, he turned back to Liz.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" Liz stood and slowly walked toward the man's table. Yes, it was him. She knew that voice. She knew that slightly cocky smile. Frank. Bacon. A flipped kitchen table. A waiting room in a government building. Singing Destiny's Child in a grey Mustang.

"You used to work as an investigator in Omaha. You broke into my apartment once and made me breakfast?" The man blinked, tilted his head slightly, and then smiled.

"Elizabeth Scott. My apologies. You look different from when I last saw you." She supposed she would, given that in her teen years she favored dark tees, leather jackets, and blue jeans. These days her go to was blazers and blouse. She noticed she wasn't the only one to clean up her look.

"As do you. Nice suit." His outfit suggested young urban professional. Successful. His clothing was tailored, not off the rack. Not exactly how she would expect a PI to dress...unless he was undercover, looking to blend with a corporate world.

"Thanks. Care to join me? Unless you're running home to your boyfriend?" Liz found herself unsure how to respond. The invitation was unexpected. They weren't exactly old friends who had bumped into each. Their brief relationship, if it could be termed that, had been largely antagonistic. Well...maybe not so such at the tail end. He'd been surprisingly kind to her after she'd learned the truth about her parents. In hindsight she had to admit getting her that information on her birth family and getting rid of Frank had helped her enormously. God knew where she would have ended up if this man hadn't brought their crime spree to an abrupt conclusion.

"What makes you think I have a boyfriend?" A stall, yes, but it might help her determine the intentions of her potential dining companion.

He gestured back to her table, where Nik's To-Go box was sitting. "Most people don't order a secondary meal for themselves." It seemed Liz wasn't the only one making observations.

"I could have a roommate." She wasn't sure why she was arguing the point. Maybe it was the absolute assuredness with which the PI had made his pronouncement.

The server arrived, forcing Liz to take a step back as a bowl of steaming soup was placed before him. After thanking the woman, he turned his attention back to her.

"True, but I went with boyfriend." Instead of elaborating he picked up his spoon, and dipped it into the dish. Raising it to his lips, he blew gently on the broth.

"Because?"

"You're an only child raised by a single Dad. Living with a man is probably easier for you than living with another woman." Liz wished she could tell him to stick his assumption up his ass, but the sad truth was, he wasn't wrong. If college had taught her nothing else, it was that cohabiting with other women was more drama than she'd care to take.

"I am living with my boyfriend, but he's at work right now." She'd stated very clearly she was in a relationship, therefore she was in no danger of him interpreting her choice to join him as flirtation.

"Well I insist, then. You owe me a meal, after all." Now it was Liz's turn to raise her eyebrows.

"I do?"

"Yes. I cooked a delicious breakfast, and you flipped it all onto the floor. I didn't even get to finish my famous gluten-free pancakes." Liz couldn't suppress a giggle at the PI's exaggeratedly woeful expression.

"Fine." Liz turned back toward her table, but the man gestured at the chair across from him and stood.

"Please, allow me." As he passed her to retrieve her dishes, Liz couldn't help but notice he'd left his overcoat behind. It bulging ever so slightly at the pocket, suggesting an untended wallet. That type of thing that used to send a thrill of excitement through her. An easy score. It would be so easy to pluck it right out before he came back. Finally learn the name of PI she'd been unable to track down after he'd sped away eight years ago. Suddenly the man was back at her elbow, the window of opportunity closed. He deposited her meal before her, and set Nik's off to the side.

He settled back into his seat and smiled at her, "So...what do you do for work these days? Still boosting cars?" He shot her such a knowing look she had the fleeting, but frightening worry that the man had somehow read her mind. Well two could play at that game.

"Retired. How about you? Are you still breaking and entering into people's homes?"

"Only on very special occasions." His tone was playful, and if under oath she honestly wouldn't be able to say if the man teasing her. Liz wondered if that was deliberate, to avoid incriminating himself.

"If that really is the case I should inform you that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." She dug out her wallet and flashed him her ID. It would have been hard to miss the large 'FBI' printed on it, and yet the PI looked distinctly unphased.

"Employed by the FBI? Interesting line of work for someone like you." Liz's enjoyment of their banter fizzled out immediately.

"You mean someone with my background?" She felt her anger slowly rising. How dare he judge based on the private things he knew about her biological family? It was especially galling coming from him, who insisted blood relationships meant nothing by themselves. She wasn't her genes. She wasn't those people in that file.

"No, I mean someone who, as a teenager, pulled off a four month crime spree without getting caught." Liz had to admit that was...fairer than she thought he was being. Her actions were on her...but still she'd been a kid. Lots of people were less than perfect when they were young. She'd straightened herself out, moved past it.

"You caught me. On film, as I recall." Of course he'd mailed the negatives to Sam about a week after she'd returned home. They'd burned them together along with the copies.

