#it’s called a hustle sweetheart series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

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Bugs | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: BUGS lol, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7012

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean decided that after your last job, you deserved a break. You went to a bar to play that eight-ball game you’d talked about back in Ankeny. The two of you were pretty evenly matched; you had to admit. He would win a game, then you would win a game, and that pattern continued for quite a bit. Then you’d swapped to nine-ball. The two of you walked away from the pool tables and found a table when you’d grown tired of playing with each other.

“I’ll admit, you’re pretty good, Winchester,” you told him.

“You too, sweetheart,” he responded, chuckling.

“You’re never gonna stop calling me that, are you?” you asked.

“Nope.”

You pretended to be annoyed and rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“You, too.”

You playfully glared at him.

“You hustle?” he asked you.

“Duh,” you responded, taking a swig of your beer.

He chuckled. “How ‘bout it? I’m low on cash after I paid off that morgue tech.”

“Hey, you did that on your own volition,” you joked back. “Nobody forced you to pay him off. And maybe you lost even more cash after you lost that poker game to me yesterday.”

He glared back at you. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Sure. So who’re you hustlin’?” you asked.

He scanned the room for a moment. “Them.” He subtly nodded in the direction of a group of guys who looked around your and Dean’s age. They seemed kind of douchey, and you’d love to watch Dean kick their asses if you were being honest.

“Eight or nine ball?” you asked him.

“Nine.”

“Ooh, good luck,” you told him.

“I won’t need it,” he answered arrogantly and began heading over to the group.

Your newfound friendship with Dean was slightly difficult for you due to your unbelievable attraction to him. The more you got to know him the more you began to like him for more than just his beautiful face. But you knew neither of you had the time for anything more than friendship, especially considering you knew you’d be hitting the road as soon as they found their dad. You chose not to focus on the finite amount of time you had with the Winchester boys and just enjoy it while it lasted.

As much as you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t deny that watching him hustle pool made you even more attracted to him.

“Cute,” you told Dean sarcastically when he walked back over to your table waving a wad of cash in the air. “But I betcha I can get us double the money.” You snatched his money out of his hands.

“Hey!” he said. “I earned that.”

“And I’ll earn it back,” you smirked over your shoulder.

He quirked a brow at you as you “drunkenly” walked away, watching you head over to a pool table surrounded by another group of young guys.

You wore a black tank top that showed off your cleavage, and stuck Dean’s money in the top of your bra while you sauntered over to the pool table. A tall blonde guy holding a cue stick was surrounded by his frat-boy posse hollering about how good the blonde guy played.

“Fifty dollars to play!” One of the boys yelled.

“I’ll play,” you piped up, looking down at the table set for nine-ball.

You pulled some cash out of the top of your bra and placed it on the rim of the pool table.

“Uh, sweetheart,” the blond began, “That’s only twenty.”

“Oh, sorry,” you snorted out a laugh, putting thirty dollars on the table.

“She’s hammered, dude,” one of the blond’s friends told him.

The blond waved him off, still looking over you. He handed you a pool cue with a smirk.

“You break.”

You fumbled with the cue before lining up your shot. After you hit the cue ball, you allowed the wooden stick to slip clumsily out of your hands. The balls flew all over the table in different directions because you had struck them so hard. However, you had not managed to pocket a single one.

The blond lined up his shot. Managing to keep the dopey look on your face, you mentally smirked at his amateur hand bridge. This guy would be easy to beat. With his friends cheering him on, he pocketed the yellow one-ball but missed the shot he took at the nine-ball. The nine-ball was in the perfect position for you to win on your next two shots, but you were not going for the big bucks just yet.

“Your turn, baby,” the blond told you.

You resisted the urge to cringe at the nickname. You had never liked being called “baby.”

Instead, you gave him a wide smile, walking up to the cue ball. You went to aim for the four-ball, but the blond stopped you.

“What are you doing?”

“Aiming for the pretty purple ball,” you replied innocently. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“You have to aim for the two-ball. You ever even played before?” he asked jokingly.

“No,” you smiled.

He was not expecting that answer to his jest, his face dropping out of the smile. “Then why are you playing for money?”

“I thought you were cute and wanted to play with you.”

The blond smirked down at you.

Before he could respond, you said, “C’mon! I wanna keep playing. This is fun.” You lined up and hit the two ball, knocking it only a little bit closer to the pocket than the blond had gotten it.

He ended up sinking the two-ball and then the nine-ball after that, his friends cheering for him. He took the money off the table. “Maybe next time.”

“Ooh, can we play again? Please?” you whined.

He looked around at his friends. They all shrugged.

You took all of the money out of your bra, including fifty dollars of your own to compensate for the fifty you just lost. You did promise Dean you would double the amount he had earned, after all.

The blond laughed nervously. “Uh, that’s a lot more than fifty dollars.”

“Is it?” you pretended you were surprised. “Oh, well. We’ll just play for whatever this is, then.”

One of the blond’s friends, a brunet, was already counting the money. “This is three-hundred dollars, man.”

“Look, you’re really drunk. That’s a lot of money,” the blond said. “Let’s just stop.”

“No,” you begged, “please? It’ll be fine!”

He finally conceded, collecting a total of three hundred dollars between himself and his friends.

On the break, he hit the one-ball and the five-ball ended up falling into the left side pocket. However, on the shot he took at the nine-ball, he missed.

You hit the two-ball, sank it, and clapped excitedly. You aimed for the three-ball next, hitting it between the right side and back pockets. The ball hit the wall and stopped only two inches off of it, giving the blond no shot at sinking it on his next turn.

He ended up pushing the three-ball and the cue ball into the perfect position for you to hit the red ball into the hole. Once you sank the three-ball, you lined up the cue behind the cue ball and hit the nine-ball into one of the pockets. Blondie and his friends stood there slack-jawed.

“I won!” you cheered, giggling. You gave Blondie a kiss on the cheek when you took your money.

You walked back over to Dean with your hips swishing confidently. Smirking, you held up your winnings.

He took them from your hands, counting the money. “Damn. I’m impressed.”

You feigned shock. “Dean Winchester? Impressed by something I did?”

“Can it, (Y/N).”

You walked outside of the bar with Dean at your side. You waved the money in your hand back and forth triumphantly as you approached the Impala that Sam sat atop flipping through newspapers. He looked disapproving. “Y’know, we could get day jobs once in a while.”

"Hunting's our day job,” you countered.

“Yeah, and the pay is crap,” Dean added.

“Amen.”

“Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, guys,” the younger brother argued.

“Well, let's see, honest—” Dean began, and you held out one hand palm-up for “honest,” “—Fun and easy,” he finished.

You held out the other hand, representing a scale, tipping it to the side of “fun and easy.”

“It's no contest,” you shrugged.

“Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do,” Dean added.

Sam was still not convinced. “Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked.”

“Yeah, says you,” sassed Dean. “We got a new gig or what?”

“Maybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma— not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”

“Gesundheit,” you commented.

“Human mad cow disease.” Sam shot you a playful glare.

“Mad cow. Wasn't that on Oprah?” Dean asked.

“You watch Oprah?” you responded.

The older brother looked embarrassed and couldn’t think of anything to say. He decided to change the subject. “So this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?”

“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less,” Sam stated.

You nodded slowly. “Oh-kay, that is weird.”

“Yeah. Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be somethin' much nastier,” Sam told you.

“Alright. Oklahoma,” Dean said, beginning to get in the car. You and Sam followed suit. “Man. Work, work, work,” the older Winchester sighed. “No time to spend my money.”

“You mean our money,” you said, handing him three hundred. You kept the other three.

“Right.” He put the money in his wallet and began driving off.

***

Dean had driven you to the gas and power company the deceased had worked at. You approached a man with shaggy hair and a scruffy chin who you had learned from another employee was the man who discovered Dustin’s dead body.

“Travis Weaver?” Sam called.

“Yeah, that's right.” The man turned to you.

“Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?” Dean asked.

“Dustin never mentioned nephews. Or a niece,” he responded.

“Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.”

You nodded, affirming Dean’s lie.

Travis smiled sadly. “Oh, he did? Huh.”

“I hate to ask you, but… what exactly happened out there?” you asked.

“I'm not sure. He fell in a sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh... by the time I got back…” he trailed off, face contorting in discomfort.

“What did you see?” Dean questioned.

Travis shook his head. “Nothin'. Just Dustin.”

“No wounds or anything?” Sam chimed in.

“Well, he was bleeding... from his eyes and his ears, his nose. But that's it.”

“So you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?” Dean asked.

“I don't know. That's what the doctors are sayin'.”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me,” you added. “Uncle Dusty just never acted like that to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it was, he would’ve acted like he had dementia, a loss of motor control, you ever notice anything like that?” you asked.

“No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some disease, what the hell was it?”

“That's a good question,” Dean responded.

“You know, can you tell us where this happened?” Sam asked.

Travis nodded. He instructed Dean the path to follow in order to find the scene of the incident. Surrounding the sinkhole he had fallen in was police tape, but the neighborhood it was in seemed mostly uninhabited except for a few construction workers milling about.

“Huh.” Dean looked down into the hole. “What do you think?”

“I don't know. But if that guy, Travis, was right, it happened pretty damn fast,” Sam responded.

You ducked under the tape and looked down into the hole with a flashlight.

“So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?” Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion.

You shook your head. “No, there'd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.”

“Looks like there's only room for one,” Dean commented. “Hate to say it, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to get down there.”

You flinched back. “What? No. We have no idea what’s down there.”

He picked up a nearby coil of rope. “Alright, I'll go if you're scared. You scared?”

“No. Dick.” Your stubbornness would not let you back down despite the genuine fear clawing at your throat. When you were younger, your father would often starve you to ensure you could fit into small spaces such as the hole you were about to journey down. You had no doubt you would’ve grown taller than 5’6” had he not done this. Even still, you mustered your courage. “I'm going.”

“I said I'd go,” Dean argued.

“I'm going,” you pressed, taking the end of the rope from him. You tied it around your waist. “Don’t drop me.”

“I won’t.”

“Sam, don’t let him drop me.”

Sam chuckled.

“What?” Dean sounded offended. “You don’t trust me?”

“Nope,” you smiled, clambering down into the hole. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they did, you were surprised by what you’d found.

Dean drove, and Sam was examining the dead beetle you’d found in the sinkhole. Some bugs you could handle, but beetles were not one you could spend prolonged periods of time looking at.

“So you found some beetles. In a hole, in the ground. That's shocking, (Y/N),” Dean quipped.

You shook your head. “Dude, no. There were no tunnels, no tracks, nothing. No evidence of any other creature down there.”

“You know,” Sam added, “some beetles do eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat, but…”

“How many did you find down there?” Dean asked you.

“Ten.”

“It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out some dude's brain, Sam.”

“Well, maybe there were more,” his brother argued.

“I don't know, it sounds like a stretch to me,” Dean responded.

“Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before,” you added. A sign advertising an open house decorated with red balloons caught your eye.

Sam was looking back at you. “What?”

“There.” You pointed to the sign.

You passed another that read, “Models Open. New Buyers' BBQ Today!"

“I'm kinda hungry for a little barbeque, how 'bout you?” Dean remarked.

Sam gave him a look.

“What, we can't talk to the locals?”

You snickered. “And the free food's got nothin' to do with it?”

“Of course not. I'm a professional.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Right.”

Dean pulled over and the three of you got out of the car to walk toward the open house.

“Growin' up in a place like this would freak me out,” Dean remarked.

“Ditto,” you said.

“Why?” Sam looked at the two of you like you were crazy.

“Manicured lawns, ‘How was your day, honey?’ I'd blow my brains out,” Dean chuckled.

“White picket fence,” you sing-songed, “private school, stay-at-home moms with three snotty children— no thanks.”

“There's nothing wrong with ‘normal,’ “ Sam rebutted.

“I'd take our family over normal any day,” the older Winchester said. He approached the house and knocked on the door.

A man in a steamed collared shirt opened the door. “Welcome,” he said.

“This the barbeque?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, not the best weather,” he replied, referencing the gray sky, “but... I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are... ?”

“Dean. This is Sam and (Y/N).” He shook Larry’s hand.

“Sam, Dean, (Y/N), good to meet you. So, you three are interested in Oasis Plains?”

“Yes, sir,” the older brother responded.

“Let me just say—” You had no idea where Larry was going with this— “we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or... sexual orientation.”

You realized what he was trying to say. “They’re brothers. I’m just a friend.”

Larry nodded and seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Our father is getting on in years,” Sam explained, “and we're just lookin' for a place for him.”

Larry laughed awkwardly “Great, great. Well, seniors are welcome, too. Come on in.” He guided you to the backyard where dozens of people were chatting and eating. “Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains.” He brought you over to a woman around his age. “This is my wife, Joanie.”

“Hi there,” she smiled.

Larry introduced the three of you to her before saying, “Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.”

She laughed. “Right.”

This painfully fake interaction you were having reeked of Middle America. It was making you sick.

Larry left you alone with Joanie who said, “Don't let his salesman routine scare you. This really is a great place to live.”

A very energetic woman with bright, Ariel-red hair pulled back in a tight bun approached your group. “Hi, I'm Lynda Bloome, head of sales,” she grinned.

“And Lynda was second to move in,” Joanie went on. “She's a very noisy neighbor, though.”

Even Lynda’s laugh was obnoxious. “She's kidding, of course. I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners.”

Before any of you could answer, she said, “Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or... sexual orientation.”

Dean chuckled. “Right. Um... I'm gonna go talk to Larry.” Dean began walking away. “Okay, honeys?” He smacked you on your ass as he left.

You nearly yelped in surprise. The rest of your interaction with Lynda became very awkward. You were barely interested in what she was saying about the various features of the home. “Who can say "no" to a steam shower? I use mine everyday.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Sounds great.”

Sam noticed something just beyond her, saying, “Excuse me,” and pushing her out of the way. What he had picked up off the picnic table was a large tarantula. You noticed a snickering boy with shaggy brown hair a few feet behind where Lynda had been standing.

Sam walked over to the boy. “Is this yours?”

The boy took the spider from him. “You gonna tell my dad?”

“I don't know. Who's your dad?”

The teen scoffed. “Yeah, Larry usually skips me in the family introductions.”

You sucked air in through your teeth. “Ouch. First name basis with your dad— sounds pretty grim.”

“Well, I'm not exactly brochure material,” the kid remarked.

“Well, hang in there. It gets better, all right? I promise,” Sam said.

The kid didn’t seem convinced. “When?”

You heard Larry call the name, “Matthew!” You turned to see the older man and Dean walking toward you.

“I am so sorry about my son and his... pet.”

‘Clearly there’s some issues there.’

You shook your head. “No big.”

“Excuse us.” Larry’s face was set and hardened, pulling his son away from you and the boys.

“Remind you of somebody?” Sam asked his brother. He was gesturing toward the arguing father and son. “Dad?”

“Dad never treated us like that,” Dean argued.

“Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?”

“Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes, you were out of line.”

Sam scoffed. “Right. Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting.”

“Bowhunting's an important skill,” Dean replied. You agreed with him, but chose to say out of the brotherly debate.

“Whatever. How was your tour?” Sam asked.

Dean turned on the sarcasm. “Oh, it was excellent. I'm ready to buy. So you might be onto somethin'. Looks like Dustin Burwash wasn't the first strange death around here.”

“What happened?” you questioned.

“About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this severe allergic reaction to bee stings.”

You nodded. “More bugs.”

***

Later that evening, Sam was driving you and Dean through the neighborhood. You put your head on Dean’s shoulder over the back of the front seat as he flipped through his father’s journal. He had looked at you strangely and tensed up when you’d first rested your head on him, but you just shrugged in response. To your surprise, he allowed you to stay there.

“You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles?” Dean shook his head. “What is it that could make different bugs attack?”

“Well, hauntings sometimes include bug manifestations,” Sam replied.

“Yeah, but I didn't see any evidence of ghost activity,” the older brother said, referring to his house tour.

“Me neither,” you added.

“Maybe they're being controlled somehow. You know, by something or someone,” Dean stated.

“You mean, like Willard?” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, bugs instead of rats.”

“There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals - elementals, telepaths,” Sam continued.

“Yeah, that whole Lassie thing,” you commented. You were thoughtful for a moment. “Larry's kid— he's got bugs for pets.”

“Matt?” Sam seemed unconvinced. “He did try to scare the realtor with a tarantula.”

“You think he's our Willard?”

“I don't know. Anything's possible, I guess.”

Something caught Dean’s attention. “Ooh, hey. Pull over here.”

Your head perked up.

Sam pulled into the empty driveway of one of the Oasis Plains homes. “What are we doing here?”

Dean got out of the car and began pulling the garage door up and open. “It's too late to talk to anybody else.”

Sam scoffed. “We're gonna squat in an empty house?”

“I wanna try the steam shower. Come on,” his brother responded simply.

Sam didn’t move.

“Come on!” Dean urged.

Sam rolled his eyes but complied and pulled into the driveway. Dean closed it behind him.

To your surprise, the home was fully furnished. You assumed it was for staging house tours. You and the boys were thankful to find three beds within the home, avoiding the awkward task of deciding who was going to have to sleep with who. And for the first time in quite a while, you slept incredibly well on the soft mattress and plush pillows.

***

The next morning, you found Sam remaking the bed he had slept in down the hall from yours. He had the police scanner quietly droning on in the background.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, yawning.

“How do you think,” he replied dryly.

“That’s what I was worried about.”

Sam sighed.

“Dude, we gotta get you right,” you told him. “You’re gonna end up really hurt.”

Before he could respond, the static of the police scanner coming alight with conversation caught your attention. Male voices spoke back and forth about a death that happened in what you recognized as the Oasis Plains area.

“You finish cleaning up; I’ll get Dean,” you told Sam, who nodded. Dean had been serious about indulging in the steam shower. He’d been in the guest bathroom since you woke up that morning.

“You ever comin' out of there?” you called through the door.

“What?” he responded.

You could still hear the water running. “A call came in on the scanner.”

“Hold on.”

“Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on.”

The door opened a bit to reveal Dean and his towel-wrapped head. Steam poured out into the hallway. “This shower is awesome,” he smiled.

You laughed in response. “Come on.” You walked away to finish helping Sam gather your things and hide the fact that someone had been here.

When you arrived at the crime scene, a body bag was being wheeled out on a stretcher. You found out from a visibly upset Larry that the realtor, Lynda Bloome, had been the one to pass away. The three of you discovered about a dozen dead spiders underneath a towel near where the outline of her body had been mapped out, and decided to pay Matt a visit.

It took a few hours, but you discovered where Matt went to school and followed his bus route. You watched when he got off the bus.

“Isn't his house that way?” Dean pointed in the opposite direction of where Matt was walking.

You nodded. “Yup. So where’s he goin’?”

The three of you began following the teenager from a bit of a distance. Unfortunately for you, he headed into the woods.

“Seriously, kid?” you muttered. “Always the fucking woods.”

Dean chuckled at your discomfort.

“Shut up, asshole,” you quipped.

Sam approached Matt first. “Hey, Matt. Remember me?”

“What are you doin' out here?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, we wanna talk to you,” Dean responded.

“You're not here to buy a house, are you?”

You shook your head.

“W-wait. You're not serial killers?” Matt began backing away from you.

“No. I think you’re safe,” you smiled.

“So, Matt... you sure know a lot about insects,” Sam began.

“So?” he shrugged.

“Did you hear what happened to Lynda, the realtor?” Dean asked.

“I hear she died this morning,” Matt responded.

“Mm, that's right. Spider bites.”

“Matt... you tried to scare her with a spider.” Sam’s tone was accusatory without being harsh.

“Wait. You think I had something to do with that?”

“You tell us,” you responded.

Matt scoffed humorlessly. “That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy.”

“You know about those?” Now you were the one being accusatory.

“There is somethin' going on here. I don't know what... but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something.” Matt shouldered his bag and led you deeper into the woods. You hoped he knew where the hell he was going and how the hell to get back.

“So, if you knew about all this bug stuff, why not tell your dad? Maybe he could clear everybody out,” Sam suggested.

“Believe me, I've tried. But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me.”

“Why not?”

“Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son.”

Sam scoffed. “I hear you.”

Dean seemed surprised. “You do?”

Sam gave him a look before turning back to Matt. “Matt, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Well, don't sweat it, because in two years, something great's gonna happen.”

“What?”

“College. You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.”

Dean was upset. “What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family.”

Sam sighed and glared at his brother.

You tried to break the tension. “How much further, Matt?”

You knew Matt felt awkward, too. “We're close.”

Sam glared at Dean once more before continuing walking. Moments later, you reached a large clearing. As you’d been approaching, the sound of insects buzzing had gotten louder and louder. Hundreds of them flew about the clearing.

“I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um, part of an AP science class,” the teen explained.

“You two are like peas in a pod,” Dean remarked.

Sam ignored him. “What's been happening?”

“A lot. I mean, from bees to earthworms, beetles... you name it. It's like they're congregating here,” Matt went on.

“Why?” Dean’s brows knitted together.

“I don't know,” he responded.

You caught sight of a dark, bumpy patch of grass a few feet away. “What’s that?”

Matt looked at you and seemed curious as well. He led you once more over to the pile. Your skin began to crawl at the sight of hundreds of wriggling earthworms. Dean accidently stepped on a pile of them and it sank into the ground. You pulled him back by the arm to avoid him falling, too. You let him go, and he crouched to the ground. He used a stick to poke around. He then dropped the stick and stuck his hand straight into the hole. When his hand came back up, he was holding a human skull covered in dirt and worms.

“Gnarley,” you said.

***

Sam suggested bringing the remains to the department of anthropology at a local university. “So, a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave,” he said as you approached the building.

“Maybe it is a haunting,” you added. “Pissed off spirits? Unfinished business?”

“Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs? And why now?”

The older brother quipped, “That's two questions.”

Sam ignored him.

Dean continued. “Yeah, so with that kid back there... why'd you tell him to just ditch his family like that?”

