#i had to paint the inside of the car to make these gifs match it was a pain ROFL

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VII)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: sexual tension, suggestive stuff.

Notes: bonding chapter of this slow burn aaaa thanks again for reading :D

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

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get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VII: No More Doubts

When you left the motel early after a quick and dull breakfast, Ben was a pain in the ass as he kept asking question after question on the road. You knew he could just leave you alone but it wasn’t really something you’d like him to do. He was a fugitive, so were you. Soldier Boy knew better than that and he only had to stay by your side as much as he hated the idea. The only thing you could truly answer was that you were driving to a safer place. At least you were hoping it was. When you pulled the car after driving hours between the grove, Soldier Boy was waking up from his nap. You thanked heaven for that.

“We’re here,” you announced, turning off the engine.

Ben stirred on his seat, taking in the view of the house and nature and got out of your car, following you to the front door. He couldn’t help but to look around in somewhat awe. It was a large cottage-style house decorated with earth tones, great walls and columns. The place was surrounded by countless trees, making the weather bearable and somewhat nice due to the hidden location. The leaves climbed on some of the windows and the plants and flowers rested on the ground perfectly neat. He assumed you came here often. But it wasn’t really the place you used to come by and sleep every single day. It was too far away from the facility. As you unlocked the door, Ben followed inside, not without taking a last glance at your surroundings. No homes were near, nothing was to be seen. Only you and him inside this big fucking house.

The indoors were no different from the impression he got first. The decoration, the expensive sofa where you threw the sports bag, and the paintings and pots all over the place were saying you were rich. Of course, a fucking rich whore you were, he thought to himself. And he wondered where your real place was located.

“So, I’m gonna show you a guest room and then around, please don’t screw my house,” you said, giving him the sports bag.

“Got something to drink?” he asked, a smirk plastering on his face as he stepped closer to where you were standing.

“Water I do.”

Ben chuckled for a bit, eyes not leaving your face. “You’re so fucking boring, you know?”

“Yeah, well, alcohol is not really an important supply. Just follow me and maybe I’ll get you some later,” you said, turning around to get to the stairs.

You knew he did as you asked when his big steps echoed around the place. Once you were on the second floor, you motioned him to the next room a couple of feet away from yours and gave him directions about the bathroom and the manners. If he was going to be in your place, then he had to behave.

“I told you already, I’m not a fucking animal,” he complained after hearing your orders.

“Sure,” you dragged the word, eyes narrowed. “Because last night you were so civilized in the bathroom.”

He scoffed and then chuckled. “Did I get too loud?”

“You fucking tell me,” you replied with a much annoying smile on your face to match his own.

“Could’ve joined me. We’re not patient and doctor anymore,” 

“No.”

Just as the last word fell off your lips, your phone rang. Quickly you took the call, realizing it was Grace. You left Soldier Boy in his room and walked down the stairs a little too fast.

“You made it?” she asked on the other line.

“Yeah, arrived just minutes ago,” you answered, checking the stairs in case he followed. “Where are you, Grace?”

“That doesn’t matter. I have something for you.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“I will text you an address and an hour. Today. Don’t miss it.”

Your phone buzzed, announcing the information had arrived.

“I won’t.”

“I’ll keep calling through different phone numbers. Do what you have to do to complete the cure,” she said, like if she knew what was happening between both now.

Soldier Boy was unbearable but you had to keep him on track. Luckily, you were back home again and you’ll be working on the Anti V soon, praying the last bits of information and results of the last test were there for some reason.

“I’m doing my best,” you sighed.

Grace hummed.

“Good.”

“Any updates so far?”

Ben’s smooth voice woke you up from your daydreaming while you sat together in the dining room.

You had been able to make something quick for lunch after Grace called and you found yourself all jittery and tense, hoping Soldier Boy wouldn’t notice. But he did sense something different from you. So he kept insisting on what was going on.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, taking the last sip of water from your glass. You avoided his eyes, looking away.

He rolled his eyes and narrowed at you. “Has your office contacted you?” 

You shook your head.

“So they’re dead,” he said. Not asking, but affirming it.

A heavy sigh left your lips, your eyes going back to his harsh ones. “Leaving was the best.”

“Who’s that you keep in touch with?”

“What?”

Ben groaned slightly before snapping back with a low voice. “C’mon, Y/N. You called yesterday on the road, and now you receive a call. Who the fuck is it?”

His question is not just an inquiry anymore. He’s demanding to know. But you also know he hated Grace Mallory for putting him to sleep again, confined to a chamber where he’d be a trophy for the government to do whatever they wanted, how they wanted. Until you appeared, offering him empty words. Just like everyone.

“My superior.”

Your answer hit him like a truck. He knew it was Grace, but he didn’t like hearing it from you. 

The truth was, Ben didn’t like you… Not that much. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he wanted to kill you, sometimes the small common sense he still had on his head would say you’d be better alive. He had been thinking of going away, but not he didn’t really want to. He knew you had been working with Grace, he was no idiot. So maybe staying close should get him even closer to Homelander and Vought. He also thought of Ryan back in the cell you had put him in. He was so damn afraid Ryan would become like his father. And since the brat has been protected before by many people, finding would not be easy. That’s where your contacts and network would be a help to him. He was hoping to find something at your place to find them and the information he craved.

“Right,” he said, alarmingly calm and quiet. He took the last bite of pasta on the plate and swallowed down in silence under your gaze. You didn’t know what else to say.

“So, these powers of yours,” he continued, drinking the last sip of juice. “How’d you get them?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “I mean, they’re pretty fucking useless against me,” his words made you chuckle. Of course you knew that. “But I’m just wondering if you’d be with them.”

Your face turned back to a somber demeanor. “The Seven?”

He gave you a nod.

“Well, it’s not like all supes dream of that,” you uttered. “I just wanted to be normal.”

Ben raised a brow at your sudden confession. “Someone exploded everyone’s heads at the CIA. Sorry to say, sweetheart, but you suck at being normal.”

“Yeah, details I have to work with.”

“I take it you never went to them,” he continued and saw confusion on your face. “Vought.”

The word made you shudder for a slight moment, and you quickly tried to collect yourself to avoid him noticing.

“No, I never did.”

He scrutinized your eyes, hearing the poor increase of your heartbeats. They were enough to tell him something was wrong. But he decided to play along, so he nodded and gave you a rather compassionate look.

“Must be thankful they didn’t fuck up your life then.”

He had no idea.

You had parked the car outside an abandoned gas station; it was one of the nearest grocery stores to your home years ago. The now wasteland was almost two hours away, with a gas station around ten miles elsewhere. You had been waiting for Grace outside the car, leaning against the hood. Bored, you checked your phone again. When you arrived it was already past three o’clock. When twenty minutes went by, you wanted so badly to drive and get inside the next store you see and buy yourself food and supplies enough to survive a week or two with the idiotic supe now staying at your home. Grace said would be calling through a different phone but you received no calls so far. You’ve been waiting for more than an hour and the drive home wasn’t going to be shorter. Suddenly another car came into sight, pulling over near yours. Two men came out of it.

“Doctor Y/N?”

The stranger with the unknown voice and a weird accent caught your attention. Soon, you found the two tall men standing in front of you in the parking lot.

“We’re here on behalf of Grace Mallory,” the man continued.

He wore a long dark trench coat, looking rough and intimidating. The total opposite to the younger one, who gave you a kind smile once your eyes settled on him.

“How-”

“We have something for you,” the younger man continued. “I’m Hughie. Hughie Campbell,” he introduced himself, giving you a hand and fixing the backpack on his shoulder with the other one. You took it after a moment of hesitation. “He’s Billy Butcher, we’ve worked with Grace before.”

You nodded. “I thought she was the one coming.”

“She’s not in shape for that,” Billy answered. He realized your face changed at his words and quickly explained himself. “Vought’s cunts are looking for her, not safe.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath. “Great, awesome. So what do you have for me?”

“We, uhm, we made it to your facility and thought these could do some help,” Hughie took out a pouch and gave it to you.

With trembling hands you opened the pouch and sighed in relief. Five test tubes of the Anti V prototype were laid there. “You found them.”

“And we found a little bit more,” Butcher continued. “Victoria Neuman exploded the heads of your employees back there. We believe Vought had been sneaking and getting spies for themselves.”

“Victoria is a supe,” you voiced out. “A supe is running for vice president…”

“Yeah, long story,” Hughie commented. “She’s obviously linked with Homelander and Vought. Everyone was dead when we arrived; lab assistants, guards, agents, the supes… We believe her mission was to just let you and Soldier Boy out, besides stealing information about the cure you’re working on. Probably to give it to Vought.”

“Anything weird happen there before the attack?” Billy asked, not giving you time to swallow Hughie’s words.

“Uhm, yeah. Actually my lab assistant… She tried to warn me and, well, she was crying and asking me to leave. I didn’t know why until her head just- you know…”

You choked a little with your words. The picture of her body and the last seconds of her life were all you got. Everything was equally horrible that day.

“I’m sorry,” Hughie whispered.

“It’s fine,” you cleared your throat. “And I assume you didn’t find anything else? Information? Files?”

“Computers were destroyed. No files. No info. Nothing,” Butcher answered. “Grace says you’re the leader of the project. You have copies, right?”

“Why everybody keeps fucking asking me that? Of course I do!” you almost yelled, eyes full of rage staring at him.

“Easy there, doc,” Butcher lifted up his hands in surrender. “We just wanna get rid of those cunt supes as much as you want. Nothing wrong to make sure.”

“Well, I do have them,” you replied with a cocky smile. “Thank you very much for your concern, Adele.”

Butcher rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Hughie before switching his attention back to you.

“Yeah, sure you do, luv.”

It was already seven o’clock when you arrived home with supplies and food. Ben, as usually, acted like a fucking caveman claiming he was hungry and you had to act like the housewife, serving him a fucking hamburger and a glass of wine. That was the only liquor you bought. Despite his complaints, his hunger was greater and he devoured the greasy food with no table manners at all.

“You could chew your food like a fucking human being, you know,” you said, eating the last french fries you had. 

He turned his eyes to your face, pointing with his finger. “You were gone for like five hours.”

“So? There’s fruit in the fridge.”

Ben narrowed his gaze, like if he had been offended.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to serve something for yourself,” you teased. He didn’t say a word, and you giggled. “That’s fucking pathetic.”

He leaned towards the dining table, eyes locked on yours. “No, you just don’t know your fucking place, woman.”

“I just saved your life, Ben. At least say thanks,” you beamed, having too much fun by seeing him upset for mundane things.

“No, you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine. “Fine. I didn’t. Let’s go past this and start over. If you’re gonna live here, for now, then you’ll have to learn how to respect me.”

His brows raised. “I thought I already did.”

“Offering yourself to fuck me in a cheap motel is not respectful, Soldier Boy.”

“Well, I didn’t try anything, did I?” Ben finished his sentence at the same time he finished his dinner.

He waited for a smart comeback from you but it never came. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and a stupid grin appeared on his lips. “Unless you want to.”

“No, we’ve been through it. My answer is still no.”

“Then, mind to fucking tell me if you found something by now?”

He changed the topic swiftly. His playful demeanor switched immediately and you sighed, knowing he might have to hear anything to keep him down.

“You’re in danger.”

“I’m the strongest supe ever, that doesn’t make any damn sense,” Ben scoffed.

“Listen, we need to hide from Vought. Hide and not leave a trace, because now I’m involved with you and they’re absolutely looking for your ass,” you gave him a stern look as you went on. “If I fall, you go with me. And if you fall, then I don’t know if they’d still want me. But you’ll be fucked anyway.”

Ben nodded. In his mind, it didn’t sound like a bad plan. In the end, that’s what he wanted; to get closer to Vought and Homelander to get over with them. The world didn’t deserve those fuckers. And as much as Homelander was created with his own DNA, he knew better than to let a scum like him walk around the planet. You already gave him something, a clue. He had to play along for now. If they took you in first, then he might probably bargain to be him instead. It was only fair. He was the one that mattered anyway.

“Okay, I get it. I’ll stay here. But I don’t want those fucking therapies anymore,” he expressed, his gaze not moving away from the surprised look on your face. “Understand?”

You blinked a couple of times, shifting on your seat and chuckling under your breath. “It’s fine, believe me. I can’t stand you more than you do.”

Ben held your gaze, daring you to try something else. Instead, you smiled and got up and took your empty dishes to the sink. His eyes followed your moves, focusing on your small shorts and the softness of your legs. And you knew he was definitely checking you out when you talked.

“By the way, you’ll have to help me wash the dishes.”

He stood up, plates on his hands and walked behind your figure, putting them on the sink as you opened the faucet. His arms surrounded you once he did so and you flinched a bit. Ben smirked, feeling the reaction of your body trapped against his.

“Get away,” you ordered in a whisper, unable to move.

“I’m helping you, Y/N,” he breathed your name against your neck, his hand wrapping on yours gripping on the edge of the sink.

The only sound now was his hot breath on your skin and the water flowing. You quickly turned the faucet off, but you didn’t try to push him away.

It was the second time during the day he had said your name, ever. And you wouldn’t deny it sounded fucking delightful. He had only addressed you as his ‘doctor’, but now it was different. Though, you didn’t want to give into him. He was a huge douchebag and you were basically forced to spend time with him, in your home, without really wanting him there. You felt his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, and the primal part of you yearned for his touch, but the rational one won over and you freed yourself from his arms.

“Stop doing that,” you warned once you were face to face. His eyes were dark already and had a sparkle you knew too much since the day before.

“Alright,” he nodded.

“Just- let’s just wash these. I want to sleep.”

With a tired sigh, you walked down the basement. It was already midnight and Ben was locked inside his room, probably jerking off or something since you, once again, rejected him in your kitchen. Inside the dark room, you found the metal door that let you inside the bunker and unlocked it with the code. When you stepped in, you made sure to turn on the power and lights that illuminated the room and the small lab in the back. The computers started to run and you sat down on the main monitor, leaving the pouch with the Anti V tubes on the side of the desk.

Yeah, you might have told Butcher and Grace you had copies of every detail of the project. But you were afraid of the last stuff you discovered just before the attack. You knew well how the information was protected and encrypted, but it didn’t really assure you the profile of Solaris would be there. He was the first and last supe who had his powers off for a couple of hours at least and the feeling of losing it all had been eating you the last few hours after meeting with Grace’s messengers.

It took you a while to decrypt the system, something you had been already used to doing every time you got there to keep working on it, just to make sure no one would steal it. Hopefully, Vought hadn’t discovered it before destroying the facilities, you thought. And after a while, you found the last updates of the last test your team ran. Solaris profile and test was there. Not just in written letters, but the footage of the test and the exact formula that was used too. Now, you were so lucky.

“Well, thank you, Bianca. Wherever you are,” you whispered to yourself and took a tube from the pouch the men gave you earlier. You had a busy night ahead.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon prime #the boys amazon #the boys series #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

[specterllaw]

F@cking the boss - Harvey Specter x Reader Part 1/2

Summary: After being interviewed for a job offer that was meant for your roommate you meet a fascinating boss who sees right through all of your lies

You sighed as you approached your apartment door, it was painted a dull faded orange that now looked like someone had been smoking in the halls for years, you sorted through the stack of mail you grabbed on your way into the building. All of it was bills or advertisements until you got to a thin envelope, it was addressed to your roommate but it came from a big law firm in Upstate Manhattan. Pearson and Hardman, you had seen their commercials way too many times. Curious you ripped opened the paper envelope, flipping open the folded paper inside seeing an invitation to interview as a new assistant for one of their senior associates. You smirked a bit walking inside as you shut your apartment door and plopped down on the couch, grabbing your bowl of weed from the table smoking it gone before going to your room to find clothes for the interview. See normally you’d never open your roommates mail, but recently she had taken it open herself to open her legs to your boyfriend and get you fired from your shared job, so you felt like you deserved this.

Monday morning

You gulped nervous pushing open the hotel door and walking farther into the conference rooms trying to figure out where the hell this meeting was being held, until you saw the giant sign, ‘PEARSON AND HARDMAN LAW FIRM INTERVIEW NEXT DOOR ON THE RIGHT’. You took a deep breath hoping for it to give you some confidence as you walked through the door looking at all of the other females who were waiting, they all matched the type of your roommate, blonde hair, big boobs, and mini skirts. You felt like you were dressed too professional as you walked up to the desk “excuse me?..is this the interviews for the law firm?” You asked politely to the woman sitting at the desk “yes, yes it is, go down that hallway to the left and you’ll meet with Mr. Specter” she said pointing down a short hallway. You felt like the ground was shaking under your feet as you made your way to the makeshift office that had a well dressed man sitting behind the desk looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Who are you?” He asked tilting his head up towards you like he was better than you in a sense. "My name is Y/n L/n, I'm here for the..assistant position?" You offered as you took a seat in front of him, he watched you closely "Everybody is, darling, what makes you so special?" He asked crossing his arms "I'm determined in my work, I have no boyfriend, no kids, and I'm looking for a good job to get my foot in the door to becoming the best lawyer in New York" You said stubbornly eyeing him in the same manner he was to you, you knew what he was doing, intimidation. "...okay" He said unsure "What do you have experience with?"

Next Monday

You were in complete shock, you were on your way to walk to the law firm when a car had stopped in front of your path, you stopped getting your pepper spray out and ready before the window rolled down revealing Harvey Specter sitting in the back "You think I would let my new secretary walk to work? No Princess, in the car" He demanded as you stuttered rushing to the other door sliding into the seat. "Listen. Today's gonna be alot, Y/n, You'll be meeting my former assistant and who's retiring after today, you'll meet Louis Litt, jackass on a stick, he threatens or tries to flirt you tell me got it?" You nodded "You'll meet Mike Ross, my hired associate, you'll also answer to him partially under my word and he'll answer to you." After Harvey got done briefing you, You were trained by a pregnant woman named Donna, had a meeting with Jessica Pearson, a meeting with Louis Litt, and Mike Ross. Now you were being motioned in by Harvey who was sitting at his desk, his suit jacket sitting on his chair as he watched you, he looked hot as hell, and you knew you were shamelessly checking him out, unknown to you he was doing the same thing.

You took a seat in front of him as he offered you a soft smile "Hey, How's your first day?" He asked raising an eyebrow "I-It's good..I'm enjoying it so far..Louis was very...stern though" You mumbled, he raised his eyebrows "Nothing over the line, right? You're alright?" He asked, "I'm fine, Mr. Specter, I'm a big girl" You stated nervously, you knew you had been lying to Harvey since the interview, you were not qualified to work for Pearson-Hardman and you weren't anything like his past receptionist. "Well, I'm heading out for the night, care for a drink?" He offered standing up, grabbing his jacket and files "U-Um actually, I've gotta get back home" Truth was, you had to meet your dealer to get your next bag of weed. "Great, We'll drink there" He said quickly, you could tell he wasn't going to let go of the topic and Donna did warn you, Harvey liked to get close with his receptionists, they were like brother and sister. You huffed going to grab your coat and bag as Harvey called for the elevator, You followed behind eyeing him up and down any chance you got.

As you entered your apartment you realized your dealer had already been there, there was a bag of pre-rolled's on your coffee table. You were quick to dive for the bag grabbing it as Harvey walked in, watching you in confusion "Hiding something?" He asked raising an eyebrow "N-No" You protested crossing your arms, hiding the bag of joints under your arm. He tilted his head walking closer, if he was anybody different you probably would've pepper sprayed his ass, but he was hot and a damn good lawyer. "You know, Y/n..Wanna know something funny about me?" He asked as he stalked closer to you, you looked him in the eyes as you slowly shuffled back towards the wall keeping the bag tightly tucked in-between your arm and chest. "Hmm?" You asked before bumping into the wall, watching as Harvey took slow, agonizing steps towards you until you felt his breath on your face "I know when people are lying...and I know you're lying about a lot of stuff" He said quietly, not breaking eye contact with you, narrowing your eyes you put a hand on his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Specter" You offered raising your eyebrows. He slammed his hand against the wall by your head almost making your knees give out and you fall to the floor, Harvey was huffing and you were trying to even your breathing from how hot he was currently "What're you hiding, Y/n" He asked alot more sternly, your arms dropped in defeat, the bag falling to the floor in between your feet and Harvey's. He smirked kneeling down as he picked up the bag with two fingers dangling it infront of your face. "Nothing was it?" He asked again, his tone was antagonizing, like he was teasing you. "Nothing at all" You proposed as he raised his eyebrows leaning closer before pulling one of your joints out, putting it between his lips, lighting it, all before blowing the smoke into your face. "Seems like a pretty good something to me, you get this from Mike?" He asked, your mouth dropped in shocked "That is Mike!" You gasped as he watched you, placing the joint between your lips he smirked "Inhale" He whispered as you took a hit, you inhaled then exhaled before slowly moving to the couch, Harvey close behind.

Your joint bag was gone, you and Harvey had smoked the entire thing and were now stoned off your asses, laying naked in your bed recovering from the most mind-blowing sex you've ever had. "You just ate an entire bag of pretzels how do you not have cotton mouth?" You asked in disbelief, he just laughed rolling on his back, you could see his bare chest and stomach as the sheet started to fall down around his waist. "I'm Harvey Specter I don't get cotton mouff" He stated before laughing as he made eye contact with you "Mouff? Harvey Specter does too get cotton mouff!" You laughed as you handed him your water bottle looking at him as he took a huge gulp. This was a different side of Harvey, one that laughed, that hugged, that cared.

"Harvey?.." You asked after the two of you stopped laughing "Yes?.." He asked turning towards you, draping a hand over your bare waist "Do you sleep with all of your receptionists?" You asked quietly, you could feel his fingers brushing up and down your side as he looked at you "Do you lie and fuck all of your bosses?" He challenged, you raised your eyebrows slapping his chest "ow! I'm kidding!" He laughed "No...I don't..I'm stoned, but, I know you're a sweet woman, who is already amazing at a job she was never qualified for" He stated, you studied his face, watching his breathing. He was truly the most Handsome man you've ever seen.

"Am I fired?" You asked playing with his hair slowly "No...I like you too much to let you go, and it's hard to find a lady to boss me around while also following my orders" He stated kissing your forehead before you tucked your head against his chest dozing off.

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #suits tv #mike ross #suits netflix #suits #suits usa

[thatone-brightstar]

Before You (Carmen Berzatto X Fem!OC)

It was Isaac before Carmy, and it was Ross before you.