"Well, I'm exceptional."

"Humble too." He wasn't wrong though. Exceptional was an apt term for this man. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than she was when he'd managed to track her down, and bring her to heel. He'd gotten rid of Frank, and in such a way that had made her never want to see him again. He'd convinced a government employ to break policy. He'd demonstrated intelligence, resourcefulness, and a disregard for the law. Had he changed course as she had, or was he the same, just with a few more years of experience under his belt?

"How's your brother?" If she recalled correctly that had been a topic he'd been eager, or at least willing to discuss with her. Liz's recollection earned her, yet another smile from her dinner companion. This one was slightly different, not mocking, but warm. Genuine.

"Good. He came back from Africa unscathed. We both work for our foster father now, so I get to see him pretty regularly. How's your Dad?" Liz snorted thinking back to her last conversation with Sam. He'd management to sprain his ankle hopping off the tractor.

"Good. Still living in the farm house. Flatly refuses to sell it and retire. Says it would make him insane and that he has no interest in spending his days golfing or taking pottery classes." She shook her head. The man was stubborn as a mule.

"It's funny isn't it?" The PI has cocked his head to the side as though an odd thought had just struck him.

"What's funny?"

"Most people spend their whole lives waiting for retirement. Waiting for a time when they have no obligations, when they spend their days doing exactly what they want. For your father, though, that sounds like torture. Pure utter torture. I think it's funny that the things that give some people pleasure, for example your boyfriend's Kung Po Chicken over there, can be unspeakably awful to someone else." His eyes were oddly intense, locked on hers as he made his point. Was he trying to tell her something? Her eyes drifted over to the take-out box. Was that what was bothering him?

"If your nose is that sensitive, I'll put it away." Liz moved to picked up the box, but the PI waved her off with a laugh.

"That not necessary. My point is that what's injurious or unbearable to people is not one size fits all. Wouldn't you agree?" Liz shrugged. Certain things most people had an aversion to, but what was the worst varied. Some people hated bugs, others snakes, others heights. What some found to be torture…...torture…...torture…..

Liz's thoughts slowed to trickle, that one word on a loop. Drop. Drop. Drop. Torture. Torture. Torture. Suddenly her mind sped up ten times faster than before, visions of the victims flashing through her mind. The medicals reports. Different, all different. No pattern, unless the lack of pattern WAS the pattern. Individual. Not the same.

"Would you excuse me a moment?" She stood up and head toward the bathroom. After checking the stalls for occupantants, she pulled out her phone and selected a number from her contacts. After about six rings a familiar voice was in her ear.

"It's late Scott. What do you want?" His lack of enthusiasm was unsurprising. The fact she'd been called up from New York to join a DC task force had rubbed some of her new coworkers the wrong way. Colin Worth was one such individual. Unfortunately she knew he was also the person most likely to still be at the office at 6 pm.

"Colin. Great! I was hoping someone was still there." She needed to keep it friendly. Liz was going ask a favor, so it would help if she was nice to the jackass. She could do it. Really, she could.

"I was just grabbing my coat. I got some place I need to be tonight." Somehow Liz doubted that, but there was no point in calling the man on it.

"I just had theory about the case. We've tried to find connections between the victims and there was nothing. What if we look for a link between the victim and their injuries?" While talking to that PI something had jarred loose in her mind and she couldn't shake the feeling it was the key to the entire case.

"What are you talking about?" This wasn't good. Colin didn't sound at all interested in what she was saying. Liz had an instinct she was about thirty seconds away from being hung up on.

"There has to be a reason the killer's methods are so varied. What if he's tailoring them to the victims? What if they were injuries the victims had gotten before or maybe someone else they knew had gotten them before?" One size doesn't fit all. Wasn't that what the PI had said?

"Why would the killer do that?" Liz felt like throwing into the bathroom's tile wall. As far as she was aware this was the only theory any of them had come up with in the past month.

"I don't know!" Whoops, that hadn't exactly been calm or friendly. Liz took a deep breath. "Look Colin, I know it's late. I know this could be nothing. I know you think I'm a bitch. Honestly, you're probably right. If I could, I would head over there now and look into this myself, but I can't. I've been ordered to take a 48 hour leave. That psychopath is still out there, maybe choosing his next victim, so please, please look into this for me." There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Liz had started to think Colin had hung up when he voice once again came through.

"I'll call you back if it comes to anything." Then he hung up. No "Good idea!", no "Goodbye!" but it was enough. More than enough.

Liz walked back to the table feeling better than she had in month. There was a chance she'd done something right tonight. It felt good.

The good feeling stopped when she reached the table. No grey overcoat. No PI. Just her plate where she left it, across from a nearly full bowl of Wantong soup. Seeing her standing there, the server hurried over.