“Just, uh... I know what the kid's goin' through,” his brother shrugged.

“How 'bout tellin' him to respect his old man, how's that for advice?” Dean’s tone was sharp.

“Dean, come on.” Sam stopped walking, and you and Dean followed suit. “This isn't about his old man. You think I didn't respect Dad. That's what this is about.”

“Just forget it, all right? Sorry I brought it up.” Dean shook his head.

“I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough.”

“So what are you sayin'? That Dad was disappointed in you?”

“Was? Is. Always has been,” Sam bit back.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool— because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.”

“Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in The Munsters,” Dean grunted.

“Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud. Most dads don't toss their kids out of the house.”

You were accustomed to their normal sibling spats, but this was different.

Dean kept pushing. “I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases comin' out of your mouth.”

“You know, truth is, when we finally do find Dad... I don't know if he's even gonna wanna see me.” The brunet sounded sad.

“Sam, Dad was never disappointed in you. Never. He was scared.”

“What are you talkin' about?”

“He was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talkin'... he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could.”

Sam’s smirk faded.

“Keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe,” Dean finished.

“What?” Sam’s puppy dog eyes were back.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn't you tell me any of that?” the younger brother asked.

“Well, it's a two-way street, dude. You could've picked up the phone.”

Sam stared at him sadly.

“Come on, we're gonna be late for our appointment,” Dean grumbled.

***

The professor you’d gone to see at the college informed you of a Euchee tribe outside of Sapulpa that the bones Dean had found might have belonged to. The three of you now headed over to a diner one of the local Native Americans had directed you to. He had told you how to find Joe White tree, a bit of a patriarch of their group.

You found him playing cards at his table in the diner.

“Joe White Tree?” Sam asked.

The man nodded.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right.”

Dean continued for his brother, saying, “We're students from the university—”

The man cut him off. “No, you're not. You're lying.”

Dean seemed taken aback. “Well, truth is—”

“You know who starts sentence with ‘truth is’? Liars,” Joe responded.

Dean looked at you and Sam strangely.

“Have you heard of Oasis Plains?” you asked. “It's a housing development near the Atoka Valley.”

“I like her,” Joe told Dean. “She's not a liar.”

You smiled.

Joe turned back to you. “I know the area.”

“What can you tell us about the history there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

You considered for a moment. “Something bad is happening in Oasis Plains. I think it may have something to do with a Native American grave we found there.”

“I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him,” Joe began. “Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead. They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.”

“Insects. Sounds like nature to me. Six days,” Dean stated.

“And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive,” Joe finished his story.

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look with you.

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

Joe nodded at you before you and the boys headed off.

“When did the gas company man die?” Sam asked after you had made it outside.

“Uh, let's see, we got here Tuesday, so, Friday the twentieth,” Dean responded.

“March twentieth?” You thought for a moment. “That's the spring equinox.”

“The night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals,” Sam finished. “So, every year about this time, anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land.”

“And on the sixth night— that's tonight,” Dean finished.

“If we don't do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise. So how do we break the curse?”

“You don't break a curse. You get out of its way. We've gotta get those people out now,” Dean said sharply.

The three of you got in the car and sped away.

***

Dean drove while he spoke with Larry on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Pike, there's a mainline gas leak in your neighborhood… Well, it's fairly extensive. I don't want to alarm you, but we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so, just to be safe… Travis Weaver. I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power… Uh…” He panicked and quickly hung up.

Sam gestured for the phone. He learned from Matt that his backyard was crawling with cockroaches. He urged him to get his family out of the house, and Dean told him he needed to, under no circumstances, tell his father the truth about what was happening.

When you arrived at the Pike residence, Larry rushed out of the house. “Get off my property before I call the cops.”

“Mr. Pike, listen,” Sam urged.

“Dad, they're just tryin' to help,” Matt pleaded from the doorway.

“Get in the house!” Larry ordered.

Matt addressed you and the boys. “I'm sorry. I told him the truth.”

“We had a plan, Matt, what happened to the plan?” Dean grunted through his teeth.

“Look, it's 12:00 AM. They are coming any minute now. You need to leave now, before it's too late,” you told Larry.

“Yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm,” he replied humorlessly.

“Larry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don't think somethin' weird's goin' on here?” Dean questioned.

“Look, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, and we're gonna have a problem,” Larry told you.

“Well, I hate to be a downer, but we've got a problem right now,” the older brother responded.

“Dad, they're right, okay? We're in danger.”

“Matt, get inside! Now!”

Matt stepped further out onto the porch. “No! Why won't you listen to me?!”

“Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!” Larry yelled back.

“Look, this land is cursed! People have died here. Now, are you gonna really take that risk with your family?”

“Wait!” you shushed the group.

Everyone went silent.

“You hear it?”

From a distance away, there was a faint buzzing that got louder and louder rapidly.

“What the hell?” Larry muttered.

The fluorescent bug light on the porch began overheating; killing several bugs at a time. The buzzing got even louder. Millions of bugs blanketed the sky, heading straight to you.

“Oh my God.” Your breath quickened. “Everybody in the house, now!”

You and Dean held up the rear of the group, and you felt his hand on your back guiding you inside. You locked the door behind Dean.

“Okay, is there anybody else in the neighborhood?” Sam asked Larry.

“No, it's just us.”

Joanie entered the room. “Honey, what's happening? What's that noise?”

“Call 911,” Larry instructed her. “Joanie!”

She seemed caught off-guard. “Okay.” She picked up the phone and began to dial.

“I need towels,” Dean told Larry.

“Uh, in the closet.”

Sam and Matt went upstairs while you and Dean packed the base of the front door with the towels you found.

“Phones are dead,” Joanie informed you.

“They must have chewed through the phone lines.” Dean shook his head as the lights went out.

“And the power lines,” you grumbled.

Larry tried his cell phone only to get no signal.

“You won't get one. They're blanketing the house.” Dean looked towards the windows that were beginning to darken from the thousands of bugs collecting on them.

“So what do we do now?” Larry asked.

Sam had come back downstairs with Matt. “We try to outlast it. Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise.”

“Hopefully?” Larry’s eyebrows raised in shock.

You looked to Dean. “You have your zippo lighter?”

He seemed to catch on to what you were suggesting and nodded. The two of you broke off to the kitchen and found bug spray under one of the cabinets.

Joanie seemed unimpressed when you returned with the can.

“Just trust us,” you told her.

A creaking sound from the fireplace caught your attention.

“What is that?” Matt’s voice was higher pitched than normal.

“The flue,” Sam answered.

“Alright, I think everybody needs to get upstairs,” Dean ordered.

Suddenly, thousands of bugs poured into the living room from the fireplace, swarming all around you. Dean used his zippo to light the can of bug spray. “Alright, everybody upstairs! Now! Go, go, go!”

You covered your ears and ran upstairs to the attic with Sam and Dean close by you. You could hear bugs thumping against the attic hatch door; trying desperately to get in. There was only a few moments reprieve before you heard gnawing above you.

“Oh, God, what's that?” Joanie cried.

“Something's eating through the wood,” Dean replied.

“Termites,” Matt added.

Dean ordered the family to get back from the spot where sawdust was beginning to descend and bits of moonlight were coming through. Moments later, bugs began to fill the room through the chewed in spot. You and the boys frantically tried to patch the hole, swatting bugs away from you like a madwoman. You were able to shove a board of wood with another under it to hold it up, but that only worked for a second. Two other holes were chewed through the roof, raining bugs down on you. You covered your ear with one hand and swatted bugs away with the other. You and the boys backed up into the Pikes, who were huddled in the corner. Dean tried his best to light the bugs up, but nothing was working. Then, miraculously, the sun began to rise. Thankfully, all of the bugs began to fly out of the holes they’d chewed through the roof. You watched through the same holes as they flew up toward the sun. You breathed a sigh of relief.

***

The next morning, you and the boys were about to head out of town but stopped by the Pike residence on the way. You approached the moving van that Larry was loading boxes into.

“What, no goodbye?” Dean joked.

“Good timing. Another hour and we'd have been gone,” Larry answered. He shook your hand.

“For good?” you asked.

“Yeah. The development's been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But I'm gonna make damn sure no one lives here again,” Larry explained.

“You don't seem too upset about it.”

“Well, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career, but…” He looked over to Matt, who was carrying a box in the garage. “...somehow, I really don't care.”

You smiled at him.

Sam walked over to Matt, who was throwing away all of his insect paraphernalia. You looked on fondly as the two smiled and laughed. You bid Larry goodbye and went over to the car with Dean. Seconds later, Sam joined you.

“I wanna find Dad,” the brunet said.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah, but I just... I want to apologize to him.”

“For what?”

“All the things I said to him. He was just doin' the best he could.”

“Well, don't worry, we'll find him. And then you'll apologize. And then within five minutes, you guys will be at each other's throats.”

You laughed. “I wanna find him, too.”

The boys looked at you strangely.

“I wanna kick his ass to hell and back for leaving you two alone.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Well, whatever they are, they aren’t good enough,” you quipped. “And I wanna thank him. If it weren’t for him, I never would’ve met you two.”

Sam smiled at you fondly at y0u. Dean had a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“I thought we agreed on no chick flick moments, (Y/N),” Dean remarked. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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darlingofvalyria · 10 months

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❝Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain.❞

part 01 | it's called a hustle, sweetheart

chapter summary:

[ The math is easy in Helaena's head. One brother, heartbroken and moping and in a red flag relationship redder than Mars, and one hot best friend who is definitely his type. It's 1 + 1 = 3, really. ]

[ 2,345 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— this is going to be comedic and stupid in its comedy, bear with me - fake dating, fwb situation, toxic on and off alysmond, no use of y/n - mentions of sexy times but no sexy times yet (it'll be coming though, so minors gtfo) - multi parts - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— the main vibe is silly and sexy !! you're hel's hot friend !! you getting it down with cregan stark (as you should) !! dunno yet how many parts, but we vibing !! comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You and Hel watch her baby brother, Aemond of usually calm and pretty countenance, drag and wince as he took a mug of coffee- a slow, almost painful affair - mumble something, somewhat of a gratitude and an apology 2 in 1 special, and reverse drag and wince back into into the room.

It's a painful shuffle. A Michael Jackson awkward moonwalk attempt. A pitying regression from the usually very pretty boy you've made it a habit of teasing.

In the past few months, there hadn't be a lot of teasing from you.

When the door clicks, you turn to Helaena with an absurdly amused snort. "He's really such a pathetic little meow meow, huh?"

She slaps your arm. "Stop it. He's really down. Alys really did a number on him this time."

"She always seems to do a number on him every time they breakup." You fight the urge to roll your eyes, for the sake of the concerned frown on your best friend's pinched, starlight eyebrows.

After all, this isn't the first time of the very many on and off moments of the Alys and Aemond Train. You bore witness to it like you're sat in an empty cinema, popcorn stale and it hurts your jaw to chew, and the train has come unloose from the tracks about thirty minutes into the film, but the plot is predictable because it recycles.

Which makes it a garbage film you can hardly stomach, rolling your eyes and getting the fuck out of the cinema about to demand a refund.

Sure the first time, you felt bad, felt horrible for the both of them as it did seem like they loved each other. You had even commended the maturity of their decision, expressed sympathy and an even pious comments of 'but you were both so good together!'

But then the pity kind of loses its momentum when it's been the third time. The fourth. The fifth. So on and on and on...

At some point, you start thinking that maybe Aemond Targaryen— of pretty Jupiter glaze and cherry-pinched lips, a Greek god humbling at the image of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen's genes combined— third time's the charm! or fourth in Viserys' case, snort — is kind of a masochist.

Because despite saying that they're growing toxic for each other, he comes back.

Every.

Goddamned.

Time.

The maturity made way for screaming matches, bolts of peaking jealousy, and purposeful social media posts made to hook, line, and sinker the other person— like. Gods.

There was pettiness. There was red flags. And then there was the Wikipedia page that pops up when you search 'who is the worst toxic relationship?' and it doesn't even have a paragraph. Or a sentence. Just a picture of Aemond and Alys.

If Aegon Targaryen was made of easy vices and churlish, lazy smirks— his fingers, though cold and sometimes clammy, are still nice against your shoulder when he makes lazy circles at an attempt to flirt before you laugh it off and threaten rip his balls off, because if there's a few things that piss off Helaena, it's her older brother trying to go near any of her friends —

Aemond liked it in deep, ruby-red shards of a cracked heart being put together again and again. At first with superglue. Now he was more or less going with prayers and spit.

At some point, the pity turns to amusement turns to a roll of your eyes turns to concern shifting from the young man to his sister, your best friend, left somewhat the only one left to care for her crash and burn of a baby brother.

And you know for a fact that Daeron Targaryen is a menace on a dirt bike, and yet out here, in these streets, Helaena was worrying for Aemond.

Their mother's favourite child, their grandfather's most studious, and the pride and ego of Kings Landing U Business Department.

Helaena isn't used to worrying about Aemond like this.

You're not used to Helaena worrying for Aemond like this, and the usually pretty boy you liked to tease was starting to piss you off because of it.

"Hel," you start carefully, knowing you're threading on dangerous waters. As much as Hel adored you and no matter how many times she says her brothers are idiots cut from a blended cloth of her Hightower and Targaryen roots— she was also unmistakably protective of them.

She sighs, putting down the pancake batter she was mixing, and you, who was in charge of actually frying them, turn. She had hoped to talk to Aemond when he woke up, but clearly he was still very much smashed at any attempts of comfort or reprimand, even she wasn't sure anymore.

"I know, okay?" Hel mutters. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," you rush. At her doubtful look, you insist. "It's really not. I care about the little punk too. Even though lately I kind of just... want to hang him by his boxers on the balcony... make him see reason from there."

It works, Hel laughs. Then she smirks. "That little punk is only three years younger than you and a whole foot taller, babe." Then she blinks. Eyes going wide as saucers, which would be comical if not for the fact that she looked like she got the prophecy of Bathroom Urge Number #1. "Oh gods. Oh my god!"

"...Did you poop yourself?" Her face descends into a scowl, swatting you with the bowl. You yelp, giggling. "Hey, hey! Stop- Hel, you're going to spill everywhere! You know kitchen rules! No violence near the stove!"

"I was about to say I got it, you harlot! I didn't shit myself!" But she stops pestering you with the bowl as you snort.

"Okay, one, harlot? Who are you? A medieval peasant?"

"Please. If we were in the Middle Ages, I'd be a princess."

"That's actually too true, my princess, how dare I."

Hel raises an eyebrow. "But back to point- wait, actually, damn, where were you last night?"

Helaena already knew the answer. Apart from the fact that it is a best friend's duty to be apart of every slight and win in another's life, you had used your regaling tales about Cregan Stark as a means to distract Hel from worrying about her brother every time he broke up (or her; they're very gracious to each other as they take turns in piling to this toxicity), once again, with Alys.

"At Cregan's," you respond lightly, turning to flip another pancake into an awaiting plate. You were at Cregan's last night, so you only found out about Aemond's newly- and briefly - placed single status this morning when you got into the apartment you shared with Hel. She promptly placed her brother in her room while she, seeing as you weren't in yours, slept on your bed.

"And what did you do?" She knew exactly what you did— what you both did, every time since meeting again two months ago at the bar you worked.

"I helped him, uh." You stuck your tongue out, busying yourself with breakfast to clench at an excuse. "With his taxes."

Helaena snorts. "What does taxes have anything to do with the hickies? Gods, you look like you got mauled."

You snicker, fingers briefly dancing over the blue and violet marks over your neck and collarbone. It dipped lower to your chest and thighs, but you weren't going to tell your best friend that. By her wry grin, she already knew anyway.

"Okay, okay, enough of that. You said you 'got it'? Got what? A way to stop your brother's toxic relationship with the very hot older woman that we all known and adore as Alys Rivers?"

"Yes!" Then she hesitates. "But... are you and Cregan...?"

"What? No! I told you." You roll your eyes. "It's just a thing with us. We're both single, not really ready for the dating scene. He broke up with a serious relationship not long ago, he's not ready for it, and I'm sorry, but unlike your brother, is dealing healthily with it."

"With you."

"With me, yes." You shrug, turning off the stove once you've scraped the entire bowl. "So no, we're not in a relationship. But what's your plan got to do with my amazing- and frequent - sex life?"

"And you're sure you don't like him like that?"

You roll your eyes. Hard. "Yes, my royal pain the ass, I am."

Before you can react, Helaena has grasped you by your arms, watery lavender eyes wide and begging.

"Hel, I love you, but I don't like you like that."

"I love you too and same, no, no—"

"What do you mean 'no, no'? That is so offensive—"

"—I mean Aemond."

"I don't really love your brother either, though, I find him extremely pretty," you muse.

"Good! Might help with my plan!"

"What is your plan?"

"I will owe you, so, so much."

Your eyes narrow. "The fact that you're not telling it to me straight means it's a big ask, Targaryen."

As guilt flashes in her eyes, you know you're right. "So, so much. I swear. I will do your laundry— the chores! All of 'em! For a month!"

"Helaena Targaryen, I swear to the gods—"

"Canyoupleasefakedatemybrother?!"

You blink, triyng to unwound what she just spat in one exhale. "I am not fucking the sad out of your brother, that is also not healthy."

"What!? No!" Hel inhales, enunciating better now. "I said, Can you please fake date my brother? My poor, heartbroken, wonderful, you said so yourself 'very pretty', baby brother?"

She blinks, owlish and pityingly, the way you know she knows has gotten her out of a lot of messes. Has gotten her brother, Aegon, out of a lot of messes with their grandfather, who you know to be an asshole to anyone— the incident when he sideway called you a whore, still very bright in your mind; a grudge that keeps on going — but his granddaughter.

"Hel, I adore you, but that's the single most, stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, no, it's a lot more complicated than just you fake dating him, duh, I mean like, he knows it too! Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain!"

Your eyes flicker to Helaena's room where said sad sack she wants to hustle the shit out of, is in. "Elaborate."

"I meant like. Okay, so we know how this is going to go, right?" She rolls her eyes, her voice lowering to a hush, but her grip on you is just as strong. "They're broken up, he mopes around for a few days, goes to the seven stages of grief the on steroids version, making weird posts and baits against Alys until one of them takes a bite, then they meet trying to feel each other, suss each other out, next thing you know, they're in bed together and we're back to the Good Days of Aemond and Alys as seen on TV! But oh wait, it's worse every time it recycles! Like your favourite show but with butt-ugly new cast they never address!"

Hel takes a deep breath, defeated and desperate all at once. "I am so tired of it. Mom is so tired of it. You're tired of it. And I know, deep down, Aems knows this isn't a sustainable way to love someone. To be in love with someone. But he doesn't know anything but Alys. She's his first everything- yeah, I know about that too, it's disgusting. But now... there's you! My very hot, very beautiful, very amazing best friend."

You nod. "I am agreeing with most of your points so far, especially the compliments geared toward me."

She playfully slaps your arm, continuing. "If we pitch this as like, you helping Aemond make Alys jealous... make it seem as if we're helping him out by sussing her out... you're a total bombshell, babe, Aems will see that there's more to love and lust than just Alys Rivers. It doesn't have to tell all, start and end with her. Every time." She grins as if she's so smart, finally releasing you and placing her hands on her hips to complete the look of 'Yeah, my idea is brilliant, I know'. "We just need to get his eye away from the not really prize, and make him realise there's more than just the toxic in and out of a failing relationship with your first love."

It's hard to tell her that her idea might not be so bad after all, but Helaena is already grinning as she reads your face like an open book, jumping and clapping around silently.

"Hold on, girlfriend," you say lamely. "How are we even sure I'm his type? Imagine thinking all this, and I'm a plate of grass to a carnivore."

Helaena snorts. "Please, girlfriend. You're older than him, hot as hell, and has a coochie that keeps Cregan Stark well entertained that he's politely said no to the female population that wants him. You are not grass. You are a prime rib-eye they need to ship from the other side of the globe and further ruin our climate."

At your snort, a blush spreading across your face, you press your tongue against your cheek, not willing to concede just yet but feel your will slipping with all the positives.

First, no chores for a fucking month.

Two, you'll have fun (in his own way), adorable pretty boy Aemond again, sans the toxic.

"He can't fall in love with me, Helaena," you say carefully. "I'm serious. I don't like him that way."

She is already shaking her head.

"Of course not, he won't. We just need him to focus on anything else other than Alys. Gods bless her soul."

"She's still alive, Hel, Jesus."

"But you're perfect for this. No ones going to fall in love with anyone. I promise." Helaena grins, tearing a piece of pancake and popping it in her mouth. "My plan is foolproof."

A few thousand hours later, her plan, is in fact, not foolproof.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss

#aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fluff #hotd crack #aemond fluff #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#helaena targaryen #alysmond #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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morallyinept · 3 months

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 8

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Time passes on the island. Frankie and Jude try to stay busy whilst they face uncertainty. Descriptions of drug use.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 7

Three years before the island…

“She brayed like a fucken’ goat all night, man.” Benny cajoles.

“Goats don't bray.” Frankie says stoically, fingers pressed cool against the glass in his hand.

“What?”

“Yeah. Horses bray. Donkeys bray, not goats.” Will adds.

“Goats bleat. Like sheep.” Frankie informs.

“Yeah. So, did she sound like a goat or a donkey?” Will asks.

“The fuck do I know? It was a weird fucken’ sound like buraaaahhh, and I just shot my load and left, man.” Benny chuckles.

“Cue illegitimate child in nine months' time.” Will remarks to Frankie with a side eye roll.

“Nah, I got the snip.” Benny retorts with scissor fingers.

“Wise man,” Frankie nods, looking about the bar furtively. His grip around the glass intensifies as he can feel the heavy buzz in them twitch.

Around the table, mismatched chairs huddle in, their well-worn upholstery offering a comfortable respite from the hustle and bustle of the crowded bar. The chatter of patrons fill the air with a growing hum, mingling with the crackling strains of music drifting from a nearby speaker. The American flag is draped everywhere.