Read part I.

Part II: January.

words: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you all so much for 200+ followers!!! Idk what to do in these situations but I'll celebrate by giving you more Carmy content! Slide into my dms with your prompt ideas and I'll gladly do my best to write what I can! Also: Image does not represent OC's skin type, just needed a summary pic. WARNING: Smut ahead, p in v unprotected sex (birth control is present but not mentioned), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

This was not how she expected her New Year to go, dress hiked up to her hips, nails digging into his neck and shaking thighs painfully wrapped around the man continuously slamming into her. The lewd sounds he makes reverberate inside the small depot, echoing back into her dew covered skin and fueling the shivers traveling up and down her spine. Ross has always hated her name, but the way Carmy says it- blissed off his mind, crimson cheeks and pink pouty lips rounding over each syllable and followed by a breathy ’fuck’- god does he make it sound devine. 

Her nails drive deeper into his reddened flesh and the pain of her grip tightens his fingers over the plush skin of her parted thighs. The flimsy fabric that barely covers her navel lets him see himself lost with each thrust, sight replaced with a gripping sensation, choking him with his own air.

There was something cathartically thrilling about their… situation. The sneaking around, the lingering stares each time she crossed to the depot and the tauntingly short uniform that made him visibly gulp. It all brewed thick inside his gut like he’d never known, the warmth of her lips weeks before had shaken the loose earth over his buried desires and there was no way he would get his fill from just the one time. 

Unbeknownst to them, they had fallen into a clandestine rhythm. After closing, Ross would get in her car, drive a few blocks away and wait for Carmen in the warm comfort of the vehicle. Her pulse always quickened in anticipation around the ten minute mark, when she’d spot him in the rear view mirror, blowing smoke into the wind and hair disheveled after a hectic service. The drive to his felt longer each time, anticipation thick and pulsing in the empty space. They could never reach his place though, once she parked on the narrow alley beside his building, his fingers would wrap around the side of her jaw and her breath would be stolen by hungry tobacco scented kisses. She enjoyed the feeling of his needy hands circling her hips and pulling her over him, before his mouth attacked the frail skin of her throat.

But tonight felt different to her. The frustrations of a shitty service had Carmen on edge and he didn’t even give her a chance to leave as she popped her head into the empty kitchen to say goodbye. Instead wrapping his grip around her wrist to drag her into the small room and pinning her against a shelf with the strength of his panting chest. His usual doubtful behavior is replaced by strong and steady thrusts, ones that have the glass olive oil gallons behind her vibrating angrily. Her worry of them braking only lasts a few seconds, soon being pushed out of her mind by the constant pattern of his movements and the tightness inside her that’s beginning to burn.

“Fuck- Ross-” He moans into her neck as he speeds up his slams, breath blowing cold over the sweat on her skin.

The relentless strike of his hips on the base of her thighs paints the sensitive skin with a light shade of pink, causing a hiss from her when he readjusts his grip over the slick flesh.

“S..sorry- you good?” Carmen asks with slight concern, slowing down his movements and gulping the dryness in his mouth.

“Ye-yeah-” She reassures with a panting grin, eyes slightly glossy and mascara staining her bottom lashline. “Keep going, I like it…” 

“Oh.. yeah- right okay.” Her bluntness gives him a blush that matches the underside of her thighs before resuming with a brutal blow, ripping a gasp from her lungs and making her breasts jolt with force.

Ross’ fingers tangle in the sweaty strands of his hair and pull him down to her awaiting lips, licking and nibbling over the delicate skin while his hands dent the muscle of her legs and his actions grow faster each time. With a string of groans pouring from her chest, she does her best to chase his hips with her own, striking a perfect spot each time. Her feet hook tightly at the base of his spine and this restricts his actions into shorter and faster shoves against that specific, beautiful spot that seems to split her in two.

An almost filthy cry bursts out when her orgasm shoots up from deep in her core, sparking in each nerve ending in her body and his hand flies quickly up to it to drown out the obscene sound. The remaining force in his last thrusts carries her back down into her body just in time to feel his fingers dig into her bruised skin. A throaty groan blows heavily over her collar bones before he slumps down completely with heavy inhales. She likes this part, when his shoulders lose tension and the beating of his heart doesn’t palpitate as hard against her chest. 

He pulls out with a soft hiss but rather than make an effort to step away from the momentary comfort she provides, Ross feels his thumb brush gently over the red dents he produced; a clear contrast from a few minutes before. She tries to remain quiet so as to not ruin the moment he seems too caught up in, but his tender touch pulls an invisible string deep inside her and the fear of unwillingness to anything remotely close to a relationship triggers her mouth before she can stop it.

“You’re gonna leave a mark…”

“Hmm?” He pulls his head up to meet her eyes, bright pools of aquamarine absorb the little saliva left in her tongue and she swallows drily again and again.

“Your fingers…” She clears her throat. “They’re, uh, they’re gonna leave a mark.” Though that’s not really what she originally meant.

**********

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

“No!” Ross groans towards her friend, trailing behind her as they both cross the entrance to the back of house.

The regularly hectic movement in the kitchen seems less so as service isn’t due for another few hours. There’s a thin layer of peace visible in the rounded backs of a few cooks as they ingest family, elbows glued to the long stainless steel tables. Ross moves to the water filter beside Frank’s station, ignorant to the glance he throws her way, but very present in Meg’s eyes as she gasps.

“Wait, was it Frankie? D’you finally cave?” Meg whispers beside her.

“Ugh, gross no. I’d rather stick hot coal in my mouth…”

“Okay, then who?”

Ross rolls her eyes once again. “I’m not telling you, alright?! So just- hop off my dick.” 

“Oh c’mon, he had to be good if he left bruises like that…” 

Meg leans down to inspect the lilac dents peeking ever so slightly from under the hem of her uniform. A hiss leaves Ross’ mouth and she immediately reaches down to swat her friend’s pointed finger off the darkest spot.

“All I’m sayin’ is, every artwork needs the artist’s signature.” Meg grumbles beside her. 

“What artist?” The cook intervenes as he pokes around his own plate.

“Ross has a new boy toy and she won’t tell me who it is…”

She keeps her eyes trained on the slowly filling bottle, trying hard to tune out the teasing from the two idiots behind her.

“Y’know she won’t shut up ‘till you tell her, right?”

“I’m just hoping for her batteries to run out.” She assures with a flat smile, taking a sip from her bottle and leaning on the table in front of her.

“I thought you’d be more interested…” Meg teases, picking a piece of dried tomato from his plate and nibbling it through her smile.

She can see a slight tension in his jaw before he shrugs, eyes heavy on his dish. “We’ll find out eventually…” He answers under his breath, the words making Ross’ brows furrow.

“Meaning…”

Frank sighs and pushes his forearms off the table, finally looking up at her. “I mean- c’mon Ross, we know your type- plus, if it was one of these motherfuckers-” his fork drags pointing at the few cooks in the room. “-which it probably was- you know none of ‘em can keep their fuckin’ trap shut.”

If his comment struck a nerve, left it beaten and pulsing in agony, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she rolls her eyes one more time and gulps down her water, drowning the many colorful swears with his name written on them. A prickling sensation covers her skin, the grip on her bottle going loose when she catches his persistent gaze falling heavily on her from across the kitchen. It washes over her for a few tender beats, and the water in her bottle no longer seems sufficient to cool the heat his strong stare ignites in her stomach.

Carmy doesn’t mean to stare, his eyes had just wandered, obliviously guided by the source of her vibrant voice, the private conversation not so private in the confinements of the blinding white room. A strange sensation flourished in his chest when Megan mentioned the bruises he had previously apologized ardently for and could hear Frank’s slight annoyance  at them.

He doesn’t dislike Frank per se, he finds him irritating and obnoxious at times sure, but not to the point of hate. Right now however- as he appears completely entranced by her- Carmen can’t help the irritation beginning to course through him from the words he overheard. He knows they’re bullshit- the idea to expose her in such a way had no space inside his mind, Carmy isn’t like that- and with his own eyes roaming her tense features, he hopes that in the few seconds he allows himself to sneak a look, she can catch that. The unspoken assurance that she can trust him to keep whatever they have going on a secret.

“- are you even listening to me?”

Her friend’s voice demands Ross’ attention and he drags his eyes away, setting them back on the paper thin sweet potato slices gliding off the sharp edge of the mandolin.

“What- yeah, um… something about… your hair?”

“No dumbass- your psych exam, how’d it go?”

Despite his heavy attention to the task at hand, his ears can’t help but to tune back into the conversation as her sigh floats thick in the air of the kitchen.

“Failed it again… which is- fine-” She groans and reaches her hands to rub up her face in frustration. “-but that blows my second try so I only have one left or I’ll have to redo the whole course.”

Meg frowns up at her and reaches a hand to stroke over her arm. “You’ll do fine on the last one, I’ll help you study.” She offers with a kind smile. “Next one’s the good one… you’ll see.”

“Yeah… I guess'' Ross replicates her friend’s expression and takes another sip from her bottle, only half heartedly believing her.

“Yeah- we’ll both help you.” Frank adds, reaching his own hand beside Megs, a sly expression turning hers into distaste.

“Chef-” Three heads turn to the far left to see Carmen’s usual serious expression, making Frank immediately straighten his posture. “If you’re done fuckin’ around, that duck amuse in the walk in isn’t gonna confit itself-”

“Yes, Chef- sorry.” 

“Thank you!”

Frank briskly picks up his half finished plate and disappears around the corner with a quick step, barely having time to throw them an irritated expression. 

She feels it before seeing him. Only a wisp of white and blue flashes in her peripheral vision before he disappears behind her, the warmth of his extended digits pressing gently on her lower back and a soft ‘behind’ blowing on her exposed neck.  Ross turns just in time to catch the artist’s eyes lingering on her for a sliver of a second, but it’s more than enough to spread a tingling sensation over the blossoming bruises. She doesn’t notice the change in rhythm inside her chest or the soft sigh that he pulls from her as he moves further away.

Meg’s voice is barely audible behind the thin ringing in her ears and it’s only then that Ross notices she’s been staring down the empty space of the corridor, Carmy long gone.

“What the fuck was that?”

It’d be a blatant lie to say she knew either. The way her hands had suddenly gone all clammy and her stomach had dropped to her knees with a simple touch was not characteristic of her usual hookups. The day prior’s fear resurfaces again and the erratic beating takes another definition as she swallows hard and turns to Meg with a thin lipped smile.

“That was um… the artist.”

**********

Roslyn never wanted a relationship, she didn’t need to be in one to know they were shit. All the effort it took to maintain a façade of contentment and joy just for it all to crumble down into nothing, made every cell in her body recoil in disgust. Besides, nothing ever made her believe in the fairytale and every couple she met while growing up seemed completely tired of each other's company. Why would she ever want to put herself through that most ancient form of torture? For what, just to not be alone? 

Big whoop. She’d been alone most- if not all her life- and from the vast experience could confidently say it wasn’t as bad as people made it seem. Her own company was a hundred times better than some of the questionable creatures she found herself roped with.

Yet, despite all the reminders and admonitions that she ‘wasn’t made for that kind of thing’ and to ‘just leave what isn’t for you alone’, Ross could not contain the tumultuous thoughts banging heavily around her skull. 

The shift had gone by quickly as she spent more than half of it in her head, finally clocking off autopilot once the crisp air brushes past her cheeks at the employee exit. The air comes with the lingering wisp of tobacco. Ross tries to disguise how accustomed she’s grown to the smell, breathing in deep and walking slowly in his direction. She throws a nod to her right, where Carmen stands leaning on a tree.

“Hey…”

“How was your shift?” He asks a bit awkwardly, pushing himself off and dragging his feet beside her.

“Fine, I think-” Ross stops abruptly.”-hey, is it alright if we like, don’t do anything tonight-”

“Oh shit- no I wasn’t here for-”

“It’s just, my head kinda hurts and-”

“Yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-”

 “I also haven’t eaten so-”

“-I can make you some…thing.”

The silence is filled by tension as his words linger heavy in the air. They slipped past his mouth without contemplation and now weigh more with each second she doesn’t respond. Words turn to dust in the back of her throat- scratchy and uncomfortable- while she tries to come up with a lie on why she wouldn’t find it absolutely appealing to be cooked for.

“It’s okay, you spent the whole day cooking- you don’t have to….”

“I don’t mind it.” He’s soon to assure, keeping his eye contact despite the sharp shake of his head.

Her fingers grow sensitive at the constant assault of her nails, she huffs out a small breath of air and looks up at him. She can only hold Carmen’s strong stare for a few seconds, eyes wavering instead on the treetops above his head.

“No one’s ever really made me dinner before.” Ross delicately whispers her confession.

His offer’s dissected in her head for what feels like an eternity while he just waits in place, knuckles cracking at his sides. A slow smile finally covers her face, nodding gently to him.

“Okay…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

He offers what she has come to know is his soft smile, at least what she can see of it under the dim lighting of the street lamp. The clouds of vapor emanating from both their chests pull her from the unintentional staring contest and she makes a following motion to him with her head.

“I-um- I left the car that way.”

“Right- yeah- okay.” Carmy’s nervous stutter widens her grin.

They begin to walk the few blocks in silence, he’s concentrated on the surrounding ambience- second cigarette in hand- while she attempts to ignore the alarms she has strategically set out, all in the name of self-preservation. 

‘It’s just dinner’, she repeats to herself. ‘It doesn’t mean anything’. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He speaks out, pulling her from her head. “And you can totally tell me to fuck off-”

“Probably will, but shoot-” She adds with a light laugh, tired eyes concentrated on their path.

He contemplates his words for a second, the dim roar of tired engines penetrating their small bubble of peace. 

“So you really hate your job-”

“Ooh, hate is not a strong enough word-”

“-Okay, so you loathe your job-”

“There you go…” Her humorous smile triggers his usual small one, the tiny dimple on his left cheek guest starring just briefly but she takes a short second to admire it fully.

“Why do you stay?”

Ross contemplates his question while she plays with the strap of her bag, debating between the option she’s always used to deflect any sort of question, or to undust and pop the lock on the box where her truths lay hidden.

“Well you see, I have this horrible habit where I have to eat and-”

“Oh, fuck off- I’m serious.” His laugh is brief but genuine and it shudders something deep within her- it vibrates through her ribs and changes the tempo in her chest- an earthquake came and gone. 

A slight sense of panic trails behind her external joy, looming just out of sight but present still. She sighs and gulps the tightness down, turning to the empty street before them.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there this long.” Ross finally confesses loud enough so he can barely hear her. “I'm majoring in psychology…”

“So this is temporary?”

“Yeah…” She sighs again, picking at the gel polish she gets specifically to avoid the bad habit. “It’s supposed to be, but I’ve been trying to get my license and failed my exams twice. I only have one more chance before I have to retake the course all over again.”

He’s silent for a while, staring at the grimey ground and searching his head on what to say. “I was always shitty in school… but maybe I can like, try and help you study? Some say it helps explaining it to someone else.”

Carmy’s voice falls into a whisper with the last sentence and draws her gaze away from her fingers and up to his concentrated one.

The way his attention falls solely on her- eyes never straining far from her own- heightens her senses and chills her skin past the warmth of her coat. All she can muster is a thin smile, because anything bigger would trigger the lever that’s already too tight. 

“So psychology?” He changes the subject.

“Yeah, the-uh- child kind.” She awaits the usual taunt that comes with her answer- the ignorant thought that ‘why would children even need a psychologist?’- but it doesn’t. When she looks in his direction, it isn’t there either and she can’t decide if what he’s giving her is worse.

“That sounds pretty cool.” He says instead.

Ross’ brows twitch up momentarily, awe visible only for a few worthy moments. “Yeah it… it is.”

And says nothing else. 

‘Don’t read too much into it’ Ross repeats to herself, as many times as needed to push out the ridiculous thought of anything more than what it is- just a casual thing- out of her head, on the drive to his place.

**********

Part III.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat, @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 and that’s it lmao

#the bear & the fox #carmy x oc #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #Carmy berzatto x oc #carmy the bear #carmy smut #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Gaz x Reader x Soap

It's not every day Gaz gets to drive fast cars. It's also not every day he gets to race hot strangers on the road either.

Tags: SFW, Some swearing, Fluff, Flirting, Banter, Racing, Three-Way flirting, Random, Innocent, Some Car Lingo, Soap and Gaz sharing a single brain cell, Eventual smut in part two, scarcely proofread

This is just a two-parter one-shot I randomly typed. I like Soap, I like Gaz, and I like speeding. Please enjoy~

WC: 3.5k~

Masterlist

Have you ever gone over 100 miles per hour in a car? And not just any car, but a fast car. One that turns heads when you drive by on the street. The type of car you can hear a few blocks down from inside your living room; a car you know can dust anyone on the road in a race, cops be damned.

Kyle's always dreamed of having a car like that one day, one to bring home and brag to his friends about. Of course, they always thought he let himself get carried away too often by his idle, adrenaline-fueled fancies.

They'd only ever tease, "What'd'ya even need somethin' that fast for?"

"You're just wasting your money."

"It's not like you'll actually get to drive it like you want."

"Why not just get something reliable?"

Gaz has heard every excuse, comment, and suggestion in the book when it comes to cars and his spending habits; none have been quite as effective in persuading him.

Most of his friends could barely drive an automatic, let alone a car with a V8 in it, so it made sense to him why they'd be OK with just some piece of shit daily commuter. Not Kyle though. No, if he could chase the thrill of the adrenaline at work as well as at home then he would, gladly.

He's wanted a fast car ever since he was a kid, growing up on all those old American racing movies his dad would leave on the telly most weekends. Having grown up in the more docile parts of London, however, back then, the only form of 'transportation" he had included his feet, the bus, and maybe his parent's car (if they weren't in a mood).

It always felt like a pipe dream to have a nice car, though the older he gets the more he sees its attainability.

For the past month now, Kyle's had his eye on one car in particular: the classic American muscle -- a Dodge Challenger.

He's heard from the other soldiers (especially the American ones), that that car was as cliché as they came. It's practically one of the first ones everyone mentions when bringing up fast cars, and it's somehow always the first car many young and naïve PFCs get on a 40% interest rate, after getting smooth-talked by the local car dealer.

You get into certain sectors of America and EVERY guy within a 10-mile radius has one. Dodge Challengers were indeed as cliché as they came. But Goddamn, did Gaz want one for himself! Why should he care if everyone already has one? He doesn't yet, and now he feels he can finally join the club.

And the one nice thing about clichés is that it makes them pretty easy to come by. After a few checks, Gaz had finally picked one out that suited his fancies.

A newer model, 2018 around, with pearl white paint and two black stripes running straight down the middle, complete with tinted windows and matching black rims. For weeks he's seen it parked at this dealership, just begging to get bought. And after a few hard-earned paychecks, he could finally put an end to his window shopping and test the real thing.

"You're goin' with the worst option, mate," Soap had felt a need to finally chime in, not back at the barracks, but in the dealership lobby no doubt. The Scot hadn't been as big of a motorhead as Kyle, but he knew enough about cars to carry a conversation. He also needed very little convincing to tag along, as was usually the case. "Why not somethin' fancy like... I dunno, a Lexus or an Audi?"

Gaz gags at even the thought of choosing one of those over this. "No way," he blows raspberries. "All those got nothin' on the Challenger."

"Except speed," Soap adds. "And better gas mileage. Oh, and four doors instead of two-"

"Don't you ride a bike, mate?" Gaz cuts in.

"Ay, this is about you right now," Soap says. "Plus, we already know my bike would smoke you in a race."

"Oh piss off," Gaz gives his comrade a playful shove to his broad shoulder, the two men giggling amongst each other like a pair of school girls. "Ah but man, you wouldn't get it," Gaz shrugs. "You like your jeeps and your motorcycles, but I'll take my cars. Plus I bet you wouldn't even know what to do in a car like this."

"Aye, you're not wrong," Soap sighs. He then crosses his arms and takes another look at the car, seeing all its slick features and designs, the shine to its exhaust, and the way the hood of the car opened up so the engine could peak out. Top speed or not, they definitely liked to doll these things up like peacocks. "I'd probably just crash it if I got behind the wheel."

"At least you can admit it," Kyle chuckles.

Just then, after what had felt like an eternity of waiting, the car salesman rounds the corner of the lobby, already readjusting his suit and pulling out car keys and a clipboard, as he made his way over to the pair with a shark-like smile.

"Sorry for the wait, boys." He stops a few feet short of them, his beady eyes glued to his clipboard before he's let them carry back over to the car. "Now I can only give you up to an hour in it. If you stay local, you can drive it how you want. Just get back here safe and let me know what you're thinking, yeah?"

The salesman dropped the keys in Kyle's palm, and the smile that grew on his face shortly after had been akin to that of a child waking up to a Christmas tree full of presents. In a matter of seconds, he'd finally get to drive his dream car.

"We won't be too long, sir."

It takes a moment for Gaz to take everything in once he's closed the car door behind him -- that new car smell, the coolness of the leather seats, the shine to the dashboard, and the slick feel of the steering wheel against his rough hands.

Had Soap not started laughing at that goofy smile Kyle had on, that hasn't left him since taking the keys, he may have just sat there for the next fifteen minutes just taking in the atmosphere.

Soap takes another generous look at the car's interior, checking the mirrors, the back seats and then the glove box. Admittedly it wasn't every day he found himself in cars as nice as this either (which had no doubt been a reason for his tagging along). Even he can't stop himself from smiling back at the Sergeant.

"You ready?" He asks.

Gaz gives him a sly look. "Hell yeah, I'm ready."

With no further delays, the man brought his finger to the car's start button. It clicks, and they've both now felt the vehicle start to rumble, the roaring sounds of the V8 engine finally firing up.

That low growl purs in his ears like honey. It sounds just like it does in the movies.

Gaz settles his hands against the wheel, just enjoying the feel of it a little longer. After listening to Soap fiddle with the settings (particularly the Bluetooth), Kyle looks over at the Sergeant, a big grin on his face.

"So where to?"

Trees and buildings fly by their windows like someone was fast-forwarding through a slideshow; the music blares on the speakers, but it could barely be heard over the roar of the engine and the chaotic laughter of the two men inside.

It's hard not feeling on top of the world when you're car looks this good on the street.