"Your friend got a call right after you left. He said it was a work emergency and he had to go. He paid for his food and yours. He said to say 'It had been a pleasure to see you again' and to 'give his regards to your father.'" Liz felt inexplicably let down. He'd vanished again, and she still didn't have clue who he was. She'd hadn't even managed to learn his name.

"I don't suppose he paid with his credit card did he?"

"No, cash." Of course. Liz dropped into her chair, a foul mood replacing her lighter one. Full circle. She dug into her chicken with renewed vigor. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. So what if the phantom PI had once again dropped off the face of the earth. He'd been there just long enough to have been an enormous help to her, just like he had been eight years ago. He was like her own personal guardian angel...That is if guardian angels did things like commit blackmail and B and E. So maybe not an angel. A felon. She raised her teacup in silent salute. To her guardian felon, whoever or wherever the hell he was.

#the blacklist #blacklist fanfiction #Second Son #keen2

[the-voice-of-hell]

The Septagram

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-   Previous   -    First   -

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***

Jennifer Smith’s band of evacuees had grown overnight to about a thousand people.  As near as she and Rosemarie could tell, Jen was the only person among them who seemed blessed with the power to fight demons, and whatever one would call her super bicycling tricks.  It was a problem.  If they were attacked, there was no way she could keep a thousand people safe by herself.  At least several people had handguns.  Hopefully those would help even the odds.

They had run into some demon bands in the night, but the eerie things didn’t attack, didn’t really explain themselves either.  Would they be allowed to leave, just like that?  It would take an absurdly long time to hike out of the state, so they were combing neighborhoods for cars that had been left with keys inside.  It wasn’t very fruitful.

They had a rolling base camp in the form of a small group of SUVs parked on Renton Avenue South near Rainier Beach.  Someone had bungied a mattress to the roof and Rosie, Jen, and a couple of anarchist boys (Radical Huang and Colin Guts) were chilling on top, waiting for the last car scavengers to get back.  Colin had a big revolver in his lap and Rosie was smoking a massive blunt with Huang.

Jen said, “How do you like this sun?”

Rosie said, “I knoow.  It’s so hot it feels like, the Goddess is holding me in her lap.”

Huang received the blunt.  “That’s so beautiful,” then busted out choking.

Colin said, “We should all smoke some.  Enhance our senses in case we need ‘em like that.”  He patted the handle of the revolver.

“Um,” Jen said, “I think sinsie just enhances your, like, spirit sight.  And the spirits are in the physical realm now, so it might not be very helpful.”

“Oh, good point, ma’am.  Women are so wise.”

“Heehee.”  She didn’t think any of these boys were exactly beautiful, but it was hard not to feel charmed by low key, non-creepy admiration.

A PTA mom -looking woman got their attention from the curb.  “Excuse me?  Excuse me!”

Rosie said, “Don’t harsh, mama.”

“Pardon me?!”

Jennifer hopped down.  “Whatcha need, ma’am?”

“Mm, my Josh isn’t back yet, and I can’t watch Oscar alone.  He has the hyperactivity, and it’s just so...” She choked up.

“Know which block he was on?”

Jennifer was off like a shot, leaping from the curb to the street just to add some small amount of interest along the way.  She didn’t see the guy anywhere, so she turned around and started to head back, scoping the same lawns in case she missed some detail.  Then she found him.

There was a weird lawn statue she’d noticed the first time, but didn’t process mentally.  Now it was clear.  No artist in their right mind would sculpt a scared fortyish dad with cargo shorts and an Apple watch.  Something had turned him to stone.

She let her bike roll to the grass and approached him on foot, face going through emotions, all something between sorrow and fear.  “What the hell what the hell what the hell, Josh?  Why’d you hafta..?  Oh no, oh no...”

Then she got a grip.  Whatever did this was still around somewhere.  She froze, then backed away slowly, turning as she went, taking in the panorama of the little strip of houses.  What was here?

At first pass she saw nothing.  Then she heard something from a roof and looked up at it in fright.  It was a rooster with an iguana-like tail and scaly gargoyle wings, a weird green vapor rising from its beak.

“It’s a cocka...disk.  A basketrix?  A coskalips!”

It crowed like a pretty standard rooster, but the sound chilled her - even on the hot day.  It flapped its wings and she almost jumped out of her skin.

“OH FUCK!”  She backpedaled until she whacked her head on a telephone pole, scraping it on old rusty staples.  “Ugh!”

The coskalips leapt and flapped and came down toward her.  It was making a freaky sound now like a cat getting ready to barf, and she knew then that the barf would be the thing to petrify her.

Jennifer pedaled her legs backward, this time springing up onto the telephone pole, running up the thing as far as her momentum took her.  The coskalips flapped up short and barfed a stream of green slime at her.