"You ever notice how they just go about their lives, completely clueless?" Will remarks, his voice tinged with frustration as he glances around the bar filled with naive civilians laughing and drinking merrily.

A loud clap on his back from Benny pulls him out of the cloud threatening to pour over his head.

On Veterans Day, Frankie and the Miller brothers find themselves gathered around the little table in the corner of the bar they often frequent, nursing their drinks in sombre reflection.

The atmosphere is tinged with a hint of bitterness, a toast to the fallen in remembrance of Tom, and Santi’s obvious absence from their lives for the past eight months.

A pretty woman walks by the table, her eyes flickering over the group of grizzled vets with a hint of curiosity. Benny catches her gaze and flashes her a charming smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he calls out, his voice tinged with flirtation. "Care to let a hero buy you a drink?"

She smiles. “Sure.”

Benny turns to the two of them and smirks. “Don’t wait up boys,” as he stands and escorts the woman to the bar.

"Did you see that?" Will exclaims, his voice tinged with incredulity. “Slick asshole.”

Frankie can all but chuckle as he shakes his head. “You want another?”

“Fuck yes.” Will mutters.

Frankie heads off to the bar, making a detour to the bathroom.

Closing himself in one of the stalls, he breathes out deep and long, fumbles with trembling hands to produce a small packet from the depths of his jacket pocket. With a shaky exhale, he tears it open, revealing the white powder nestled within.

Without hesitation, he bends over the makeshift altar, the cold porcelain of the toilet seat pressing into his skin as he carefully prepares the lines. With each snort, etching its presence into every crevice of his mouth, leaving behind a metallic tang, he feels the familiar rush of euphoria coursing through his veins, washing away the pain that plagues him like a relentless tide.

An intense rush surges through Frankie's veins, flooding his senses with a fleeting sense of invincibility. A wave of warmth and energy washes through, momentarily erasing the weight of his troubles and the burden of his thoughts. His heart races in his chest, the steady rhythm of its beat echoing in his ears like a primal drum.

Colours seem to intensify, vibrant and alive, as if the world around him has been turned up a notch in hues of heightened perception. He closes his fist in and out noting the shakes dying away, his hand feeling steady again. No longer seeing the gun inside his grip, the blood that stains his fingers.

But beneath the surface of reprieve lurks a darker truth - a gnawing emptiness that lingers just beyond the edges of his consciousness. A hollow sensation, a stark reminder of the void that threatens to consume him from within, even as the drugs whisper promises of escape.

For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to forget - to forget the demons that haunt him, the sounds of gunfire and shells, the screams. Tom’s dead eyes; the memories that torment him, and the emptiness that bites at the edges of his tattered soul.

In that moment, there’s only the numbing embrace of oblivion on his knees in a feculent bathroom stall.

As Frankie returns to the table, his movements heavy and sluggish with the weight of his clandestine deception, he can't shake the feeling that he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice - a single mis-step away from plunging into the darkness that threatens to consume him whole, jaws open.

Will can't help but notice the subtle change in his buddy's demeanour. There’s a distant look in Frankie’s glassy eyes, a shadow of unease that flickers across his usually stoic features.

“You alright?” Will asks, as Frankie puts down the foamy glasses.

Frankie looks back at him and his breath catches in his dry throat, his mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. But as he meets Will's gaze, something shifts within him - a familiar instinct kicking in, urging him to deflect and deceive.

It’s surprisingly easy to lie, to mask the turmoil churning within him with a façade of false reassurance.

The words slip and uncoil from his pale tongue with practised ease, each syllable carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and conceal the dark truth.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Frankie replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Tired, y'know?"

He watches as Will's expression softens, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as he accepts Frankie's reassurances with a nod.

A weight lifts from Frankie's shoulders, even if it is a pyrrhic victory.

Benny returns to the table with the woman, and now her friend in tow, as they nestle in around them.

“This is Carla,” Benny introduces to Frankie, who nods at her with a small blooming smile.

“Encantado de conocerte, Francisco.” (Nice to meet you.)

“¿De dónde eres?” (Where are you from?) He asks with raised eyebrows.

“Pensacola, you?” Carla smiles with a nonchalant shrug, as Frankie leans in closer to converse with the pretty Latina with gorgeous brown eyes smiling back at him.

“El Paso then. Pensacola now. Y'know, around.” He smirks.

"You get around a lot?" She asks.

He shakes his head looking at her dewy lips. "Not anymore."

Day 16 on the island…

Frankie and Jude continued to fish in the bay daily and rationed what they could; eating the fish and occasionally snacking on some of the remaining treats from the trolley as they dwindled slowly, but their stomachs rumbled regardless.

They used some of the shampoo and soaps to try and clean some of their clothes, but that salty, ocean smell still lingered over them making them stink like a packet of salty chips constantly. But it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things.

Frankie tried the iPhone several times more, until the battery finally gave out and died. Switching it on and off and trying to obtain some signal up on the ridge desperately, but ultimately to no avail.

Between the two of them, they started work on re-building the shack in the tree line to keep busy. Frankie collected some soil and mud from the woods and mixed it with sea water in one of the rusted over tins to make a sludgy cement to insulate the shack.

Although the heat was currently unbearable, they couldn’t be confident that it wouldn’t get colder as the seasons changed on the island, so it was best to be prepared.

Jude collected large, waxy leaves and rolled them up tightly to create layers of insulation for the roof, tying them together with vines. Using the lifejackets, they created a watertight under layer for the rooftop.

It took several days to build fully and whilst Jude was rolling up leaves on the beach, she’d look over and catch Frankie, shirtless in grubby shorts using the switchblade to sharpen and cut branches.

He’d crack them over his knee to break them and each time he did it, she noticed the tightening of his stomach and became mesmerised by it until he’d glance over and smile at her, and she’d have to look away quickly, feeling hot.

Jude noticed a scar tucked into the side of his hip when his shorts would hang low; a silvery line flashing at her against the tan skin dipped under his subtle paunch on the right side. The line of blue faded numbers that ink around his wrist, hidden under his watch strap. The way he walks towards her sometimes with a subtle limp.

“You hurt yourself? You're limping.” She questioned.

“It happens sometimes. I'll be fine in a minute.” He shrugged off with a tight smile, and she didn’t question it further, despite her mind ticking about the origin of all these things that make Frankie up into the mysterious clay of who he is.

She wondered if perhaps he’d noticed little nuances about her too, then realised she’d been staring too long when he looked back at her quizzically from under the shadow of his cap.

She showed Frankie how to braid vines so they would be more robust and not snap as easily when he used them to tie the planks of wood together.

“I've no idea what I’m doing; kinda free styling it right now.” He chuckled, and then she laughed harder at his messy attempt of braiding them.

“It’s like this, under, over, under, over...” He watched as Jude’s fingers weaved the vines and he followed along with his, seemingly with ease like watching a live YouTube tutorial.

“Like this?” Frankie asked, holding up a long braided vine when he was done.

“Perfect!” She praised taking it from him and securing the end.

They soon had a stack of them and she would hold the planks in place whilst he reached up and tied them together.

Their relentless teamwork enabled the shack to be fully completed after six days.

Whilst she was down at the shore washing their clothes and cleaning herself up in the water, Frankie put the finishing touches to the shack.

He arranged the seat cushions they ripped out of the fuselage; tying them together with the straps he cut from some of the life jackets. He was down to the last two and decided not to cut anything off them, instead placing them on the suitcase he had turned on its side and used as a makeshift bedside table.

He considered in his gut that it might be wise to have two working life jackets; even though that thought made his scalp prickle with a cold shiver.

He made a hanging mobile of colourful beach shells he’d been collecting randomly from the bay each time he went down there to fish; reaching into the water and looking at their pearly undersides and putting them in his pocket that rattled as they walked back.

He tied it above the beds, using shoe laces from his boots and Jude’s Converse that were pretty much ruined now. He just either walked around barefoot or in a pair of flip flops that were a little small for his feet that he’d found in a case.

Frankie folded the clean clothes Jude had washed and that were dry into another case he kept open, he tied together a cluster of branches to make a broom to sweep leaves away that would blow in on the breeze. He used two large branches that he wedged into the sand and made a clothes line with vines, so their clothes could dry in the sun, rather than spread out on the rocks and blow into the sea when the wind whipped up.

Life became somewhat domesticated.

Now, as Jude makes her way up the beach, he’s coming back through the tree line with some plants and leaves inside one of the rusted over tins and stops to greet her.

“Hola,” (Hello,) he calls and waves with a large open palm before she heads into the cave to return the toiletries.

She smiles and waves back.

They’d mutually decided to use the cave mouth as their storage pantry for the food, fish and toiletries. The fire still burned and Frankie would check on it regularly. He’d dug a deep trench around it which was ashy and had scorched the sand black, but when it would get a little breezy in the evenings, it meant the fire wouldn’t blow out fully whilst they slept.

Frankie places the makeshift vase of plants down on the bedside case and steps back to marvel at their creation.

Jude pokes her head through the door, lifting the plastic sheeting he’s cut to make a doorway that creaks softly in the breeze.

“It’s finished?” She asks, stepping inside and looking about in wonder.

“Yeah, what do you think?” Frankie asks her; his hands on his hips and face shining with sweat.

“It’s really great. You did an amazing job.”

“We did an amazing job.” He corrects holding out his giant palm, and she high fives him.

She glances over his shoulder at the bed and spies the cushions pushed together. He’s rolled up some of the clothes that were too big for them and stuffed them inside some of the vile patterned shirts to use as pillows.

“Urm-”

“I can separate them, it’s just to conserve space.” Frankie begins, rubbing at the back of his head. “It’s, uh, a little tight in here.”

“Uh-huh.” She smiles at him and notices the blush creeping into his ears as he stuffs his hands into his shorts pockets.

She simply saunters past and lays down on the bed looking up at him. She pats the empty space beside her and he lays back on it with her; them both looking up at the shell mobile twirling silently above their heads.

“That’s really pretty.” Jude comments nodding up at the shimmery rainbows inside the hollows of the chalky shells hanging in different lengths.

“It’s the little things that make a house a home.” Frankie muses.

In that moment, memories flood his cerebral cortex: the familiar streets of Pensacola lined with palm trees, the scent of salt in the air, the warmth of the Florida sun on his skin. He can almost hear the sound of seagulls crying in the distance, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment passes, leaving Frankie with a bittersweet longing for the place he once called home, even if he put all of his effort into destroying it.

“You’re very good with your hands. Perhaps you missed your vocation as a carpenter or something.” Jude says.

“Maybe,” he crosses one of his long legs over the other at the ankle and rests his arms behind his head. "I like to fix things, make things, I guess."

“It’s much cooler in here already,” she surmises with a smile of relief and closing her eyes.

She feels Frankie shuffle beside her and opens her eyes, turning her head to see him reach for the notebook. He scribbles something in there and then puts it back.

“How many days?” She enquires.

“Twenty-two.” He says with a flat tone.

He hears her take in a deep breath and release it out again in a heavy sigh.

“You know, when you’ve been missing for more than forty-eight hours, people tend to stop looking for you.” She says bluntly.

“Don’t.” He says softly.

“Do you really believe that we’re gonna be rescued?”

He pauses before answering. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.” Frankie mutters.

He reaches up with a long arm and taps one of the shells and the whole mobile wobbles about above their heads.

Her gaze fixes on the spinning seashells with a faraway look in her eyes.

Jude sits upright on the bed after a few moments, and then stands. She looks down at him over her shoulder.

“You’d better not snore, mister.”

Frankie grins back at her and watches as she leaves the shack.

The first night in the shack lying so close together, is weird to say the least.

She’s only known this guy for just over three weeks or so and Jude can feel the subtle warm whooshes of his breath on the back of her shoulder as he snoozes contentedly beside her.

She woke through the night, and was startled to have him so close to her, momentarily forgetting everything in that oneiric haze rousing her from unconscious slumber. His right hand thrown up hid most of his face as it casually lays there, blocking half of him from her view.

But she can see his right eye, the light from the fire outside casting dancing shadows on his face, and it’s closed; fanned eyelashes twitching gently as he dreams.

His body is slain clumsily on top of the cushions, and she can see he’s still wearing one of his flip flops, although just barely as it clings to life desperately on his big toe. Her eyes trail the length of his long legs, smattered with dark hairs and the occasional graze or bruise.

She wanders back up the length of him, taking in the golden colour of his contoured arms and broad shoulders, the odd freckle constellation en route to the back of his left hand with thick ropey veins and long fingers. His hands are huge; the surface area of them spectacularly ginormous.

A wayward thought creeps into her frontal lobe; thinking about him getting to know her body with those big hands...

His eye is now looking at her, studying her as she meets it with her own curious trailing up to his face, and she struggles to find words to greet him when he’s intrusively near like this.

But he never touches her, despite their proximity; a subtle, permanent gap where neither of them venture into, even when asleep.

Instead she doesn’t move, just lays there taking him in and fixating on all the details of him, much like he is with her. It’s a weird feeling; a contented bloom that settles her, yet an undeniable pull that she can’t resist against as they both take in one another through their sleep laden, yet curious gazes.

She smiles first and he moves his hand to reveal his full face to her; a face full of boyish good looks and sharp angles, trying to cling onto youth underneath crinkled, golden skin and fuzzed facial hair peppered with grey on the sides of his jaw.

Frankie tosses a crooked smile back at her through those meaty pink lips before she closes her eyes again and tries not to think about how hot she suddenly feels.

Jude isn’t able to sleep much as the night proceeds; rolling over and then realising she’s too close to him and then backing away again. Paranoid she’ll break wind or snore or dribble in her sleep and he’d hear it.

After much tumultuous tossing and turning, she gets up quietly and exits the shack onto the beach.

The fire is still burning, although the flames are low inside the pit, and she chucks on a few branches, wrapping the shirt she’s wearing around her for warmth. The breeze picks up at night, but the warmth in the air still lingers and suffocates above it.

She sits down by the rocks on the shoreline and looks out into the bleak, enveloping darkness, hearing the waves crash and roll in.

She scans the horizon as best as she can through the dark, but there’s nothing there, as usual. There’s never anything on the horizon, and after twenty-three days it’s getting harder to fathom that someone could be looking for them.

There has to be some sort of panic and worry back home. Her mother would be having a fit and her father going absolutely crazy and calling the embassy and Amnesty, or any other official body he could think of, demanding that his daughter be found and brought home.

She imagines that Frankie will definitely be missed back home; he seems the type to have hundreds of people surround him, a social butterfly.

So why is no-one coming out here to them? Why haven’t they seen a boat or heard a plane or helicopter flying overhead at least? Someone has to be looking for the missing flight - it just doesn’t make any sense at all.

She thinks of her room back at her parent’s house from when she’d moved back in after splitting from Nate, with all of her essential stuff crammed boxes, and wonders who will take what from it all when they eventually accept the fact she’s dead and not coming back ever again.

What will happen to her credit card debt? Does that just disappear and get written off?

She scoffs to herself when she realises she won’t miss that at least.

Her thoughts drift to Nate. Is he missing her, is he concerned for her welfare? Will the thought of never seeing her again be the crux of him realising what an utter idiot he’s been to ever let her slip through his clumsy, cheating fingers?

Her eyes well up and she absentmindedly wipes them with the sleeve of the shirt and sniffs as the breeze ripples through her hair.

Why couldn’t he love me? What’s wrong with me?

She cries into her knees, feeling foolish and bereft, and more than anything, utterly lost.

Frankie rolls over in the morning to be met with an empty space where he expects Jude to be laying asleep next to him. He sits upright and rubs his eyes before traipsing out the shack to find her.

He discovers her curled up on the rock asleep in a huddled ball and nudges her awake gently.

“Did you sleep out here all night?” He asks her with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“If it’s too weird I can separate the cushions. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.” He explains with a frown as she sits up rubbing at the crick in her neck. His face looks a little disappointed as he speaks, she notes.

“No it’s not that. I just...” She searches for the words. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He probes gently.

“And say what exactly? That I’m terrified that no-one’s coming for us? That the reality is looking more and more bleak that we’re going to be rescued any time soon? I think we may be here for the long haul.” She huffs.

Frankie bites down on his lip.

“If you wanna live in denial that’s fine, Frankie, but I can’t pretend that everything is okay when it’s not.” She snaps a little too harshly at him.

“I’m not in denial.” He corrects. “I-I have hope; there’s a difference.”

“Hope? I’m struggling to understand what that word even means right now.” Jude snorts.

Squaring his shoulders, Frankie looks out at the ocean marred by the dull sky hovering above it and feels that heavy pull in his gut. Jude’s despair is slowly matching the growth of his own; a silent spectre that haunts his every thought and action.

Despite his best efforts to remain optimistic, to cling to the belief that help will come, Frankie can't shake the feeling of impending doom that hangs over them like a dark cloud. It’s a relentless onslaught - a constant barrage of doubt and fear that threatens to consume.

He’s reminded of a time when he could drown out these muddled feelings with a quick fix - a line of cocaine to numb the pain and silence the voices of doubt echoing in the depths of his mind.

But on the island, he’s forced to confront those fears head on as he glances down at the incessant aching tremble in his fingers, reminding him of this new, terrifying reality he's wading in, as he balls his hand into a fist.

“We’ll get through this, look at what we’ve done,” his arm points out to the shack. “We can survive because we can support each other, okay? You lean on me, and I’ll lean on you. Deal?”

Jude looks out to the sea and the sky seems gnarly. “You hardly know anything about me, Frankie.” She says, bitterly.

He sits beside her on the rock. “And you don’t really know that much about me, either. But I know that you’re a survivor. If you weren’t, you’d be at the bottom of the ocean right now.” Frankie reminds her.

She looks at him, soft brown eyes burrowing their way in, and offers him a small glimmer of a weak smile.

“We can get to know each other better, right? It’s not like we’re going anywhere...” He trails off.

“Way to stay hopeful there, Fish.” Jude remarks with a pout.

He smiles at her use of his code name. “You know what I mean. Right now we’re here. Let’s make the most of it; keep busy. We can fish, cook and talk. Whatever you want, okay? If you need space, I can sleep in the cave.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Thank you,” she says to him. “I think if I was alone, I probably would’ve died by now.”

Frankie confirms. “No. You’re stronger than you think, hermosa.”

She smiles up at him. “What does that mean?”

He hesitates for a second. “It uh, it means… beautiful.”

She blinks in surprise, as she turns to meet his gaze. It’s a simple compliment, casually spoken, yet it carries a weight and significance that catches her off guard.

Jude’s face softens as she looks at him, a small tinge of pink blooming in his tanned cheeks under the wiry hairs on his face.

“Gracias,” (thank you) she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes shining at him with a mixture of surprise and delight.

The sky breaks later in the afternoon; those gray clouds rolling in from the sea bringing with them torrential rain.

The fire is extinguished; steam wafts from it in a small curl and the bottles they’d planted into the ground are filling with water and overspilling into the sand.

Jude twists the caps onto them and stacks the bottles inside the shack whilst Frankie’s outside checking the waterproofing on the shack’s outer walls.

“It’s holding together,” he says, with an accomplished smile as he steps back inside; his clothes utterly drenched and water from his cap dripping crystal lengths down his cheeks.

He reaches for the Finding Nemo towel and dries his face. “At least we have plenty of water again.”

Jude nods back at him with a relieved look about her.

He sniffs in and reaches for the spears. “You up for some more fishing?”

“Won’t we get wet?”

He looks at her like she’s stupid. “We’ll already be wet in the water.”

“I’m such an idiot!” She laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Well, I didn’t wanna point it out.” Frankie muses as she shoves him in the arm, following him out of the shack towards the bay.

They manage to collect some fish, but are unable to light the fire due to the rain pelting non-stop, so they don’t eat much. They share the last of the snack bag from the trolley stash sitting in the cave mouth together watching the rain, and once they’ve finished, Jude looks up at him with some concern.

“We’ll be okay with the fish.” Frankie persuades gently. “There might be some mussels or something around the rock pools. Maybe even some lobsters...” Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but the thought makes his mouth water.

“I’m going to dry off and change. Can you wait out here for a few minutes?” Jude asks him.

He nods, “of course.”

Frankie puts the fish inside the tin down by the side of the shack wall. The rain has already filled the tin and the fish are submerged in the water with their bubbly dead eyes looking up at him as they bob lifelessly around.

He looks up into the dank clouds as rainwater falls into his eyes.

He stands, affirmative and taught with his head pointing upwards into the direction of the sky itself letting the raindrops wash over his skin.

His eyes are closed and he allows himself to feel the sensations that each tantalising droplet has to offer as they beat over his face. His bare toes search their way into the damp soil and take root there, as if he’s connecting with the earth on some spiritual level unknown to anyone else.

His private sanctuary in which Frankie dwells for a stream of time that seems unrelenting and almost as if he’s at one with the elements.

Jude appears on the other side of the plastic sheet ready to tell him to come back inside and just looks at him for a few moments enjoying the rain.

It feels as though she’s invading on this private moment that seems to render her still with a quiet awe. Just watching as the rain soaks him as he leans back, face turned to the sky with a small smile blooming over his face.

It takes him a short while to come back to her level when she calls his name gently, and he opens his eyes smiling sweetly at her as if the show hasn’t occurred at all.

Once inside, she shuffles around awkwardly and says she’ll wait outside for him to change too, but then realises she’ll get wet all over again.

“It’s okay, you can stay inside.” Frankie reassures.

“I won’t look,” Jude promises and promptly turns around facing the wall.

She fingers some of the clay mud in between the planks of wood anxiously with her nail, as she hears him shuffling about behind her. She hears the buckle of his belt and imagines he’s dropped his shorts as she hears them plop onto the ground.

She shuts her eyes and tries not to think of him removing his boxers too.

Fuck.

“Okay, I’m done.” Frankie says and is pulling on a dry t-shirt as she turns around. He’s in new shorts and proceeds to ruffle the towel through his dripping curls.