Both men were completely geeked in their seats by the time they came across their second empty road and the force of the car has all but pushed them back into their seats, darting them down the street like a bat out of hell. The whole time Gaz watches the speedometer climb to new heights he's never seen before, his heart pumping all the blood through his body, making his skin tingle and his eyes wide.

There was just something unexplainable about going fast in a car like this, like you have all this power in your hands, everything in your own control for however long you're behind the wheel. At times, that alone felt better than any rush drugs, alcohol, or even sex could give.

After what felt like thirty minutes of just straight speeding and zipping through the backstreets, eventually Gaz came across a red light that will have them merging back onto the freeway. A good spot to bring his heartrate back down and live in the moment again.

"So," Gaz looks over at Soap, whose eyes have been excitedly bouncing about since he's designated himself as the 'passenger princess' of the vehicle today. "You convinced yet?"

"Maybe," Soap shrugs, purposefully acting nonchalant about it. "It sure is loud."

"That's the best part!"

To further prove his point, Gaz starts to rev the engine, making both men get giddy again just listening to it.

That's when a second car pulls next to the men suddenly, another Dodge Challenger, only this one was pitch black, with tinted windows so dark it barely looked legal. The only reason Gaz and Soap even see them is because they've started to rev their engine next to him.

Gaz looks over, in disbelief at first. Kyle revs his engine another time, as to see if this was true. And then, to his amusement, the black Challenger does the same back.

Now a large smile has formed on his face. He revs his engine again. They rev their engine again.

"You think they wanna race?" Soap asks.

He can only hope.

Gaz looks ahead of himself, watching the red light intensely, continuing to rev his car alongside this new friend he's made on the road.

The light turns green, and Gaz's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"Only one way to find out."

Gaz brings his boot down on the peddle, feeling the thing damn near hit the floor and the engine scream at him. In the blink of an eye, both cars were zooming down the freeway like a scene straight out of Fast and Furious.

Gaz keeps a close eye on the black Challenger, watching them switch between lanes from his side view mirrors. The car matches his speed, driving right beside him the entire way, and picking up the speed any time he picked up the speed himself. When cars were in the way, you both found your own creative ways around them, and when the lanes cleared once more, you met back beside each other, speeding down the road like a long-lost pair of soulmates.

"This guy's good," Soap comments.

"Yeah, he is."

The black Challenger picks up the speed now, going well over 100 miles an hour at this point, and looking for a real race. One Gaz would happily give them. He takes position behind their car, following them as they tic-tacked through the remainder of the traffic in their way. Once the road cleared, the two floored it.

Their vehicles chase one another down in an elegant line, as the sun sets to the far distance, the birds and planes above passing by as tiny, incomprehensible dots.

After a straight minute of speeding, Gaz could feel the inferiority of his vehicle, watching as the black Challenger slowly sped further and further off, despite the man doing all he could to keep up.

With another batch of cars coming up on the road for them both to zig-zag through, the man knew if he didn't keep up, he'd eventually lose them in the crowd.

Just seeing their headlights grow further away had already started making the Sergeant long to keep this going for just a little longer. This can't end now.

The black Challenger begins to cut through cars, weaving their way through before disappearing behind a group of trucks.

"Hang on to your seatbelt," Gaz warns.

"Aye, aye," Soap straightens himself in his seat, and proceeds to feel the entire weight of his body sink into it as the Sergeant speeds up even more.

He follows the same route as the black Challenger... or he attempts to. The gap they'd previously used quickly became unavailable when the two cars in said lane decided it'd be best to ride each other, rather than let another car pass through.

Having to think fast, Gaz uses his mirrors to look to the other lanes, finding another opening and quickly flipping his turn signal on before merging into the lane. A smart decision it seems. The minute he's entered the lane, he sees a clearing and speeds for it, re-emerging from the traffic and back onto an empty highway.

Only the mystery car was no longer anywhere in sight.

"Aw," Gaz sinks in his seat in defeat. "Did I lose him?"

"Looks like it, mate," Soap gives Gaz a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure there'll be more though, no?"

"I doubt it..."

With the race retroactively "ended", Gaz feels himself begin to settle down now, attempting to process what just happened. It makes him grin. "That was fun though."

"Hold up," Soap's gaze looks to something behind Gaz, something that makes his smile brighten. "Look."

Gaz turns to look out his window, and as if his prayers had been answered, the black Challenger was driving beside him again. To share their good faith, they even rev their engine again, as to let him know, "I'm still here too."

Gaz admits, seeing the mystery car again definitely got him excited.

The black Challenger drives in front of Gaz now, using their lights to try and signal them to follow. Kyle didn't even need any convincing to do so.

He follows the stranger off the freeway before he's brought them all to a gas station parking lot. A public enough place to dip out on a quick getaway if this doesn't go as expected. Then again, Gaz wasn't so sure what he'd been expecting at all.

Once the cars were parked, both parties remained in their cars for a moment, simply waiting to see who would do something first.

"What'd'ya think they want?" Soap asks.

"Who knows," Gaz shrugs. "I might ask 'em what set up they've got though."

"Priorities-"

A tap at Gaz's window cuts that conversation short, as the Sergeant feel's his heart start to race again. The moment of truth.

He turns to look, and is taken completely aback when he realizes that the black Challenger hadn't been a man at all, but a woman, and a really attractive woman at that. A welcome surprise, to say the least.

If the man didn't know any better, he might have thought you were a celebrity, from how overdressed you looked. Your hair and makeup are all done up something nice, and the dress you had on was giving your curves just a little too much justice, the tight-fitting fabric having shaped over your little form rather nicely.

Soap has to nudge Gaz out of the trance he'd put himself in having taken the whole sight of you in, completely smitten at first sight. He rolls his window down, and you look even prettier without the tint obstructing that little twinkle in your eyes. Eyes that take no shame looking both men up and down in the vehicle.

"That was some nice driving out there," you speak first.

"Was that you driving?" Gaz asks. He knows it's a dumb question, but it's the first thing his mind can process.

"Oh you already know," you say rather confidently. "It's not every day I get to drive him around like that."

"Him?" Gaz asks.

Your eyes go wide for a second, before you realize what he's asking and laugh to yourself. "My car," you say. "I call him Romeo."

"Romeo?" Soap laughs.

Your eyes switch from the innocent brown eyes of Gaz's to the more brazenly blue ones of Soap's. He's been smiling at you since the window rolled down. Admittedly, you'd been too. You weren't expecting to see not one, but two cute guys in a car eager to talk to you.

"That's right," you say. "Romeo. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"It's definitely memorable," Gaz says. "That's for sure."

Your eyebrow raises with amusement. "You both English?"

"Oi, I'm from Scotland," Soap protests. "This bloke's the Londoner 'ere, eh Garrick?"

"Yeah, sure, 'Londoner'. This guy," Gaz chuckles to himself. "We're from out of town, though, yeah."

"Wow, OK," you put your hands on your hips in astonishment. "You in town for long then?"

"A few weeks, give or take," Gaz says. "Why? You feel like showin' us around some more, love?"

You stand there thinking to yourself for a moment, or rather you purposefully left them both waiting in anticipation for an answer, surely enjoying the way their eyes couldn't help looking you up and down this whole time. When they weren't locked on your smile, they certainly liked to linger below your collarbone (though they both thought they'd been more nonchalant about it than they had been).

Their eyes quickly lift when they've seen you cross your arms over your chest, your eyes glinting playfully.

"I'm not sure you can keep up," you smirk.

Both men laugh now, looking at each other in shared disbelief. This was really happening right now.

"Care to prove me wrong then?" Gaz taunts.

You get this sly look on your face, as though Gaz has no idea what he was getting himself into.

With a half-lidded look about you, you extend your hand out with an open palm, and very clearly say, "Open up your maps and give me your phone."

Soap can't help but laugh at your assertiveness, even as Gaz absent-mindedly obliges. "Bossy lil' thing, aren't ya?"

"No point in wasting time." You take the man's phone and begin putting an address in. Once you've finished you passed the phone back to Gaz, feeling as his fingers gently brushed against yours within this brief exchange. The warmth of your fingers comes as a shock to him, even as he covers it by clearing his throat.

Looking down, he sees you've put in the address to someone's house. Curious.

"Where do you have us headin'?" Gaz asks.

"I was on my way to a party," you say, which would no doubt explain why you were so dressed up now. "A lot of people are gonna be there, so it won't look weird if you come uninvited."

"Sick, OK," Gaz nods. "Party it is then."

You jump for joy, which only makes both men blush at your more girly antics. "Awesome! I guess I'll see you boys there then."

And whether you meant to be cute about it or not, you gave both men the gentlest of waves, and sauntered on back to your car, feeling as both men watched you go. Their eyes couldn't get enough of your backside.

Gaz turns back to Soap. "There's no way this is happening right now."

"Well hold up now," Soap says. "Don't we have to take this back to the dealership? Think we have time?"

Shit, Kyle forgot he hasn't actually bought the damn thing yet.

The responsible part of himself -- the soldier in him conditioned to follow rules and keep discipline -- told him to take the car back and get things sorted out first. It'd be the smartest thing to do...

"Hey, speedracer!"

...But then he hears you revving your engine again, and when he glances over and sees your window already rolled down, just smiling and waving at him like that...

"Race you there!" you say.

Gaz brings his hand back to his shift stick and puts it in reverse, smirking.

"We'll make time."

Author's Note: This is completely random. I was just thinking about how I feel like Gaz gives me car guy vibes. This is slightly self-indulgent as well because I drive a challenger and I live near a base full of soldiers who constantly like to street race, so I thought it'd be a fun little scenario for an x Reader. The next part will be the final part. Stay Tuned~

*Also I am still working on my other WIPs (T^T)

#gaz x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick #john mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mwii #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2

[layla4567]

"Magic night"

Colin Zabel x Latina reader

Summary: It was your second date with Colin, you started dating for a few days but you still didn't know each other well enough. You are a foreigner, you came from far away to start a new life away from the problems of your native country. Colin invited you to a bar for a drink, a quiet evening, or not?

Warning: Slightly suggestive, alcoholism, a little angst ,mention of economic crisis, impoverishment of a country and coup, also spanish words but don't worry they will have their translation.

A/N: I want to clarify that I never saw this series (so sorry) but I wanted to write something with this character because he seems very soft, and yes, this is quite specific but I really wanted the protagonist to know Spanish idk why

..............................................................................................................................

Sitting in Colin's car seat, I was accommodating the folds of my skirt for the fourth time somewhat anxious, despite being the 2 date I always got a little nervous when I saw him, I just couldn't help but feel a tickle in the pit of my stomach. Apart from the dark blue jean skirt, I was wearing a light black fabric shirt and my hair was somewhat messy with a flower-shaped clip, I knew he liked it. Completing my outfit was wine red lipstick and I was wearing black wedge boots that hugged my entire calf almost to the knee.

The detective who was trying to pay attention to the road could not help noticing from his peripheral vision your hands move, smiling with a free hand he took yours in his

I was looking through the window absently when his soft touch made me turn my head in surprise, fist at his hand and then at his face.

"Is everything alright, darling?"- He smiled as he kept looking ahead.

He had just called me darling? Oh I think that's another thing I like about him to add to the list. Their cute nicknames.

"Yeah, no worries"

His hand was still caressing mine, his fingers tracing slow circles on the back of my hand and on my knuckles. His warmth was making me melt but I tried to keep my composure.

Every time I went out in a car I liked to look out the window and see the buildings or the landscape in general. The sun was going down and the clouds were dyed in orange and pink colors, it looked like a work of art. Focused on the sky, I had not realized that we were arriving at the bar. A neon sign illuminated the car and our faces, there were tables outside and inside.

Colin opened my door and held out a careful hand to help me out.

"You look very beautiful today"- He said innocently

I looked at him with wide and surprised eyes while a shy radiant smile appeared on my face. He couldn't even imagine what those words had done to me, or the hours I spent trying to find the perfect outfit. I tried not to show my flushed cheeks

"Do you really think so?"- I said as if trying to play it down and feigning confidence, although that phrase meant the world to me.

"Of course yes, I'm always honest"

Now Zabel offered me his arm cavalierly inviting me to put his hand in it to walk together towards the entrance

"Well now I'll be honest, that blue suit looks radiant on you"- I told him flirtatious

And it was true, he was wearing a matching teal blue suit, a plain white shirt, and a black tie that matched beautifully. I was so used to seeing him in his typical black coat and dark shirts that seeing him in other colors made everything about him stand out.

Colin chuckled sheepishly as we entered the bar. The walls inside were painted a blood red while the freshly varnished wooden floor shone like a mirror. The bar was full of bottles and cocktails that the bartender was masterfully preparing. There was also a live band playing, a bass player, a drummer and the lead singer. I loved live bands, well, I loved music in general. I remember that for my 15th birthday my mother had bought me a karaoke machine, she almost instantly regretted it, I wouldn't stop using it in my room at full volume.

We went to the bar and took a seat, the music was nice. The bartender asked us what we were going to drink. Colin had a margarita and I had a gin and tonic.

"Wow, you seem to like strong drinks"- he said

"Over time you get used to it"- I laughed

While the boy in the red bowtie was preparing the drinks as if he were a juggler in a circus, Colin and I began to chat.

"So tell me... what prompted you to move to this place?"

A shadow darkened my gaze and I suddenly became serious, I lowered my head a bit uncomfortable

The detective noticed this so he quickly said

"I'm sorry, I know it's a somewhat personal question, you don't have to answer it if you don't want to."- An expression of sorrow crossed his eyes.

"No it's ok I just-"

I wanted to continue but I felt the weight of a rock in my throat. Even so I took a breath and answered

"My country had just come out of a coup d'état, the whole world had been left poor, we hardly had to eat. I remember my mother crying, the screams of the military. It was horrible"

I closed my eyes so that the tears that were about to appear would not be seen. Colin sympathetic caressed my arm rubbing it from top to bottom which gave me the strength to continue.

"Thank God my family was not harmed. When I grew up I promised my family that one day I would raise enough money to help them financially, even if it meant moving to another country."

Zabel looked at me giving me all the attention in the world and his face showed an expression of anguish as if everything I've experienced had been experienced by him too.

"I'm so sorry about all that"

"Thank you Colin.."- I was able to genuinely smile until my eyes were slanted as if they were two parallel lines, it was comforting to know that someone was listening to me without judging me

The bartender had already finished the drinks and served them to us. We thank him with a smile

"However, now I'm here and I'm not doing so bad, and the best thing is that I'm talking to the most handsome detective in town"- I told him while taking the straw between my lips and winking

I liked to make him nervous

He looked down at his drink laughing as his cheeks flushed slightly. Bingo

"Well, enough about me, now I want to hear from you, you're working on a new case, right?"

"Yes, in fact, I'm trying to make progress on that"

And so he began to talk to me about the details of the case, his co-worker and everything. It seemed like an interesting but dangerous job at the same time, I looked at him carefully while he spoke calmly, I couldn't help but worry about him every time he talked about the injured people who were involved in detective work.

"You're a very brave man"

He looked at me surprised and confused.

"Why?"

"Well, with everything you told me, it seems like you fear for your life all the time."- I tried to sound funny but I was really worried.

"Well you are partly right, this profession is dangerous but don't worry, I know how to defend myself"- He said with a smile to reassure me and put his hand on mine

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

We continued to drink our cocktails, mine was almost empty and it was getting to my head a bit because I could feel the heat of the alcohol in my blood, especially on my face.

Without warning and laughing at who knows that I asked Colin

"Do you want me to teach you words in Spanish?"

He laughed enchanted

"Okay, miss y/n, teach me"

"Do you know how to say party in Spanish?"- I said as I moved my straw in circles inside the glass

He shook his head, amused by my behavior.

"It's said: Fiesta, F-I-E-S-T-A"- I pronounced it slowly so that he can understand me and repeat it

Colin repeated the phrase with a cute American accent, it sounded adorable.

"And job it's trabajo"

The handsome detective tried to repeat the word but failed pathetically, then annoyed and getting closer I told him

"No, no no, not like that"- I gently grasp his jaw to force him to look at me.

"Look at my lips, tra-ba-jo"

He didn't expect that contact with my skin and even less when I told him to look at my lips, he immediately blushed and tried to repeat the word just to give me the satisfaction of listening to him and knowing that he learned the Spanish lesson like a good student. I felt like a preschool teacher

"Yaaay muy bien! oh that's another word haha"-I laughed nasally- "and means very good"

"It seems to me or are you a little drunk?"

I gasped

"Naah, it's your imagination"- I made a gesture with my hand like shooing a fly

Colin seemed entranced by my presence because he kept laughing in amusement.

I leaned my elbows on the bar and laughing like a schoolgirl I told him

"Guess what it means mi amor"

"I-I don't know"

"Oh c'mon. You really don't know?"

"I have no idea"

I framed my face with my hands while blinking flirtatiously.

"Means my love"- I smiled mischievously while biting my lower lip.

The brunette scratched his shirt collar heatedly with an awkward smile.

Suddenly your favorite song started being played by the band

"Ohh my god I love that song! You have to come dance with me!!"- I told him while I grabbed his wrist and dragged him to where the audience was with the musicians.

"Oh I don't think that's a good idea"- Colin said as he resisted my push and sat back down on the stool.

"Pleaseee"- I pouted sadly

"I don't know how to dance, but you go. I see you from here"

"Fineee but you are missing the opportunity to dance with a sexy latina"- I said swaying my hips

I went to the center of the room near where the musicians were playing, waving my arms in the air happily. My confidence was through the roof. I let myself be carried away by the rhythm of the music, moving my legs from one side to the other and my arms making waves while I closed my eyes letting myself go. My clothes were tight to the body highlighting my attributes and my hands ran through my body from head to toe ending on my thighs near my groin while slowly lowering to the ground.

Zabel's eyes widened.

I continued dancing with my eyes closed, my head moved from side to side as did my waist, but in an act of rebellion I went up on stage and grabbed the microphone of the main vocalist.

"What the hell are you doing"- He said irritated and confused

"Oh no, this can't be good"- Colin sighed

"Hellooo amigoos!"- I grabbed the microphone and exclaimed trying to keep my balance

"Tonight I want to dedicate this special song to that pretty boy over there who is sitting at the bar and covering his face"- I said pointing at him shamelessly

The detective covered his eyes with an embarrassed hand and laughed nervously, he wanted the earth to swallow him up

The bassist approached me annoyed and said

"Hey you can't do that he-!"

"Shh!"- I shut him up by putting a finger to his lips - "Now I will sing"

I started to sing a couple of Lady Gaga songs while seductively dancing every movement I did, it was full of elegance and passion, it was in my blood. From time to time he gave Colin provocative glances like a hunter watching his prey. I knew how to dance and capture people's attention, my hips did not stop moving and waving to the rhythm of the songs like a belly dancer, there was not a single inch of my body that I did not move. Sometimes I would bring my attention to my hands either by moving them in circles in the air and gesturing like flamenco dancers or by bringing them to my bust. I think people also liked my voice, I wasn't a professional but I put all my effort and enthusiasm into it. I could hit high notes and some low ones without so much effort.

Detective Zabel didn't know whether to run away or stay to continue enjoying the show, but he looked at me with dreamy eyes and a sparkle of joy.

"Your friend seems funny huh?"

"Uh excuse me, what?"- Colin turned his head in confusion to know who was speaking to him.

"Your little friend, the one in the pretty black shirt, seems to know how to have fun"- The bartender, while cleaning a glass, elbowed him as a sign of complicity while winking at him and then burst out laughing.

"Oh ye-yeah. She's amazing"- This last he said in almost a whisper. This woman aroused new emotions in the detective, and he liked them

Now the crazy singer began to sing in Spanish, although nobody understood her, they enjoyed the music

"SI NO SUPISTE AMAR, AHORA TE PUEDES MARCHAR!" (If you didn't know how to love, now you can leave)

"BOOM BOOM PON A GOZAR TU CUERPO CON EL BOOM, BOOM BOOM PON A GOZAR TU CUERPO, WOOO" (put your body to enjoy with the boom)- I was jumping like I was in carnival while waving an arm in the air

I stopped singing, I was exhausted

"Thank you dear audience, y ahora chupenme la-!" (and now suck my-)

The vocalist, fed up with me, snatched the microphone from me before I could finish the sentence.

"Go insult somewhere else, I have a Colombian cousin, you know? I understood what you said"

I came down from the audience somewhat embarrassed but happy because the people were applauding me happily, it was nice to be the center of attention for 5 minutes

I got to Colin who was still sitting at the bar looking at me like I was a Christmas present smiling with his eyes and mouth

"My, my. You're quite the jackpot"

"Oh what can I say?"- I said modest

"Let's go I think it's already quite late"- He looked at his wristwatch, it was 9:30

Colin Zabel took me affectionately but firmly by the arm, accompanying me towards the exit and then resting his hand on my lower back.

I got in the car together with him and we began the return to my apartment. Colin drove calmly while I still kept the music on my mind, nodding my head rhythmically and rocking my foot up and down. I looked at the streets distracted through the window. I suddenly turned my whole body so that I could face the detective. I rested an arm on the headrest of my seat, looking at him mischievously.

"What did you think of today's performance?"

"I think it was magical"- He smiled and showed some sexy dimples.- "I didn't know you could dance so well, my favorite part was when you took the vocalist's microphone and made him shut up"- When he laughed his nose wrinkled adorablely, he looked like a bunny

"Really?"- I laughed hysterically throwing my head back.- "Ok yeah, that was good"

We continue laughing heartily until I get closer to Colin laughing and resting my hand on his leg. I stroked his thigh coming up a bit near his groin and gave a playful squeeze.

Colin, who was not expecting that, tensed his muscles and clenched his jaw, letting out a contained grunt.

I looked at him biting my lower lip into a smile while still having my hand on his leg.

"Uhmm I-I think the alcohol affected you a little"- He moaned slowly, unable to contain himself.

Music for my ears

I laughed and slowly removed my hand from his thigh.

"I wasn't really drunk..."

Colin turned his head to gape at me, but remembered he was driving so he quickly looked back at the road.

"What did you just say??"

I shrugged as I looked at him, smiling innocently as if I had done some mischief and was about to punish myself.