She was already above it, and the crud splashed on the pole and ground below her.  But if she let gravity take her back down, she’d land in it.  She sprang away with mighty legs, no thought yet to how she was going to land.  Midair she found herself trading looks with the monster in slow motion.

So that’s what an annoyed coskalips looks like.  Jen flipped and turned in the air, landing on her feet.  The monster mirrored her move, latching its claws on the pole, running up, flipping and reversing.

She bolted for the house - more things in there to hide behind than in the open space, and leapt through a living room window, head first, shielded by her bare arms.  The plate glass wasn’t kind, but didn’t nick any arteries.

There was a guy there.  Big.  Samoan?  He looked pallid, unwashed, and scared - like he’d been too freaked out to leave the house for the last several days.  In fairness to his cowardly ways, things had been getting freakier every day.

“What are you doing in here?!  Now it’s… Oh no!”  He ran into a room and beckoned for her to follow him.  He was well over six feet tall and not small, so he cut an amusing figure under the low ceilings and door frames.

Then the coskalips crowed, so close.  It must have been perched on the window frame.  The big man disappeared around the corner, hoping not to be seen.  Jennifer was already out of sight - though just barely - on the far side of one thin couch.

The monster started making its barfy noise.  Was it going to spew over the edge of the couch?  Did it know where she was, or was it firing at random?  She inhaled and coiled her body like a spring.  She would wait for it to blast before deciding what to do, and try to do it faster than the speed of spew.

Blarggh!  The vomit stream shot over the back of the couch, but was splashy enough she’d almost surely get hit.  She sprang into motion, running for the hall, hoping to lure it away from the man.

She was a streak of light, a being of untold power, operating at peak performance.  But a few ounces of the sick splashed across the back of one of her calves, and she felt her body turning to stone in a flash.

The strange woman flew into John’s hiding place by momentum, already turned to stone by the time she hit the ground.  His eyes bugged out and he screamed against his will.  Utter terror consumed him.  He fell on the toilet, scrambled around the floor next to the statuary hipster, before hope and power drained from his body leaving him still there.

He wasn’t hyperventilating, at least, but he felt doomed, more than he had when hiding from the demon parade, more than anything.  He couldn’t see her eyes through the opaque mineral her glasses had become.  He just saw her unnaturally carved lips, curved in a low U of surprise.

Then he heard the clicking of the monster’s talons on his flimsy wood floor.  Click click.  The slip of its reptilian tail.  An agitated flap of its wings.  A cock-like crow.  He jumped to his feet from pure adrenaline, head shaking from side to side.

“Oh no oh no.”

The thing heard him and its claws slipped as it set itself toward the bathroom door.  John wanted it gone.  He didn’t want to see it.  He didn’t know what to do, could hardly think, but he acted.

He body slammed the wall so hard a large chunk ripped free and crashed down over the monster.  He felt a movement beneath the wall and pushed himself up to slam back down.

“BuGAWK!”  It spewed its last breath.  He scurried away quickly as the fluids began flowing from under the wall, green turning to gray as green mist flowed from its surface, diffusing into the apartment’s stale air.

John scrambled to get further away, in case breathing that stuff might hurt him.  But he still didn’t dare go outside.  He just backed into the farthest corner of the kitchen.

The woman came out of his bathroom, whipping her head back and forth, trying to figure out where the beast lurked.  She looked at the floor.  Everywhere its spew had fallen was turning from stone back into dead wood.  Then she noticed her tennis shoes were doing the same - reverting from stone into rubber.  She jumped in place and bared all of her teeth in a grimace.

“Yee-ee-eee…  Heya… Is anyone here?”

John was too afraid to answer.

“Josh?”  She walked out the front door, leaving John alone with his fears.

But they were mixed now with another feeling.  He was an athlete - a boxer - but he was half starved, dehydrated, sleep deprived, filthy.  How did he knock down the wall like that?  He stood up, now only trembling from exhaustion instead of terror.  He remembered what he’d been feeling the most in his time alone - a fear of dying alone - and he finally got up the courage to run to the door.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

The lady was standing with some kind of soccer dad, and they both looked at him in surprise.  Then she broke into a slow, big smile.  “We wouldn’t dream of it, big guy.  But you should take a shower.  We’ll wait.”

The dad said, “I really need to...”

“I’ll wait.”

She did.

John choked down some stale bread with water, gathered some clothes, and took his shower.  Fortunately the wall he’d destroyed didn’t contain any crucial pipes.  Then he dried and dressed, unable to stop thinking about whether the lady’s group had food.

The knocked-out section of wall went all the way to the door, so he was walking out the hole no matter what.  It felt weird.  The lady was relaxing in a chair and hopped up to greet him.  The chair had been pointed in the direction of the bathroom.  Had she seen him naked?  He made an awkward face and accepted her handshake.

“I’m Jennifer Smith.  I’m helping a bunch of people get together so we can leave the state.  I’m kind of a …  Whatever.  Who are you?”