“You alright?” He asks her, noting her bashful unease.

“Fine,” she replies smiling, and makes her way over to the cushion bed and sits down.

He sits beside her and reaches for a bottle of water and hands it to her.

She twists off the cap, takes a mouthful and hands it back to him. “Where are the fish?”

“I left 'em outside, figured they might start to stink in here. As soon as the rain stops, I’ll light the fire again and we can cook.”

“Sure,” she replies.

They sit together in silence and it’s all kinds of awkward the longer it lingers.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a board game or something.” Jude mutters after some time, and he smirks.

“A deck of cards. We could play poker; I’m good at poker.” Frankie replies.

“I’m not,” she laughs.

“Everyone’s good at poker, come on.”

“You’d see through my poker face immediately.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I have one of those faces that gives the game away.” She says, feeling a little hot under the collar still.

“Really? I think you don’t give much away at all.” Frankie states.

“What do you mean?”

“I never know what you’re really thinking; you hide your emotions well.”

“Dude, I’ve cried in front of you.” She reminds him.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to cry to be emotional, right?”

She thinks about it for a minute. “What makes you cry, Frankie?”

“Being kicked in the balls,” He remarks.

She snorts as she takes a sip from the water. “Have you been kicked in the balls a lot?” Jude enquiries.

“Once or twice.” He chuckles.

“Come on, what really makes you cry?”

He shrugs with those broad shoulders of his. “I dunno. I cried when my dog died.”

“You had a dog?”

“Yeah, when I was little.”

“What was his name?”

“Luca.” Frankie answers, accentuating the pronunciation.

“I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’m away a lot so it wouldn’t be fair, I guess.”

“What would you call it if you could have one?”

“Humphrey.”

“Why Humphrey?” Frankie questions.

“After Humphrey Bogart, of course.”

“Of course. How did you get into photography?” He enquires as he relaxes back on the bed.

“I love taking pictures and then it kinda just slotted into place. I started my own travel blog originally, and I just got some freelance jobs from that. Then I spent some time with a travel website and got regular work with them.”

“I assume your fiancé didn’t like you being away a lot.” Frankie puts.

“Oh, he coped fine. In fact, I doubt he noticed I was away a lot. He was more than pre-occupied and kept busy.” She remarks sourly.

“He sounds like a dick.” Frankie surmises.

“He is a dick.” Jude laughs.

“Well, it’s his loss,” Frankie says, gently.

Two molten brown eyes catch her own, and she reminds herself to swallow the water.

“Yeap,” she says after gulping. “It’s your ex-girlfriend’s loss too by the way.”

Frankie smiles, looking down at his bare feet. “Thanks.”

Two months on the island…

Life, stranded on the island, continued with much of the same for the next two months.

Yep, you read that right; two whole months had passed by, and with no rescue attempt either.

Frankie and Jude continued to fish in the bay, collect and ration the rain water to stay hydrated as best as they could, and spent the evenings talking and eating around the fire; star gazing on those clearer nights when the universe would give them a clandestine peep up its skirt.

To try and keep the boredom at bay, Frankie created a few games for them to play.

He dug holes in the sand up the beachfront of various sizes and spaced apart, and they would toss pebbles into them, keeping a tally of the score in the sand with who got the most pebbles in the holes - beer pong, but without the beer.

Sounds simple and incredibly mundane, but it kept them preoccupied for a while. They’d play Tic-Tac-Toe in the sand with shells and stones, and Jude always beat him, much to his dismay.

“You’re cheating. There’s no other explanation.” Frankie muses, with a frown as he places his shell down confidently only for her to block him making a line with her pebbles.

“I never cheat.” Jude confirms confidently.

“You better not be; you know what happens to bad girls who cheat.” He smirks, pursing out his lips as he rakes the stick through the sand drawing out another grid nonchalantly.

She looks up at him incredulously with cheeks that feel hot and decides it’s best to change the subject.

“You urm, you know how to play chess?” She all but squeaks out.

“Sure,” he nods and they play that too, trying to remember which stone or pebble they’ve allocated for their Bishop or Rook pieces.

“You can’t make that move, that’s your Knight.” Frankie corrects her, and laughs when she gets confused.

“Whoops.” Jude raises her eyebrows innocently

“I knew you were fuckin’ cheating.” He winks at her playfully as he places his Queen shell down. “Check Mate.”

They never spoke about the number of days racking up in Frankie’s notebook.

He was regimented in his routine of opening it up in the dim morning light and writing in it. He’d often scribble away in it for a while, lost in turbulent thoughts.

Jude never asked him what it was exactly he wrote in there, and she soon stopped asking him to tell her how many days it had been when they hit the thirtieth day on the island.

Frankie, of course remained cautiously optimistic, but whenever she looked at him with a concerned face, he no longer offered his monotonous words of “they’ll be here soon” to her anymore.

She didn’t want to hear it; he could tell by the way her face sank, and he didn’t have the strength to summon the words and their pointless inflection either.

The toiletries had halved considerably, despite rationing them out as best as they could. They discussed it and decided that instead of bathing in the sea daily, they would decrease and alternate between using shampoo and soap rather than both. They would no longer use them to clean their clothes either - plain old sea water would just have to do.

They would sit in front of the fire at night and he would teach her some Spanish, marvelling at her pronunciation attempts until she could converse with him in basic sentences.

“How do you say my Spanish tutor is doing a good job?” Jude asks him with a compliment.

“Mi tutor de Español está haciendo un buen trabajo,” Frankie replies in deep, Spanish gravel around his voice with a thankful nod and smile back at her.

“How about my head hurts?”

“Me duele la cabeza y estoy cansado.”

“How do you say I have sand in my underwear?” She giggles and Frankie can't help but smile at the sound.

“Tengo arena en mis calzoncillos.” He laughs, and then mutters, adding “quizás deberías quitarte los calzoncillos…” (perhaps you should take your underwear off…)

“What does that last part mean?” Jude enquires.

Frankie shakes his head at her trying not to grin, and doesn't elaborate any further on it.

They agree to use the razor for sparse grooming only, meaning Frankie will have to let his facial hair get wispier, and Jude wears her jeans more despite the heat, covering up the hair on her legs growing, even though he says she shouldn’t have to worry.

Yep, think about it, you ain’t going to be a hairless beauty on a desert island for very long. It isn’t like in the movies. In fact, Jude braves herself to look in the cosmetic mirror in the make-up bag one day, and can see her eyebrows are growing a little wild and her bangs are getting longer. She plucks her eyebrows, neatening them up as best as she can, inwardly cringing at the state of them.

She happens to notice she’s dropped some weight too. Two months of eating nothing but white fish and drinking only water sparingly would be a Keto dieter’s dream, right? She’s in the sea and cleaning herself down one morning, and can notice the difference in her torn jeans when they feel significantly looser as she dresses.

It’s a worrying thought, but it’s soon interrupted in its blooming by frantic shouting.

She looks up to see Frankie running towards her as she scrambles to throw on her t-shirt to cover her modesty.

“What’s wrong?” She questions with wide eyes as he dashes towards her; yelling for her to come quickly and grabs her hand.

He yanks her along with such force that she almost loses her footing.

He’s speaking as they run, but it’s all incomprehensible noise as her heart thunders in her ears as he pulls her through the trees and out to the other side of the island into the bay.

He points to the horizon - there’s a boat in the far, far distance.

“Oh my God!”

Frankie starts jumping up and down, waving his hands around and yelling. She starts doing the same too; her lungs and throat burning from the strain of her screams and wails.

The boat is a tiny white dot in the distance, glimmering as the light hits against it from the sun; it’s definitely there and not a mirage.

Jude looks around and realises the fire is on the other side of the island, on the rocky beach, and the hills are covering the wispy smoke. The boat won’t see it.

“HEY! HEY!” Frankie yells like he’s possessed.

“WE’RE HERE!” Jude screams at the top of her lungs.

She sees the flash of the boat again and they both stop shouting, realising with a swamping dread that the boat is disappearing from the horizon - it’s leaving.

“No!” She gasps.

“Come on, we can swim!” Frankie runs towards the water’s edge and she watches, horrified, as he dives into the sea after running fast through the shallows.

“Frankie, stop!” She runs after him as he powers through the waves. “Frankie!” She splutters as he swims further away from her.

“We can make it!” He shouts back at her.

“It’s miles out! It’ll be long gone before we can even catch up to it!” She protests, water splashing in her ears.

He doesn’t seem to hear her as he carries on swimming, lost to all rational reason and thinking.

“Frankie! STOP!” She yells at him again.

She catches up to him and reaches for his shoulder pulling him back. He tries to shake her off, but he stops dead in the water as she reaches for him again.

“Frankie, please! It’s gone!”

He looks back at her after being still; eerily unmoved and silent on the water’s surface for a few moments. The look on his face is worryingly blank and chills her to the bone immensely.

Frankie simply swims back past her, defeated and towards the shore; she follows with a racing heart.

When he reaches the shoreline he stomps up it, dripping wet and stops in his tracks, his hands balled into fists.

Several looks sweep across his face, similar in how a chameleon adapts to his surroundings; fear, frustration and then abject fury.

He stands before Jude, drenched and barefooted as she is, with a look of utter distaste continually changing and morphing on his face, shaking his head vehemently with flaring nostrils.

“Frankie.” She reaches out to touch him, but flinches away as he absolutely loses his shit.

He picks up rocks and hurls them into the sea with all of his might. Cursing and yelling out in Spanish profanities.

"¡Sácame de esta maldita isla! ¡Dios, ayúdame! ¡Infierno! Maldito hijo de puta! FUCK! FUCK!” (Get me off this damn island! God, help me! Hell! You fucking bastard!)

Frankie bellows and heaves, and eventually falls upon his knees in the sand, worn out; his fists squeezing and shaking in anger.

Jude becomes numb; frozen in her stance with eyes open wide, mouth opening wider. Unwilling and unable to move, for at that moment he controls everything on that beach front with his searing rage.

She can only watch horrified as his distilled and purified agony engulfs him as it rips him apart from the inside out.

She approaches him cautiously, and then clutches him in her arms and holds him tight. She hears him wheeze and gasp out through strangled, incoherent yells and groans dying in his native language as they shrink back into his hoarse throat.

He eventually breaks completely, sobbing inside her arms. His body is a rumbling earthquake as he gasps into her shoulder and chest, clutching on tightly to her.

What makes you cry, Frankie?

It’s enough to render Jude teary too, and they hold each other as she realises, aghast, that any shred of remaining hope that Frankie had been carrying all this time, had just died a horrible death in front of her.

She looks back out to the horizon in the desperate hope that the boat has re-appeared and is coming back for them.

It doesn’t. No-one comes back for them.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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roosterforme · 2 years

Text

Lips on You | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Rooster upsets you at the Hard Deck, he earns your forgiveness with his mouth and his tongue.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, somnophilia and smut

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Based on this request!

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? but it can be read on its own!

Check my masterlist.

You agreed to a Saturday night out at the Hard Deck with your boyfriend. You did not, however, agree to a night of watching all the single women paw at him all evening long. Maybe it was your fault since you asked him to shave off his mustache for you, because now every girl within a three mile radius was making a fuss over the cute stubble he had growing in.

"Oh my God, Rooster! You still look hot, even without the stache!" This one looked barely twenty-one and had on a glorified bikini top as her outfit. You were starting to feel like you couldn't leave him at the bar alone for more than a few minutes at a time. He kept getting cornered up there. And now bikini top girl was literally trying to touch his face.

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

"Seriously?" you asked, taking one of the bottles.

"What?" he asked innocently, grabbing a pool cue with his empty hand.

Phoenix stood next to you, shaking her head. "Don't play dumb, Bradshaw. You shaved your mustache off. Now you've got stubble. It's like a fresh meat feeding ground in here. All these girls think you look new and exciting, and you know it," she said with an eye roll.

"Yes! Phoenix is right!" you exclaimed, glad to have someone else on your side. "If I take my eyes off of you for one minute, one of them is going to drag you away," you said, gesturing to everyone sitting at the bar.

"Nah, you don't have to worry about that, Baby Girl," he promised, kissing you on the cheek and rubbing his stubble on your face before taking a turn at pool. You just sighed and sipped your beer. That was easy for him to say; he seemed blissfully oblivious. You wished he would do something to shut them all down.

When you and Bradley both needed another drink, you headed to the bar before he got a chance to get swarmed. But you could literally feel a set of eyes on you as you ordered and waited for Penny to get the beers. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a woman walk up to Bradley after she made sure you were distracted. "Goodness," you muttered to yourself.

But when you grabbed the drinks and turned back toward the pool table, you saw her writing something down on a napkin. And when you hustled back in that direction, you heard her tell your boyfriend, "Call me sometime, Roo."

You froze up and had to fight hard to control the urge to throw both drinks at her face. Your blood pressure increased, and your heart rate sped up. You were practically seeing red.

Roo?!

Oh, hell no. He was your Roo!

You listened as he lamely told the other woman, "Oh, no, I have a girlfriend."

She giggled. "Just keep my number anyway." You watched her tuck the napkin into his shirt pocket and pat his chest a few times for good measure.

"No, really. Thanks, but no thanks," he told her with a laugh, pulling it back out of his pocket and handing it back to her.

"You never know. Keep it just in case," she told him with a wink, but you grabbed the napkin out of her hand.

"The fuck he will!" You were practically yelling, and you watched the other woman back away with her hands held up in surrender.

Bradley looked at you with a smile on his face and a laugh on his lips. "Sweetheart, I told her I have a girlfriend. It was no big deal."

You were seething now as you shredded the napkin to bits and let the tiny pieces fall to the floor like confetti.

"No big deal? Did you hear what she called you?" you asked, and he shook his head slowly. "She called you Roo! That's what I call you, Bradley!"

"I honestly wasn't even listening to her, Baby Girl."

"Sounds like trouble in paradise," Hangman muttered, and you shot him a look too.

"Zip it, Bagman. If you were half as hot as you think you are, none of these women would be hanging on Rooster," you informed him.

Bradley started cracking up, literally doubled over laughing. "And you can zip it too, Roo. I'm ready to go home."

He had the decency to look abashed as you chugged your beer and set the bottle down softly. "Actually, you stay. Have fun. I'll get an Uber. Night, Phoenix."

You made it all the way to the parking lot and had the ride share app open on your phone before Bradley came running up behind you. "Sweetheart, wait! I'll take you home, okay? We can go back to your place."

You rolled your eyes and stopped in your tracks. "You want to come back with me now?"

"Of course," he replied, gently taking your hand in his and changing your course toward the Bronco. "Please?"

"Fine," you agreed, and he buckled you in and drove you back to your apartment in silence.

As you got undressed and got ready for bed, he was your shadow. He helped you pull your hair up into a bun, kissing your neck in the process. He got you a glass of water so you could take your birth control pill. He fluffed your pillow.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked softly when you rolled away from him after he reached for you in bed.

"Yeah, I am."

He was silent in the darkness for a moment. "Should I have been more firm? Told her I wasn't interested at all? Insisted she shouldn't call me Roo?" he asked softly.

You chuckled darkly. "Wow, it only took you an hour to figure that out."

More silence. "I'm sorry, Baby Girl. That's what I should have said to her. That's what I should have said to everyone. I... well, you know I don't have a lot of dating experience. And my words have never had much of an impact on anyone, ever. Sometimes I don't know what you expect from me. And I've never been in love before."

You felt your heart soften a little bit.

"But I'm not trying to make excuses for myself. You're the only girl for me, and I'll be better next time. Can you forgive me, Baby Girl?"

You rolled further away from him. "Maybe."

He sighed deeply but let you have your space.

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

When you woke up to the early morning light peaking through your window blinds, you felt cool air on your skin, and a sinful sounding moan escaped your lips.

"Ohhh," you whined. Your entire body felt relaxed from sleep, but you were simultaneously receiving so much unexpected pleasure.

Bradley was eating your pussy. You'd never woken up to something as insanely sexy as this before in your life. He was going slowly, seemingly allowing you to get used to the sensation as you woke up. His lips were spreading you open so he could taste all of you with his broad tongue, while softly stroking your thighs with his rough hands.

As you looked down at him and whimpered, he licked one stroke from your opening to your clit, swirling his tongue before saying, "Morning, Sweetheart. Can you forgive me for last night?"

You groaned, gripped his wavy hair in both of your hands, and guided his face back down to your pussy.

"Make me come, Roo. Then maybe I'll forgive you."

You didn't miss the smirk on his face as he nodded and lowered his lips to place a soft kiss to your pussy. He knew how to get you off, and you knew you would end up forgiving him. You were planning on forgiving him anyway; he had admitted he'd never been in love before you. And you knew he'd only had two other girlfriends.

You also knew he loved going down on you.

He ran his nose along your landing strip and through your wetness before he fucked you lazily with his tongue. Oh, the buildup was blissful; there was no urgency, no rush to the finish. You let your grip on his hair loosen as he pushed your thighs wider before replacing his tongue with his hand. He stretched you out and fucked you with two big fingers, all the way up to his knuckles. You hissed as his stubble rubbed you just right, the gritty sensation on your clit making you buck against him.

"Oh!" you grunted. You felt yourself squeeze his fingers, riding his hand as he wrapped his pink lips around your clit, softly at first, then with enough pressure that you were moaning his name.

"Bradley." Your broken whisper goaded him on. He sucked your clit between his lips, teasing you softly with the tip of his talented tongue. His fingers pumped into you, and you felt that first clench of your orgasm as your moans escalated.

You fleetingly gave thanks that your roommate was a very sound sleeper as Bradley's fingers hit that magic spot inside that had the pitch of your voice getting higher and higher as your chest expanded faster as you gasped for air.

Bradley's tongue rubbed you just right as your back arched off the bed, and you came on his face as your legs twitched.

Bradley withdrew his fingers, and you watched him lick them clean as he crawled up the bed to lay down beside you. "Please forgive me, Sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'll be better."

You kissed his mouth and rolled him onto his back. "You'd better be the best, Roo. Don't make me jealous like that again." You licked his tongue, tasting yourself in his mouth and playing with his hair.

"I'll be so good for you. You'll never want to leave."

You’ll never want to leave, Baby Girl!!!!! Hope you enjoyed this, nonny!

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You watched your boyfriend back away with a nervous laugh, one beer in each hand, as he made his way back toward you and the other aviators.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster smut #rooster x female reader

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Being Human - Part 3

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Remember that in this point in the season, we're in the year 2020 (DA season 2 was released in 2001). And we're about to dive into some rocky waters...

Chapter Summary: The weight of Alec’s secret is starting to create fractures. Because now, you have a secret of your own.

Song Inspo: “Attention” by Avant (ft. Snoop Dog)

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! For smut, elements of mate claiming, fluff, angst, perilous situations, and a cliffhanger...

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: Complications

These are the nights you live for.

The gang’s all here at Crash. You’re accompanied by Max, Logan, Original Cindy, and a fruity cocktail Alec got for you. Though you roll your eyes at the way your boyfriend is trying to hook people into playing a game of pool with him, clearly so he can hustle them. The man has freakish skills.

He’s already won two or three paychecks’ worth off Sketchy, who bows out by necessity.

“Come on. Anyone, anyone! Step right up and test your skills!” Alec calls throughout the back of the bar.

“Babe, would you give it up?” you say, even though you’re smiling. “No one wants to get swindled.”

He turns to you, zeroing in with a flirtatious grin.

“Want to try your hand, sweetheart?” he asks.

You snort. “I think not.”

“Aw, come on. We don’t even have to play for cash. How about sexual favors?” he offers. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes that idea, with a growing smile. His gaze locks on yours.

“I wouldn’t even mind losing,” he says, giving you a cocky wink.

You smile, fighting a blush. Max and Cindy roll their eyes. Logan ducks his head in amusement.

“That white boy nonsense actually works on you?” Cindy asks.

You take a decided sip of your cocktail in lieu of answering.

In the end, Logan steps up to the plate, to much cajoling. When he actually wins, Alec is forced to accept a bruised ago as he forks over $50.

You beckon him over and he joins your half-booth table. You lean against him after he slides in behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, and you know he doesn’t care all that much about the game.

You all cut up as usual for a while, laughing and telling stories from the day of package slinging. Logan patiently listens to all of you Jam Pony alumni commiserating over how each of you would choose to prank Normal (if there were no repercussions). Sketchy ends up with the best idea: putting super glue in the glue stick the man uses on his hair.

When the laughter dies down, Alec offers to buy the next round of beer. He often does, you’ve noticed; he’s a generous person, whether he thinks of himself that way or not. Logan gets up to join him at the bar, wanting to chip in for the pitcher with his “new winnings.”

You shake your head at that. Alec’s pride probably won’t allow competition from Logan for a second time tonight.

“We’re about to be short-staffed again,” says Cindy, earning your attention. “Jenny got knocked up.”

Max’s brows raise, while you give a happy clap and a sound of excitement.

“Oh, good for her! She and Carlos have been trying for months.”

“Hmph. That is one thing I’m not envious of,” Cindy says.

“No kids on your wishlist?” you ask.

“Not a chance, boo,” she replies.

You turn to Max next. “Are you in Miss Anti-Family’s camp too?”

“Hey, ain’t nobody said I’m anti-family,” Cindy cut in. “I believe it comes in all shapes and sizes, and they don’t gotta be your blood.”

You take a moment to think about what she’s saying, and you conceded with a nod and a smile.

“Fair enough, OC. You’ve got it right,” you gestured at her with the hand that held your drink. She clinks her half-empty beer with your glass. Both of you then turn to Max with expectant gazes, still waiting on her answer.

“I’m not into all that domestic stuff, really,” she says. Though her gaze drifts toward Logan, who’s still arguing with Alec at the bar. “My life’s complicated enough.”

Cindy snorts into her glass. You don’t quite get it; maybe because you don’t really know Max all that well, for how often you guys hang out. It’s like she keeps you at an arm’s length. It hurts you sometimes, when you see how close she is with Cindy, but you suppose it’s her right to keep her circle small.