"Did you seriously think it was my first time trying a drink that strong?"- I said naughty

Zabel snorted

"Please don't be mad, I know it was stupid"- I begged - "The cocktail had gone to my head a bit but not so much that I lost consciousness, I was conscious"- Now totally serious I look at him worried

"I'm sorry"- I sounded like a wounded animal as I looked down at my skirt. I didn't want to play the dead fly but now I realized that what I did was irresponsible

Colin heard the tone of regret in my voice and since he didn't like to see me down he said

"I'm not mad I promise, plus I have to admit it was kind of fun. And no one got hurt so you didn't do anything serious"- He gave me a warm look and a smile that was brighter than the stars in the sky that night.

Relieved, I smiled back at him as he continued driving to my house. Again he helped me get out of the car and walked me to the entrance.

"Well y/n I really had a good time today, I say again that you are full of surprises"

"Aww you don't suck either"

He laughed

We stared at each other's eyes, both shone in a particular way, was it love?

"Well I guess I'll see you another day Detective Zabel"- And without waiting for an answer, I grabbed his face with both hands and planted a passionate but quick kiss on his lips. It was our second date anyway and that's what happens at the end of one, right?

Colin stared at me silently, not knowing how to react.

"See you tomorrow, mi vida"- I smiled even with his face in my hands

He looked at me smiling confused

"I think you'll have to ask me out again to find out what that means."- I said amused as I quickly opened the door and entered my house.

The brown-haired boy stared at the door for a few seconds without knowing what to do, but then he laughed, placing his hands in his pants pocket as he headed towards his car. He would definitely ask her out on another date.

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

It's not the best I've written, sorry for disappointing the fans of this series 😭

at least i hope i made you laugh

#imagine #one shot #evan peters #colin zabel #evan peters x reader #colin zabel x you #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel smut #tate langdon #evan peters smut #ahs asylum #x reader #female reader #evan peters characters #evan peters x y/n #evan peters headcanon #evan peters requests #kai anderson #american horror story #ahs fandom #x y/n #x you #y/n reader #y/n x character #y/n being y/n #reader insert #fem reader #female #one shot fic #one shot request

[gumballavocadoharry]

Afterparty; Brother Harry:

"Harry it's gonna be fine! We'll all be together why are you making such a big deal about this?!"

"Because Yn, those parties are very wild! Anything goes there: drinking, smoking, people having sex randomly with anyone.... the list is endless! I don't want you going and that's that!"

You stomped towards Harry, combatively, challenging his answer. "I'm 19 years old, I can go wherever I want!" You ran up the stairs, bracing yourself against his body as you brushed past it. You slammed your bedroom door, fuming over your brother's unfair arbitrary charge. It was the afterparty of one of Harry's charities he was going to. Harry decided to take you with him to expose you to the arts and naturalism of music. He assumed it might inspire some creativity inside you to push you off from the rebellious streak you had lately.

Your eyes went straight to the sequin dark midnight purple dress that you had picked out specifically for the afterparty after the charity event. Black pantyhose, black heels and this black diamond bracelet would all be an accessorized attire to your silver and black smokey makeup. But instead, stuck wearing this gaudy white dress with cherry blossoms painted on them like some 6th grader going to her first prom. Harry loved the dress of course- picking it out for you with matching white flats. The dress in your mind was pretty, but not your taste. But since Harry was paying, what choice did you have?

Time came for the charity where Harry sat in the back of the van coaching you on how to behave and act. Listening narrow-mindedly to his instructions while internally flickering over your plan of the night. This boring charity event would soon be over and basking in the glory of the elite afterparty with your friends would be the highlight of the evening.

The charity was filled with boring chatter from Harry's upscale friends who talked endlessly about the dull hanging pictures of fruit and parks that added nothing nor took away from the slinky sculptures of rubbish that were tabled across in every corner. You side-eyed Harry chatting with a bunch of his friends, occasionally looking to you, like he wanted you to join in with their much more mature conversation or rather it was just his way of supervising you to keep you from escaping this wasted building.

The car ride home was this thick tense of quiet. Harry shuddered to ask your opinion on the night out- knowing you could never give a generous answer. Rather, more focused on the afterparty- staring stale out the window, taking in the glints of stars from the night. Your phone clock read 12:36- a little after 12:30. For you, it would mean that start of a fresh night filled with the stench of vodka, faint smoke shadows peering out of the mouths of partyers who stood to the side, puffing their cigarettes in and out, and the shimmers of flashy dresses and suits from the dim lights and the blaring music.

The rush blitzed through you like blood through veins. Harry, staggered into house, suit jacket slinked over his shoulder, keys jiggling from the first joint of his finger. "Bedtime, Yn," You let out a scoff, shooting Harry a look, "I'm not tired," "Well, then I'm going to bed- you can watch TV or whatever...." Harry was too tired to even argue with you. You watched him slouch up the stairs; debility and render wading around in his eyes. A sick ping tip toed through your stomach; feeling awful with the way you had handled your well meaning older brother. But even that couldn't shake you from the wish of attending that party.

Changing into your party dress, you snuck out of the house quietly, called an Uber and made it into the party. The smell of every alcohol hit your nostrils all at once while the quivering stench of cigarettes stung your eyes. "Yn! Glad you could make it!" Nicole, one of your friends said, handing you a drink.

Three drinks in and already feeling a little dizzy, you thought maybe dancing would help balance things out. "Heyyyy theeerrre honey," You turned to see a guy- black hair, grey eyes and a 3 o'clock shadow smiling, "Um, hi,"

"Wanna danceeee?" Obviously drunk, you tried moving away from him, only for him to grab the fringe of your dress and lift it to expose part of your thigh. "Stop that!" You snapped, splashing the remainder of you drink in his face.

Feeling cold and alone, you checked the clock of your phone- 3:00. "Damn! I need to get home!" You pushed your way through the crowd to find Nicole, only to spot a tall man- black trench coat, quiffed curls and a raspy voice, echo your name through the party the best way he could over the loud music. "Yn! Yn! Where are you?!" The panic in his voice was evident, evident enough to spike a deep rush of regret and guilt through you.

Green eyes finally spotted you, fading in and out between the brush of partygoers. Catching you, Harry pulled you into this tight hug, sniffing your hair for alcohol smell. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!" You shook your head, tears brimming your eyes. Harry dragged you out of the party, giving Nicole this look- a look of controlled command that only older brothers could possess.

Out on the lawn, empty cups hit your ankles and the cracking sounds of smashed pieces of glass beer bottles crunched beneath your heels. You looked at Harry, stopped and tangled him into a big hug, "I'm sorry!" You sobbed. Your glassy eyes looked into his, "He touched me..... he grabbed my dress and pulled it up!" You quivered. You felt the warm touch of Harry's hand group the center of your back. "It'll be okay..... I'm here... you're safe now Yn,"

He didn't yell at you. He didn't even so much as give you a sour look or blanket his stare with wrath. He just cuddled you- into his arms like a warm fuzzy blanket. Harry twisted his hand into yours before walking off to the car. You didn't feel like this little girl hanging onto her brother for protection, instead, you felt like a young woman who simply needed help and it was now being sent to her.

And you never wanted to let go.

*I'm back everyone!!!! Ik I've been sick for awhile, but things will be running smoothly again now!!!!!!*

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #brother!harry #brother harry #protective older brother #harry fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfictions #harry ❤️ yn #harry and yn #harry x yn #harry x reader #harry one shot #harry styles oneshot

[sixminutestoriesblog]

nao-name

I'm going to get a bit philosophical. Researching today's topic dropped me through an ice sheet I hadn't realize was thin and things went a bit deep. I still think its worth writing though, so here we go.

In the beginning of all things, God said “let there Be”, named a thing and it was.  From His words all life and everything that would spin outward from that came into existence.  One of the first things He told His newly created humans to do was to name all the life they found living around them.

Whether you take it as myth, metaphor or fact, I think its telling that the people writing down that specific creation story considered naming a thing enough to bring it into existence.  There is something buried deep inside humanity that considers being able to True Name a thing powerful.  Controlling.  Summoning.  From the beginning of the world to Rumpelstiltskin's fairy tale to modern urban fantasy where a hero has to learn the demon's name to banish it, humanity is fascinated with the power naming something imparts.  We name our pets, our cars, give our friends nicknames and, sometimes, we even rename ourselves.  

Take a mental trip backward with me.  Let’s go to the very beginning of language.  Once upon a time, there were - well, perhaps not humans, perhaps not yet, but there were people.  There were people who had learned to articulate sounds into the vastness of the wilderness.  Sounds that didn’t just warn of danger or rejoice over finding fresh water or call the group together.  Sounds that, sung and trilled and coughed and grunted from mouth to mouth, had started to share ideas that went beyond survival, sounds that needed to grow in complexity to match the minds they were coming from.  It wasn’t enough to say “the cave is safe” anymore.  It became “the cave is dry” and then, perhaps, “the cave will fit all of us” and then, in time “the cave is home”.  And eventually it wasn’t ‘the cave’ anymore; it was ‘home’.  

'Let’s go home.'

And ‘home’ meant something different than simply ‘the cave’ even though it was the cave that was being referred to when home was mentioned.  Words, perhaps for the first time, had caught an emotion and turned it into a solid thing.  Home.  Something you only felt to start but that you had made solid when you had called a specific place that word.  In a way, you had taken what wasn’t known and had made it real simply by giving it a name.  Now, when you said ‘home’ everyone in the group knew what you meant and felt what that meaning was in their own hearts.  That was power, enclosing something hereto unknown in the shell of a word, where it could now be understood and passed from person to person, mouth to mouth. Tamed and given a place in the framework of daily life.

These people, creating language, must have felt that power, that awe, each time a new name was given to something, bringing it into their collective conscious, sharing what it was, binding the unknown into the known with the magic of a spoken word, the new tumble of sounds.  Making it safe and also real for all of them.  Snatching it from the dangerous world around them and turning it into something they could hold with their tongues and contain with their mouths. The spoken words were acts of creation and definition.

‘That cluster of stars is The Snake.’

‘In the summer, we will go to the Red Caves and paint your hand on the wall to lay next to mine.’

‘The creature that killed your son is called Bear.’

Because, yes, sometimes, naming a thing tames it.

Sometimes, though, naming a thing just gives your fear a face.

And so, whoever they were, these first people, still learning to name things, they also developed what modern linguistics call ‘noa-names’.  Because if names had the power to create a thing, you had to be very careful what you spoke into existence.  It was too dangerous to say the name ‘Bear’ because a bear might be nearby and feel the power of his name calling to him.  To say a thing was to call it up in everyone’s mind and how far was that from calling it up in reality?  So you didn’t say ‘bear’.  

You said ‘brown’.

And everyone knew what you really meant but you hadn’t said the word itself.  You hadn’t spoken the power of the word.  You’d slid around it sideways, created the image in everyone’s mind but not let the sounds out into the air where anyone - anything -   might hear them and decide to answer.  (There’s a more in-depth post that floats around tumblr about the word ‘bear’ but I can’t find it at the moment).  The point was, people learned to say things without saying them because, at the core and heart of who we are, we know that the sounds that leave our mouths mean something.

It wasn’t a bear.  It was a brown.

It wasn’t a wolf.  It was a stranger.

It wasn’t an elf or fairy.  It was the ‘Fair Folk’ or the ‘Good Neighbors’.

It wasn’t Satan.  It was ‘Old Scratch’ or ‘The Gentleman in Black’.  (In the case of Blues songs like “The Devil’s a Busy Man”, the ‘devil’ mentioned is a nao-name itself, used for very real and immediate reasons.)

It’s not Macbeth.  It’s ‘the Scottish play’.

It's not death. It's 'taking the bus' and 'passing away'.

'Stick and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me' we teach our children - but we all know its a coping technique, not the truth. We all know, somewhere at the beginning of us, that words, written or spoken, carry weight beyond a simple sound. More languages than history can remember have echoed in this world's past, creating and calling down through time. It's become so common that we've grown careless about it, forgetting the magic of being able to name a thing, the power it invokes with each written or spoken syllable. Modern day media spin doctors ply their trade like snake oil sellers of the past, influencing the masses who don't even think about what the words they're accepting as true are creating out of reality.

So, today, just for a little while, why don't we all find the sounds that give us the very human magic we all take for granted and take it back, just a little, for ourselves and our world. Let us, once again, create something real and true and warm and kind when we open our mouths and speak to someone. The magic may be old and worn and faded from those first sounds of so long ago - but its still there, if we pay close enough attention.

A gentle word can still, sometimes, at exactly the right moment, in the exact right tone, change a person's life. Why not start today?

Why not start now?

#flashing light #flashing lights #folklore #superstition #writing #words #naoname #creation #creative writing #philosophy #I got a little off track and philosophical today #human magic #literal magic #motivation #encouragement

[countrymusiclover]

41 - Blood of Enemies

Part 42

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

A Few Months Ago

Jacob was driving the last few hours to out dads place giving me time to sleep. The twins made us stop every few hours needing food or something. Laying my head on the window I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The car pulls to a stop outside a tiny cabin in the middle of the woods. Getting out of the car the front door opened with my father lowering a shotgun at us. "Raelyn. Jacob, what are two doing back out here?"

"Well we wanted to pay respect to mom." My brother said, opening the backseat picking up little Missy in his arms.

I picked up Alina shutting the door with my back smiling at him. "And I was hoping you could watch these two. Just for a little while."

"Let’s get inside. The house is cloaked." He motions for us to go in before him. He locked the door behind him sitting his shotgun down by the living room couch. Glancing around the room it was weird being back here after all the running I had done since the night of the Merge. Sitting down on the couch beside my twin we each held each of my kids in our lap. Our father sat across from us in his armchair by the TV. "So who am I getting to meet here? Cause I thought you were having triplets."

"This one here is Alina Josette Mikaelson." Holding up my little girl in my lap he smiled as her eyes that matched my eyes brightened.

"Melissa Luna Mikaelson…but we can call her Missy for short." Jacob tickled Missy's tummy making her giggle.

Our father got to his feet bending down on his knees placing a hand out for each of them to tug on his fingers. I smiled sniffing through some happy tears watching their interactions together at this young age. "Dad, I know what a risk I am asking of you. And I understand if you want to back out-"

"No, no, no, Raelyn." He cut me off, shaking his head quickly at me. "If your mother was here she would take these little ones in a heartbeat. So the risk doesn't matter to me."

Sitting Alina on the couch I fling my arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist kissing my forehead running one hand through my hair. "Thank you, dad. Aa for my third child Klaus and I decided to separate them for their own safety until we make Orleans safer for them."

"Hey dad, can Rae and I see mom?" Jacob asked placing Missy by her sister offering his hand.

Squeezing my hand in his, we walked out onto the back porch. Our mom always loved sitting underneath a large tree in the middle of our backyard that gave off a lot of shade so he had made her grave underneath it. Bending down on my knees I struggled to not start sobbing. "Mom, I understand what you said about doing whatever you would for your children. I will do anything for my kids. And I just wanted to thank you for giving Jacob and I a second chance at life together.”

Gripping my hair in my fingers tightly I stumbled into Nik’s art room seeing that he was throwing one of his paintings across the room in anger. He growled where I shoved my hands on the wooden table with my hair falling over my shoulders feeling tired the whole morning. “Uhhh…why am I feeling so drained every time?”

“I don’t know, Rae. But we will figure this out soon I promise.” He declares running his fingers through his hair slumping down in the arm chair beside the window.

Walking over to him slowly it had been a few months since we had entrusted our children in the hands of our family members. Jacob and Hayley were back in the bayou finding her remaining pack of wolves that had been separated by a crescent curse. Plopping down in the chair beside him I run my hands down my face. “Maybe it’s something to do with our link still being there. I mean the babies could have blocked the strength of the ring you gave me.”

“I suppose we shall have to call this your "white period." Elijah entered the art room picking up one of the white canvas he had just thrown before I had come in.

Nik scoffed glancing over at me since I was laying my head in my arms on the wooden table. The enchanted ring that saved my human life was still on my finger even though I didn’t really need it anymore to protect me. “I'm missing a crucial color in my palette - that of my enemies' blood….something is happening to Raelyn and I can’t do a thing to stop it when I don’t know what is happening to her.”

Elijah sat the painting down, coming over to me quietly. “Well, I recommend a Venetian red, with a dash of rust…”

Nik loses his temper suddenly. “It's been months! I've adhered to our plan: sit and do nothing, sell our grief. And now, my child is safely away, and another full moon is upon us - another night of pathetic weakness as the moonlight rings steal my strength! The nursery is killing me. I need to act. I -I -I need - I need to spill blood.”

“Raelyn, perhaps you had an expired blood bag. But then…what was this ring previously for?” Elijah lifted up my hand with the ring on it. He spun the jewelry a little, meeting my gaze.

Lifting my head up a little I drew my hand away from him. “The ring used to link my human life force to your brother. Since I was terrified of dying since my entire coven would die along with me. Until recently it wasn’t draining me but now it feels like I am feeling the same thing he is.”

“It appears to me that since you share his blood in the ring then you are linked to the moonlight rings now too. They have my brother's blood.” The suit wearing vampire explains in disappointment focusing his attention on his hybrid brother. “Well, then, you'll be pleased to know that I've located the last of the twelve rings forged with your blood.”

Nik smiles weakly at him. “Then, it's time!”

Elijah nodded leaving the two of us alone. “And none too soon.”

Nik strides over to me wrapping his arms around my waist resting his chin on top of my head. Laying my head against his chest I looped my arms around his middle. “I’m sorry for hurting you, Rae. You can take the ring off if you want to.”

“No. I’ll keep it on but I need to spill blood just like you do.” Staring up into his eyes I broke away from his embrace where he followed me through the mansion. Moving into the nursery that was supposed to be for our girls I felt tears slipping down. Gripping the sides of the nursery bed I shut my eyes tightly causing the lights to flash aggressively.

Turning around away from the bed I threw my hands out using my magic to throw all the objects around the room. The bed got thrown up into the air until I launched my hands down to the carpet floor smashing it into pieces. “Arghh! This isn’t how this was supposed to be!”

“Raelyn…” Nik stepped in the doorway concerned in his British accent.

Throwing my head around in his direction the veins were underneath my eyes. Clutching my hands into fists at my sides I saw part of the crib was still together. “Incidia…desalta!” The remaining pieces caught on fire and broke into even more bits beforehand.

He finally entered the room softly placing his hand on my shoulder where I finally dropped my hands down lightly crying. “Rae, it’s alright. We'll buy another one once we fix this.”

“Yeah, yeah, we have some witches to make pay.” Glaring up at him we went back into his art study waiting after Elijah and Hayley’s preparation. Jacob was also helping to get the rings back. Standing by the window the moon was full once again with me leaning against the wall.

Nik was sitting down on the ground in front of his empty paintings. He gasped and lifted his head up looking over to me. “Raelyn…do you feel that?”

“The rings…” I put the pieces together walking over to him feeling the magic through my veins growing stronger. After my episode earlier I almost couldn’t keep my eyes open meaning that I was drained almost as strong as him.

It was a few hours later where he managed to knock his paint brushes onto the floor. He took two of them in his hands before I glanced over my shoulder seeing two guys climbing through the balcony window. “Nik…I’m going out for a hunt.”

“Have fun. Oh and duck-“ I throw my head back feeling more strength before I follow his instructions. Dropping down on my hands and knees seeing two paint brushes launch into each of the intruder's necks killing them.

Nik smirked at the bodies then at me once I rose to my feet flinging hair over my shoulders. Striding through the window jumping off the balcony coming face to face with some more werewolves. The four of them showed their faces and I showed my fangs vamping towards them. “You think you deserve those rings. Unfortunately I don’t think you do so I’ll be taking them now.”

“You can’t beat us, heretic.” One of them scoffed getting into a fighting stance until I vamped behind him quickly snapping his neck snatching his ring off his finger.

Two came charging at me until I flicked my wrists snapping their necks with magic. Stomping up to them I grabbed their rings. The last one charged at me until I used my magic, launching the three rings inside where the heart was and drawing all four rings into my palm. It was almost midnight by the time I came inside the mansion and my clothes were stained with blood. Entering one of the living rooms I laid down on the couch until Nik came inside the room. “It seems you enjoyed yourself. Although I must admit I don’t much care for you staining the couch.”

“You can buy another one, remember. That’s what you said about the baby's crib.” Lifting my arms over my head I crossed them sending him a half smirk.

He sits down at the edge of my feet tilting his head to the side being able to read the feelings I was trying to hide. “It will get better.”

“When? I'm immortal now. If I can't get through today, how am I supposed to get through forever?” I huffed sitting upright, hugging my knees to my chest.

Klaus sighs and hesitates before speaking. “You know, over the years, I've had my share of friends, enemies, lovers, losses, and triumphs. With time, they all begin to run together. But, you will find that the real moments are vibrant. The rest just fades away. Your pain will fade.”

“Not until I can hold my babies in my arms again...nothing else will fix this empty feeling. No amount of revenge, blood or sex from you even if you are incredibly good at it.” I smirked in his direction when he placed a hand on my knee where I shifted my body until I was laying with my whole body in his lap.

He squeezed his arms around my waist, kissing my forehead gently. “And so you shall. But, in order to do that, we need to regain control of the city. Now, we worked separately to unite those wolves. We can work together to do it again. They don't need to be our enemies.”

“What about all our other enemies? The witches don't stop even after they're dead.” I asked him clutching the ring in between my fingers, thinking that the only coven I would have to fear would be from my own and not from all the others I had never met.

Klaus lifted my chin up where our eyes met in silence for a few minutes. He tucked hair behind my ear kissing the crown of my head. “We defeated my mother and her witches because we stood united. That is how we will face all our enemies. As a family….now let’s get you out of these bloody clothes.” He picks me up bridal style where I wrapped my arms around his neck leaning into his embrace missing my babies.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#gemini runaway #klaus mikaelson x witch reader #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x reader fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x y/n #joseph morgan #oc : raelyn lane #indiana evans #oc : jacob lane #gemini coven #the originals #elijah mikaelson #hayley marshall #tvd fic #tvd fanfiction #tvd fandom #tvdu #tvd #tvd x reader #tvd universe #klaus mikaelson x heretic reader #siphon witch #tvd siphon #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated #the original hybrid

[lightupthemoon]

The Effect You Got On Me: From The Vault (No. 2)

No. 2: don't say it hasn't crossed your mind

No. 1 // No. 3 // No. 4 // No. 5 // No. 6 // No. 7 // No. 8 // No. 9 // No. 10

Summary: Drabble collection based on the events of The Effect You Got On Me

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader.

Song: friendship? by Jordan Searcy

Warnings: None for this one, just wholesome friendship. However, 18+ for future parts, minors DNI.