“John Stephens.  I think my family assumed I was going out with a different group and when I was trying to find them I got lost in the shuffle.  Just came home because I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Family, like, wife and kids?”

“Mom, Dad, Grandmom, my sisters.”

Jen figured he was closer to thirty than twenty, so he was living with family for a longer than usual time.  A perhaps less fortunate fellow millennial.  “...Cool.  Nice to know they got out OK at least, right?”

“Yeah.  Thank you.  So…?”

“Let’s go!  I’ll be on a bicycle.  Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t…  Oh no!”

Jen was confused, but then she paused to hear what John was hearing.  A crowd was coming from the distance, and fast.  It had to be the big wave of demons coming back to Seattle.

“They’re back, Jennifer!”

“We have to get to the others!”

“I can’t!”

“Then I’ll be right back.”

“Oh no oh no… Don’t go!”  He was fumbling with his hands, wanting to grab her by the wrist, but knowing that wasn’t right.

“Oh John.  We have to.”

Then they arrived.  A man with a bird head and marching band jacket slapped his hands on the window frame, heedless of the broken glass, and looked in at them with beady eyes.  His beak was long and ended with a spatula-like disc.

John shook his head in revulsion and staggered behind Jen.

She said, “What do you want?”

“Nothin’,” the demon said with flapping beak, “This joint is all beat up.  Pass!”  He ran off but was replaced by another random-looking demon, and another.  They all kept poking their heads in the window, then moving on.

John and Jen could see through the broken glass.  A loose stampede of the things were running down the street, checking out houses.  Some got into squabbles on lawns, wrestling like children.

“John, I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to go.  My people are gonna be scared sick.”

“No.”

“Look, they’re not here to hurt us.  We don’t have the mark, but they don’t care.  They’re here for something else.  Let’s go!”

He shook his head but let himself get dragged outside by the hand.  She picked up her bike with her free hand, but didn’t let go of him, even though it was awkward.  She walked him down to Renton Avenue, against the flow of the horde.  The things occasionally made eye contact as they passed, smiling or laughing, or expressions unreadable on animal or unnatural faces.

They reached the caravan.  Everyone was huddled together in fear.  People with guns pointed them at the passing demons to discourage them, but didn’t pull triggers.

Then Jen noticed that one of the people on the roof mattress was dead - Colin had a sousaphone around his neck, which was bent.  Huang held him across his lap like a Pietà.

“Oh no!  I’m so sorry everybody!”

There were a few scornful faces, but more of sympathy.

Annmarie called out from the roof, “What the hell now, Jen?  What do we do?”

Jen let John join the crowd and hopped onto the mattress of sorrow.

“We still don’t have enough cars, but we have to go.”

“Look at this!”

“I know!”  Her lips trembled.

Radical Huang said, “I figured it out, too late.  When you attack one, it kills you.  You can kill it, but it kills you.  That’s what happened to Waxy and now it happened to Colin too.”  He broke down into tears.

Jen straightened herself out, wiped her eyes and put her glasses back on.

“EVERYBODY LISTEN.”

A thing with an alligator head and horse legs paused in its path to look at her inquisitively.

“Not you, bitch!  Jesus.”

It kept going.

“WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS CROWD, TRY TO KEEP GOING.  THEY SEEM LIKE THEY’RE GOING FOR HOMES, SO LET’S HEAD TO AIRPORT WAY IN GEORGETOWN.  I’LL LEAD.”

She bounced down from the roof and picked up her bike.

Time for the exodus.

***

The murder clubbers had guns.  It seems their affection for hacking people up with blades had been their downfall.  They had left the guns in their rooms.  Iphigenia had blocked one bullet that night, probably wouldn’t be able to do the same to a burst from an AR-15.

They didn’t have a lot of bullets left, and the guys could only hold so much weight, so they pared it down to what they could use.  Infante in particular was loaded for bear and was half hoping to run into an army so he could empty some of that weight into bodies.  They offered Iphigenia a gun but she declined.

Infante decided to turn on the radio for a while, see if anything came up.  Surprisingly, it did.  There was still some kind of police activity in the area.  Park asked to do the honors and contacted them.  They were told to come to a meetup at MLK and Oregon Street in Seattle.  They had also been able to charge cellphones at the haunted house and there was enough service to use map apps.  It was only about five miles, so they picked up bicycles again.  Jelly Sue didn’t know how to ride, but felt surprisingly at ease on Ippy’s handlebars.

The world was an endless flat expanse of strip malls, gas stations, and corporate parks.  A few landscaped trees peppered the scene, increasing in number as one looked up to the hills in the distance.  Everyone needed a shower and new clothes, but were otherwise in decent enough spirits.  Then they had to go up an agonizingly long gentle incline long enough to sour that mood and bring them to bickering about whether or not to look for a car again.