The world’s become a lot tougher after the Pulse. The more people know about you, the more they can use it against you. That’s why finding people you can trust, and even love, is all the more precious.

You glance over at the bar again, where Logan and Alec have seemed to come to a consensus. (Logan’s bowed out of paying for beer.) Alec has a victorious little smile on his face. He looks over, as if sensing your gaze, and he shoots you a wink. Your smile grows.

Meanwhile, Max and Cindy watch you with twin looks of wry amusement.

“So you want the family package, huh?” Cindy asks.

You twirl your straw around your glass.

“I haven’t thought all that hard about it, but…I wouldn’t mind, with the right person.”

Max chortles, pointing a finger towards the bar. “You think that’s Alec?”

Cindy’s brows furrow slightly as she shoots her friend a warning look. You bite your lip and look down at your drink.

“Now’s not the right time but, maybe someday,” you reply.

Later that night, you treat yourself to a bath in Alec’s apartment. The heater here is amazing. His place is so spacious, with a huge TV in the living room worthy of his obsession with cartoons and soap operas.

He has another one in the bedroom, where he’s made himself comfortable watching some old sitcom.

When you eventually get out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, Alec is predictably glued to the TV. You don’t even think he’s noticed you when you walk by him to grab the change of clothes from your overnight bag, but he pulls you into his lap before you can get dressed.

“Why the hell do you need clothes?” he says, stealing a kiss. “Those cumbersome things.”

You giggle, and he smiles against your lips. He rolls you underneath him on the bed and you help divest him of his clothes, down to his boxer briefs. He’s in a good mood tonight, you can tell.

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your lightly blushing face.

He smiles, and he takes down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease.

He laughs against your skin. “You’re about to find out.”

Then his mouth drifts away from your neck, burning a hot, wet trail across your dewy skin. He finds his way between your breasts, before he lavishes attention to each one. While his tongue swirls around one pert bud, he rolls the other under his thumb and pinches just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you.

Your back arches off the bed a bit; your fingers rake through his sandy hair, clenching whenever he finds a sensitive spot. Both your grip and your voice spur him on, letting him know he’s in the right direction.

You don’t know this, of course, but before a few months ago, he wasn’t so well-versed in this arena. He’s learned his way down a woman’s body with much practice. And he’s come to find that every one of them is different, each with their own set of tells, as he likes to call them.

For example, he knows that even you don’t mind it fast and rough, you prefer it slow, like this. You like a full work up, with his lips dragging down below your navel and his thumbs guiding your knees open, so he can slot himself between your legs.

Already you’re breathing deeper as he makes his way down, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the inside of your left thigh. His tongue licks a languid stripe up the seam of your pussy.

“Alec,” you whine, like you want him to speed up the pace. Maybe you do, but all he gives you is a smirk from between your legs.

“Patience is a virtue,” he teases.

You huff and will yourself to be virtuous, closing your eyes with deep breaths. “Please…”

He chuckles. “I gotcha, baby. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides up your lower belly, both to comfort you and to hold you down. You cover his hand with yours, but your nails soon dig into his skin as his fingers deftly slip past your folds and find your entrance.

“Already drenched for me, I see,” he remarks approvingly. He gathers some wetness and finds your clit, circling with the pads of his fingers. He searches for the right angle, using the sound of your voice to guide him.

When you suck in a gasp and shudder, he knows he’s found the right spot. He replaces his hand with his tongue, while he slips two fingers deep inside you. As he works you over, unrelenting when your hips threaten to raise off the bed, he holds you down with a firm hand. Your hands fist in his hair as your eyes close and your mouth drops open with your moans.

Finally, you buck against his chin and let out a wordless cry. He feels your wetness coat his tongue and knows he’s making you come. Your inner walls are still quivering around his fingers when he slips them out of you. He actually licks them clean, making you shiver again at the sight.

Alec crawls back up the length of your body while you catch your breath. He smiles down on you and brushes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Not about to pass out on me, are you?” he asks. A teasing gleam is in his eyes. “I think I can resuscitate you.”

You laugh breathily in response and pull him down to you, crashing his lips to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, which isn’t unpleasant. Your nails drag down the back of his neck. Alec groans into your mouth and sinks his fingers into your hair.

Now he’s more on your wavelength as you reach for the waistband of his boxer brief and quickly roll them down. He helps you by kicking them the rest of the way off, allowing you to wrap your thighs around his hips tightly.

“Hey, wait a second,” he says, laughing with his forehead pressed to yours. He grabs your hips and angles you a bit higher, then he reaches between your bodies and holds the painfully hard, weeping head of his cock at your entrance.

He meets your eyes, and you smile and squeeze the back of his neck in encouragement.

As slowly as he can manage, he pushes inside you. He stretches open your inner walls inch by inch. Both of you take in deep breaths and utter mingled moans as he continues to push inside, until the head of his cock reaches the very depths of you.

You toss your head back against the pillow with a heavy breath.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “Just move, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He likes when you call his name, but he thinks he likes even more when you call him baby. He knows that you mean it, unlike women he’s had to pay for.

But he doesn’t want to think about any of those exploits when he’s with you—there’s no comparison. He slides out almost the full length of his cock, before he pushes back in. He builds a slow, sensuous, steady rhythm that serves both of you well.

He actually works up a sweat, and you help him by meeting his thrusts, encouraging him whenever you give him your voice, your instructions and praises, your hands attempting to squeeze the circulation out of his arms.

He's so focused on rocking your world (and his own) that he doesn’t realize what you’re about to do.

He’s deep inside you when you brush your hand along his jaw and utter the truth.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Alec pauses.

Both of you are breathing hard, but the fact that he doesn’t say anything makes you freeze. Neither of you have said that before. You hold in your breath.

Alec’s pupils are blown wide as he dips down, nosing along your throat before he begins to move inside you again. You moan in response as your legs squeeze his hips. He sinks his teeth just above where your neck meets your shoulder, making you gasp and arch against him, gripping his hair tight.

The way you’re squeezing him so tightly, from the inside out, means he reaches his shuddering end before you do, but he still makes sure you get there for a second time. His fingers reach between you to press and circle around your clit before his last few hard thrusts. It has you coiled tight, before you gasp and moan your release.

He licks a long stripe along your neck. You hiss in pain when he laps over tender flesh.

“Sorry,” he pants.

“You got me good, Count Dracula,” you quip.

Alec breathes warmly against your ear. He pulls back and examines the bite mark on your neck. He barely remembers doing it.

It’s like…some kind of claim.

Like an animal, he thinks wryly. For the first time, he wonders just what the hell they put into his cocktail at Manticore.

He clears his throat.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” he says, contritely. “Didn’t mean to…”

You slide your hands up his arms and catch his gaze. You smile in amusement, even though you’re blushing.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

The two of you don’t talk about what you said.

Or what he didn’t say.

You don’t know what’s happening, but you think it stems from that night.

Alec begins to pull away from you.

Dinner plans get “rain checked.” Trips to the farmer’s market, to the park, to Pike Place get cancelled.

For the next few weeks, the only time you see him is at work or at Crash, or occasionally in the line for boxed and canned goods in Sector 2.

Max can’t give you a straight answer on what’s going on with him (and really, you should be able to figure out your own boyfriend without her help). So you finally have to put your foot down.

You try to pull him aside at work, in front of the Jam Pony building. He’s on his way in, while you’d been on your way out.

“Alec, can I talk to you?” you ask. He gives you a strained, apologetic look.

“I’ve gotta pick up my next deliveries.”

“Alec, please,” you implore. You squeeze his arm enough to hold his attention. “I feel like…like you’re avoiding me. Is there something going on?”

His expression dims further. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“We’re always busy. That’s not it.” You frown, and your body tenses. “Is there…someone else?”

Alec briefly closes his eyes, emitting a short sigh. “No. Nothing like that.”

You let out a subtle breath of relief, because you do believe him this time. But that just makes your next question even more difficult. Your arms cross, to disguise the way you’re bracing for a figurative blow.

“Then…have I done something wrong?” you ask.

That hurts Alec even more. Though his training, so deeply ingrained, allows him not to show it.

“No. No, it’s not you,” he says, wiping a hand over his mouth. “It’s… Listen, I just think we needa slow down a bit, you know?”

“Slow down?” you ask. A trill of panic laces down your spine. “Is it about…what I said?”

Alec doesn’t want to answer, but you both know then that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“I just need some space,” he says. “I think it’ll be better for both of us.”

“Really?” you ask. Your voice flattens, and hot tears well up in your eyes.

It threatens to undo him. Somehow, he’s able to hold firm in what he believes he has to do, in order to protect you. Even from himself.

Alec reaches for your cheek. He hesitates just slightly, but he drops a kiss on your forehead.

You don’t want to let him. You can’t help it though; you savor his touch. You feel his warm lips on your skin, and then he’s gone by the time you open your eyes.

A few days later, you still feel like hell. You manage to reach your locker and you lean against it. Your stomach churns with nausea—the constant sign of your stress as you try to get through your morning.

On the TV, some government agent is exposing a genetics company called Manticore. That it created “transgenic” subjects as genetically engineered soldiers, often using animal DNA. They escaped almost a year ago now.

They’re not human. They’re living among you. They’re dangerous, and you have a right to be scared.

You’re only half-listening, because the truth is, this sounds like a bunch of fearmongering bullshit, and you’re too tired to be all that alarmed. Humans are dangerous enough, as far as you’re concerned.

The government is probably trying to cover up something even more heinous by concocting this ridiculous story.

You rest your cheek against the cool metal of your locker and just stand there for a while in time in space. You don’t care much about the world around you, until Max comes into your line of vision. She touches your arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.” A vast overstatement, though you know that you aren’t convincing anyone.

You look up just in time to see Alec standing at his own locker. He’d been glancing at you and Max, but being caught by your gaze makes him turn away, closing his locker as he leaves.

Max’s lips press together. She returns her attention to you in thinly veiled concern.

“What happened exactly?” she asks.

“Max, I don’t know,” you confess. “Things were fine. They were good.”

You let out a deep, exhausted breath.

Oh yeah, you haven’t been sleeping much lately either.

“Deep in my gut, I have this feeling. Like he’s going through something,” you say. “Or he’s hiding something from me. He just won’t talk to me. Every time it feels like we’re headed somewhere good, solid, he pulls away. I can’t fucking do it anymore, Max. I just can’t take it.”

You slam your locker closed and try to get on with your day before your tears fall. Max sighs and watches you go.

She doesn’t know that you head to the bathroom and heave your breakfast into the toilet bowl, spilling what little you could keep down this morning.

You haven’t been sighted at Crash in weeks, but Alec comes here every night, Max notices. He drinks alone tonight, once again looking more woe is me than ever.

It boils her blood.

She takes a seat next to him and punches his arm with a heavy dose of her transgenic strength. Alec flinches with a cry of protest, but she just glares at him.

“Why are you doing this to her? To yourself?” she demands.

Alec wants to glare at her, but he doesn’t have it in him. He just quirks his head and sips his drink. He doesn’t even know what kind of liquor this is, but the bartender promised it’s the strongest thing he has back there.

“Leave it alone, Maxie,” Alec says, as he takes a sip. Though strongest be damned, he’s slammed down four of these and he’s still not drunk. Ain’t that a bitch.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“I don’t?” Max raises her brows. “You’re fucking with her head and her heart. And for what? So you can have a little pity party?”

Alec does glare at her this time. “You know what, why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Not until you tell me,” she demands. “Why’re you pushing away someone who clearly cares about you? Not that I get why. If this selfish, pigheaded, asshole behavior is supposed to be charming, then maybe she’s better off without you.”

He slams down his glass hard enough for liquor to slosh out over his hand.

“Don’t you get it?! That’s exactly it,” he hisses, low enough that only the two of them can hear. “When are you going to understand that we’re a threat to them? We’re being hunted every damn day. You think Ames White and his cult cronies’ll think twice about a little collateral damage?”

“Alec—”

“You think you and Logan are any different?” he adds. “Let me remind you, you were a danger to him even before a genetically engineered virus came into the picture.”

She’s angry, but he knows she can’t argue with logic. They both know that Alec is speaking from a place of experience.

“So you’re just gonna break her heart?” she asks. “Again?”

Alec shakes his head and casts his gaze down into brown liquor. Max leans toward him with a steely glower.

“You’re a coward,” she says, before she slips away.

Alec wipes his wet hand on his jeans.

…Maybe she’s right, he thinks. You’ll probably end up regretting the day you ever met him, but at least you’ll be alive to hate him.

“Oh God,” you utter, a hand covering your mouth.

You haven’t been to the doctor in several years, but you managed to scrape enough money together to afford this little test. It gave you a more definitive answer on why you’ve spent the last few weeks fighting sickness and fatigue in equal measure.

How could this have happened? You were on birth control. What could possibly have…

You don’t know what possesses you to go hunting for the little round packet in the medicine cabinet. You examine its contents and confirm that you haven’t missed even one pill of your pharmacy-issued birth control.

On the bottom of the packet, however, you spy something small in the fine print: EXP – 02/2017.

Expired…THREE YEARS AGO?!

Apparently, you can’t put it past pharmacies to sell outdated meds now.

You sit alone on your couch in silence for nearly an hour. You run down every scenario, every path you could possibly take and try to consider its most likely outcome.

Medical care is a joke nowadays, unless you're still part of the wealthy 1%. That also includes...termination.

Even you did try to find a way to do it, somehow scrounging up the money to end this, the thought alone makes your heart ache.

Alec is young, and so are you. You two had barely been together for six months before he basically broke up with you, and you're not even sure how he'll react when you tell him. (At this point, you don't have high hopes.)

And yet, it hurts. What you'd told Original Cindy was the truth; you want a family. You're tired of being alone, even though the two options laid out before you scare you in equal measure.

A thousand thoughts are still running through your mind, contradicting each other with brutal logic, versus what your heart tells you. But one decision is certain...

You need to talk to Alec first.

You wait until the morning at Jam Pony HQ, when you’ve settled your nerves enough to see Alec.

He never shows up for work, even an hour into shift. Damn it.

Okay, you suppose you’ll have to do this another way. You grab your phone, and you call him.

Thankfully, he picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, a bit awkwardly. The two of you haven’t spoken in nearly a month.

“What’s up?” He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds guarded, almost hesitant.

“We need to talk, Alec.”

He blows out a sigh. “Look, I haven’t changed my mind.”

You swallow past the pain.

“I know," you dully reply. "It’s not about that, but this isn’t a conversation I want to have digitally.”

“...Okay,” he relents, with another sigh. He sounds a bit distracted. “Uh, I’m taking care of something right now, but I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you stop by my place after work?”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

Of course, it’s hard to focus on your work after that. You wonder how many months you have until you can’t work anymore. Until you’ll have to fend for yourself…and for your child.

With or without Alec, you plan to do whatever it takes.

So you do your best, as you always do, to get through your day. You fight exhaustion and nausea and anxiety with every delivery, but at the end of the day, you have a clipboard full of signatures and a clean docket.

You leave right at 7:00 p.m. to head over to Alec’s apartment. You use your spare key to unlock the door and find the apartment shrouded in darkness. You flip on the closest light switch before you turn to shut and lock the door behind you.

The door pushes open abruptly.

It knocks straight into you and throws you off your feet. You crash with a pained cry into a wooden table, knocking off a half-empty glass of whiskey that cuts into your arm when it breaks.

A pair of strong hands take hold of you and haul you up, spinning you around. You stare up with wide eyes into the face of a man you think you’ve actually seen before. He’s tall, white, dark hair, piercing eyes.

On the news, you realize. You saw him on the news.

“Where is 494?” he demands to know.

You blink in confusion and fear. “What?”

The man rolls his eyes.

“Alec McDowell,” he says.

Your breath stills in your lungs.

“Why’re you looking for him?” you ask. “You…you work for the government.”

“That’s right.” His smile is thin. “It’s a federal matter. And I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

His grip on your arm tightens enough to make you whimper.

“I don’t know where he is,” you blurt out. Mostly because it’s the truth.

He raises a brow. “He lives here, doesn’t he?”

You refuse to answer, but the man lowers his gun and seats you forcefully on the couch.

“Then we’ll wait.”

Minutes turn to an hour. Alec’s late—a fact you’re half relieved about, and half cursing him for. You turn to the man who holds you at gunpoint without even looking at you. Though you instinctively know that any attempts to run will be short-lived.

His men wait by the door with guns at the ready.

“Who are you?” you ask.

The man turns his head and gives you a cold smile. “Agent White, at your service.”

“Okay, Agent White. Why are you after Alec?”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for him for a long time,” he says.

You frown, with pursed lips. “Why? What do you think he’s done?”

“It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he is,” White says. “Him, and everyone like him.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you snap.

White rolls his eyes. He lets out a sharp sigh before he stands. He grabs you up along with him. Fear churns inside you, tightening in your throat.

“I have a better idea,” White says. “Instead of using you as leverage to make him come quietly, I think I’ll just let him walk in, nice and easy. He’ll find you gutted. On the floor. And then I’ll do the same to him.”

Frightened tears well up in your eyes when his grip moves and tightens on your jaw, like he’s thinking about breaking your neck.

“Wait, please!” you plead. “I’m pregnant!”

White actually pauses, tilting his head. He smiles.

“Interesting.”

AN: Ames White has entered the chat...

EDIT (2-05-24): I made some edits here on the reader's thoughts of what she should do after her discovery. In hindsight, I realized I'd left out some aspects of the world. Specifically how access to medical care would influence her decision vs. what this particular character wants for herself.

Next Time:

“Hello, 494.” A man’s voice—one that Alec would know anywhere. It prickles his skin with unease and makes his blood boil all at once.

“Ames White.” Alec’s teeth grind. “What game are you playing now?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s business,” White claims. “I have something you want. How much are you willing to pay to make sure she stays alive?”

Alec forces himself to calm down, even though his pulse is racing.

“What do you want?”

“You. And 452. With no bullshit on your end,” the agent replies. “Or this girl is going to pay that price for you.”

Keep Reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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traumxrei-archive · 11 months

Text

【 epilogue : winter’s aftermath 】

summary tags: the end of winter break (+ this series), pov: everyone’s reactions to leonayuu being leonayuu, ruggie is having a great time, jack doesn’t get it, crowley's sobbing, grim expects more fancy tuna, and cheka’s just a sweetheart <33

word count: 3.6k

author’s note: here’s the epilogue ^^ i hope that you enjoy the last fluffy bits of this series, and happy birthday to leona kingscholar <33

[ baby it’s cold outside series | read on ao3 ]

i. ruggie and jack

The days that preluded the end of winter break was filled with hustle and bustle. Many of NRC’s students were frantically packing last minute, and saying heartfelt goodbyes to their families as the new semester approached.

Ruggie, for one, was trying to figure out how he was going to lug all of his luggage back to Savanaclaw. His Bibi meant well, but she could be a bit of a worrywart. What started out as a few herbal medicine ingredients soon turned into many, and she insisted that he should share with his friends if they ever needed it.

“I doubt that they’d drink any of that stuff I give them, Bibi,” Ruggie said, casting a levitation spell over his luggage and stringing it down main street.

“Ruggie-senpai!” Jack called out. He was decked out in full winter gear, a messily knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. Ruggie snorted, waiting for his junior to catch up.

“You just got back?” Ruggie asked, tugging at the end of Jack’s scarf. “And what’s this?”

“Oh, uh,” Jack’s ears twitched, clearly embarrassed. “My sister made it for me. It’s actually pretty warm. Have you gone to visit Leona-senpai yet?”

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’, shedding his jacket as they entered the Savanaclaw mirror. “I am not looking forward to how messy his room is gonna be.”

Jack unwrapped his scarf, gently placing it in his bag, “Yuu told me that they were doing Leona a favor or something, so maybe it’ll be okay.”

Ruggie blinked. Yuu and Leona spending winter together…? Well if that didn’t sound like a recipe for disaster, then he didn’t know what would. He quickly dumped his bags in his room, taking the quickest route to Leona’s room.

“Are you worried?” Jack asked, having followed behind him.

“About Yuu-kun more than anything,” Ruggie muttered as he reached for the door. “You know how Leona-san can be sometimes.”

The door creaked open, and the two were greeted with…Leona sitting on the couch while Yuu was mid-stride seemingly pacing around the room.

“Oh, hi,” Yuu greeted. Their posture betrayed their awkwardness more than anything that was actually was going on.

“Hi Yuu,” Jack said, leaning against the doorway. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I, uh,” They glanced down at Leona, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Leona tried to cheat his way out of doing one of the worksheets so I came back to scold him.” And that was when Ruggie noticed something off.

He glanced around the room. It was…neat. Neater than he had seen it for ages. Heck, even the bed was nicely made. And in the corner he spotted what looked like Yuu’s bag sitting right in front of Leona’s closet. Not to mention…

“C’mon, herbivore,” Leona drawled, spinning the pen in his hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over a single worksheet.” Leona didn’t look the slightest bit annoyed at being up early with a worksheet right in front of him. Instead, he was just focused on them, barely looking over at him or Jack.

“Leona-senpai, Yuu’s heating and cooling depends on this,” Jack said, and Ruggie could see the twitch of Leona’s brow clear as day. Uh oh. “Cut them some slack.”

Something had changed. Ruggie could hazard a guess, but he did not want to stick around and face the wrath of Leona’s anger this early in the morning.

“Listen here, pup,” Leona said, irritation in his tone. “Winter break ends in two days. I’ll get it done by then.” Jack, on the other hand, seemed confused at the sudden hostility.

That was when Yuu stepped in, "You said you'd finish early so we could go to the botanical garden." Miraculously, Leona leaned back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Everything's too loud today," The gripe was halfhearted, and Ruggie's jaw could've dislocated from how low it was dropping. The Leona Kingscholar...calming down just like that?

Yuu carefully sat down beside him, "Then why don't we go to Ramshackle, your Highness?"