Word count: 1.2 K

Read on AO3 // PLAYLIST

Author's Note: Another look at the friendship with a good ol' diner hang-out with Kate (Leading up to the events of Part 1). If anyone wants to be tagged, lemme know) Enjoy!

The first signs of winter lingered in the atmosphere, the cool air currents making you shiver in your heavy wool coat. You leaned on the hood of your car with your arms crossed over your chest, waiting for your friend inside the car to finish her call with who undoubtedly was her newest conquest of the week. Kate Bishop was basically a legend across campus, not only for her countless athletic achievements but for the number of girls that had tried to spend more than one night with her and failed. The brunette didn't like games and believed in unaltered honesty–every girl that ended up on her bed knew what they were getting into. Still, it didn't mean that most of them didn't think they'd be the exception to the rule. 

"Sorry about that," Kate's voice snapped you out of your thoughts as she stepped out of the car. "I needed to get my affairs in order." 

"Was it necessary to kick me out of the car? I know what your affairs are, you know. I didn't need to freeze out here." 

"You might know what they are but you haven't listened to them," Kate pointed out with a smirk. "And for the sake of this friendship, I rather we keep it that way. Yelena couldn't look me in the eye for weeks after she heard one of my phone calls." 

"Ugh, I ha-hate you," you stuttered out, your teeth clanking as another shiver ran through your spine. 

"Yeah, yeah, here take this," Kate said, pulling her coat off of her and placing it over your shoulders, a hint of peppermint engulfing you immediately. "It's not even that cold, come on. I'm ravenous." 

You shook your head with the hint of a smile on your lips, holding onto the ends of Kate's coat so it wouldn't fall off. She opened the door for you and walked behind you once you were inside, slipping into your usual booth in the back of the diner. While you waited for your food to arrive, you attentively listened to Kate going off on a tangent about fencing. You understood absolutely nothing but there was something very comforting in the excitement written across Kate's face while she rambled about things she loved. 

"...And did you know at least one ancient Egyptian temple features a painting of a fencing match? like isn't that so cool?" Kate let out a big breath she probably didn't know she was holding. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I am just excited about the tournament season. It gets my blood pumping." 

"No, no, don't stop, I like listening to you talk about these things," you said with a tender smile. "It's endearing." 

Kate chuckled, looking down at her hands, suddenly embarrassed. "Thank you for saying that," she said quietly and she looked so soft and vulnerable you just wanted to squeeze her. 

Your next thought was interrupted by the arrival of your food, two burgers, and a single strawberry milkshake to share. It was a thing that started the first time you brought Kate to that diner–there was a mix-up with your order and the waitress brought a milkshake instead of two. After coming to terms that both of you were too anxious to complain about it, and after several minutes of fighting about who'd get the milkshake, you decided to split it and laughed so much trying to figure out the logistics to not share a straw and make it awkward. It ended up being such a mess that sharing a straw didn't seem so bad anymore. By that point, it didn’t even phase you anymore, so you kept doing it. 

“So, we were talking about you hooking up with someone else,” Kate stated nonchalantly, dipping one of her fries in the whipped cream of your milkshake. “I can give you some tips, you know.”

Your eyebrows rose to your hairline. “Come on, Kate, be serious.”

“I am being serious! You can’t keep mopping around for someone that doesn’t deserve you, Y/N.”

You shook your head as you wrapped your fingers around your burger, taking a bite and glaring at her as you chewed. She gave you her most innocent smile. “No.”

“Don’t they say that to get over someone you need to get under someone?” 

"God, no, I couldn't," you snorted. "Call me old-fashioned but I need to have some sort of connection with someone to even think of being physical with them. I wouldn't even know where to begin if I'm honest." 

"Well, do it with a friend, then," Kate shrugged, stealing a fry from your plate. "Someone you know and trust but isn't close enough to make things awkward." 

"Sounds like you've done it before." 

"A gentlewoman doesn't kiss and tell." 

You rolled your eyes. “Even if I thought it was a good idea, which I don’t, who could I possibly ask for something like that without making it awkward?”

Kate mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like ‘I don’t know’’ which you couldn’t be sure of because she had her mouth full. 

She swallowed. “I don’t know, Peter?”

“Please, we all know he’s saving himself for MJ.”

“America?”

“She’s literally my best friend, she’s going to tell me to suck it up and learn to deal with my emotions or some shit. Not happening.”

Kate winced. “She did tell me that once, you’re right.” She scrunched up her nose and took a sip from the milkshake, looking up at the ceiling as she thought of someone. “Yelena?”

“Please, she would laugh in my face and tell me,” you cleared your throat and tried your best at imitating the blonde. “That’s a Kate Bishop kind of thing, ask her.”

Kate giggled at your antics and shook her head, eyeing you curiously with a dangerous smirk on her face. “Are you asking me?”

A shiver went through your spine at the mere thought of it. Sure, girls went on and on about her skills, how she always left them wanting more even when they knew there wouldn't be another time. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't stared at her muscles while she trained on one of the many nights you were over at her house to play with Lucky. 

You shook your head, scoffing. "I feel like you just ambushed me to try and add me to your list." 

"Well, I didn't, but you said it so," Kate licked her lips and looked down at her food, unable to erase the smirk off her face. "You have my number if you can't think of someone else."  

What? You stared at her with shock written on your face, and she held your gaze with a glint in her eyes you couldn't quite pinpoint. she bit on her bottom lip for good measure until she couldn't hold in her amused laugh anymore. You exhaled deeply, relieved. 

"God, you should have seen your face," Kate muttered, the amusement still in her voice. She nudged the milkshake towards you. "Come on, drink some. You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"You scared me for a moment there, Bishop." 

"Is the prospect of sleeping with me such a bad thing?" Kate gasped, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I have good references." 

You threw a French fry at her face, unable to stop the blush rising up your cheeks. "Shut up and eat."

TAGLIST: @sunshadesnrainbowz @imlike-so-gaydude @hopingforromanoff @ittynyte @girlssnrosess

#Kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #hawkeye series #marvel fanfiction #writing #the effect you got on me #kate bishop fluff

[imarvelatthestars]

The Force Flows - Part 1

Pairings: Captain Keeli x medic!Reader; background Glitch x Nila (OC) x Hevy (no clonecest)

Warnings: canon typical violence

Notes: A vague, convoluted plot in exchange for actually alive clones. Also, Reader and Nila's bestie dynamic is literally my dynamic with my real life bestie, so this fic is dedicated to the one and only Snisha.

"This armor."

Your head tilts toward Nila, your best friend, the most unshakeable person you know, and it sends something chilling down your spine because she looks halfway terrified. Her fingers are ghosting over the strange black pauldron you'd yanked off your patient, curious and reverent.

"What about it?" you urge.

She's frowning, looking between the pauldron and the unconscious man on her sleeping bag. "It's plastic. Or something like it. But it's armor. It should be made of something sturdier, right?"

"You'd think." But you stopped trying to reason with anything about this situation a long time ago.

Something howls in the vast expanse of shrubbery and gently rolling hills laid out before you, something you can't make out even with the still strong light of the early sunset. It sounds like a wolf or a coyote. Does this place even have wolves? A glance spared at the double moons slowly rising over the horizon tells you that you may just find out.

The animal noises have caught Nila's attention too, it seems, because her back is suddenly ramrod straight. "I don't think we should stay out here much longer," she says as she chews thoughtfully at the inside of her cheek. "And we shouldn't leave him, either."

"I can't carry him, Nila. Can you?"

"We could try and wake him up?"

But you shake your head. "With the amount of pain he's in, his possible internal damage, I don't think it's smart to move him or wake him." There's an ache starting just above your brown bone, pulsating so strongly that it's making the vein under your eyebrow tick. "If we weren't- If I just had the right tools-..."

You can't bring yourself to say it out loud, but the pair of you are both aware of the situation you're in. An unconscious soldier with a nasty wound, a beat up old pickup that won't start, and a second moon in the sky. The sky already starting to twinkle with the beginnings of constellations you've never seen before. It's obvious you're no longer on Earth. And then another creature calls out and you try to bite back your panic because an alien planet means alien wolves.

"Hey."

Nila's gotten up from her perch on a nearby boulder and come over to offer you her widespread arms. It's easy to fall into her, to hold her with the desperation of a little kid lost in a supermarket, because you don't know what you would've done so far without her. She's already helped quell two panic attacks. The only thing you've done so far beyond worrying that you're going to die is help the soldier.

Because he has to be a soldier, right? The strange plastic armor is a dead giveaway, but then there's the weird gun and the helmet you'd found him with. It's a gun, but not quite, and it shot crackling blue bolts of energy instead of bullets when Nila fired a practice shot. And the helmet was strange, too - almost like a medieval helmet with its visor design, but completely alien and militaristic in the various add-ons like the crest at the top and the swirling designs that have been painted on. They match the colors on his body armor.

"We'll be okay," she breathes. "Promise."

Your throat feels really dry. "Yeah?"

She nods and it's small, but it makes you feel just a little bit better. "Yeah. You probably saved that guy's life with all your fancy medical knowledge. And we have a car we can take shelter in." You pretend not to notice the way her breath stutters a bit. "We'll figure it out."

You figure it out, alright, but it's far from comfortable. This planet is unreasonably hot during the day and freezing at night, cold enough that the windows of Nila's truck are eventually completely fogged up from the warmth of your breath. The seats are all fabric, which is certainly warmer than nothing, but they retain the chill well and it leaves your ass and the back of your legs too cold.

It gets colder when one of you has to go outside. You'd left the soldier exactly where you found him, dead asleep among the shrubs and dry grass a couple yards in front of the truck, and have been taking turns with Nila checking on him every ten or fifteen minutes to make sure he's still breathing. You hope the borrowed sleeping bag from the back of the cab will keep him warm enough to last the night, but you're honestly not even sure if either of you will last through it either.

As long as nothing catches our scent, we'll be fine, Nila had said. If we just stay warm, we'll be fine, she said. Ration our drinks, go out looking for food and water tomorrow. You really wanted to believe her. We'll be fine.

That's the promise you're still telling yourself when the anxiety and restlessness and exhaustion finally catches up with you. We'll be fine. We'll be fine.

"...up, vod. Wake up."

Everything hurts. Most of the pain is centralized in his left pectoral, but it's radiating out across the entirety of his body so that it's all he can feel.

"There ya are." He can't quite see this voice, but he can sense it hovering near his head. "Don't move too much, okay? You got hit pretty bad."

"You think it was that transport over there?" There's another voice. It sounds familiar; hell, it kinda sounds like him.

Dirt crunches under someone's boots. A hand shifts over Keeli's chest and it sends electrifying pain up his neck, but he can't do much more than grunt about it.

"Could be."

The wind is whistling through something, a tree maybe? Or a bush of some kind? It sounds leaf-y. Either way, he feels too bogged down by pain and heat and the awful dryness in his mouth to try and figure it out. He just wants to sit up a little and, and...

Screaming. Shrill screaming. Maker, that's loud.

"Vod?" comes the confused voice that sounds too much like him.

Another clone, Keeli realizes. He should've figured that out earlier. Did he hit his head? Is that why everything hurts? That can't be right. It can't be. No, he remembers... blaster fire. Droids. Ryloth. General Di. Stars, General Di!

He goes shooting up into a sitting position with the General's name half spoken and his heart pounding. It was just the two of them against those damn clankers, they were fighting for that transport. But now as he starts looking around, Keeli doesn't see anything that makes sense. No droids, no general, nothing that looks at all like Ryloth. What he does see is a wheeled transport a few paces away, painted blue and wearing a good many scratches and dents, and a pair of troopers speaking to it. No, no, not speaking to the transport, speaking to the people inside it?

His eyes hurt and his vision's a little blurry (not good), but it looks like two women. Civvies. What the hell is going on?

"You expect us t' believe that? Really?" It's the one called Hevy. He's definitely the more irritable of the pair. The stolen gun Nila has pointed at him probably isn't helping. "Who's t' say ya aren't Separatist spies?"

"We don't even know what a Separatist is!" Nila snaps back.

The other man raises a hand very slowly, his palm turned out in a gesture of nonviolence. "I believe you," he says and his voice is soft, understanding.

His companion's helmet snaps to the side. "What?"

"They're telling the truth, vod."

Hevy grumbles in exasperation. His finger points at Nila. "Yeah, I'm not so inclined t' agree with you considering she's pointing a blaster at my face! I think this whole story is a ruse. There's probably a load of clankers just over that ridge and they think they can distract us with a pair of pretty faces."

Here's the thing - Hevy and Glitch are wearing the same kind of armor as the unconscious soldier you'd patched up yesterday, their vaguely Kiwi accents are identical, Glitch has the exact same face as that soldier, the same build, and the same kind of guns that Nila's acquired. A Blaster, Hevy had said.

They're not the little green men you might have once pictured when you thought of aliens, but it's obvious they can't be anything but.

All of that goes screaming out of the window, though, when you see movement just over Glitch's shoulder. It's the soldier you tended to! The idiot is dragging himself onto his feet and attempting to walk. Shit, he's going to walk himself into an early grave or rip out his stitches if he doesn't stop!

Your car door cracks open and you practically trip all over yourself trying to get out. The men are shouting, Nila's yelling, the other door creaks open and slams shut, and it's utter fucking chaos, but all you can see is this soldier limping his way toward the truck.

"Sir!" It comes out more like an order instead of your usual polite bedside manner. "You need to sit down, you're going to hurt yourself."

His eyes flicker behind you and he frowns. "Where am I?" It's the same voice as the other two.

Trust me, I wish I knew. "Sir, you've been shot. I cleaned you up and gave you some stitches, but if you don't sit down, you're going to re-open the wound and-"

"You're a medic?"

Really? That's what he got out of that? "That's one way to put it," you say as you cross your arms over your chest. "Now please. Will you sit back down?"

He looks tired and you're a little worried he might have a concussion with the way his eyes aren't entirely focused, but you can't know for sure until he just sits the fuck down. But finally, finally he relents and nods, and you heave a massive sigh of relief. His legs go out a moment later.

He's pretty when he's not fighting your orders. Handsome, even. But trying to keep this man down long enough for his wounds to heal is like pulling teeth. You manage somehow. It helps that his brothers encourage him to stay put, that they help him feel safe enough to lower his guard enough for you to do your job. What really isn't helping is the fact that he's got the prettiest face you've ever seen.

Captain Keeli is a tall, broad shouldered man, probably close to six entire feet of muscles and healthy brown skin that glows when this planet's alien sun hits him just right. His eyes are brown, too, and you swear you get lost in them every time he looks at you. They're richer than coffee grounds, but not as dark. Deeper than polished mahogany, but less red. Bright and sparkling like amber, but it's too light a comparison. It seems like they change when you're not looking.

And there's an electricity between you that you can't explain. You thought at first that it was entirely one-sided, a product of your overactive imagination and your inner romantic projecting your attraction onto him, but when you started tending to Hevy's wounds that electricity was gone. You felt nothing with this man other than the care one would normally have for their patients. With Keeli, though, it was like fireworks in your belly.

"I think he likes you."

You shoot your friend a glare. "Shut up, Nila," but you're all bark, no bite. If she thinks he likes you, you want her to tell you everything. Even if it makes your face go hot. "Tell me anyways, though."

The truck jostles a bit as she turns in her seat to face you better. "You've seen the way he looks at you, right?"

Your throat goes dry. Oh God, how does he look at you? Is it... is it like how you look at him when you think he's not looking, when he's resting, when he's talking with his brothers by the campfire?

"I'm serious, I really think he likes you. He's different with you."

"Really?"

Nila nods. "I mean, he's always nice to me and you know we get along, but. I dunno, he's not so formal with you. He lets his guard down for you. And he watches you sometimes. Not in a creepy way, but like he's curious or he likes seeing the things you do. It's cute."

Your eyes dart to the front window where you can see the boys huddled together by the embers of the fire. Hevy is crouched by the fire pit and poking at it with a stick, the same grumpy expression on his face that he's had for the past week and a half. Glitch and Keeli are conversing, but Keeli looks tired. The fire casts a shadow over his face that makes his cheekbones appear sharper than they really are. You would know, after all. You've only touched his face once under the guise of checking for a fever, but you remember that his skin felt good under your hands.

It's a dangerous train of thought. Being his medic is dangerous. Not that you would ever overstep your bounds, but he ignites something in you that you cannot quench and it makes you nervous.

Damn him. Damn him and this planet and the whole stupid universe for throwing you here onto this abandoned planet in the middle of nowhere, scooping you and Nila out of your normal lives and normal routines and dumping you straight into the paths of these three men.

A nudge to your arm draws you out of your thoughts and you find Nila watching you, her mouth drawn into a worried line. "You okay?"

"Just thinking."

"Are you sure? Because I'm here, y'know. If you need me?"

Trusty Nila. "I know," you assure her. "I'm okay. It's just a lot. Not being on Earth anymore, not being able to get back home, them." Your head tilts in the direction of the troopers huddled together. "And I hate that I get all gooey around him. It's embarrassing."

"I think it's sweet," she says and her smile makes your chest feel all warm and cozy. Thank God the universe sent her here with you, her and her beat up old truck. "You guys are cute. If anything were to happen, you totally have my support. And if he hurts you, I'll make him regret it. I dunno, I'll shoot him or something, and then you can patch him up again until he falls head over heels for you."

You both laugh and for a second, it's like nothing's changed at all. You're back home munching on junk food and gossiping about your own love lives and staying up way too late.

"Rex says the transport's delayed again. They won't be sending anyone our way for at least another two weeks."

"Two weeks? We can't wait that long."

Glitch hangs his head. "There's nothing he can do, ma'am. The Separatists have engaged all of our readily available troops and even the ones stationed closest t' our current position aren't able t' come help. They're pinned down."

You glance over your shoulder at Hevy and Keeli. They're chatting with Nila; she's laughing and you can see from the way Hevy's angled his body toward her that he's flirting with her again. Both men have healed considerably with the supplies Glitch had with him (thank God for bacta, that stuff is a fucking bottled miracle!), but you still worry about their health. Keeli's concussion is getting better, although the progress is slow. Hevy still can't walk right, even after all the bacta shots Glitch had given him.

You chew at your thumbnail and try not to feel utterly defeated. "I can't make them better, Glitch. I don't have the tools."

His hand rests on the curve of your elbow and the gentle smile he offers you is so gentle you think you might cry. "But you saved them. I was lucky when I found Glitch, healed him as best I could, but you gave him the stitches he needed, just like Keeli. You kept them from hurting themselves. We owe you a debt we can never repay."

That makes you smile. "You never have to. I'm happy to help however I can. I just wish I could do more."

"You do more than enough."

He's a good man. They all are. They've each shared their stories - how Hevy gave his life to protect his brothers and their home, Keeli gave his for the escaping civilians, Glitch risked his own for his brothers and his generals - and you think that you couldn't have asked for a better group of men to be stranded with.

It's this line of thought that prompts you to speak on something that's been nagging at the back of your mind. "Glitch? Can I ask you something?"

He nods with that lovely smile of his. "Of course."

"Do clones... do they ever fall in love?"

Poor guy almost chokes on his own spit, it looks like. His eyes go wide and he fumbles around wordlessly for a solid few seconds before he finally manages to recover his composure.

"Why- ahem, why, uh, why d'ya ask?"

You're too chicken to admit the truth, so you go for something a little easier to share. "Nila. I just, um, I noticed how you and Hevy are around her and I thought I'd ask." God, you're such a bad friend for this. She's gonna kill you if she finds out.

Glitch's throat bobs up and down as he blinks wordlessly in Nila's direction. Maybe you shouldn't have asked.

"I'm sorry. That was a weird thing to ask."

He shakes his head, eyes still locked on Nila. "No. It's not that weird."

"She's just got a big heart, y'know? She has a lot of love to give and she's so sweet and thoughtful, and she's a romantic at heart." All these things are true, but they're padding for the real reason why you suddenly can't shut up. "I think she likes you guys. But I don't want her to get hurt."

Warning bells are going off in your head. Shut! Up! Literally stop talking!

"And we don't have clones where we're from. I mean, you guys all look like twins but you're literally the exact same person, and it's really amazing. You have different personalities and everything. You're so understanding and really sweet, and Hevy's so sarcastic and boisterous." Boisterous. That's a good word. Why am I using it? "And Keeli. He doesn't say as much as you two do, but he's... Well, he's pretty serious." Please stop. Just close your mouth. Don't say another word. "But he's nice in his own way."

Something shifts in the atmosphere then, something that feels a lot like Glitch but in a weird, non-physical kind of way. The air crackles between you, the hair raises on the back of your neck, and you realize it's possible you've said way too much. You very hesitantly shift your gaze to the side, hoping against hope he's not looking at you like you have a lobster crawling out of your brain and he's not, thankfully. No, he's watching you with this knowing gleaming his eye, in the crooked tilt of his smile.

"Clones can fall in love," he says as the wind sighs in between the hills.

He closes his eyes and that something in the atmosphere brushes over and past you, draws your attention to Keeli as he reclines against a boulder with a muted smile. Keeli's brows suddenly furrow. He swallows hard, shifts in his seat, and then his eyes, those impossible eyes so full of color and warmth and unknown depths you could swim in forever, find yours and it takes all of your concentration to remember how to breathe.

Glitch hums a little laugh in the back of his throat. "I wouldn't worry. Something tells me he feels the same."

While Glitch came to the planet prepared with rations, his stolen borrowed ship could only fit two pilots and he'd filled the entire second seat with supplies. This meant that in order to leave, three people would have to be left behind and the most likely bet was that it would be you and Nila. But he refused to let that happen and, to your surprise, Keeli and Hevy agreed. The only downside was that you missed quite a few things - mac n cheese, Spotify, mattresses. The essentials.

And water. You haven't seen or heard running water in God knows how long. The whole lot of you have started to smell and with Captain Rex's rescue mission still delayed, you had figured it would be be weeks or even months before you felt the touch of water anywhere other than your fingers or mouth. That was until Glitch came back from a scouting mission and declared that he'd found a stream nearby.

It's all a bit of a blur. Nila and Glitch had rushed to help Hevy walk the distance while you stayed by Keeli's side, but the stream wasn't far and the captain didn't seem to need your assistance. He still took it when you offered, though. His arm was heavy around your shoulders and he smelled, yes, but beyond that it was nice to be close to him. It was nice to touch him, even under a poorly contrived but still believable excuse. It was just nice.