During one such moment, Park rolled them to a stop.  Ippy groaned and offloaded Jelly onto the road again.

Infante said, “What’s going on, boss?”

“I thought those were flowers.  They’re not.”

“Huh?”

He was pointing to a yard full of huge lavendar-colored flowers on long, thick stocks, spiky or pointy in every way, down to the shapes of the leaves.

“They’re thistles, so what?” Ippy said.

“Thistles don’t grow that big.  I’ve seen them before.”

Infante shrugged.  “So maybe they’re evil and they get big when there are demons around.  Who cares?”

Park rubbed his temples.  “It’s not just that.  I’ve seen pigeons flying in straight lines, all going back toward Renton.  I imagine the IKEA.  We saw a lot on the roof back there.”

“Maybe they’re evil too?”

Ippy rolled her eyes and started loading Jelly Sue back onto her handlebars.

“I think this hill ends in just another mile.  Come on, sir.”

Park grumbled and they started grinding again, low gear all the way.

It looked like multiple trees had been knocked down by weather, but were bent across the road with a little too much curve.  The closer they got, the more obvious it was that something had gone wrong here.  The leaves were too large, the trunks strangely shaped, great spikes grew out at random intervals.

And there was a sweetness in the air, overpowering and warm.  They could hear the buzz of insects drawn to it, see them gathering at great black orbs… No, those were blackberries the size of garbage cans, some even larger.

Park said, “See what I mean?  It’s trouble.”

Infante said, “Jesus protect us.”

Ippy said, “At least it smells better than we do.”

They powered up the hill, ducking and drifting in their paths to avoid the spikes, some as tall as people.  The vines grew more dense as they went, making the path slow going.  Then they started to hear sounds louder than the bike chains, increasing by the minute, shaking the stillest leaves.

Park and Infante looked jumpy.  Ippy was just waiting for them to figure it out.

“They’re coming back,” Park said.  “We oughtta hide!  Yeah, I-”

It was too late.

Thousands of monsters in band and army uniforms came sweeping over the road, plowing past vines, moving too fast to be believed, like something from a dream.  They seemed to be ignoring the people, but Infante still drew a bead on one, then another, tracking them with a pistol as they went.

“Don’t shoot them!,” Park said.  “They have the death shield.”

“What does that mean?!”

“The thing we saw in Hilltop!  You shoot one, you die!”

“Bullshit!  I killed one, remember?  She killed a lot!”

“They don’t all have it, but you don’t know which ones do.”

Ippy wondered what that all meant.  Jelly didn’t say anything or even look at them, maintaining perfect balance.

“How can you know that?”

Ippy spoke up, “He has the light.  He can see things, know things.”

“You’re psychic, like on some Elise Rainier shit?”

“I don’t get that reference.  Damn it!”

The things stampeded all around them like the gallimimus swarm in Jurassic Park, but more cheeky.  They laughed and joked and sometimes looked straight at the people as they passed.

Infante came very close to pulling the trigger… Then they were gone.  Only a few remained, trailing behind.

The travellers were quiet until Infante spoke up.  “Why are there so god damned many of them?”

“They have legions, six hundred and sixty six,” Park said.

Ippy smirked.  “How many are in a legion?”

“I’m gonna need more bullets.”

***

On Airport Way, Jennifer’s people were given pause.  There were bodies in the road.  Demon bodies, with no correlating people.  A hole in Radical Huang’s theory?  The children and weakest walkers were all packed into the few cars they had, which rolled at a snail’s pace so walkers could keep up.  Jen tried to block the view of the bodies when she could.  Where there was only one on the road, she just parked her bike in front of it until people got past.  But then there were more.

It looked like they’d gone to war with some high speed assassins.  Anti-goat ninjas.  Jennifer was worried it might just be something like the coskalips - a monster that was only out for itself.  Not on the same page as the demon horde, and willing to eat a human as quick as a demon.  He kept her eyes peeled.

They heard cracks and booms of distant gunfire from ahead, and she saw a tiny flash in the road far away.  A gunfight.  She looked at the cars, at the scared people in and around them.

“Hey I should check that out for us.  OK?”

Annmarie walked over and handed her Colin’s revolver.  “In case Huang is wrong.”

“Sure.  Sure thing.”

She zipped off, glad to be able to make speed for a change, but with a growing sense of alarm for what lay ahead.

Jennifer spotted some demon soldiers down the street.  Goat boys, no angel in charge of their squad.  They were hiding behind a facade of a ruined antique brick building, some loading rifles, some taking random shots into a storefront across the street.

Old fashioned muskets?  Maybe I should dump on them with this revolver while they fumble with gunpowder thingies, haha.  Fuckin’ pilgrims.  Elmer Fudds.  She was joking to herself, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to shoot one of them dead.  From experience she did know she could kick their heads off, but it was risky.  And what were they shooting at?