"Don't call me that," Leona huffed, though Ruggie didn't miss the way his tail instantly wrapped around their leg.

"You said you liked it," They teased, before turning to them again. "How was you guys' winter breaks?”

Leona seemed to frown as they started conversing with Jack. And Ruggie..well, he prided himself on being able to read the room, so he very promptly turned around, shoving Jack out of the room.

"Wh– Ruggie-senpai–"

"Ah, sorry, Yuu-kun!" Ruggie called out. "I forgot I have something to do with Jack-kun, talk to you next time!” Jack didn’t know just how close he was to getting sent to do lap.

And Ruggie couldn’t bite back the grin on his face either. Now he had a cheat card to dealing with Leona’s bullshit. He made a mental note to give Yuu some of the herbal medicine that his Bibi gave him, because Seven knows that they would need it.

ii. crowley

Crowley was having quite the headache of a day. It came with running the school single-handedly, he supposed, and he almost mourned the loss of sandy beaches and the cold drinks that he had savored just the day before.

Alas the show must go on. He was the illustrious headmage of NRC after all!

And he was on a mission to find his favorite student. He wasn’t supposed to play favorites, but he found himself particularly endeared to the Ramshackle Prefect, Yuu. They were a good kid, better than the other troublemakers at the college.

So he often found ways to give them things, such as the phone that he conveniently gave them before winter break. (For communication purposes only. Definitely not because he was worried or anything.) Or the task he gave them before winter started. (He knew how dreary Ramshackle got, so the school’s heath would give them the warmth they needed.)

“Ah, there you are!” He exclaimed, finally finding Yuu amongst the shelves at Sam’s Store. “I was looking everywhere for you, Prefect!”

Yuu was dressed well for the cold weather, and he could see they were wearing the gifts that the other staff members gave them, “Headmage. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, the beaches were— wait that’s not what I’m here for!” Crowley coughed into his hand, a bit flustered. They were the only student out here that was polite enough to ask him such questions. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the completion of your tasks! The fairies were buzzing about your timeliness.”

“Oh, uhm,” They awkwardly shuffled around the snacks in their arms. They always got like that when he complimented them a bit too eagerly. “Thanks I guess. And our heating and cooling?”

“Oh,” Crowley blinked, remembering the empty words he spouted before winter break. He didn’t think they would really take it to heart. “The fairies are more than happy to help out to make Ramshackle more hospitable, so I shall send them over soon. And you’ve outdone yourself with your other task, so don’t hesitate to ask for something else.”

“Hey, hey! Little imp and Crowley!” Sam greeted, ever the jovial. “What an interesting combo! Crowley, did you finally get them your gift?”

“Gift?” They asked, staring with what Crowley would say was just a little bit of hope. Argh. His conscience was hurt.

“I should have given this to you before winter but,” Crowley laughed nervously. “I was just…so busy with the mirror business—“

“Crowley was wailing to us in the teacher’s chat about how ‘his child would freeze without his gift’ and what not,” Sam said conspiratorially.

“I-I was not!” Crowley sputtered, finally pulling out the small gift. “There. Please use it well.”

Yuu opened the small box, a smile spliting on their face, “Are these…socks?” They were, indeed, socks. Not just any socks, the best thermal socks on the market. With the NRC logo on it. But they didn’t need to know that part.

“Yes, well, a good pair of socks goes a long way!”

Yuu laughed, “You’re right. Thank you, Headmage.”

“I-It was the least I could do. And Sam, I was simply congratulating Yuu-kun on a job well done,” Crowley tapped his cane on the ground, trying not to be too proud that Yuu liked his gift. “They managed to get Kingscholar-kun to finish all his worksheets for this winter break.”

Sam blinked, “That’s a magnificent feat! What kinda black magic did ya use on Kingscholar?”

“Yeah, herbivore, what kind of magic did you use to persuade me to do schoolwork?” The group immediately startled, watching as Leona leisurely walked over, slinging an arm over their shoulder.

Yuu seemed to fluster, “I…we just exchanged favors. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Sam hummed, a grin on his face. “My friend from the other side is telling me something interesting happened over the break.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes as Leona smirked, “W-Wait a minute! Kingscholar-kun! What did you do to the Prefect?” Nothing good could come out of Leona Kingscholar looking so…so triumphant!

“I didn’t do anything,” Leona said coyly. “If anything it was Yuu who suddenly—“

“Okay, enough,” Yuu interrupted, tugging Leona out of the store. And the weird thing was Leona easily followed. “Me and Leona have something to discuss. See you two later!”

As they hurried away, it finally dawned on Crowley.

He pointed a half crooked finger toward the exit, “Are they…dating?”

“Seems so to me,” Sam snickered. “I think they make a cute couple.”

No…Crowley couldn’t accept it. There’s no way his beloved child was dating Leona Kingscholar. There was no one in NRC that Crowley could wholeheartedly approve of dating Yuu. Especially not Leona. Not on his watch.

“That— Kingscholar!”

iii. grim

Grim wasn't stupid. He wasn't into complicated stuff like classes, but he sure noticed the new development that had happened over winter break.

Leona Kingscholar, the scary– ahem, lazy beastman from Savanaclaw...was always with his henchman nowadays. When they had alchemy homework, he was always there in a labcoat next to them. When they studied in the library, he was dozing beside them. And especially during meal times like this! He helped himself to the food that they cooked. And the worst part was the fact that the henchman didn’t seem to mind.

It was to the point that it was worrying, because his henchman was his! Their one and only boss was him, Grim the Great, after all!

But it seemed that Leona was trying to steal his henchman away from him.

Grim narrowed his eyes as the henchman left to grab some water, "Hey. Why are you trying to steal my henchman from me?"

"Hah?" Leona glanced at him before takong another bite out of his lamb chops. "Who's stealing from who?"

"I mean!" Grim stood up on his chair. "You're always around them these days, yanno!"

Leona scoffed, but he seemed to consider his words before finally speaking, "How 'bout a truce, furball? They stay your henchman and they're my herbivore. Deal?"

Well. First of all, Grim wanted to take offense at being called furball. It was clearly an insult to his (very cute) and intimidating fire ears.

But that...

"Hmph. Fine," Grim pointed his paw toward Leona's plate. "But I want one of those!"

Leona grinned, tossing a lamb chop onto Grim's plate, "Pleasure doing business with you."

As Grim chewed on the lamb chop, the henchman returned, two glasses of water in their hands, "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothin'"

"Nothing."

The beastman and monster stared at each other for a moment before going back to their food. Grim kept an eye on Leona, who was being more touchy than usual. He kept poking the henchman and the henchman looked...

That was when Grim remembered Ace being all gross and talking about his past dating escapades. And that was when it clicked.

"Henchman," Grim glanced between the two with hesitation. "Are you two...dating?"

Yuu choked on their bread, and Leona wordlessly handed them his water.

"Yeah," Leona stated, rubbing their back lightly. "Why?"

"Nothin'! It's just," Blue eyes scanned Yuu, before thinking back to the many people at NRC who definitely expressed interest in them. "Henchman, I think ya could've done better, yanno?"

Leona's eyes narrowed, "You little–"

And that was how Grim spent some time running away from the beastman who chased him around Ramshackle. Meanwhile the ghosts were congratulating a still-shellshocked Yuu, so Grim's yells for help went unanswered. At least he got a lamb chop out of the whole ordeal.

iv. leona

It was official. Maybe Leona was finally starting understanding where Falena was coming from when he gushed over his queen. Leona himself could barely keep himself from thinking about Yuu once every few minutes.

It would be embarrassing to admit just how many times he had been distracted enough that his gaze kept drifting toward Yuu.

Yuu who was comfortably nestled against him, scrolling on their phone. He wrapped an arm around their waist, nuzzling into the plane of their back.

"What's this about?" They asked, their hand patting his own.

"Nothing," He said, his voice muffled as he felt their heat seeping into his fingers.

His thoughts couldn't help but drift back to their conversation that fateful day.

And until that moment Leona had never realized how similar they were. Their words were a mirror of his own, down to the talk of the word ‘deserve’.

He spent his life being a slave to that word. 'I deserve to be king.' 'I deserve to be the dormleader.' 'I deserve to win in the magift tournament.’

All the thoughts of 'deserve' in his life never led anywhere useful. Did he ever want to be king, or was it just the words of others around him that filled him with such hatred for his own existence that the throne was the only thing that he thought would fix it?

If he truly wanted something he should fight for it. And if he lost, and still wanted it, then he would try again. That was what he understood now. And that was what lead him to Yuu.

It still wasn't fully resolved. Leona still had his doubts on whether he could truly care for them properly. And he sure as hell hadn't figured out just what got Yuu to have such a warped perception of him. But…

His arms tightened around them. It was something that they could figure out at a later date. For now, he would settle for the way their heart rate seemed to spike as he softly stroked their stomach.

He pressed a kiss against their shoulder, “Why’s your heart rate going up?”

“Ugh,” They sighed. “I hate that you can hear that.”

“Why’s that herbivore?” Leona’s hand drifted, until he could swipe the hair away from their nape. He learned that they were especially reactive when he kissed their neck. He pressed his lips against their skin, smirking as he heard their heart rate speed up, “Kinda cute that you do that.”

Yuu shifted until they were facing him, a frown on their face, “If you want to kiss me, you should just ask Leona.”

“You were busy,” He murmured, though he didn’t hesitate to close the gap of space between them.

“If you asked me to, I would’ve put down my phone earlier,” They said, their breaths sounding a bit short as Leona’s nose brushed against theirs.

“You’re so in love with me, aren’t you?” Leona drawled, suppressing a laugh at their expression.

Instead of saying anything, they leaned forward and pecked his lips. Something must’ve shown on his face, because they grinned, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

And then Leona couldn’t hold it any longer. He leaned in, their arms readily wrapping around him as they kissed. Leona couldn’t hide his impatience as he licked into their mouth, the startled noise they made turning his rationality into mush. He never thought he would ever have such greed for another person before. But this… Their hand that was buried in his hair tightened and he tilted his head further, their noses brushing when—

BRIIING—!

Leona flinched back at the obnoxious ringtone. He could see Yuu trying to catch their breath, blinking a few times to gather their bearings. Did he really have to answer the phone?

“Answer it,” They said gently. He pecked their cheek before pulling back. He found his phone on the table, the name flashing on the screen making him roll his eyes.

Meddlesome Falena

He looked over his shoulder, “It’s Cheka. Are you ready yet?” They raked their hand through their hair, the strands falling messily around their face as they gave him a thumbs up. Dammit…they were unfairly pretty at times.

And as Leona internally cursed, he pressed the 'answer call’ button.

v. cheka (+ family)

“Hello? Hello! Papa, I can’t see Ojitan, I can only see black!” The cheerful voice that rang out made Yuu chuckle slightly.

Leona seemed to hesitate before opening the camera, “That’s because I haven’t opened my camera yet, brat.”

“OJITAN!” The squeal that Cheka let out was quite frankly earshattering. They winced before moving into frame. “Oh! Huh? Yuu-tan! Yuu-tan’s here too!”

They answered Cheka’s enthusiastic waves with a greeting of their own, “Good to see you too, little lion.”

“How come Yuu-tan is here already?” Cheka wasn’t the best camera man. They were getting a very interesting angle of Cheka’s chin and shoulder.

“Uh…” Yuu trailed off, glancing at Leona.

“Who cares?” Leona grumbled. “Why did you call?”

But Cheka didn’t seem interested in knowing anymore, “Papa! Look, Yuu-tan’s here too.” Yuu immediately straightened their posture, while Leona took this time to yawn.

“Alright, alright,” They could see the camera shake before light flooded the screen. Falena was now proping the camera up, a colorful tapestry behind him as he held Cheka in his lap. “Hello brother. And Yuu-san too! This is perfect, hold on a second—“

“Papa’s calling Mama over,” Cheka helpfully added as Falena turned to talk to someone off camera. “Mama was very interested in what we did.”

“Tch,” Leona said, looking like he swallowed a particularly bitter medicine. Maybe he didn’t have the best relationship with his sister…?

“Do you not like the queen?” Yuu asked quietly.

“No,” Leona answered, albeit a bit reluctantly. "If she went asking that means that she already figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

Leona leaned against their shoulder, “Wait and see.”

They gulped as another figure entered the camera’s view. An intimidating beastwoman traditional garb swathing her in colorful fabrics. She was a lioness beastman, they noted, matching Falena almost perfectly in her regal appearance. For a moment there was silence across the line.

And then a smile cracked on her face, “So. Who was the one who confessed first?” What? Falena seemed to echo their sentiment, his expression shifting from confused to realization to shock.

While Yuu was still in shock, Leona volunteered a hand, “I did.”

They sputtered, “You— You proposed at first.”

“Hmm… You were braver than Falena, then,” She tilted a head toward her husband. “It took him a whole three years to actually propose.”

“Oh gods above,” Falena muttered, still out of his mind. “Leona’s engaged? He…my baby brother…” It seemed that it didn’t take much for Falena to be shocked.

“We’re dating. Da-ting,” Leona emphasized each syllable like he was talking to a child. “The proposal was a gimmick.”

Now Yuu snorted, “You seemed to be seriously considering it before.”

“Yay!” The loud shout disturbed the calm atmosphere. It was clear that they had all forgotten that Cheka was in attendance. He swung his arms around, pumping his tiny fists in the air, “Yuu-tan and Ojitan are getting married!”

“Uh…Cheka,” Falena said tentatively. “That’s not—“

“Well before that, they would need to visit the Savanna, right, m’toto?” The queen seemed to be seriously thinking about it. Wasn’t it…a bit fast? “I for one, would like to get to know you first.”

Cheka seemed to agree, nodding furiously, “I’m gonna take Yuu-tan to all my favorite spots!”

“Wait, we’re not actually engaged,” Yuu laughed nervously. This development was not what they were anticipating. How were they supposed to know that the Queen would be this interested in Leona’s partner?

But Leona didn’t seem phased, “I’ll bring them the next time we have vacation.”

“Leona??” They glanced at their boyfriend before looking at the screen. “Why are you going along with this?”

“Cuz,” Leona grinned at them mischievously. “We can’t have you running away from me, can we?”

“Yup!” Cheka chimed in. “Yuu-tan’s family now!”

Yuu had a feeling that they didn’t quite understand what they were getting into when they dated Leona. And now they were suffering the consequences. But well…

A vacation in Sunset Savanna didn’t sound bad. Plus they would be sponsored by the Royal Family, and they could bring Grim along. And Leona would be there.

It was a fitting end, perhaps. They started this vacation wondering about families, having not remembered their own. And it seemed now that winter was over, they were heading into spring with a brand new family.

Their friends. Crowley and the teachers. And now Leona and Cheka.

Maybe this family they had gathered wasn’t such a bad thing afterall. Yuu squeezed at Leona's hand lightly. And Leona nudged them with his elbow in return, giving them a smirk.

It was a fitting end indeed.

and…that’s a wrap !! congratulations for getting to the end of the baby it’s cold outside series !!

it’s kind of a bittersweet thing when things end, but i decided to look at it in a positive way, because finally leonayuu's story is out there for everyone to enjoy ^^

(plus, i guess now everyone can look forward to the other leonayuu brainrot fics i’ve written >:D)

thank you for reading until this far, and i hope that you’ve enjoyed your journey :> if you’d like to read more of my writing, please check out my masterlist <3

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#/trau writes #/trau fics #we've reached the end *crowd cheers*#leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fics

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callsignspark · 1 year

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anything for you | part two

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, implied child neglect, descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks, discussion of insecurities, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 5.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: here's part two, thank you to everyone who read the first part and left such kind comments - you're all so lovely!

Thursday, June 22, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 1332 PST

“When you asked if I was free for lunch, I thought this was going to be a fun, sexy thing.”

“And you thought garlic-and-onion-filled gyros were the appropriate pairing for a sexy lunch?” She snorts, rolling her eyes when he keeps talking, ignoring her teasing.

“I wouldn’t have said yes and ordered your favorite-” Jake pauses to shove a huge bite into his mouth “-if I knew you were just going to torture me with this stuff.”

“That’s disgusting, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Rebecca looks at him with disdain when he opens his mouth to show off his half-chewed food. “How you were voted California’s most eligible bachelor eight years in a row is a complete mystery to me.”

“I never had lunch with the selection committee.”

She smiles at his joke, then straightens up, getting down to the matter at hand. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I don’t care what color our napkins are.” He groans, flopping back into the loveseat where they’re sharing lunch.

“Well, neither do I!” She huffs, flapping the fabric samples toward his face. “Pick one: pearl white or ivory cream.”

“Those look fucking identical.”

“They basically are.”

“So why does it matter?”

“Because Michelle needs an answer today on what we want for the reception, so please pick one.”

“I want whatever you want, darling.” Her blood heats up; the combination of the condescending pet name and how attractive he manages to be while lounging on the uncomfortable corporate-chic cushions is practically lethal.

She practically whines his name, tired of the back and forth on a conversation they’d already had three times. “Stop being a patronizing dickhead and just pick one of the nearly identical napkin options.”

“The right one.”

“Perfect, a fantastic choice.” She tosses the samples on the table and pulls out her phone to text the decision to their wedding planner. “You know, it would be nice if you would help make some of the real decisions for this wedding, too.”

“But you’re doing such a great job! And besides, I’m giving valu-”

“If you say, “valuable input on the honeymoon” one more time, I will sit on you and shove that salad down your throat, I swear to god, Jacob.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll shove more than just the salad.”

He sits up, a huge grin lighting up his face. “Wow! You are so feisty today, Mrs. Seresin!”

“I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet; you pompous, jacka-” Her joking tirade is cut off by his desk phone.

“Honey, as much as I love it when you’re mean to me, gonna need you to hold onto that thought. I told Ginger to hold all calls while you were here unless it was an emergency.” He hustles to his desk, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he passes. “This is Jake Ser- okay. Okay, hold on, sweetheart, she’s right here. Just a second.”

He waves her over as he holds the receiver away from his mouth, “It’s your sister, and she’s crying.”

“What?!” She trips getting up, her mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. “Delilah? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Th-they-they aren’t-t-t…”

“Try to breathe, honey. Are you okay? Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” It’s a relief to hear, but Delilah’s breathing is too unstable to be comfortable.

“Alright, okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. Don’t want to trigger an asthma attack, so we’re gonna take deep breaths together, okay? Just like we used to when you were little.” The sisters breathe together, the older one making sure her inhales and exhales are loud enough for the younger one to hear over the phone.

It takes a few minutes, but Delilah’s breathing starts to level out. “Thanks, Becca.”

“Of course, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“My academic awards ceremony is tonight, and I’m probably getting a big math award, but Dad just called me to tell me that they’re not gonna make it because it’s Mom’s birthday! They’re going to dinner and then to the bars with the guys from Dad’s crew! Can you believe it?” Her voice is weak but borderline shrill. “It’s my senior year – the last big thing besides graduation – and they’re not coming!”

The last three words send Rebecca’s mind into a spiral. All the times she had heard that exact phrase and then been the one to care for her sister flashing through her mind. At seventeen, being forced to be a primary caretaker to an infant Delilah during the limited free time she had in between school and work. At twenty-eight, and parenting her preteen sister because her biological parents decided to go on a month-long trip to the Caribbean. Every time they had deemed something else more important than their child. The countless volleyball and softball games missed, cash wasted on tickets for the school musical, parent-teacher conferences that were straight-up ignored half the time. When Rebecca was younger, she would mourn the gas money burned and the free time stolen as she acted as a personal assistant and valet to her sister, driving back and forth to practices, dentist appointments, dance classes, play rehearsals, haircuts, anything that Delilah needed. Looking back now, she was grateful they had gotten to spend that time together.

“We’ll be there.” She interrupts without thinking.

“You will?” Delilah’s voice is soft but pleased. The intention of her call was just to vent to her big sister, let out the frustration of being ignored again by her parents. “You don’t have to. I know you’re both busy.”

“Never too busy for you, babe. What time does it start? Do you want a ride?” She sinks into the desk chair, crossing her legs and leaning back, hoping the pressure building behind her eyes doesn’t turn into a full-blown migraine.

Rebecca can feel Jake hovering before he squats next to the chair. She ignores him in favor of letting the now happy voice of her sister wash over her. It’s a solid plan until a large hand lands on her thigh. His palm is warm where it lays against her skin, and his fingers gently rub the material of her skirt, letting her know he’s there. She turns her head to the right and peeks an eye open, watching him watch her.

“Is she hurt?” He mouths the question, looking relieved after she shakes her head.

She hesitates for a second before putting her hand on his, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand in thanks. Jake takes the opportunity to hold her hand, playfully squeezing her fingers a few times, a ghost of a smile on his face. The sisters talk a bit more, confirming plans for the evening and saying “I love you” before hanging up. Rebecca drops the receiver into its cradle and leans back, looking at the ceiling. The office is quiet, the clock on the wall making the only noise in the otherwise silent room.

“Since we’re not preparing to storm Normandy, I take it everything is okay now?” She hums in confirmation, still staring at the ceiling. “What happened?”

“They’re not coming.”

There’s something about the way she says it – voice hollow, emotionless – that sets warning bells off in his head, but he still asks, “Who?”

“Fucking Seymour and Brittany.” She starts pacing. “It’s Brittany’s birthday, so they’ve decided that it’s not necessary to attend Delilah’s academic awards ceremony. Her senior year academic awards ceremony. Her last one. Where – because of her intelligence, hard work, and high academic ranking – it’s extremely likely that she’ll be receiving a boatload of awards. My father called her and told her they weren’t going to make it because they’re going out to dinner and then drinking with those idiots that hang around him! As if they couldn’t do that after the awards are over! It starts at six, and it’ll be like, at a maximum, an hour and a half!”