He can feel you watching. Perhaps it's a bit cruel of him to do this when he knows how you feel, but... he likes seeing you flustered. It triggers something indescribable in his chest that only awakens when you beckon. He can feel your gaze trace the outline of his body as he pulls off the top half of his blacks and maybe he smiles. Maybe he likes it just a little too much.

The stream isn't much to look at. It isn't a deep, wide, cascading river nor a microscopic trickle between rocks. It's about a foot deep and a foot wide, tripping over pebbles and cutting deep into the crease of the hill. It's enough to bathe in, enough to wash your clothes in, even if it's not perfect.

Hevy, Glitch, and Nila are just upstream, bickering and laughing and splashing each other, and that's just fine with him. Let him have this moment with you.

"Do you... do you need any help?"

Your voice trembles when you speak, all trace of the medical professional he knows you are suddenly gone and in its place is nervous young woman with her heart on her sleeve. Oh.

You're in over your head, aren't you? One look at your eyes and it's written out plain as day.

Keeli hands you the scrub bar with a smile that he hopes says, it's okay, I see you. "Thank you."

The first touch of your hand on his bare arm sends a shiver through his entire body. He's not cold. With the sun out and the bottom half of his blacks still on, he's burning up. But this? This is making him run even hotter. You're doing your best to be professional, not to let your hands wander, he's sure, but kriffing hells, he wants you to wander. He's been wanting you to wander ever since he first collapsed on top of you. He wants to feel your skin in a way you haven't tried yet - no clothes in the way, no peering eyes, no medical pretenses, just you and him, basking in each other's presence.

You're so gentle. You could have the roughest hands in the galaxy in the hands and he would never complain because he's a soldier, he's not made for soft, tender things, but you don't care about that. You never poke or prod or press too hard. You're mindful of his pain and his body. His comfort always seems to come first for you.

He watches the scrub bar start to form a lather on his skin, swirling his arm hairs into little circles.

Just once, he'd like to put you first instead. Has anyone ever done that for you? Would you ever let him?

"This okay?" you ask and your voice is smaller than he's ever heard it.

He nods. "Yes."

Soon his entire chest is wet, water dripping from his collarbones, down his elbows and off the tips of his fingers. He's all soapy and your arms are wet now, too, and he thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

He splashes his face and the crest of his head, then leans down so it's within your reach. He doesn't need to ask, but he does have to bite his tongue to keep from moaning when your fingernails dig into his scalp. Maker, how long's it been since he's been touched by another human? Your fingers rub into his skin like a fucking prayer and he swears right then that he will lavish whatever pleasure he can upon you in thanks, if you ever so much as ask.

"''m sorry," you mumble when your nails catch on the curves of his ears. "Too hard?"

He wishes there wasn't soap all over his face so he could open his eyes and look at you. "No. Just right."

Your thumb rubs sweetly into his cheek, down along the curve of his cheekbone to his jaw, scratching over the stubble that has long turned into the start of a beard.

"Bet you feel better, huh?"

He doesn't give you his answer until his face is clean and he's able to watch how you'll react. He cups the hand of his good arm in the stream and raises it to your temple. You're frozen, eyes wide, lips parted, pulse ticking in your neck, and you're beautiful. He's in over his head, too.

"Allow me."

The sweat, dirt, and grime is slowly scrubbed from your face, then from your hair. Your shirt is completely soaked, but you're smiling, leaning into his touch, chasing after it when he withdraws and sighing happily when it returns. Keeli helps you onto your back and guides your hair into the stream to rinse it out. And when you blink up at him with those big, shining eyes, the tip of your nose still damp and your eyelashes all watery, he finds himself drawn impossibly close, as if he were connected to you by some invisible thread tied around his breastbone.

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans close enough to kiss you. Your name is hardly more than a whisper on his tongue.

"Yes?"

He allows himself to look openly at the swell of your lower lip. "Mesh'la."

"What does that mean?" Dank farrik, you're cute when you're flustered.

Keeli smiles. "I'd like t' kiss you now."

The entire galaxy hangs in the balance. Your eyelids flutter. Then, "Please?"

He was right. You're gentle. The softest thing he's ever touched. Tender, attentive, smart. You're lovely. Mesh'la. And yeah, he's definitely in over his head.

Hevy starts hooting and hollering. Nila's cheering you on and Glitch is laughing, then Keeli's laughing and you start laughing too, and it's wonderful.

#captain keeli x reader #captain keeli x you #keeli x reader #keeli x you #captain keeli #star wars #clone trooper hevy #clone trooper hevy x oc #hevy x oc #clone trooper glitch x oc #glitch x oc #hevy #glitch #for snisha #part 2 is going to focus more heavily on hevy and glitch and nila so stay tuned!! #was this some lazy worldbuilding/plot set up? yeah. is it a bit cliche? oh yeah. did i have fun? very much so!

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Protego Pt 7 - Back to School

Masterlist here

...

(Okay this is the closest I could find to the square faced features I picture for Lily, so we’re going with this insp gif for now. i know at least one person wanted me to try to share who I pictured in my head for each of the younger characters, and trust me if I had the tech and the time I would just make them myself, because this is nonsense to find an actor/model who matches what my brain conjures up. And surely the gif of Vivien Leigh down farther is for Jewels as I’ve used her for the long lost relatives in the later years of Anaticula. :D Enjoy the drama.)

“Full up,” Jewels said, gaining a scoff from her sister, who had the door to her chosen train car slid shut in front of her face. Still obviously in a mood of hurt feelings the sisters had become one of the more amusing groups to return to the school. Gossip inside the car of those who saw their icy demeanor at the station and entering the first year train car spread to any who might find it amusing enough to fill some of the long train ride chatting about it.

Lily moved on to find some of her Gryffindor friends. Some of the other younger members of choir gladly filled the far from full car, in her sister’s absence, and Jewels’ own dorm, to take advantage of hearing all the details in what had been missed.

They had heard before the break of the theater plans and all huddled around the pictures Regulus had charmed his camera to capture while the first performance of her hopefully long standing career to come had run on the stage. True she only said five words but there seemed to be nothing more brilliant to compare the experience to.

But her glee in the entire ride dimmed at the split of groups to fill Thestral pulled carriages to head back to the school. When Lily was seen by everyone shouting at Sirius. “Stay away from my sister! And she doesn’t want your stupid broom!” Right into his chest her hand gave a hard shove that knocked him back a step and she moved onwards to claim a closer place to the carriages.

“I have a mind of my own you know!” Jewels shouted back, instantly tearing Sirius’ wide eyes her way through the now parting crowd of older students.

“How would I know that?! You’ve been nothing but a mirror of me since we met!”

“Oh!!” Jewels could be heard growling back and was tightly grabbed by Ted Tonks and Andromeda to give the sisters some much needed space. Both at the sight of her eyes shifting colors eased Jewels back between the students hurrying off the train to get back on it at least until Lily was gone.

“We don’t associate with the likes of your family!” Lily shouted at Sirius to maintain her point only to be hit by a red burst of paint Bellatrix sent her way.

“Remember this you whiny little rodent!” Bellatrix hissed back at Lily. Now with her wand raised at the paint coated girl’s face, “No filthy little Mudblood will ever insult our family and walk away from it. Now you get on that carriage and do not ever say a false word about our cousin over there. You are not related! You are not worthy to call her sister! Next time I will remove your filthy little tongue!”

James with his own wand drawn at the dark curl haired cousin of Sirius stated aloud, “And anyone who hurts Lily has to deal with me!”

“Oh what are you going to do about it, Saint Potter!” Lucius Malfoy spoke up. Hitting James in the back with a spell that sent him face first into the carriage; the lanky blonde then walked over to grip him by the back of his cloak to toss him into the carriage.

Internally enraged by a fellow member of the Sacred 28 who was shirking the image their pureblood kin had to uphold to be welcomed in high society as the Malfoy family pressed him to be for now on a dozen years. This Potter boy was selfish and cruel without though to guidelines for such behavior their clans upheld in being so to retain their standing and dignity. Everything a common dog would be allowed to be and not worth the weighty name generations had worked to build up so he could dash it all away. Not worth the dirt on the underside of the train if he kept disgracing his family on the path to ruin all for selfish gains that change with the wind. All to force more pressure on the other Sacred 28 clans left standing when Potter would blot his family name off that illustrious list.

“Must be careful Potter, wouldn’t want to bloody that precious Gryffindor robe,” and Lucius looked sharply at Lily, “Get in the carriage with your blood traitorous boot licker, Mudblood.” Sirius, knowing he couldn’t step in to stop this, simply turned to check on the patrolling Professors, only to tap Lucius’ shoulder when one came into sight and Narcissa reversed the paint spell and used a second charm to force Lily up out of her spot she was frozen in the get inside the carriage as she was told.

.

Together inside the train car Ted and Andromeda guided Jewels to sit. Visibly trembling in rage, tears clouding her eyes soon to follow the one that dashed down her cheek on the way here. “Not easy being a Morpher.” Ted began with a wry forced chuckle. “Bit of a dance between being amusing and a lie at times.”

“Eyes,” Jewels uttered in a confusing reply. Though their try to ask what she meant broke when she all but growled, “Years, the pinches, shoves, reminding me not to change my eyes. or hair, or my face into a beak when I got mad!” More tears spilled down her cheeks and she glared at the duo who were more a placeholder for her infuriating sister. “No one, is ever like her!” she now whined in the momentary scrunch of her face in a flinch of a try to begin sobbing her body made only to be pulled back as she shook her head, “I could look just like her, but it’s never enough!”

Ted nodded knowingly, “Well now, there in lies the whole hippopotamus between the floating greens. She’s not you.”

Jewels scoffed and glanced away a moment roughly wiping her cheek with the sleeve bunched in her hand, “Backwards.”

“No, got it right round how it needs to be,” and she looked at him with brows furrowing and color changing green to purple eyes back on him as he said with a grin. “She’s not you, and all of you knows it. So stop trying to be her and she will see you. We all do. You can’t, but you can, if you tried.”

“He’s got a point,” Andromeda spoke up with a confirming nod. “Not easy with sisters, Merlin knows I’ve had row after row with mine. For all our parents’ hopes we aren’t copies of one another. Now, you had to hide, and as a kid you picked to look like her.”

Ted shrugged and said, “I’d have picked a neighbor,” making Andromeda nudge him in the side, only making him chuckle at his own hint of humor in this mess. “Look, Morpher, Veela, you got names for what you are. Witch to boot of a great line, a 28 line. I’m a Muggle-Born too, but in my years here, spending time with Andromeda, I get it. Not much to some people, but to a great deal of people it means a great deal parent names or no. Who are you Jewels?” and her mouth fell open at a loss for words.

Andromeda said, “Jewelia Gaunt deserves her day in the sun. So you best gather your courage while we can hide you here at school and society comes calling. We are your family too, you have such a vast family tree. But we want to know more of you.”

Internally Jewels felt about ready to break in half. Knowing all she’d learned on the last three Gaunts and the little, named justifiably close to demonic, past to her elder cousin in that line on top of this feud. The words Lily had chosen still burned in her chest and in a try to keep herself safe and her adopted family if that cousin should come calling Jewels felt an ominous cloud that gnawed at the chance to tear her away from what family she had known. “What, do you know, about the Gaunts?” Jewels managed to squeak out in a fearful tone.

“You certainly inherited the temper. Not much else, good thing too. None were fair, just off their portraits in our family ledger. So top marks on you for that.” Andromeda looked up as a voice from the open doorway turned all your heads to an unknown new member to this conversation.

“The name is what matters.” Barty Crouch Jr spoke up, having come to check on the angered twin. “I don’t reckon on being anything like my dad. But I am a Crouch, and the line will be what I shape it to be after he’s gone. Clan as a whole have rules, standards, you are the last Gaunt standing, lucky you. Whoever you are, grow to be, that is who the Gaunts will be held up to in comparison.”

“And if I fail, at everything?” she asked fraily and he chuckled to Andromeda’s widening smile.

“Can’t fail, not in our eyes. See, we don’t fail. Gaunts were poor, then rich, all dead, then you pop up out of thin air like a Muggle magic trick. Can’t fail. Go broke, forge ahead all on your own, no matter what the name can only go up in renowned.” He accented with a nod and gestured behind him, “Professors are doing a head count. Coast is clear, up you pop before I let your Sevy and Sirius scrap it out to see who gets to come fetch you.”

“In front of the whole school,” Jewels groaned and hung her head back a moment before rising reluctantly to her feet, “And I’m the one pinched and prodded to not cause a scene!” he stepped back to let the trio out, following after so see what he said was already underway. Severus and Sirius were on either side of the door bickering around Remus who stood between them shaking his head at the current scene.

“I’m not giving back the broom!” Jewels said pointedly, ending the argument mid stomp onto the first step out of the train car.

“Good, wouldn’t have accepted it anyways.” Sirius replied watching her walk to Severus’ side, who relaxed his stance a few moments seeing she was intact at least.

“What happened with you two?” Severus asked, increasingly concerned at the rift he noticed over the final blip of the holiday break that seemed to now be the size of a crater by morning at this rate. Gently guiding her along to head for the carriages, “You never quarrel like this.”

“She started it,” Jewels flatly replied and he huffed to that vague response he couldn’t sense a way to help fix things from that alone.

“Jewels,” he tried to argue but she cut him off.

“You didn’t hear what she said to me!” Jewels all but hissed in a sharp whisper that had his lips part.

Ted cut between them and eased his arm around Jewels to the sight of some feathers beginning to sprout out between strips of her hair to show she was getting angry again, “Now, now, we are going to have a nice supper and all get some rest.” Leading her within sight of the Professors marking names down of all the students to ensure none get left behind for a possible stolen shopping spree or worse mischief.

.

Subtly over winter break Jewels had been easing her true facial structure out. One she was slightly terrified to see in the mirror knowing it might set off more nightmares of the trapped woman with that same face. And on the long winding walk up to the Great Hall in sections she had shifted her hair into varying shades of the rainbow. To hopefully gain a color she might find more appealing to stick to over red.

A strange new face in the mix of returning students had Professor Kettleburn on patrol in the halls to the welcome back feast do a double take. Calming only at the telltale bag the teen girl had pinned to her side shaped like a whale that inside the school grounds began to wiggle its fins. Revealing the impressive charm she had read about and wished to try a few months prior in one of her regular study sessions in the library.

Both sisters were here and by the whispers of the other students a whopper of a fight had been missed by the Professors near the trains that had no sight or word to share of the student contained trouble. Rumor that had most of the Professors glad they were sorted separately so that perhaps a night to sleep on it would help matters.

But it was the sunken expression during dessert on Jewels’ face that had them and more of the students concerned to the fall of her eyes to her lap. Where her now open bag sat and she had blindly opened the small notebook she’d written all the information about her mother she had been able to find. Which, was painfully only enough for three half pages and a picture taped to the back of one page.

Andromeda in another stolen glance to the girl between her and her boyfriend Ted, asked, “Why are you staring at a picture of a wall?”

Ted to that peered over shifting his mouthful of tart to the side to argue, “Clearly it’s the door that’s impressive. Fine decorative woodwork there.”

Andromeda over Jewels’ head asked him pointedly, “Who jinxed that tart? There’s no door in the picture.”

Ted shook his head as he looked to the book to tap the door on the image and Jewels looked up at Andromeda with furrowed brows. “Door, right there. Something solid, oak, or, I don’t know, something solid. Dad always says anything solid has to be oak.”

“There’s no door, Ted. Don’t try to be funny.” Andromeda argued back.

“There is a door,” Jewels cut in and had the both of them to look at her. Andromeda with brow arched in disbelief and him gesturing her way to proof he was right.

“You’re serious?” Andromeda asked and that had Jewels draw in a sharp breath.

“There’s a door.” Jewels replied flatly and that had Andromeda remove a hand to a few inches from the book palm up.

“Can I borrow that?” The tuck of the book against Jewels’ belly has her add, “Won’t hurt it. Bring it right back.” Jewels relented and Andromeda swiveled around, legs tucked up to do so, and onto her feet she snuck to hurry farther down the table and hold the open book in front of a blonde girl down near to the other end. Seen to ask, “You see a door here?”

The girl nodded and tapped the door on the picture, thanked and now curious in the hurry of the prefect back to her previous spot. Gaining even a few hushed commentary from the Professors who took notice of the curiosity brewing.

Andromeda gave it back, “Got to be a bewitched door only Morphers can see, it’s a blank wall to me.”

Ted looked Jewels over at notice her roots and brows were darkening to black in the sink of her mood also urging more of her real face out. “Jewels. Where’s that door?” Concern flooding out of his tone for how she looked closer to tears more now than a couple minutes before.

“It’s a picture from the Muggle police report in my adoption file.” Jewels murmured sadly.

Andromeda asked, resting her hand now on the younger girl’s back. “Why did that have this door in it?”

“It’s where they found me, inside the house.” She said and the couple let out a collective puff of air. Now realizing that might not be a shadow on the dark wood floor at the foot of the door as they had first presumed.

“Well that must have been a powerful spell to have kept whatever, or whoever out.” Andromeda said in a hopeful tone that had Jewels misty eyed look up at her again. Full doe eyed stare unable to be hidden like the pleading gaze that fact might be true. “Your Mum must have been some Witch to do that. My family is notorious for spotting bewitched items, and I can’t catch hint of it.” Her hand patted again and Jewels glanced at the picture again, now with a grin ghosting across her lips to the fact she moved the book to bring out a pen to add the notes on the door onto the pace across from it.

A task hiding the second stolen glance over her head by the couple who were only more confused as to how she might have ended up in that Muggle orphanage in the first place. Across the table though argument from a pair of fellow choir members had Jewels snap out of her emotional bubble to groan and grimace as they did to the thought of the performance in Hogsmeade in a couple weeks usual for the group Flitwick had been warning of extra practices the week before holiday break so none would be surprised about it. But the relief of the calmer topic and mood of the shorter tempered twin would be short lived.

.

“How could you let them talk to me like that?!” Lily sharply whispered to her sister on the crowded walk from the welcoming supper to their divided dorms in the separate towers.

Eyes rolled from older students at this round two they knew Professors would hear if they kept it going long enough.

Jewels fired back inside the crowd of students that slowed to have full audience to this car crash in the making. “That’s fresh, coming from you Miss, ‘I wish we never brought you home’ Evans. You don’t want me to be your sister, fine. I should have known once you got tangled in that Potter boy’s clutches you’d turn out just as heartless as him.”

A collective mental “ooh” rippled around to that crowd who were glad Potter was still farther back down the hall unable to hear.

Jewels paused in her try to walk away and asked, “How fast do you think you’d have pushed me away if we’d been sorted to the same house? Maybe it’s better we’re not in the same house. Why would I ever want to be like you? I wish I’d known how you’d turn out when I was a kid, never have turned my hair red in the first place. I might grow a beak when I’m mad and wings, sure. But that’s all on the outside. Why would I want to look like a heartless beast like you?” Then she walked off leaving her sister open mouthed with tears brewing in her eyes at the words she had hurled at Jewels weeks prior aimed right back at her.

Out of the slower crowd Jewels’ dorm mates hurried to catch up to her. Snickering internally at what even with half this clearly long brewing argument brought with them from the break at home there were some verbal mastery work involved that had Jewels more points ahead on count of jabs. Right in the middle of a swiveling set of stairs they caught up to her and spoke to her for the rest of the way up, being given the gist that the Black brothers had given her a broom and the fight over that had now spiraled into this mess.

.

Fit for a Princess. Just as she first mentally remarked the gothic styled RavenclawTower was decorated so posh in soft blues and silver. Satins and velvet on the chaise lounges and love seats in small groups for teas around stained glass tables. And those between the regal armchairs paired to clawed footstools, much softer than they looked with sections of bookshelves marked to each student so all could have their own private library if they do wished when the study bubbles were free. The latter sat upon silencing charm laced carpets designed to match the finery.

Around the circular space more than one fireplace to spread heat for all spaces and ambiance to encourage white noise for concentration much like the hovering enchanted instruments any could ask to play background music to set the mood as well during House study time.

Cushioned nooks resembling short canopied beds fit for royalty were the bottom layer to a short spiral staircase fed ledge that held another set of bookshelves and a desk for each of them. Angled like a K off the outer walls, so that if they do wanted the top of the canopy could be used as a puffy moss resembling hammock of sorts for lounging. Scented to encourage brainpower and focus. All to pair with the enchanted ceiling above every student’s designated section that would cast colorful mist to resemble a peaceful sunny day and numerous clouds to ponder and daydream their free time until firmer thoughts came to fruition that also could turn to the night sky if stargazing was more preferred in the thought process. One of the seasonal looks for the dorm, that like the staircases tended to change, but was never far from superb an environment to test the mind.

The bath was like from right out of a palace, private claw footed tubs leaned to relax and read in and ample mirrors. Much like the one she now stood at to look at the face she inherited from a very powerful Witch who died protecting her. Still no name beyond Unnamed Mother. Not yet ready to show her pitch black locks she settled on a deeper maroon highlighted look underneath shimmering snow like white shade to be a more appealing twist on Slytherin’s silver beard and brows as she apparently was no longer welcome as an Evans.

“What was the mess with the door?” The blonde fellow Morpher asked, turning Jewels to face her.

“Oh, think it was the door to my birth mother’s room. Andromeda said she couldn’t tell it was bewitched though. Family is good at that apparently.”

The blonde nodded and said, “Well, if it’s not bewitched you could look into Morpher Runes?”

“What now?”

“Uh, third year there’s an elective of Ancient Runes, part of the deeper study is Morpher Runes. Only Morphers can see them or items they are marked on. But Muggles can see the items if you’re after learning them to keep your sister out of your things. If the Blacks can’t find an bewitched then might be that.”

“Oh, thanks, I’ll look into that.” The blonde nodded and Jewels hurried to bring out her same notebook to write those runes down as well to find a book on them the next day.

.

History of Magic would open the following day, and the walk to the classroom would only prove that the night apart did nothing to calm this feud. Both sisters ignored the other and chose to keep among their houses at least up to the door to the classroom.

“Ah. There you are Miss Evans,” the ghostly Professor Binns remarked with a kind gleam in his eyes at a truer display of the young girl he’d known to be hiding herself away in plain sight. “I am honored and quite pleased to have met more of you. All of us dearly prize the chance to meet the rest of you in time.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she replied sheepishly and had him chuckle to himself on her patch past him to take her usual seat.