She bunny hopped onto the side of a building and jumped down from her bike, holding it up against the wall with one hand.  Then she set it down gently and spied on the situation.

Something shot out of the storefront, back at the shooters.  She couldn’t see them anymore from her angle, but she did see the object bounce back where it came from, disappearing into their enemy’s side.  On the bounce-back it moved slow enough for her to identify it - a baseball.

Baseball monster?  If it is, you’re a bicycle monster.  She knew it was another human and smiled.  She hustled to the back fence of the lot she was in, climbed it to the top, and used that to jump to a rooftop.  She hustled along the building, then peeked over the edge at the demons.  No mercy for goat boys.  One had been killed by the baseball and the others were raiding his gunpowder and bullets.

They were four left - half of them actually goat ladies, all of them oblivious to her.  She aimed the gun very carefully, with all the time in the world.  CRACK!  She rolled away from the edge.  They bleated and cursed.  She had a bad feeling the bullet didn’t kill her target.

She heard a coarse scrambling noise from the wall below.  Could they climb open bricks?  One popped up on the roof and unslung her musket.  The thing had a bayonet.  Jen didn’t have anything but the gun.

CRACK!  She actually missed, with the target ten feet in front of her face.  The goat lady’s military coat was open at the chest, revealing tits that were tongue-lolling goat heads.  One looked like it had already been shot dead.  Her face was weirdly human, and pissed off.

“Eh… Hoo… Embarrassing,” Jen said, waggling the gun at her side.

“You’re going to die.”

A goat boy leapt up beside her, his head just a goat leg springing out of a torso where the neck should have been, with a column of six eyes lining the front of the thigh.  His serpentine human-headed tail was raised between his legs like a phallus and it spoke in a smurf-like tiny voice.  “You’re gonna die!”

They both charged at her with bayonets raised.  She went into a low dive between them, but they stabbed down at her.  Then she switched up and sprang into the air.

Tonk.  She kicked the goat lady’s head askew.  She would have aimed for the goat boy first, but that thigh neck looked mighty sturdy.  She landed on the roof top and rolled behind him.

He spun around with surprising speed and slashed at her with the bayonet.  It missed by an inch.  Instead of getting to her feet, she found herself scooting retreat on her back.  He raised the bayonet again and brought it down, terribly fast.

She caught it between her sneakers, held him in place.  They were locked, staring at each other.  His vertical eyes blinked in sequence.  She heard more gunshots below.

Las bases están llenas y es la parte alta de la novena. Has probado su suerte con estas rolas... ¿Que puedes hacer ahora?

Sergio Hurtado knew he’d gone too far.  Humanity was gone and had been replaced by chupacabras.  Well, diablos.  He knew that much.  But in trying to single-handedly kill them all, he’d pushed his luck too far.  They had guns now.

Then they began to fire more slowly.  Had he finally killed enough of them?  He didn’t even know how he was doing it.  One night he had the best game of his life, the next day the news was all about murderers and evacuation.

Deberías haberte quedado en Venezuela.

And now he was a murderer too.

Es tiempo de robar una base.  He ran around the inside of the building, up a wall to a high window, flipped out of it and hung for a moment by one hand.  “¡Huy!”  He had pictured himself swinging around to land on the roof top, but despite his new strength and speed, gymnastics hadn’t magically joined his skill set.

He tossed his bat onto the roof, climbed up, and ran - keeping his head low.  How to misdirect them?  He thought about how he wanted the ball to bounce.  Off the far wall there, back toward this side near there, then back at them with enough force to…

Sergio lofted the ball with just the right spin, whipped the bat in the air at just the right angle and spin of its own, and the ball shot out with laser accuracy.  As it was bouncing, he dropped from the roof to the ground, slowing his fall on protruding brick, rolled and came up in a run.

The ball was on its way back to the goats.  He leapt through a broken window, sliding neatly between the sharp remaining pane, rolling across the nasty gravel silently, and got to his feet.  The goats knew he was there, but weren’t as fast.

One had her gun loaded, the other didn’t.  He threw his bat at the ready one, embedding it in her face.  The other lashed at him with its bayonet and he base-slid under its blade, springing over the other’s corpse and drawing out his bat.

He turned to face the last goat boy.  Rolling in the polluted gravel had left shining bits of glass and coarse dirt embedded in one of his arms.  Red began to well up.  “‘Eyy, devil.  Do you want a duel?”  He rolled the bat in his hands and held it like a sword.

“Bleea-ah-ah-ah!”  He looked almost like a normal man, but the sound from his mouth was pure goat.  He raised his bayonet and assumed a fighting stance.

Something fell on the ground behind Sergio and he leaped in surprise.  The goat man was also distracted, and El Pelotero charged.  They both lashed out.  They both missed.  But Sergio had ended up standing behind the goat, and stabbed his bat backward, caving in the base of its skull.