Jake stares in shock at the woman trying to wear a hole into his carpet. It wasn’t uncommon for her to curse or to be louder than usual when joking around, but the last time, the only time, he had seen Rebecca raise her voice in anger was that fateful night in February when she reamed him out after breaking into her house. Since then, her demeanor has matched the woman she had always been known to be. A kind and thoughtful person with a quieter disposition, one that hid a tough side she brought out only when needed, and a wit sharp enough to cut glass. Her voice is scathing, decades' worth of built-up frustration and resentment being released, and it freezes him in place.

“It’s just so unfair! I know they don’t like me, that I’m the “black sheep” of the family, or whatever the latest lame-ass attempt at an insult my father has taken to calling me. I don’t care about that. I worked my ass off junior and senior year to get a good scholarship, and I did. I practically put in full-time hours to save up enough to get out of that fucking house, and I did! The day after my eighteenth birthday, I packed up that crappy Camry – that I bought with my own money! – and moved into that sketchy apartment with five roommates. I worked hard to be the “outcast” of that family! I escaped, and they don’t like that, and that’s fine. I don’t need them to like me!”

Her voice was getting louder, the pacing and hand gestures more frenzied. She could feel her blood pressure rising, but she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t been this mad in years. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry.

“But it’s not fair that Delilah is treated like that! Like some show pony they can trot out when it pleases them. I know she’s the kid that was created on purpose, and I was the mistake no one wanted, but they just show her off like she’s some shiny object! Bragging about how smart she is and her amazing grades, her talent and how she gets cast in lead roles in the school plays and musicals, her athletic prowess, and how she definitely could have gone D1 if she wanted. But she doesn’t want to because she’s going to dedicate herself to helping others – something they know nothing about – but, of course, none of that actually matters to them! I can count on two hands the number of things they’ve actually showed up in the last eighteen years and still have fingers left over! And the worst part is she still believes they’re going to show up! That they’re suddenly going to give a damn about anything she does. That they’re going to treat her as more than a way for them to make themselves look better. And she doesn’t have anyone else because the only other family left is our grandfather, and it would take a fucking miracle for him to show up to an event where there’s even the slightest possibility that his son might be there. There’s no one else, so I said we’d g- oh my god.”

She stops on a dime, turning on her heel to Jake, who was shaken out of his stupor after the third curse word and now is staring in disbelief at his fiancé. “I said we’d go. You don’t have to go. I’m sorry I said you were coming without checking first-”

“I want to go.”

“-I just got caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it. You don’t have to-” His words register. “What?”

“I said it’s okay that you RSVP’d yes for me; I want to go.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not your sister.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m aware of that. Otherwise, this engagement would be kinda awkward. And illegal.”

“What?” The joke goes over her head; she’s only half paying attention, her body still on a high from anger and the adrenaline rush that hit when she heard her sister crying.

“Because if she was my sister, then we’d be related, which is illegal or at the very least frowned upon…” He trails off, realizing he’s not getting through. “Wow, that really got to you, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m used to their bullshit; I usually don’t get so mad. But hearing her cry on the phone like that, she was practically hyperventilating when you answe- wait. How did Delilah even get through?”

“I put her on the allowed caller list.”

“You did?” She’s surprised.

She probably shouldn’t be anymore. Except for the rough start to their engagement in February, Jake had a perfect gentleman.

His generosity is unfamiliar to her, unexpected from a man of the Dagger organization. And she hadn’t been expecting the same care to be so easily extended to her sister. She assumed she would have to make more demands to ensure Delilah was taken care of properly. But he’s done everything she was planning to ask of him, and more, before she even had the chance to bring it up. A college fund set up with safeguards in place so only a select few have access, protecting the money from her greedy father. A brand-new car: one that’s cute and practical, with a top safety rating, in her sister’s preferred color. A week-long trip over Delilah’s spring break to the three schools she was considering so she could make what Jake called “the most educated decision possible.” He even almost bought a house that neighbored the campus of her final choice, a decision that Rebecca had to talk him down from. She’s still suspicious that he secretly bought it, despite a lengthy lecture on why that was a dumb idea.

Despite his kindness, it was hard for them to interact with each other at the start of their engagement. The first month was awkward, filled with distrusting glances and silted conversations as she settled into the guest room of his ocean-view property. Their proposal announcement was spent answering questions about the financial impact of Rebecca joining Eagle Hotels as the head of the newly reformed community and charity outreach division instead of their whirlwind romance. The press conference was supposed to be the way to launch the couple to the public, grabbing attention and headlines at the fact that California’s eternal bachelor was taking a wife who was going to use the profits of his multi-million company to pour money into cancer research and other worthy causes. Instead, the next day, the media was speculating about the financial future of Eagle and the validity of their relationship, not believing they were in love – or even liked each other – due to the lack of chemistry and the visible discomfort radiating from them both.

After reading that even reputable publications questioned the engagement, Rebecca realized they needed to become friends. Being comfortable with each other would allow them to sell the relationship to the public and investors while having the bonus side effect of convincing the older members of the Dagger organization that were still doubtful. Getting to know each other on a surface level and becoming friends would allow that to happen without having to get too close. Her plan had worked. They became comfortable with each other, the speculation stopped, and the gushing over their relationship started.

It also had the unintended effect of him becoming even more thoughtful, taking her into consideration and asking her opinion, even when it wasn’t necessary. He makes her laugh, a perfectly timed terrible pun lifting her spirits on tough days. He gives affection freely. Keep gestures subtle in public, a hand on her lower back or whispering in her ear just to follow it up with a kiss to her temple, all done to get perfect paparazzi shots of the couple. In private, around friends and family, his hands are bolder but never disrespectful. A strong arm around her waist, a gentle kiss on her neck, a warm hand on her thigh.

It's not what she’s used to from men, and it flusters her, even knowing it’s an act.

Then, the reminder that it’s an act puts her guard back up. Reverting to constantly reminding herself that this is a business agreement, a marriage of convenience.

Nothing more.

It’s hard, though. He makes her feel safe. Something a man hadn’t done in a decade.

Even when something happens that rips her back to reality and she’s reminded that this isn’t a real relationship, she feels safe. She knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to the marriage. What it would mean to be the wife of The Hangman. That he was a dangerous man who had done horrible things. There’s been several nights when he comes home late, knuckles intact to ensure plausible deniability of the Dagger leader, but with dark red flecks on an otherwise pristine white shirt that betray his innocence. It’s clear from the fact that Jake lets her see him on nights like that, nights when business had to be taken care of, that he trusts her. She trusts him, not fully, but enough to know that with him, she’s safe. She knows that as long as it’s not his blood that he comes home covered in. But another night, another ruined shirt, and the reminder runs through her head on eternal rotation.

This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family. This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family.

“Of course I did. She’s family. Oh honey, come here.” He pulls her close after catching sight of her lower lip wobbling and hugs her soft body into his harder one. Mentally admonishing himself after the moment he takes to appreciate her curves when she’s practically crying. “It’ll be okay. She’s going to school; it’s paid for, and she can stay with us during her breaks. Or we’ll get her a good internship, so she doesn’t have to come back at all. And after we get married, she doesn’t ever have to see them again if she doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” She rests her forehead against his collarbones, breathing to try and stop the tears threatening to escape. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” One of his hands starts rubbing her back, the other drifting down to his favorite spot on her hip. “We can fix it, just gotta tell me.”

“Everything? I don’t know; I just feel so guilty. For the longest time, I was resentful that I had to take care of her so much, and of course, it was them I was mad at, but I’m afraid it seemed like I was upset with her. And then there were so many years where I was more distant than I wanted to be because dealing with them was just so awful. And I couldn’t get her out of there, and I’m worried that those two have hurt her in ways that I’ll never be able to understand or fix.” Her voice gets tighter as she speaks, cracking on the last word.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay. I know you feel bad, but you did everything you could for her. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. And even though you were kinda distant, you still spent so much time with her. She loves you so much; she wants to be just like you. And let’s face it – with both parents alive, no documented history of abuse, and your father being who he is, no judge in the county would have dared to give you custody. You did the best you could do, and it was enough. She’s kind, smart, and funny, and I’m 110% certain that is all of you.” He wipes a tear that falls. “And I’m here now. Together we’ll keep her as safe as we possibly can. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Okay?”

She sniffles, “Okay. Thank you, Jake.”

“Of course, anything for you, you know that. Now let’s see a smile!” Her weak attempt at a smile is met with his wide grin. “There’s my girl!”

His smile turns confused when she bites back a laugh. “What?”

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

How the fuck did I get here?

Rebecca has had that exact thought countless times since February. If someone had told her five months earlier that she would be sitting in the back of her high school’s auditorium next to Jacob “The Hangman” Seresin, and not only would he be her fiancé, but he would be willingly and eagerly attending her sister’s academic awards ceremony, and that it was his idea to buy a bouquet of daisies and make a reservation at the nicest steakhouse in the city to celebrate afterward, she would have taken that person to the emergency room for fear of horrific brain damage.

After the call with her sister Jake had cleared the rest of his schedule, insisting they spend the rest of the afternoon together. He spent the next few hours driving them around town, completing a to-do list that existed in his head. The first stop was a jewelry store to pick up two necklaces. One he immediately put around Rebecca’s neck. A beautiful white gold pendant with a teardrop-shaped peridot gemstone that rested perfectly on her decolletage. August’s birthstone for her and her sister’s birthday. The second box had an identical necklace, a graduation gift for Delilah, he explained. She didn’t have a chance to protest the much too expensive gifts before he was dragging her down the street to a bookstore where they argued over the best author of the twentieth century for almost an hour. Leaving with multiple books by Ian Fleming and Sue Grafton for comparison purposes and a promise to the owner to return. They popped into Rebecca’s favorite bakery for a snack and left with a baker’s dozen of treats and two iced teas. Splitting a chocolate donut, they dropped the rest of the pastries at the Machado household for Javy and Julianna to enjoy on their anniversary weekend. The last stop was a florist on Main Street to grab a bouquet before they picked Delilah up and headed to the school.

It had been a perfect afternoon.

The more she thinks about how smoothly everything went, how natural it felt, the more stressed she becomes. It shouldn’t have been easy. It shouldn’t have happened at all! He had more important things to do than spend the afternoon together. Why would he do that? She’s attempting to distract herself from the overwhelming feelings threatening to send her into a panic attack by flipping through the awards ceremony program when she sees it.

Her brain disconnects from her body; she can feel it happen. She knows the room is loud; it had been loud when they sat down, but now everything is muffled, and the only thing she can hear is blood rushing in her ears. Her body suddenly feels like concrete, heavy in a way it isn’t usually; an invisible pressure pushing especially hard on her sternum, making her breathing staccato and shallow. The folded booklet in her hands is now blurry, her eyes so unfocused she’s seeing multiple of the program swirling in front of her. Her hands start to shake in a way they haven’t done in a long time.

It’s the goddamn program. A voice in her head tells her. How are you supposed to deal with this? Seeing her name out of nowhere!

Another voice interrupts. No! It’s his fault. He’s being too nice; it wasn’t supposed to be like this! He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She distantly thinks both of the voices are probably right. Because for the second time today, she can feel Jake’s concern from where he’s seated next to her – the auditorium is old, and the seats are packed together, reminiscent of a time with laxer safety regulations – and Rebecca knows that his eyebrows are scrunched together. They do that when he’s confused or worried; she noticed a few weeks after she moved into his place. She can feel his hand land on hers, and his breath is warm against her cheek where he’s leaned in close to check on her. He’s probably asking if she’s okay, asking what’s wrong, asking if she needs anything, shockingly sweet for a man suspected to be the cause of twenty-two deaths, but she can’t focus on him because right there, printed in black and white, is her mother’s name.

Monroe Mathematics Scholarship - $5,000 Given to the graduating senior who completed all the advanced mathematics courses with the highest overall four-year average and is pursuing higher education in medicine, engineering, or education. Established in 2009, this scholarship was created in loving memory of Laura Monroe and is generously donated by an anonymous alumnus. 2023 Winner: Delilah Hermann

“-ecca? Honey?” Her ears come back into play as a hand turns her face to the left. Dazed brown eyes meet worried green ones. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Liar.

The green eyes narrow. “You’re lying. What’s wrong?”

“I- just… flipping through the program and seeing her name sprinkled throughout it right next to the words “graduating senior” got to me. She’s not a baby anymore. She’s going away to school, at a school that’s far away from me. And I’m going to miss her.”

Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“Oh, honey.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, right hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I know, it sucks. It was hard to send all three of my sisters off to school, especially Kayla, and we’re not nearly as close as you two are. I don’t have any words to make it better, but I get it if that helps?”

“Yeah, it helps a little bit.”

“Good. Now!” He pulls her in close, pressing their cheeks together as he dramatically gestures toward the front of the auditorium. “Who exactly is that punk sitting next to my sister-in-law?”

“You don’t recognize him? That’s Travis.”

“Travis Kazansky?” She nods as she settles back into her own seat and firmly closes the program, she still felt dazed, but the weight of his arm was grounding. “Actually, where are the Kazanskys?”

“Sarah mentioned that Tom’s treatment was harder than usual the other day. I think they were planning to stay home so he can rest. Poor Travis. His senior year has been pretty rough.”

“God, he got big. What happened? Why are they sitting together?”

“Well, he went through puberty; that tends to happen to children, especially those that are 18 years old.”

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “You’re so funny I almost forgot how to laugh. Why are they sitting together?”

“Probably because they’re friends, Jake.”

“Friends?! How did those two become friends?”

“Delilah was his trig tutor, and they became friends… how ever kids become friends these days. TikTok or whatever. I don’t know anymore.”

“I thought she was taking calculus?”

“She did take calc, but she was a tutor for lower-level math classes this year.” A small smile forms on her face, watching the two teenagers shyly flirt with each other, surrounded by their friends.

“Jesus, you two are smart. I don’t know where you got- Look!” Jake interrupts his own muttering to aggressively point down front again. “Look at that! He put his arm around her!”

“I see that. It’s very sweet.”

He looks incredulous. “Sweet?! That’s not sweet! He’s taking advantage of her!”

“You’re being ridiculous! He puts his arm around her, that is not taking advantage of her. He is a perfectly nice boy!”

“No, he is not “a nice boy” – he’s a teenage boy! He's the starting quarterback and captain of the lacrosse team!”

“Hmm, wow, sounds familiar.”

“Exactly! I know what he’s like because that’s who I was!”

She rolls her eyes at the overprotective brother routine. “And you turned out fairly decent. I think we’ll be okay.”

“No! He’s not good enough for-”

“Jake. What he’s doing is totally harmless. He’s a good kid, and we know his parents very well. I’m not worried about it. And I’m actually glad a cute boy is flirting with Delilah. I didn’t get that, so I’m happy she’s getting to experience it.”

He freezes, looking sideways at her, noting her wistful expression as she watches the younger blonde boy play with her sister’s perfectly curled hair. “No one flirted with you in high school?”

“No, which isn’t surprising. I was a dork and so painfully shy. Besides, no one wanted to be known for being the guy that flirted with the too-smart-for-her-own-good, fat girl.” She shifts in her chair, dislodging his arm from her shoulders, uncomfortable with the vulnerability she had accidentally shown. His response is interrupted by Principal Scott attempting to start the evening, the entire audience cringing at the feedback that reverberates through the hall.

“Well, it’s nice to know some things around here never changed.”

Jake is worried about the woman in his passenger seat; she hasn’t once made fun of his music choice or criticized his bad blinker habits. She’s been staring out the window since they left the restaurant, just watching the bright lights of downtown. “You didn’t cry as much as I thought you would.”

His bad joke works, as it so frequently does with her. “Oh, like you’re so tough! I heard you sniffle when Delilah got the math scholarship.”

“How could I not be proud of her? She won seven awards, and that was the biggest one I saw listed in the program, and she won it!” His eyes go big as he defends himself.

She leans back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “It is a big award, must be a pretty successful alumnus who donated it. Wonder who it is…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool of them, whoever they are.”

She goes to question him – fairly certain the anonymous alumni donor is him – when he makes an unexpected turn. “What are you doing?”

“Ice cream.”

Her eyes narrow, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some alone time and get a lil something sweet with my something sweet.”

“You said no at the restaurant, that you were “too full” for dessert.” She points out.

“Well, I’ve since changed my mind.” He sniffs. “A man is allowed to do that.”

“Mmmhm. You’ve done that a few times tonight.”

He plays dumb. “What do you mean?”

“When Delilah mentioned that we were going to Morton’s for a celebration dinner in front of Travis, I thought you would blow a gasket. But instead, you invited him to join us; I didn’t even have to nudge you. And you didn’t complain once when you called the restaurant to adjust our reservation.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

She starts chuckling at him. “Stop it! You are so full of shit. There was nothing! No complaining, no protesting the, the- oh, what did you call him when he put his hand on her back? Oh! No protesting the “devil child” joining our dinner? And by the way, I can’t believe you suggested that Travis drive Delilah home and then stuffed fifty bucks in his hand so they could stop and get ice cream!”

“He’s not a bad kid.”

“Oh, and what pray tell has caused this sudden change of heart, Mr. Seresin?”

“He was very polite and respectful.”

“And?” She pokes his arm, poking him harder when he mumbles something. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“…and he called me sir without any prompting.” He backs into a spot, completely avoiding eye contact once in park.

“Oh my god.” Her chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. “You are so ridiculous.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He looks genuinely sad, pouting in the driver’s seat.

She unbuckles and leans across the console, getting in his personal space with a smile bigger than he had ever seen from her. “I thought you liked it when I’m mean to you?”

Her voice is low, sexy, even as she’s mocking him with his own words from earlier in the day. Suddenly his whole body feels hot, and he laughs to deflect, praying to any available deities that his neck isn’t turning red. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Just for that, you can pay for ice cream.” He climbs out of the car, smile growing as he listens to her protests about how she wasn’t even the one that wanted ice cream, so he should be the one to pay. She’s still making her case when they meet at the bumper, but he doesn’t respond, distracted by how she hooked her hand through his elbow without thinking. He stares at the ring adorning her fourth finger, and his heart thumps.

This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like.

She gently pinches the inside of his bicep as she presses into his side to give more room to a young family juggling a stroller and three young kids on a sugar high, wiggling her fingers at the baby propped on his mom’s hip. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Always, my dear.”

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future parts, please send me an ask!

credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick AU #top gun fic #top gun AU #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #anything for you #anything for you fic #AFY fic #elle writes

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turquoiseorchid · 7 months

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what is roswell about? i've never seen anyone else post about it but you've got me intrigued

Ooh, join us! Roswell New Mexico has 4 seasons (2019-2022) with 13ish eps each; it was on the CW and is available on Netflix. (It’s a remake of a 90s or early 00s show just called Roswell. That one’s on Hulu and I’ve only seen a few episodes.) Overall, it’s about aliens living in Roswell and their human friends/love interests, plus a few alien-related mysteries. Most of my summary will be about season one and I’ll leave the rest for you to see for yourself.

Liz (human) comes back to Roswell ten years after high school, discovers her high school crush is an alien, and then finds out her sister had been killed by aliens. This and other developments lead to their whole social circle getting in on the secret and there’s a bunch of love triangles.

If I knew who you were, dear anon, I’d tailor this to what fandoms we’ve already got in common but to cover some of the likely options and their high level comparisons: If you like Leverage, this has found family and the love triangles can easily be shipped as throuples/polycules. If you like The Magicians then same as leverage plus canon queer characters and magic(technically science) powers. If you like Supernatural, there can be a lot of overlap between malex and destiel (for better and worse). If you’re still here from my Torchwood days, again queer characters with messy relationships and a lot of snark.

Let’s introduce some of the characters!

In the Pod Squad (the three main aliens), we’ve got Isobel, Max, and Michael (left to right in gif). Max and Isobel were adopted together and grew up as the Evans twins while Michael was a foster kid but all three are inseparable. Isobel starts off the series as someone whose identity is mainly focused on wife/sister/volunteer but breaks down her walls and grows into a total badass. Often portrayed in fanon as “the woman with the brain cell” for better or worse. Max is a writer-turned-cop and total romantic who has been pining for his high school crush (Liz) for over a decade and risks his family secret in order to save her and struggles with choosing between her safety and his family’s. Michael is an angsty bisexual mechanic with a troubled past and became many people’s blorbo on sight. He too has a high school sweetheart (Alex) who he’s never gotten over but grows enough to find healthy relationships and let people in. They all have various powers including telekinesis, healing, and mind control/influencing.

And now for Team Human! Liz is a scientist who left town after graduation because her sister died from (apparently) drunk driving and gets shot an hour after she returns. The lack of being dead causes her to investigate/confront her crush (Max) and learns about aliens, leading to the realization that her sister was killed by an alien and the crash was a coverup. The first person who she brings in is her ex-boyfriend, Kyle, a jock-turned-surgeon with a strong moral compass who tries to rein in the mad scientist tendencies of his ex-girlfriend (who he still has feelings for).

Next in on the whole alien thing is Alex, a gay emo who had a secret thing with Michael in high school before leaving to join the Air Force. He’s back in town (minus a leg) and has his plate full with finding out that his abusive homophobic dad runs a secret military team hunting aliens and oh hey, his high school boyfriend turns out to be an alien! He’s best friends with Maria, a psychic who runs the local bar. Besides bartending, she splits her time between fortune telling as a side hustle, encouraging Alex about his old flame (secretly Michael), and nursing a crush on the local barfly/mechanic (also Michael).

(Fun fact: I have no idea how to use tumblr’s gif search so both of the human gifs were found through their respective throuple ship tags.)

There are plenty of ships around depending on your preference but the most prevalent is malex (Michael/Alex), it’s nearly inescapable. Echo is Max/Liz and generally well liked. Isobel starts off with a husband (Noah) but also gets other love interests. The two main throuples are malexa (malex plus Maria) and kaliz (echo plus Kyle).

Anyone else please feel free to add why Anon should watch RNM!

#asks #not putting this in any tags since I might have come off as harsh about malex and or some fandom #I swear this is a great place it just has the same pitfalls as many fandoms #anyways yes anon you should watch RNM #this is longer than I intended can you tell I didn’t want to work today?