Not many wished to sit up front as she usually did. Remus and Barty Jr out of the crowd slipped into the seats on either side of hers. Onto the desk she situated her usual notebook and self writing quill so she could bring out her second notebook and a second quill as they brought out a single set of each. Much like other classes they would be peering over her shoulders to track her note taking process to keep up. James and Sirius, when Lily and Severus blocked themselves in the back row on the end to keep away from Jewels continuing their talk, James took Barty’s free side and Sirius split to take the free seat on Remus’ right.

Lowly Sirius muttered to Remus in the shuffle to get his own notebook out of his bag now sitting open on his lap, “First chance we get, we’re breaking into Headmaster’s office.”

Remus nodded and leaned closer to murmur back so Jewels wouldn’t hear, “We can check the map.” An idea that had Sirius grin and peek around his friend at the girl they hoped to help through this trying mystery.

A question a good twelve minutes into the opening of his lecture and Professor Binns smiled at the stunning lift of Jewelia’s hand after she read back what he’d said. “Close,” the Professor responded and clarified the small detail that many got hung up on and she hastened to write the question, her answer and his explanation between the options down in case of some distinct wording she could find on an exam later. Adding stars around it to be sure she would not miss it later. Same as three of the boys around her, James already was nodding off like many students in the back rows.

After class when everyone seemed to dart out of the room to free time Jewels lingered behind to speak to the Professor hovering to the side of his desk, eyes fixed upon the girl he could tell wished to speak to him. “Something troubling you, Jewelia?” Clutching her bag and books to her chest she walked over to come stop in front of him.

“You, you’ve been, around, a good while,” she said timidly and he chuckled to himself.

“That I have. Ask what you like, pre or post mortem.” He joked to try and help her relax at his death not being a sore topic.

She nodded and asked through her reluctance, “Do you know anything about the Gaunts?”

“I have heard talk of a small number of them. It was not until the 1900’s that most Wizarding families wished to send their children to magical schools. Might this family be in relation to the curious note of our Founder portrait of Slytherin that you belong to his kin?”

“Yes, partly. I found out I am a Gaunt.”

“Ah,” he replied at her near whisper of an answer. “Other than the eyes, and the rumored temper many have tale of. Does the lack of living relatives trouble you? Lack of history or common ideals to learn of?”

“Well they certainly hated Muggles,” she replied lowly and he nodded again, hearing low echoes of his next class taking their time in coming to his classroom. After clearing her throat she asked, squeaking unintentionally at the end of her sentence. “It would seem I am one of the 28, does that mean I have to hate Muggles too?”

“Oh most certainly not. Some still hold that prejudice. However you are known to have been adopted and raised by Muggles, and for all they know those parents and sister could be Squibs and none would look down on you for maintaining that bond. They raised you, surely there are no other Gaunts alive I have knowledge of. These are troubling times and many hold firm to the grudge from slain Witches over the centuries that led to the divide of our two worlds but you must hold to hope, this fight will end.”

When the first second year came into the room she smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Should you require more assistance many on staff would be able to lend a hand.” He added vaguely to not disclose their conversation topics to the older students, avoiding more gossip at her expense if they took it the wrong way.

Right to the library she went to head over to the guide book on common topics. Warmed instantly by the scent and sounds of the space she’d always felt most welcome on school grounds. Not wanting to speak loudly she whispered to the book and accepted the slip of paper off a stack the enchanted quill resting on that same stand copied down for her. “Thank you.” Back towards the historical section of the library she moved, to find the top five books on the list to check those out and start there in a gradual build of facts on this ongoing struggle between the two worlds.

An out of place origami stingray floated over to her in line behind two older students at the book desk, and in unfolding itself revealed a note from Professor Sprout to come to her classroom. Softly she huffed to herself and continued to wait until she was free to leave with the hefty books Librarian Pince helped to shrink to fit inside her bag and shared the proper spell to resize them again at her first chance to read them. One end of the vast castle grounds to the other she walked, mood souring at the loss of the free class slot the longer she walked.

.

.

“I’m not apologizing.” Jewels said cross armed in front of Professor Sprout, who had heard from the other first years in this class of the blow out fight that had happened the night before. Them and the Headmaster who granted her means of a special form of discipline used only in certain circumstances by staff to hopefully nip this problem in the bud. Almost having been mistaken as an intruder at the school for how different her doll like face, just meant for the stage and silver screen, looked compared to Lily’s squarer features, but with eyes and voice that told who Jewels was without a doubt. The same face the brothers and Alastor would know as it eased out more and more in their time alone with her at the theater and on their travels to help find her true lineage.

“After all I have to put up with, her using my face to hide all these years. All the looks and whispers on which one of us is the one who is mad in the head talking to snakes and sprouting beaks and feathers-..” Sprout raised a finger, stunned at the bitter hiss of a venomous tone Lily spoke in at her sister without so much as a glance at the multi colorfully haired and eyed one of the duo.

“Jewelia go tend your Mandrake root, then enjoy the rest of your break. I need to have a word with your sister.”

“Yes, Professor,” Jewels said trudging back to her station. And in passing the boys enamored by the sisters in trouble, who had been obviously listening in, she lowly muttered to herself all the way to her designated pot amusing more students in the Slytherin/Gryffindor mingled classroom Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw would be attending the following day.

“What’d she say?” Alastor eased over to ask her lowly after he’d flung his protective glove near to her foot in excuse to fetch it.

“Tried to make us apologize,” Jewels muttered through clenched teeth and he bent to fetch his glove.

“This has higher ups all over it. Sprout rarely gets involved outside of Puff matters. Hmm.” And he eased away back to his spot when Sprout’s teaching assistant was turning to check over the students on his end of the greenhouse.

“It would seem you require some humble pie, Miss Lily.” The Professor said having added a special root to the tea for a rarely used but acceptable punishment for students who behave this way under these circumstances. One that would inexplicably cause her to change her appearance. To let Lily know exactly what her sister suffered to control all of these years. “That and some compassion and some empathy for your younger sister. Who you should have been more forgiving of. Let this lesson sink in before a wound too deep to repair is set in.”

The point wouldn’t take long to set in, but for two weeks she would be slipped the root. And only after those two weeks, then she would be freed of the effects and the Professors would just have to sit and wait to see if the more short tempered one would be easily forgiving now some perspective had been granted to the other party in the blow out.

.

Right back to the library Jewelia went. Straight for the back section of the library in charge of storing copies of every school paper throughout the years. Another enchanted book was approached. The final step up to the podium it sat on had the young teen flinch when it heavily opened its front cover to an introductory page with instructions on how to use the directory. “I would like copies of everything written about or by the Gaunt family. Please.” Nothing seemed to happen and her eyes scanned over the divider enclosed space to ensure none were hidden away to hear her use this wrong. Out of three posts topped by lanterns circular openings spun into view to release ghostly nine tailed foxes that shot out to scour the drawers coming out of what resembled to be unnoticed moving block designs on the far wall and rotating racks of hanging records on the three aisles inside the enclosure.

Nearly her size the copies of the papers sat atop a table. One at a time she got to shaking the papers and handed the original back to the ghostly fox helpers. Older students who were intending to study, but were stuck on motivation let their curiosity have them follow hint of where the mysterious young teen had gone to. Not able to see the helpers who carried papers away, but with a few quiet waves to other older students back at their abandoned table more bodies came over to help in the copying process. Each chuckling at the hefty dig for some assumed research extra credit project to impress the Ravenclaw paper.

“You know,” the stoutest of them started in a thick Scottish accent, “Won’t take this much to get on the school paper. Let alone the Rav one. Someone might be pulling your leg at this task if they gave you an earful o’ that.”

“Oh,” she let out in a breathy chuckle letting go of another paper they would see floating back to its former home. “No, found my adoption papers. Digging into my birth family.”

“Ah,” a few of them exclaimed in wonder for who the former students could be.

“Well plenty of folks ‘round here would be keen to hear ‘bout them when you get a full picture on that family tree.” The tallest of them added with a hoped to be comforting grin. All of them helped her to finish off the stacks she used the spell the Librarian gave her to add into her bag and hurry off to her next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. And a fourth beside them added in, “And don’t go forgetting the Treasury Room either. Heaps of trophies that didn’t get their heyday in the papers due to odd happenings.”

.

Inside that classroom talk of the first transformation Lily underwent was shared to the tune of scattered giggles from those who had seen her suddenly sprout scales, a tail and horns soon swapped for a full body of fur and a snout moments later. Though it did seem amusing at first to her younger sister the mental argument of a lack of someone to jab at her and shove her out of sight when said transformations happened only lessened the similarity between the two situations.

*

Alastor in a peek at Jewels’ bag from his seat had him smirk at the shrunken hoard of newspapers and books she shuffled beyond to bring out all she required for that class and Transfiguration after. By the time the half hour break prior to lunch the guys had heard from older students about the library paper records dig same as Lily, who stormed off to go sulk at another low blow her younger sister fired her way when she felt she couldn’t sink any lower.

Alastor, off his plan to go and do just what Jewels did and check for record of the Gaunts in the papers, he then turned to go and head for the Treasury instead. For half an hour he used glowing name charms that would float around and find trace of the Gaunt name, same as for Riddle, walking between each pulsing orb to write down what each was.

*

Meanwhile Sirius had broken through a crowd to tug a fellow first year, and secret Muggle-Born, into a side hall confusing the other students he had been talking to. “You can get at the Slytherin House ledgers, right?”

“Yes,” he answered haltingly. Uncertain of why Sirius had picked him.

“Good. I know they’re locked to members of the house only, so if I give you a name, years he studied here and a couple sickles you would quietly dig into them?” He tried to disguise the matter and said, “My cousins and I are in a sort of competition to find the out some more on older Prefects who sort of vanished on the wind like Merlin. I got one in Slytherin House.”

“Oh,” he said looking at the folded slip of paper in Sirius’ hand, “Sure, common room is empty around five, I could check then and give you notes at supper.”

Sirius grinned at him, patting the boy on the arm, “Thanks mate.” Trade of the coins between palms and they walked back for the boy to make an excuse on notes from class requiring clarification by the odd part time Slytherin couch surfer the others seemed to just accept. Sirius on his own went to the library to fill in more on that cruel cousin the Nun had warned Jewels of searching out to see if hints might pop up before he broke back into the Headmaster’s Office on what he could have seen there with his name on it.

Stacks of papers were plopped onto Remus’ bed startling the lanky teen reading atop it. “Got the papers on Riddle and bribed a Muggle-Born to dig in to the house ledgers. Alastor is on his own moves and we have ten minutes to lunch,” Sirius rattled off on his move to hop onto the bed. Tucking his legs up to cross in front of him he grabbed the top copy while Remus set aside his book to grab a copy of his own. For ten minutes with quills and spare bits of parchment notes were made on anything that might be useful.

Echoes of a radio in the common room rattling off a melancholic hum of two new Wizards gone missing without sign of return cut off by the hand of a young relative who had the station playing nightly in case of updates. Lately some students more than others were making more trips to the Owelry and on the edge of their seats for morning post, and others around them much like the Professors merely let them have space to be worried and not bother them about it unless asked themselves for input.

.

Wait for Potions class in three hours after lunch always had the first years excited. Jewels, out of those hoping for time in the snow was back in the library, to have more room at one of their tables to spread out the papers she had copied. A hand sliding one of the five she had in wait to replace the one she was reading to be straighter on the stack had her look up at Alastor. Beside her he lowered to sit and leaned in to lowly say, “Checked the Treasury for you. Gaunts didn’t do much in terms of spare achievements aside from what looks like a season, for one cousin,” out of his notes he found the right page to show her, “On the Slytherin Quidditch team.” He flipped to another page, “And a potion competition Merope participated in.”

“That’s all you found?” she asked in accepting the pages that didn’t seem to have much on them to build a picture of personality or drive for the family line.

“In the Treasury, yes,” out of his pocket he brought a manila envelope he opened to bring out the clipping from inside he showed her. “Got this from the Prophet, only thing mentioning Riddle aside from the articles on Morfin is a mention he worked in Borgen and Burkes during a remodel on Knockturn Alley some decades ago.”

She nodded and read through the finger length column in the paper and let out a sigh mid plop of it on the table in front of her. Across his lips a grin eased and he continued, “Nothing else from them, but I did get this letter,” bringing out a folded letter from the envelope he showed her. “Some Auror named Fudge put his foot in the way cautioning me on digs into the personal matters of other Wizards when I wrote to the Ministry on a possible death inquiry. So we’re certainly onto something.”

“That’s good, right?” she asked and he nodded, “He isn’t just vanished then?”

He shook his head and joined her in looking up at Rudolphus Lestrange who offered him a sealed letter. Hint of his grip reluctant to let loose just yet had Alastor rummage in his pockets for three knuts the older boy smirked in accepting. “Ta,” Alastor said now able to claim the letter freely.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Rudolphus hummed in a step back to turn away going about his day now with the coins slid into his pocket.

“What did you just pay for?” Jewels asked with concern in her voice that had Alastor grin back at her mid blind open of the envelope.

“His dad works on interrogations for the Ministry and at Azkaban prison. Asked over break if he’d convince his dad to check for Riddle on the Ministry lists.” Once open the both of them leaned in to read the letter that came up another dead end. “So he’s not in prison or questioned.”

“Then, we’re back at nothing,” she huffed and he looked her way again.

“Or he fled abroad. Just leave this to me. Right up my future career tasks to hunt down foul little criminals. I will make inquiries abroad and dig for more clues on where he might have clawed his way off to hide. True test of my metal and you need not hover in worry. For now, I’ll help you dig more into these.”

That had her grin again as he pocketed all the letters and envelopes to grab his own paper, “I want to circle their mentions and see if anything else important of the time is named too.” She stated, leaning forward to hover over her own paper again.

Hours she circled things and put stars by others building a small stack of those that had been read. Ignoring the chatter around them in what free time they had, of other students gossiping still about the sisters and numerous others who plotted to send one of their groups to go and see what the younger was up to with all those newspapers. Warning of the time found them clearing up to hurry and make the long trek to Professor Slughorn’s classroom for Potions.

.

Another stunned Professor who watched the duo take up the open spots in the middle of the left seats nearest a trio of intimidating snakes carried on his class to get the start of term lesson underway. Feud still raging on the Professor moved around the room able to feel the tension between both silent sisters. But he had to hope the ability to keep quiet and civil in the same space could prove a good sign for when anger waned. Years he had seen numerous siblings at war almost and this like others had to come to an end eventually.

Flitwick in Charms seemed to have a better mood than all the others. Simply pleased to see the required divide between two very different sisters each requiring room to shine. This had to happen. He was sure of it, or the both of them would be at war their entire lives battling for who was to blame. All through the class he did go an as he usually did, making certain to stop and speak to Lily in a comforting way after her three transformations throughout his lesson. Twice she had to step out to keep from crying and he helped her back to his seat without causing a big scene or allowing others to, and now with a receding patch of cow fur on her hoof ended left arm she tearfully nodded to his next check in on her.

“Are you feeling better now, Miss Evans?” he asked her.

“Now I just have to get through supper and I can hide in my room,” she replied sheepishly.

Swiftly he let out a breath and said, “This is not to drive you to hide, Miss Evans.”

“Well I don’t see how this is fair,” she replied in a cracking tone of voice.

“The Muggles have a saying, walk a mile in another man’s shoes,” and she nodded wiping her cheek on her shoulder to avoid moving her half cow leg of an arm in case it would get worse. “Consider yourself walking. People, including children often bear little compassion for those who suffer in ways they have not experienced.”

“They’re all just taking her side!” James cut in and Flitwick gave him a pointed glance.

“You are excused, Mr Potter! I will not have you worsening matters with your poor attitude!” Flitwick said and pointed to the door. With an eye roll to the door he moved as Severus stayed behind, looking at a distance to Jewels, who did not seem any bit pleased by this punishment put on her sister. To Lily the Professor spoke again, “Now, Miss Evans, I personally would not have chosen this route, but then again I am not the Headmaster and in charge of the applicable list of punishments to students. I would like you to remember just one thing, throughout all of this window of time you are to be out of control to your outward appearance.” Right into his eyes hers fixed in a steady gaze uncertain of what bit of advice he like all the other Professors would offer her. “This sensation of lack of control will end.”

“I already know I must wait it out,” she said with furrowed brows and he waved a hand between them to cut her off.

“There will be a day when this trouble of yours stops,” he tried to clarify and she still did not get it, but Severus did and tapped her arm to stop her next try to argue.

“He means Jewels has to live with this forever, and you don’t,” Snape said and her jaw dropped open.

“I already knew that,” she argued and stomped off away from both of them, “Give someone else a snout or fur and a tail twelve times a day!”

Flitwick simply looked up at Severus who sighed and picked up his bag to go follow after her, “She always calms down after a few hours.”

Shaking his head Flitwick turned and smiled seeing Jewelia still there, having been trying to think of how to organize things in her crowded bag or if she should just carry the spare notes and packet given in class to complete for a later grade the following week. “Are you excited for our performance in a couple weeks?”

“Excited would not be the first word I would choose.” She answered making him chuckle.

“Given time she will come around. Perhaps after she steps out of her own way. Hopefully in time to celebrate your first performance, I will not keep you longer just do not forget our spare practice tonight.”

“I won’t, thank you Professor.”

.

When she’d gotten back to her dorm to leave her things there and free her hands for the trek down to supper she was met by other choir members who were already showing off their chosen outfits for the performance. Something she joined in on, a navy blue dress with stars stitched into it that the others found very lovely, albeit a less flashy look than others had chosen, but one unique to herself and personality. She didn’t want to deal with this alone, but after supper she returned to get back to a bit more digging in those papers until bedtime.

Daily she got through more, eventually making use of a letter home to ask for some spare scrapbooks and decorative papers she had lying around at home to be sent to her. To be made of use in combining clippings and removed spare articles to fill in events at the school and in the world. Papers to the books she checked out more of her free time was spent in the library. Added amongst the next round of books was one on Morpher Runes as well as special charms to force people to keep away. Daily she had to brush away papers loaded with more worrying headlines some new students to every one to create a wall of books to block out Lily when she decided to come and share in the easier hideout. So at least she could have more resources from studying and be guaranteed to not have much noisy people around her to laugh at her expense.

Pt 8

#Hogwarts #Marauders Era #Jewelia Evans #Lily Evans #Sirius Black #Lucius Malfoy #Bellatrix Black #Narcissa Black #James Potter #Scuffle in Hogsmeade #Welcome Back #Sisters Feuding #Professor Sprout #Humble Pie #Severus Snape #In the Library #Harry Potter

[markdelonge]

Dating Mark Hoppus...

my gif 🤭

ive done tom and trav its time for mark

...

request?: no

contains: 90s era Mark, mentions of smoking, mentions of fighting.

keys: Y/F/I = your first initial

...

• helping him dye his hair

the two of you would spend hours in the bathroom doing Mark's hair. Your lungs are filled with the chemicals

• smoking with him

• if you don't smoke he'd make sure you were never around him when he was

he'd go outside or get out of the car if he wanted to smoke. he respected you.

• late night car rides/dates

• painting his nails

something you do to pass time. sometimes you two even have matching colors

• wearing his clothes

its a must !!! Mark's clothes look so comfortable

• bffs with tom & scott

they tease you and Mark about your relationship. they call you two "mom & dad"

• Mark isn't big on pet names

maybe simple things like "love, babe, baby, sweetheart" i don't see Mark being into pet names like that

• him singing you to sleep

Mark's voice is sooo comforting, it's really easy for him to put you to sleep, even humming works

• constant dates at sombrero

• he'd carry a polaroid of you and keep it in his wallet

• going to all of blink's gigs

• knowing all of the lyrics to unreleased songs.

Mark would play you blink songs that they were working on before they would come out to get your opinion on it

• matching necklaces!!!!!!!!

• he can get jealous easily

if you're giving another guy too much attention or if you're hugging someone for too long his thoughts start to wander

• but he's not really protective

• cheek kisses!

the first time you ever kissed him was on his cheek. He had walked you home from a house party and before you went inside the house, you stood on your tippy-toes and lightly kissed his cheek causing him to become very red

• him holding your pinkie with his when he can't hold your hand

• fights can get outta hand

• i don't know why i just see fights with Mark being really loud / messy

like him yelling at you and you yelling at him. eventually a pillow gets thrown or something like that yk

• ends in a makeout

• he probably would leave notes in your locker omg

• him having you write your name on a pair of sneakers he owns

like a pair of beat-up old white sneakers he wears all the time and on the front of it, it has your name in huge writing

• definitely the type of couple to graffiti "M+Y/F/I" with a heart around it on a bench / tree, ect

• hanging out every single day

• like he's the next door neighbor that's always over but he's not your neighbor.

NO ONE knows how he gets in your house. you'd come downstairs after getting up from a nap and see Mark in your kitchen, having a conversation with your mom or something like that.

"Hey, Sleepy Head" Mark smiled over to you

"Hey, When did you get here?" You asked while going to his side, giving him a hug.

"I've been here for like 2 hours."

"What about you, mom? How long have you been here?" You looked over at your mother who sat on a stool.

"I got home 30 minutes ago."

• its not a problem or anything your parents (especially your mom) love(s) Mark

when you'd get home from school/work, the first thing they'd notice was Mark wasn't by your side and would ask where he was

• y'all are inseparable

• #thecutestcoupleever?!?

• k thats all i got

#mark hoppus x reader #mark hoppus imagines #mark hoppus #blink 182 #blink-182 #imagines #requests are open #slay #90s #punk rock #pop punk

[wolfontheloose]

|| Tony & Ryden ||

Ripping the door to his apartment open after the first couple of eager knocks against the painted wood, Ryden let the other man through without much of a greeting since his visit was expected, their plan to hang out and watch Jujutsu Kaisen long awaited and prearranged. Ryden had been looking for someone to watch anime with like the nerd that he secretly was and meeting this dear friend of Bellamy’s opened up the opportunity. Because watching animated series was at least ten times more fun in company than alone.