He turned to face whatever had fallen from the roof.  A very Seattle-ish woman stood over the body of another goat man.  She had chubby arms and legs half exposed by her roughed up attire, but beneath the chub muscle bulged as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  Her chestnut burnished pale skin had too many scratches and bruises to count.  But she beamed a big smile, googly blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses, looking like la nerd más simpatica.

His eyes softened and single tears escaped them.  “Hello.  I thought I was the only one here.”

“No way!  And we’re glad to see you too.  C’mon!”

They left behind the bodies, leaping out of the window and strolling away.

***

What is The Septagram?  One of the headlines read.  About the least interesting question to ask, Maddy thought.  “What the hell now?,” would be more apt.  Besides, aerial footage of Seattle made it pretty clear there were seven citadels with that glowing pink beneath.  Seven points.  Were there seven archdemons, like that Bymaan?  One in each castle?

She put her phone back on to charge and immediately it was vibrating.  No.  The room was vibrating.  Something big was coming.  Then the sounds of thousands of feet running by, and hands slapping at the windows.

She screamed like a movie queen, a scream to shake the earth.  People started stirring all across the house.

Then a voice from outside said, “Sorry!  It’s occupied, man.”

Another said, “Really?”

Another, “Is there somebody in there?”

“I’m gonna knock.”

TONK TONK TONK.

Jason was already up with a bowling ball in his hand.  He stomped toward the front door.  Maddy hopped up to follow him.

“Don’t Daddy!”

He just gave her a serious look and opened the door a crack.

A voice from outside, “Hey, sorry to bother you.  I’ll just...”

“HEY!  What are you talkin’ about?,” he said.  “What the hell is going on out here?”

“The Queen said we could take any houses that are not occupied.  What can I say?  I like a craftsman-style bungalow.”

“Well take it next door!”

“I am!”

“You too, or it’s NINEPINS!”  Jason shook the bowling ball.  There were fewer taps at the front of the building, then none.  He closed the door and locked it.

Maddy took the bowling ball off his hand and set it on a chair.  “Daddy, what is going on?”

“It’s unconstitutional, I tell ya!  The Third Amendment!  READ A BOOK!,” he yelled toward the front door.  Nobody responded.

Kevin and Gran were in the living room now.

Gran said, “Keep it down, will you?  Show some respect in my house!”

“Mom, I mean you no disrespect.  You’re being disrespected by these demons!  Yeah they tell you to take this mark for ‘protection’,” he used finger quotes, “Now they come around asking if they can take over your home, while all their little buddies move into every open building on the street.”

Kevin said, “Is that what’s happening?”

“Yeah!  First they scare everyone half to death, send ‘em evacuating from the state.  Then they move right in.  Buncha demons for neighbors.  That’s disrespect.”

“Jason!”

“What’s more I’ll have them know-”  There was another tap at the door and he yelled that direction, “THOSE HOUSES HAVE OWNERS, YA PRICKS!”

Kevin said, “Actually most of them are empty still.”

Gran said, “JASON!  You keep your VOICE DOWN!”  She almost knocked herself over and Kevin held her up.

“Daddy!”

“SORRY Mom, I’m sorry!  Jesus.”  He stomped off and picked up the bowling ball.  “I’ll be outside until this thing settles down.”

Maddy chased him to the door, but he closed it behind him.  She wasn’t brave enough yet to go out and sit with him, but she was working up to it, pressed against the door, forehead wrinkled in concern.

Kevin started to say something and she couldn’t stand listening to defeatist nonsense, so she whipped out the door and closed it behind her.

Jason looked up at Maddy and she wanted to look back, but the first time she saw a demon run by, then another, then another, she jumped in place, flattened to the wall.

“You should go inside, Baby.”

“N-no… OK, I’m OK...”  She calmed herself enough to go sit by him.  “I just haven’t seen them yet.  Not like this.  Not in broad daylight.”

“They have no shame.  Look at this one over here?  A rabbit head and pig feet.  And these ones, no pants on.  Flyin’ in the breeze!  PUT ON SOME CLOTHES!”

Maddy put a calming hand on his arm.  “Alright, Dad.  We need to do something now.  This is too much!  The Queen is trying to play nice now, but we can’t be at her mercy.  What is she changes up?”

“My thoughts exactly.  Good girl.  But Kev and Mom are so… obstinate.  What should we do?”

“Duct tape them and put ‘em in a trunk if we have to!”

“Really, Honey?”

“Yeah!  The roads are still open right now, but for how much longer?  They could already be locking us down.  Our own government might be doing that right now.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.  And we still don’t have those guns...  I’m sure they can’t hear us.  Let’s make a plan here...”  They conspired.

***

NEXT

-

#The Septagram