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twistedtummies2 · 3 months

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Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes - Number 15

Welcome to A Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes! During this month-long event, I’ll be counting my Top 31 Favorite Fictional Detectives, from movies, television, literature, video games, and more! We’ve reached the Top 15!

SLEUTH-OF-THE-DAY’S QUOTE: “It’s called a hustle, sweetheart.”

Number 15 is…both Judy Hopps AND Nick Wilde, from Zootopia.

Just like our previous pick, this time I’m picking a crime-fighting duo. This isn’t the only reason, however, why Nick & Judy are slight oddballs on this list. Another point is that, unlike nearly every other detective on the countdown, they haven’t really had a SERIES of adventures. At least, not so far. This was what held back several of the sleuths who appeared in my Honorable Mentions: Jake Gittes from “Chinatown,” Mark McPherson from “Laura,” and Eddie Valiant from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” are all great characters, played by phenomenal actors, but they only have one story to their name. Also, all of those stories are limited by the concise format of a singular motion picture. Nearly every other gumshoe gathered on the main countdown so far has had more than one to their name, or has been adapted and reimagined multiple times (or even both). This sly fox and not-so-dumb bunny, however, have only appeared in a single mystery movie, so far: the original “Zootopia.”

Thankfully, in the case of Nick and Judy, that’s really all they need. I absolutely LOVE these two, and there was never any doubt in my mind that they’d wind up SOMEWHERE in the ranks. I will admit, I struggled with exactly where to place them, given the fact they DO only have one movie to their name so far. I think this spot is more or less appropriate.

For those who don’t know, here’s the skinny on “Zootopia”: Disney’s homage to film noir, the movie is a detective mystery that begins with a bunny named Judy Hopps, who becomes the first rabbit officer of the Zootopia Police Department. (This all takes place in a world of anthropomorphic, “evolved” animals.) Despite her accomplishments and hard efforts, Judy is doubted by her Chief and many others, as her small stature and status as “easy prey” cause her to be perceived as “just a dumb bunny.” Eager to prove herself, Judy takes on a missing person’s case that the rest of the department has been having trouble with, as a way to try and show the others she’s more capable than they realize.

This is where our other main character, Nick Wilde, comes into the plot. Nick doesn’t start off the story as a detective: he’s a con artist, whom Judy effectively blackmails into helping her on the case, as she believes his information and insight will be of use to her. Nick is a jaded fox, disillusioned by events in his past; he finds it hard to trust people, and is used to people who don’t trust him, despite his silver tongue. On Judy’s part, she’s also got some issues, which she actually doesn’t recognize at the start of the film: her own past has led her to feel prejudiced against certain kinds of animals, foxes among the rest. As the movie goes on, the two start to help one another through these issues, as Judy learns to see the bigger picture, and Nick learns to open up. Each eventually realizes, in somewhat different ways, they can be more than what they are. All of this while trying to figure out a case which gets more and more twisted and bizarre as the story continues.

A big part of the reason why I love Zootopia IS that it’s a legitimate and really fun mystery story. The way the plot unfolds has a lot of great elements, with some twists you don’t see coming. (As well as a few you do, but you forgive it because the rest is so great, and it’s trying to pay tribute to a particular kind of film and storytelling style, at least in my opinion.) While Judy is the only ACTUAL detective at the start of the film, and I was tempted to just include her, it really is the pair of protagonists and their interactions with each other that makes the movie so great. I don’t really like either Judy or Nick more than the other; both are excellent main characters, and their personalities complement each other in an interesting way, as well as their methods.

On that note, something else I appreciate about these two – and about the film itself – is that, if you really look at it, you’ll realize that (in spite of being a Disney movie) these two aren’t really squeaky-clean heroes. Not only do they just have some personality flaws in general, which each of them have to work through, but both are willing to bend the rules to get by. Nick starts off as a criminal, to begin with, and Judy, as the film goes on, becomes more and more willing to use underhanded tricks to get what she wants. What ultimately separates them from the antagonists of the film is WHY they do what they do, and the fact that each learns a valuable lesson along the way. It’s neat to see characters like this dynamic duo in a Disney movie, and it’s a big part of why Zootopia is one of my favorite animated films (if not my favorite) to come out within the past decade or so. While Nick and Judy’s adventures haven’t officially continued since, the Zootopia universe has continued to branch out in unique ways, including announcements of a possible sequel on the horizon. Here’s hoping these expansions will ultimately show more of Wilde and Hopps doing what they do best: proving that, in Zootopia, anyone can be anything. Except maybe a flying coconut. Somehow, I doubt anyone can be that in Zootopia. But I’ve been wrong before. Ha Ha.

Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 14!

CLUE: “You attacked reason. It’s bad theology.”

#list #countdown #best #favorites #top 31 fictional detectives #gathering of the greatest gumshoes #number 15 #mystery #animation #film #movies #disney #zootopia #nick wilde #judy hopps #nick and judy

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seokth · 3 years

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mother knows best | 7

— drabble 7 ; father knows best —

pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au

series index | general masterlist

You aren’t much of a talker, and neither is your father.

So the two of you sit wordlessly at your dining table, eating silently but comfortably, occasionally letting out a hum in contentment or a moan of appreciation for the home cooked meal you’re both eating.

“How was the trip going here?” you ask him much later when the food’s all but vanished.

“Long,” your dad says, chuckling.

“You didn’t get motion sickness, did you?”

“Of course not,” he replies, waving you off goodnaturedly. “You worry too much, Y/N.”

You do worry too much. You can’t help it, though. You only see him a handful of times every year, given that he lives back in your small hometown while you live in Seoul. It’s always a struggle to have him so far away from you, but you’ve both come to realize that the city life just isn’t for him and he much prefers living away from all the hustle and bustle.

“I’ll always worry about you, Appa,” you mumble, pouting.

“You don’t need to. In fact, I should be worrying about you.”

You scoff. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he repeats, pointing an accusing finger at you. “When was the last time you took a day off of work, young lady?”

“Uh…”

“Exactly. You’re just like your mother.” He glares at you, continuing his rant. “What’re you piling all your paid absences for? Make use of them, for goodness’ sake. And when was the last time you took a walk in the park?”

“Well, uh…”

“Precisely,” he exclaims. “You need to see more green, bask in nature, breathe some fresh air. And when was the last time you ate a home cooked meal besides this one, huh?”

“Last Sunday,” you reply immediately, feeling smug and remembering the feast Mrs. Min prepared for last Sunday’s lunch.

“Exactly my point!” He waves his hands around manically. “You can’t keep living off of processed food, sweetheart. You need some nutrients so— wait, what? When?”

You shake your head at him, smiling. “We have group lunches every Sunday, remember? Me, the guys, and the moms. I’m practically well fed, Appa. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He blinks. A soft smile then creeps up on his lips. “Oh, right, right. That’s nice,” he says wholeheartedly, his mood a big contrast to how he was just a few seconds ago, his insides warming at the reminder of the support system you’ve managed to find here in the city. “How’s the gang?”

“Rowdy, as always,” you huff, remembering the disastrous but satisfying mafia game you played a couple of days ago. You then wait patiently for your dad to do his usual roll call of the guys — something they like to make into a needless competition about who gets called first.

“How’s Jiminie, by the way?”

Damn, guess Jimin wins this time...

“Jobless,” you answer. “His lease also ends in a couple of weeks so I’m gonna help him move to his new apartment.”

“Good, good. Yoongi?”

“Working, as always. I keep telling him to just quit his accounting job so he can focus on his music but he never listens to me.”

“Always so practical, that boy. What about Jungkook?”

“Just as adventurous. Got a lip piercing on top of an eyebrow piercing.”

“A hit with the ladies, I’m sure,” your dad says, chuckling. “How’s Hobi?”

“Still dancing. I visited him in his studio once and got front row seats to one of his new choreographies. He’s so talented!”

“Of course, you would know that better than anyone.” He looks at you pointedly, winking, to which you flush in response. “What about Taehyungie?”

“Doing well, actually,” you muse. “His latest shoot is gonna be the cover of some famous magazine. Make sure you get a copy, Appa. You know how he is.”

“I’ll make sure to buy one as soon as you tell me it’s out. Now, how’s Namjoon doing?”

“Thriving. He’s getting a raise sometime this month. The kindergarten kids all love him.”

“As expected. Well, that’s all good. I’m glad everyone’s doing well.”

Your eyes crinkle in amusement. This always happens. Everytime he does his usual roll call, he always fails to remember one person. Technically, it’s understandable since your friend group is already a full house. But every single time, he forgets a different person from the last roll call.

And today it just happens to be Jin. You chuckle, imagining a heartbroken look on his face that contrasts his previous smug smile after being called first the last time.

“Appa,” you call him gently. “Seokjin has been meaning to tell you. He bought those shoes you told him about. Says they made all the difference when he does his rounds at the hospital and his soles don’t hurt much anymore.”

“Seokjin?” your dad repeats, eyes widening in realization. “Oh, of course, of course! How could I forget?” He chuckles, slapping a hand on his forehead. “I’m glad he took my advice. He always listens to me, that Seokjin.”

You smile at him fondly.

“You’ve got great friends here, Y/N,” he says, looking at you seriously. “They’re great boys. I never have to worry about you, knowing that you can always lean on them. Makes it easy for me being so far away from you because I know they’re always there for you.”

“They are,” you agree, voice filled with warmth.

“Send them my regards, yeah? Tell them they’re welcome to ring me up anytime.”

“Sure, Appa. I’ll tell them—”

The sound of the doorbell cuts you off. You excuse yourself from the table and get up to the door. Peeking through the peephole, a smile creeps up on your face.

“Hey, Appa?” you call out to him.

“Hm?”

“Looks like you’re gonna have to tell them yourself.” You wink at him before turning the doorknob and opening the door to reveal seven familiar faces.

Your dad blinks in surprise.

On the other side of the door are Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook — each holding up a paper bag of their own, and each sporting a bashful smile.

“Appa!” they exclaim in unison.

“Boys!” Your dad has the biggest smile on his face, pushing his chair back to stand up and move closer. “What are you all doing here?”

They all smile at each other before Namjoon answers. “Our moms wanted to sponsor your dinner… but I guess we got here too late,” he says, eyeing the plates of empty food on your dining table.

“We brought dessert, though!” Hoseok pipes in. “Hope you still got room, Appa.”

Your father is speechless. You observe the way his smile never falters, the way he looks at each of your friends with affection, and the way his shoulders visibly feel lighter. In turn, your own heart feels lighter, as well.

“I’ll always have room for you, boys.”

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unhonest-iago · 7 months

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~Act IX~

The duo gets up from their sitting positions sprinting up a set of stairs deciding to take a shortcut through the natural history museum. The museum being currently under construction. 'Techno' Dawn and 2 rams can be spotted walking towards them from behind. Appearing out of nowhere. 'Mayor Bellweather' Techno thinking he can trust her walks to meet her, Fundy following his lead. 'We found out what was happening, someone's darting predators with a serum. that's what making them go savage.'

'I'm so proud of you Techno, you did such a super job' Techno blinks, a sudden realization, stopping himself from giving her the briefcase. 'How did you know where to get us?' placing it behind his back, out of reach. 'I'll go ahead and take that case right now,' retreating. 'uh Fundy and I can take this to the ZPD' another ram blocking the exit, stretching his neck cracking it like you would your knuckles. At the same time, 'RUN'

'GET THEM'

'Carrots' Fundy struggles to carry Techno, spotting him curled in on himself after tripping over a fallen pillar, unable to walk. Leaning against an upright pillar, 'ok, just relax,' using the handkerchief holding blueberries to stop the bleeding. 'Take the case, get it to Bogo' pushing the briefcase towards Fundy. 'i'm not leaving you behind, that's not happening'

'i can't walk' Techno stating the obvious. 'we'll think of something,' both looking towards the ground, discarded blueberries rolling. 'we're on the same team Techno, underestimated, under-appreciated, aren't you sick of it?' the 2 rams sneaking towards their hiding spot, shinning flashlight to and fro. 'predators, they may be strong and loud, but prey outnumber predators 10 to 1.' Dawn rushes forward, seeing a shadow shaped like Technoblade. 'think of it, 90% of the population united against a common enemy, we'll be unstoppable.' An attempt at jump-scaring the duo reveals it's not him—a statute propped up as a misdirect. The two book take the open window as an opportunity to book it to the exit. Body slammed to a lower exhibit, losing the case.

'well you should've just stayed on that carrot farm huh? too bad, i did like you'

'what are you going to do? kill me?'

'ohh no, course not, he is.' Dawn shoots the gun, hitting Fundy's chest, a spot of blue. Stumbling back from the impact. Techno, concerned 'Fundy?'

'Yes police! There's a savage fox in the natural history museum, Officer Techno is down, please hurry'

'No, Floris, don't do this, fight it,' unaware of it, Dawn looking down in mock pity. 'Oh but he can't help it, can he? Since preds are biologically predisposed to savages,' a growl emitting from the fox's throat. 'oh gosh, think of the headlines, 'hero cop killed by savage fox'' Fundy ripping a figurine, a mere chew toy. 'so that's it? prey fears predator and you stay in power?'

Shrugging, 'yea, pretty much.'

'it won't work'

'fear always works and i'll dart every predator in Zootopia to keep it that way,' Techno now cornered against a wall. 'bye bye bunny,' Fundy lunges forward, biting Techno's neck. Techno reacting with a screech before miming blood loss, 'bleh, blood, blood, blood and death.' Fundy laughing, before addressing Bellweather, 'alright you're milking it. besides, i think we got it. i think we got it. thank you yak-y yak, we got it up there, thank you. you ate it all up beautifully.' Fundy barely holds up Techno, keeping his weight off of the injured leg. Bellweather looks towards the gun in a mix of shock and confusion. 'you looking for the serum?' Fundy proceeds to pull the actual paintball from his shirt pocket. 'well it's right here.'

'you got in the weapon there, blueberries from my family's farm' popping a blueberry into his mouth. 'mwah, they are delicious, you should try some' making the motion of 'chef's kiss.'

'I framed Lionheart, i'll frame you too. it's my word against yours,' Techno and the iconic carrot shaped pen. 'ooh, actually, it's—' playing the recording, Bellweather's voice clear as day '—it's your word against your's, it's called a hustle sweetheart, boom.' The rest of the ZPD police force surrounding Bellweather, knowing she'd been caught.

A news broadcast showing Dawn Bellweather in an orange jumpsuit taken into custody. Fundy later joining the ZPD as their first Fox and Techno's partner in crime.

#iago writes #not x reader #origins smp #osmp #osmpblr #origins technoblade #origins fundy #technoblade #fundy #zootopia au #pt. 9 #pt. 9/9 #it’s called a hustle sweetheart series

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obislittleone · 3 years

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MASTERLIST

Buy me a coffee if you want :)

Lol i wrote more than one thing so ima make a place to put them

Finnick Odair

The Winner Takes It All (series)

Obi-Wan Kenobi

House Of Memories Masterlist

Obi and Little One Masterlist

Come What May Masterlist

ONESHOTS:

Lessons

Din Djarin

WHAT ONCE WAS MINE MASTERLIST

It's called a hustle, sweetheart

Anakin Skywalker

Best Kept Secret

Joel Miller

Take It Off Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Bruce Wayne

ONSHOTS/REQUESTS:

Media

Family Ties

SERIES:

Cruel Irony: currently on pause

PLAYLIST

Season One:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Episode 11

Episode 12

Episode 13

Episode 14

Episode 15

Episode 16

Episode 17

Steve Rogers

Forever Young: ongoing (paused)

Pilot

Phone Trouble

Drywall

Peter Parker

Who Are You Really MASTERLIST

Indiana Jones

Temple of the Foribidden Eye

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #pedro pascal #din djarin #hom #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #indiana jones x oc #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones adventure #indiana jones

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venomous--fics · 3 years

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Anon requested: Read your Peter B Parker imagine and loved it! Maybe where the reader goes off to college and MJ and Peter drop them off finally and MJ and Peter miss them way more than they admit so eventually when the reader visits they go all out, (side note: I have lived in an abusive household all my life and you have no idea the comfort your imagines have brought me every time i have another fight with my parents I read this series, you are so insanely talented, thank you so much, your writing means so much more to me than you will ever know :))

A/N: I hope everything is going okay for you!! And I hope I did your request justice!

Life really moves fast, they weren't joking. It felt like you were in middle school just a few months ago, but here you are...College. Didn't think you'd even go to college, but Peter and Mj told you to at least try it. If you didn't like it, you could leave, they said. They'd support you no matter what.

And here they were, doing just that. They were helping you carry your bags to your dorm. It felt so out of place being here. Everyone seemed to come from every sort of background. Rich, already semi famous, smart, geeky. You weren't sure if anyone was the same as you. What would roommate be like? Did you even have one?

Peter and Mj couldn't help but look around. Was this the right place for you? Would any of the teacher be able to teach you exactly what you needed in a way that you'd understand? They know how professors could be.

After you got your key from the front desk, you three crowded into an elevator. Everything did seem so sparkly and new, but would it be homey? Would you be comfortable?

Another trip down the hall put you in front of your door. You opened it, to be greeted with a small, empty space. Of course, they had the standard things already in there. A bed. A desk. The works.

"It's...Something." Mj said.

"I'd give it at least two stars." Peter replied, "It's no Ritz, I'll tell you that."

"I think it'll work." you tried to be optimistic for them, "It just needs some sprucing up."

You tossed your bag onto your bed and opened it.

This was really happening. You weren't going to ride home with them. You were...Staying here. Look at you go. Making all the big decisions now. It's almost like you weren't some lame kid anymore.

You dug out a CD player and plugged it in, setting it on the small night table that was situated next to the bed, "I thought we could fill the silence."

Peter and Mj helped you unpack most of your things, leaving stuff such as your electronics off to the side. You could sort through those later.

You three hung out for awhile after, until they thought it was time for them to leave. That's when it dawned on you too. You didn't get to make jokes on the car ride back. You had to be a big kid now and stay put.

"I guess this is it for awhile." you said, patting your hands down to your sides.

"Yep. This is it." Peter said.

Mj tried to smile, but you knew what she was really feeling. it wasn't sorrow, it was just a bittersweet feeling. You were putting on a strong façade for them, but if one of them frowned all bets were off.

"So, uh, I guess...Goodbye."

Mj couldn't help it anymore. She practically burst into tears as she pulled you into a hug, "I'm going to miss you so much, sweetheart!"

Peter followed suit, tears and all, "Don't like this place too much!"

You hugged them back the best you could, sobbing uncontrollably, "I'm going to miss you more!"

You three cried together for awhile, blubbering and sputtering out all the "I love you mom! You too, dad!" over and over until it just sounded like gurgling. You were certain a few people stopped to stare.

After they left your dorm, you hustled to your window, praising whoever assigns these things, for giving you a front view. You opened the window and waved as they left. You kept waving until they were out of sight.

You nearly laughed at that memory. It was so silly, but you'd hope to have more like that. Maybe they'd react that way when you came in. It's been nearly a year since you've been home, and you had so much to tell them. You had a week off for a holiday break, and you wasted no time to come home.

You missed the home cooked meals honestly. Again, they weren't kidding when they told you that a college kids diet wasn't good. You can't remember the last real meal you had that didn't include something from the gas station.

Your keys jingled as you stuck them in the lock and twisted the knob.

The second your foot step through the doorway, you were blasted with confetti and loud noises from what sounded like dying birds. Were those noise makers? You covered your face as more confetti flew at you. It was all over you now. In your hair, clinging to your nose from the static. At least it wasn't glitter.

"What in the world?" you asked, setting your bag down.

"Welcome home!"

Mj ran right over and pulled you to the kitchen island, showing off the cake her and Peter made for you. It was decorated so nicely, and had candle lit on the top. You blew them out and looked up at her as she stuck a party hat on your head.

"Were you two waiting there the whole time?"

"Are you asking if we waited behind the counter for three hours? Yes, we did." Peter said, digging a knife out of one of the drawers.

"Did we spend all day cooking and decorating? Yes, we did!" Mj smiled, "We were just so excited to see you again."

You looked around, seeing all the ribbons and signs adorn everywhere. Then your eyes landed on a few wrapped presents, "This is nuts. Even for you guys."

"What can we say." Mj chirped, "We love you. And we're so proud! When you called us about that exam a while back? I would've given up, everything is so much more advanced now."

"But look at you." Peter chimed in, helping himself to the cake, "You did it. Made it look easy, too."

"It wasn't. I can tell you that."

"So, how long until you get locked back up?" he asked.

"I got a week off."

Mj's heart seemed to take flight as she whipped out another confetti popper and set it off, "Wonderful!"

You really did miss this. Everything away from home seemed so boring and exhausting to be around. But this? Wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Oh!" she said, waking over to the oven, "I have dinner ready if you're hungry."

"Starving." you said, "I missed lunch because I was just too eager to get back here."

You helped Mj set the table, and stopped Peter from taking even more cake.

You three sat at the table and talked for hours. You made sure to leave no details out, and they were just in awe at all you've done, and all that you will do. You were the future, and they were content with knowing it'd be a good one.

You made sure to help with the dishes, and also made sure to help yourself to the cake, per Mj's request. A few movies were watched, with conversations continuing on and off. And when everyone retired to bed for the night, you had never felt so at peace.

It was so nice to be home.

You nestled under your blankets and turned your lamp off. If only you could stay here forever.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #into the spiderverse x reader #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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aftgficrec · 2 years

Note

This is so stupid are there any funny fics where Foxes get arrested and have to spend a night in the detention room?

It seems they are skilled runners! We found one for andreil that is fluff & angst. There’s an “almost,” too: in ‘i am home now’ (here) the Foxes scatter before the police can catch them drinking at a party. The previous recs listed are a mashup of humorous cop/criminal aus with the Foxes on both sides of the law (or pretending to be). - A