“Come in. I got popcorns and beer ready.” Ryden informed, leaving it up to Tony to close the door behind him and make himself comfortable in whichever way he wanted. Inside, Ryden’s apartment was a punk-rock biker fairytale dream come true, an alternative kid’s sanctuary when he got too tired of playing a proper grownup. Walls were painted insultingly black, fading into grey in a subtle gradient near the floor. Posters and wall art were scattered all over, in a chaotic but still somehow aesthetically appealing disarray, not merely a cover-up for a bad paint job or holes in the walls Ryden might’ve punched in for some recreational anger venting - which he never actually did although he looked like a bloke who regularly punched holes through walls. Almost everything was carefully framed, purposefully hung up, especially the limited editions hard to come by and therefore cherished and given special spotlight places. Iggy Pop, Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen, Johnny Cash, David Bowie; faces of many a legend watched on from their lofty vantage points, cozily observing in between framed movie prints and comic book covers. Flat surfaces had picture frames of more real people, ones Ryden encountered daily in his life and kept them there, and artwork or mementos made or gifted by them. Taking up an honored place on the TV stand against the central wall, among Alien and Predator figurines, were framed hand-done doodles and drawings in charcoal or pen, shiny little car models and wooden 3D train puzzles Ryden assembled himself in what little free time he had.  

The furniture arrangement was where one would expect it to be in a space as small and predictable as this. The kitchenette was tiny, separated from the rest of the living space by a large kitchen island with rusty-colored countertop, tall leather-dressed barstools tucked under it. Ryden’s precious curved plasma TV was huge and very likely the most pricey thing he had ever bought with decently earned money, taking up most of the wall opposite to the black leather couch matching the barstools. The coffee table was Ryden’s own invention - a couple of beer crates and a wooden panel over them all securely nailed together, spray painted a glossy black, with stylized pair of claw mark engraved across it. Two Pacman-shaped lazy bags were shoved into a corner, stacked one on top of the other. An Xbox and a PlayStation sat under the TV.

Most blinds were shut and the only source of artificial light was a red lava lamp strategically placed where its crimson illumination would be at its best. A rosewood guitar sat in another corner on its stand, the amplifier connected, stereo mounted on the wall. An old jukebox was next to the instrument, still recuperating from when Ryden had salvaged it from a dumpster. He’ll fix it eventually and make it work. Heavy hand weights were stacked neatly on their rack, proudly being the reason why Ryden didn’t have a dining table. Instead of any ceiling lights hanging, there was a very professional looking punching bag, definitely sand-filled. The door to the bathroom was open and a sneak peek would reveal that it was kept pretty neat, yet sadly only large enough for a shower stall. Aside from that particular space dedicated to cleanliness, Ryden didn’t believe in storing everything away immediately after use - anything that might belong in a drawer was equally comfortable on the floor.

@tony-baxter​

#::RydenxTony

[libraryofloveletters]

Crazy In Love

Eddie Diaz x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of injuries, Eddie can’t do math or cook for shit, friends to lovers :))) 

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: takes place after Stuck (2x04) when abuela breaks her hip. Also, this was supposed to be for 911 readers week but I didn’t finish it in time sooooo just take it now instead :) 

-----

The phone rang, your arm stretched over the pile of dishes on the counter. “Hello ?” you answered, putting it on speaker and setting it back down.

Eddie’s voice rang through the speaker, echoing through the empty apartment. “Hey, can you do me a huge favour ?”

“If you're gonna ask me to bake a cake, I have literally no time, honey. I’m really sorry but I need to finish this order-” Eddie sounds like he cut himself off before saying something as you explain that you’re busy.

“Eds? Are you there ?”

“Yeah- yeah, I'm here.”

“What’s up?”

“You’re busy, I don’t want to bother you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes because no matter how busy you are, you always made time for Eddie. He sighs heavily, so much so that you can hear him thinking.

“Eddie, what is it ?”

“Can you pick Chris up from school ? I know you’re busy but if you can’t, that’s ok-” “of course I can pick him up!”

The sound of a breath being released before a feminine voice called out for him. “I gotta go, Abuela needs me but he’s off at 3. Thank you, y/n - really.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Eddie.”

He mumbles something before hanging up. You glance at the phone screen - 2:24. You had enough time to change and shove the dishes in the dishwasher before having to head out so you did just that.

You had picked up Christopher from school a million times. His teachers knew you well enough that Eddie no longer had to call and let them know he wouldn't be picking up Chris but that you would be.

Standing outside of the school, the PTA parents were gossiping within their little bubbles, talking about the other members behind their backs but smiling in their faces. You bit back a smile before walking towards the gate. The students were lined up by the door, waiting for the bell to ring.

The moment it does, the students come running out with their teacher a few feet behind them in an attempt to keep up with them. One by one, their teacher lets them out, Christopher finally spotting you and this teacher waves hello as they open the gate for him.

“Y/n! What are you doing here!?” his little face lights up with a smile.

“Your dad asked me to come get you, he's with abuela.”

The two of you start making your way back to the car when Christopher asks you what his plans for the afternoon were. Soon you realized that Eddie didn’t give you any explanation as to where to go or what to do after you picked up Chris.

“How does ice cream and then abuela’s sound ?”

“Can we take some for her and dad too?” Chris asks as you help him into the car.

“Of course we can.”

----

Christopher was lugging his backpack over his shoulder when you knocked on the door, two containers of ice cream in hand. Eddie opens the door, grinning at his son whose face matches his father’s.

“Hey kiddo” Eddie kneels, wrapping the boy in his arms. Christopher’s arms extend around his father, “hi dad, we bought ice cream” he points out the obvious.

Eddie glances up at you, the ice cream tucked under your arm - he flashes you a smile.

“Oh yeah?” he lets go of Chris. “Did you have any?”

“No,” he shakes his head, his hair flopping around as he snickers. Eddie pushes the hair from Christopher’s forehead. “So what’s this on your face?” swiping his finger on Chris’s chin, a little smudge of brown on his finger from the leftover ice cream.

“Paint.” Chris smiles at his father sweetly.

“Uh huh, paint.” he chuckles, stepping aside for Chris to come further into the house.

“Thanks for picking him up,” he leans on the door frame, stretching and his arms lift above his head as he does. You can’t help but glance down at the area of exposed skin - eyes glued to the man in front of you.

“Y/n?” Eddie’s waving his hands in front of you, eyes raising from their previous spot to his face - the blush was creeping up on your face whilst that stupid smug smile of his was on his.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Stepping in, you take in the house. You had been by Isabel’s once or twice before but you had never come inside the house. The walls were painted a warm yellow colour, the furniture was spotless as was the rest of the house. Isabel sat on the couch with Chris beside her as he told her about his day at school.

“Chris, did you wash your hands?” Eddie calls, the door shutting. Chris doesn't answer which is an answer in itself. “Go now, please.” Eddie’s voice sounds closer, glancing behind you to see him beside you.

Chris grumbles but gets up, Isabel turns her attention to you and Eddie. “How are you feeling ?”

“As well as someone can with a broken hip” she gives you a smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay, you gave Eddie a scare” giving him a playful shove. “We got ice cream, vanilla and toffee. Chris said toffee was your favourite” handing her the small container. “It is, thank you. That’s so sweet of you.” she smiles, pulling the top off.

“No need to thank me, it was Christopher’s idea.”

“Ah, well I'll thank him when he comes back out.” she says smiling, “Eddie, a spoon please ?” she glances at the man beside you. He hums, stepping away for a moment to get her a spoon.

Chris comes running back in after washing his hands. “Dad! Can we stay over? Abuela said it was okay” he’s beside his father now, looking up at him with his big brown eyes that were practically begging him to let him.

You, Eddie and Isabel all knew that Christopher had his father wrapped around his finger and would ultimately get his way but Eddie had to give him a fatherly response and say no, they should go home. Isabel doesn't usually butt in but this time she did.

“Mijo, stay. I could use the company.” She says, patting the spot beside her and Chris makes his way over to sit beside her.

Eddie sighs, if he had a soft spot, it was for the two people on the couch. “Fine, just tonight then.”

Isabel smiles, satisfied with his answer. “y/n, stay for dinner darling. Eddie’s cooking” “Yea- who said I was cooking?” Eddie butts in, shocked at the assumption. “I did, mijo. Don’t worry, I'll tell you what to do.”

“Buddy, why don’t you finish up your homework so you can relax for the rest of the night ?” Eddie calls out to Chris, who again groans. He loved school but despised homework - as did most kids.

“I have math, I need help so I can’t do it because you’re busy.” Chris says plainly, thinking his statement will get him out of his math work because Eddie can’t do math for shit.

“I can help.”

“Y/n, you don't have to-” “no, it’s fine. C’mon kiddo” Chris grumbles, making his way to the dining room table, the two of you taking a seat when Eddie helps Isabel up and to the kitchen.

You can hear them talking and her telling Eddie to cut things a certain way or not to put too much of something into the pot. It only took 20 minutes for Christopher to finish his math homework, he brought it into the kitchen to show his dad.

“Look! I’m done! Math’s easy when you understand it.” that last bit was a little dig at Eddie and his math skills. You ruffled Chris’s hair as he walked back into the living room.

“Did he just-” Eddie watches his son make his way to the couch.

You hold back a laugh,“Mhm hm” Eddie shakes his head, chuckling. “Here, taste this.” he picks up some sauce from the pot, holding the spoon over his hand before handing it to Isabel.

Her face twists when she tastes it, “Eddie, I love you honey, but that’s terrible.” you press your lips together, holding back a chuckle.

“What?” he pouts, sighing. “I swear it tasted fine ten minutes ago.” sitting beside Isabel in defeat.

You pick up another spoon and taste some for yourself, your expression matching Isabel’s from moments ago. Eddie had remembered to put everything in, except the paprika and the salt, you add a bit of both and stir the pot. Taking the spoon from Eddie, you pick up a bit of the sauce and hand it back to Isabel.

“Ah, that’s better.” she hums, making you smile as she hands you back the spoon. Eddie sighs, letting you know that he was still there.

"Why don’t you go see if Christopher wants to watch something or if he wants a snack ?” his grandmother nudged him, a signal for him to leave the kitchen. “y/n can take over for you”

“Abuela, you can’t invite them in and have them work for their dinner.” he says, making her laugh.

“It’s okay Eds,” waving him off. “I don’t mind, really.”

Eddie left the kitchen and made his way over to the couch, listening as Chris told him about his day. He glanced back to see if everything was alright but he noticed that the two of you were laughing as you told Isabel something. Eddie would be lying if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

He stopped seeking his parents’ approval of who he dated- for a matter of fact, it went out the window when he brought Shannon home the first time but seeing you with an abuela made him so warm and happy, he couldn't help but smile.

---

Eddie’s hand slipped onto your hip, his chest against your back. “Can I help you, Eddie?” you mumble, your eyes on the dishes in front of you.

He hums, hands coming around and arms now wrapped around your waist. Eddie felt your wet hands pull his hands off of you, “Isabel and Chris are in the other room, stop it”

His head tilted, that innocent look on his face, “stop what?”

“Eddie,” turning to face him, “shh I don’t want to hear it” he cuts you off, hands back on your waist.

“I don’t think I've ever loved someone the way I love you.” His words come off so sweet and loving but hit you like a ton of bricks.

You loved Eddie, more than anything but you had never actually told him nor did you ever feel the need too. It was always implied that as friends, you loved and cared about each other.

Eddie always knew he loved you, there was never any question about that but something about you, seeing you with an abuela and how great you were with Christopher (as you always were) just pushed him over the edge.

He had to tell you.

“Y/n, you know I love you- and before you say anything, I know I’ve never actually said it to you but I didn’t feel like I had too, you knew I did.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.”

You were still gathering your thoughts, trying to come up with the words to tell him you loved him too but Eddie’s expression changed. His brows furrowed, eyes studying your face - the worry had set in.

What if you didn’t feel the same way ? God, he’d feel so stupid if he embarrassed himself like that.

The years of friendship were enough for you to realize how he was feeling. You were lacking words and you know what they say, actions speak louder than words.

Your hands reach for his face, now cupping his cheeks. Your lips meet his, he pulls you closer to him- if that's even possible. It was a few moments before you pulled away.

Eddie smiles lovingly at you and you’re sure you have the same expression plastered on your face. “Um- I think that says it.” you hum, smiling at him.

“Doesn't mean you can't say it,” he pokes fun at you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Eddie?”

“Y/n,”

“I love you.”

---- 

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @spencersendgame @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21​ @fernandaweasley2​ @yikesyikesyikes95​ @hotchsdarling​ @duhbar1975​ @wowitsel​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @jillys-feral-fandoms​ @alexandrianicolegrey-oc​ @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner​ @captainxholmes​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @aficwhore​

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz oneshot #eddie diaz fan fic #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz fic #edmundo diaz #911 #911 imagine #911 fluff #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 oneshot #911 reader insert #911 x reader #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 reader insert #9-1-1 x reader #9-1-1 fox #911 fox

[sunshineistyping]

The Fear Known As

Anthropophobia

‘The Fear Known As ____’

is a series in which a girl goes exploring with her best friend in an abandon megaplex and ends up discovering a broken animatronic. She decides to make it her job to fix the thing she has brought into their home.

———————————————————————

Part Three > The Fear Known As Heliophobia

———————————————————————

Pairing: Sunnydrop/Moondrop x Fem!Reader

Au: Abandoned Au

Warnings Are On The Masterlist

This is NOT your normal Sunny, and I don’t want him to be like his original self. He’s been abandoned for years after all.

———————————————————————

The ride back home has been one of the most interesting ones you’ve ever shared with Gregory. The entire car filled with your shared excited chatter. I mean, can you blame him for being excited? Of course not since you’re just as excited! You can’t remember the last time you found a bot this close to being complete, let alone one as intricate as this. The idea that you’d be able to look around at its inner workings made you light up with an unfathomable amount of joy. You’d also be able to try sewing, the sun thing needed new clothes anyway, right? So you might as well find a fabric that fits it’s theme and work with what you have. The drive home wasn’t long and finally you managed to bring the bot inside and put him on your special ‘operating table’.

“Gregory, I’m gonna need a lot of cleaning wipes and my paints.”

“The acrylic ones?”

“The acrylic airbrush ones yes, and I’ll also need a thin paintbrush with my gold paint, you know what? Bring the silver too.” You watched him leave for a moment before turning to the large robot on your table.

“Alright big guy, let’s open you up huh?” You mumbled to yourself as you walked over to your shelf of materials. You grabbed the acetone you’d used for previous projects and some paper towels. If this substance really was glue, this should work just fine. You began to search around your drawers before finally finding some gloves to slip on. This cleaning process was going to be messy.

“I got the stuff you asked for!” He placed everything on the little stand beside the table, making sure to keep everything organized for you. You grinned at him and gestured for him to come over. Once he saw the acetone and paper towels he knew right away what you were going to do first.

“Do you wanna help me out?”

“How?”

“I need you to find some fabric that will match him, my wallet is in my jacket. Make sure that it’ll really look good, I don’t mind if you spend a lot. This guy just needs to look pristine.”

“Yes ma’am!” You almost laugh as Gregory scurries over to the jacket you’d left on one of the many chairs in this garage. Your eyes immediately going back down to the acetone and towels. You poured a little at a time and began wiping. You were being as gentle as possible, trying not to mess anything up or damage any possible paint. After a while his chest cavity finally snapped open, his insides looked horrific. There was damage to his voice box, his main core was hanging on by a wire and clearly broken. The few wires that looked healthy weren’t connected to anything. The various gears and bolts he needed were either missing or damaged. This was clearly intentional, something had gone into this robot and ripped out its internals. Though it made you anxious about fixing it, you ultimately decided you didn’t care. You wanted to fix this guy, maybe know his story and see how he works. Ah, that’s right, you needed to check his processing chip.

You then opened his faceplate, his processing chip looked fine and all the wires in his head were intact. However, you noticed that his face was interchangeable. As you pressed against it, it flipped into a darker version. Oh, so there wasn’t two robots, just one. The moon faceplate was just as detailed as the sun, though it still gave you a more uncomfortable feeling as you stared. After many long hours of adding bolts and cogs, fixing his curved metal spine, and connecting his voice box again, Gregory came home. He had two large bags as well as your wallet in his hands. You took his appearance as a break time signal, stepping away from your table and over to your friend. Did you look like a mess? Absolutely. You’d been cooped up and working hard for the past few hours and you’d take any reason to step away from your work for a bit.

“Hey, what’d you get?”

“Well I wasn’t sure what sort of material to get or anything but I got this?” Your friend puts down the larger of the two bags on the chair beside him. You, of course, scramble over to see what’s inside. When you say you’re excited to make this robot clothes, you mean it. Inside the bag was three different materials. There was a golden felt, and a black felt of the same material right beside it. It wasn't super soft or anything but definitely a bit stretchy. The last was a simple orange ombre, it had a significantly softer feeling to it. You’d probably make a dress or something for yourself with a material like this. The feeling of it between your fingers made you smile, oh you’d be using this one a lot. Your friend then placed down the second bag and to your surprise there was various patches, lace, strips of patterned fabrics and more.

“How much did this all cost?”

“Only about two hundred? You said as much as I want.”

“Really? I was expecting it to cost a lot more.”

“Let’s just say I know a guy.” You laugh at the comment before picking up the two bags and placing them to the opposite side of the garage. The other table in this room had a sewing machine and you were excited as hell to use it. You had never gotten the chance to make a full blown outfit before, especially not with all the bells and whistles!

“Holy shit, you got it open? God it’s insides look terrible.” You turn to see Gregory standing over the animatronic, looking into its chest cavity.

“You think that’s bad? I’ve been working on it since you left, this thing was more then just a little damaged.”

“But it’s fixable?”

“Would I still be working on it if it wasn’t?” You laughed and made your way over to his side, looking around at all the work you’ve done. There were still a few more wires to connect and his core to readjust, then you would need to check the smaller things like his joints and overall cleaning him. Though you’d managed to work a ton on it and you were quite proud of yourself. I mean sure you weren’t extremely well trained for intricate bots such as these but you’d definitely done it right. At least, you’d done it right so far. You weren’t sure how complicated or complex the readjustment of his power core would be and that scared you. It was something you’d never seen before and had an unnatural pink glow to it. You’d even joked to yourself that it was his heart, in some ways it was.

“Well, that’s enough work for today. What do you wanna eat? I got some leftover Chinese in the fridge?” He turns and makes his way to the kitchen at your offer. You give the robot a once over before nodding to yourself and leaving. He’d be done at the end of the week. He had to be, otherwise you’d be too focused on him and not enough on anything that needed attention. This robot was now your main project and everything else would be pushed aside. This things story was worth more then anything else you had, let alone the price tag on its head if you fixed it. You can see it now, working and moving. At least you prayed it would.

As the hours turned into days, the days turned into weeks and finally you had completely fixed him. It was a little longer then expected, a two week long project, but entirely worth it. You’d made him a new pair of pants and cleaned up his shoes. The shoes had been redone as a simple black, the little bells having been replaced with a rose gold set. The striped pants were your favorite part of the piece, black with pale orange strips that ombré like a sunset. All of it clung tightly to his waist with a golden ribbon. Instead of the frills around his neck, you replaced it with a thick golden bow with lace trimmings and hand-painted it with stars and clouds. You decided to fix his wrist cuffs as well, replacing them with black ribbon, small bells hanging from each wrist. You also decided to take some artistic liberties with his outer shell, leaving delicate golden and silver curls down his arms in intricate patterns. Even going as far as to paint what looked like an elaborate keyhole above where a human heart would’ve sat. The two colors blended together seamlessly on his form similar to how a tattoo would’ve looked. You’d touched up his face as well but left it the same colors as the original, making sure to bring the colors back from their pale state.

He looked absolutely stunning with his new outfit and paint job, all that was left to do was activate him. You were just scared, I mean what if he was broken? What would you say to him if he wasn’t? You can’t exactly just go into a rant about why he looks different. What if you missed some damage? You knew it was your anxiety talking. I mean it’s not as if you’d checked him over countless times to make sure your work was up to par and even beyond. Oh wait, you did exactly that once a day. You called Gregory into the room with you, scared to be alone for when you turn the bot on. He entered rather tired, placing his phone to the side lazily to watch and make sure that you’d be okay.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be, let’s see if my hard work is gonna pay off.” You take a deep breath before reaching into his chest cavity and activating his main core. The pink glowed faintly and with that you shut his chest cavity and began to wait. You waited, and you waited, and then you waited some more. After about ten minutes you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to sit up. Fuck, you wasted those two weeks. You stood still, a heavy heart weighing you down.

“Hey, it’s alright, these things happen you know? How about this, breakfast on me?” He was trying so desperately to salvage your overly soured mood. You really, really wanted this to work. You had never wanted to fix a bot this bad before. I mean you rarely even gave them brand new details let alone more paint then they came with. You’d even taken the time to painstakingly sew his pants and paint his bow. God, you were fucking pissed. Well it’s time to drown your sorrows in cheap breakfast food and drinks, maybe even some sweets until you get a cavity.

“Yeah, alright.” You mumbled and stepped out of the room with Gregory. It took a while for you both to get dressed, you in a simple sweatshirt and sweats combo and him in jeans and a t-shirt. You grabbed the keys and just as you were about to leave, your friend began to pat his jeans.

“I left my phone in the garage, give me a sec.” You nodded, waiting at the front door. The second the door closes behind him you hear a loud scream. GREGORY! You immediately jump into action, grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep by the door. You didn’t have time to run into your room for a real weapon or grab a knife from the kitchen. You kick down the garage door harshly and to say what you saw was a surprise would be an understatement. There was you friend pressed against the wall, phone in hand. Then on the opposite side of the room stood the animatronic you swore up and down wasn’t gonna work. The being had snapped its head to you, arms and legs suspending him into one of the ceilings corners. What the fuck?

“Where am I? Why did you bring me here?” You hear its voice box crackle with what seems to be rage. Yet the way his voice shivers at the same time tells you everything you need to know about his statement. What happened to him? Those clear empty eyes made you uncomfortable and the aggression he seemed to have? Well, it told you getting any closer was dangerous...possibly even a death trap. It felt like you’d trapped a feral animal in a box. God damn it, maybe you should’ve waited longer for him to wake up.

———————————————————————

Tag List:

@crystal-freak24

@plaguerat44

@ahmya-4

@avid-main

@lethalbeautiful

@ch8rrybl0ssoms

#sunnydrop x reader #moondrop x reader #fnaf au #fnaf x reader #female reader insert #female reader #sundrop x reader #security breach x reader #The Fear Known As

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

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