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girlystories · 7 months

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L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: swearing, depictions of child abuse. Words: 3.5k

previous part here

Chapter 3: Everywhere

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑'𝐒 front windows were rolled down, filling it once again with a satisfying breeze. The tired girl resisted the urge to lay her legs on the dashboard, knowing her dad wouldn't let that slide. He had just finished his pack, holding his last cigarette while driving.

[Name]'s bored eyes stared at the road. "Whose idea was it to have a barbecue at fall?"

Her dad shook his head. "Come on. Why do you have to be so down in the dumps all the time?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Just try and act happy when we arrive. It's the least you can do."

She scratched above her eye, in an effort to calm herself. It was like he viewed her as a nuisance. "Why did you want me to come with you in the first place? Don't you want to catch up with your old friend alone?", she took off her shoes and wrapped her arms around her knees, before adding, "since I bother you so much."

He sighed irritably at the comment, glancing at her. "Now why do you have to do that? You know that's not what I meant."

She stayed silent for a moment, still looking out the window. "So who is this friend?"

He didn't answer at first, wanting to resolve the small argument that began since this morning but also not wanting to bother at the moment as well. "He's a colleague of mine and an old classmate."

She leaned forward and turned the music up from the radio but her dad turned it off right after.

"[Name]," he said sternly. "Please."

She forced herself to look at him, groaning under her breath.

"I don't want to argue with you. I just want to adjust here after what happened...", he sighed. "I know you need it too."

[Name]'s eyes softened when she noticed his expression. She didn't know exactly why she woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day. Maybe it was because of the new environment or maybe the sudden lack of direction.

"Yeah, I guess so..."

They didn't say much on the rest of the ride, only asking why Richie and her uncles didn't come with them, which was answered by a rather half-assed excuse from Richie that he'd hang out with his friends.

She noticed that whoever's house they were going to was just out of Derry, being more noticeable by the sudden switch to a dirt road. She looked confused behind her, seeing the town fade a little in the distance. Trees passed them as they drove towards a rather large house. What was more noticeable was the farm house and the variety of animals roaming around. She didn't question it however, and got out the car just as they came to a stop.

She held a plastic container with some homade brownies for a simple yet enjoyable gift. They couldn't go there empty handed, so last night instead of doing nothing she thought it'd be a great idea to make a good first impression.

She took her time looking around the place, seeing the chickens and cows eating the grass. As she looked over at the house she felt an unnerving aura from it, and she hoped she was just being stupidly paranoid. It wasn't at all inviting in a way she couldn't describe. She ran after her dad when she noticed she was left behind.

She hid slightly behind him as he knocked the door. It was opened after a few moments by a middle-aged man.

"[Father name]," he said enthusiastically, greeting the both inside as he moved to the side. "Come on in."

The house was rather... glum and dark, looking completely different from the white appearance it had from outside, but it still had that stange vibe. The wall's cracks somehow revealed a hidden story behind it, as well at the holes that weren't as apparent behind the ripped wallpaper. She didn't want to judge in any way, but by the looks of the way someone "tidied" the place made it seem that no woman lived there, or set foot in that building to be exact.

"Sir, we've bring you some brownies. I hope you like them," [Name] said.

It was as if he hadn't noticed her at first by the surprised look on his face. "That's kind of you. You must be [Name], right?"

She nodded. "That's me."

"This is my daughter I told you about," her dad said proudly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "[Name], this is Butch. We were inseparable during our school years."

Butch laughed. "I have to tell you stories during that time. That reminds me, I think I remember you," he told her.

"You do?"

"Yeah, when you were about this tall," he said laughing, depicting a much shorter [Name] with his palm. "I can't believe you've grown so much. You're like a flower that has just bloomed. So beautifully too."

The smile he had when he said that ran a chill down her spine and she chuckled nervously. "Thank you."

His smile faded suddenly. "[Father name]. The thing is that I don't believe today is a good day for barbecue."

The said man rose a brow. "Oh? Why's that?"

He groaned in annoyance as he recalled something. "My stupid son forgot we have guests today and didn't prepare the meat. I should've known. He never does anything right."

"It's alright, I don't mind. We could just go out and eat somewhere in town. I'm sure your son must have been busy."

"Thanks for being understanding," he turned his attention back at [Name]. "Could you go call my son from upstairs? I don't know what's taking him so damn long."

"Sure. Um, where do I put this?", she asked and motioned at the brownies still in her hands.

"I'll take that," he did just as he said, "now go and tell him if he doesn't get down right now I'll have to drag him myself."

She didn't question it and made her way to the second floor. She felt kind of bad for the guy, but she didn't want to jump into any conclusions. As she passed the living room – which was full of empty beer bottles that weren't hidden well – she held back the need to gag at the terrible smell of nicotine.

Upstairs, she passed the bathroom and stopped at what she assumed was the guy's bedroom. She knocked the door, "hey, your dad said to come downstairs."

No answer. A few seconds passed and she knocked again.

"We're going out to eat. I don't know where but I hope somewhere good," she added jokingly. Still no answer. She hesitantly turned the handle, opening it and stepping inside. "Are you sleeping or something?"

It didn't take her long to realize the room was empty. Well, except the countless thrown clothes on the floor. The bed was unmade, but no one was laying on it. She rubbed the back of her head, confused.

She peeked her head out the door and yelled out: "He's not here!"

"What? Where the hell is that–", Butch's yell came from downstairs, continuing with a murmur while [Name] took a look around.

She approached the room, which had posters of Metallica, Megadeath and other metal bands she didn't know of, and some of women wearing inappropriate clothes in various poses, making anyone question the limit of the flexibility of the common person. There were some pictures on the selves, and upon inspection, as she grabbed one, was a group of young boys – four to be exact, having toothy grins on their faces. All except one, who instead showed the smallest smile, but not in a shy way as one might believe. She was about to look at another picture but another sound make her stop.

A loud snarky voice came from downstairs after the snap of someone shoving the door open, though not a yell but still loud. Quickly and loudly the person walked upstairs, which made [Name] almost jump by the speed when he barreled towards the room, only stopping when she was seen standing in the center. They were clearly hot happy with their visitors.

The boy's surprised expression lasted for a split second when his brows furrowed deeply, and he grabbed the picture frame from her.

"What the hell are you doing here?", he snapped.

Her legs froze on the wooden floor. She knew all well those blue eyes and stupid ashy hair. That goddamn ugly mullet.

It was Henry.

Henry-motherfucking-Bowers.

He was covered in sweat and a brown gooey substance that she hoped in God was only mud. He wore overalls this time that were tucked inside his muddy boots. Underneath he wore a tight black shirt. His sleeves were tucked above his elbows once again, but something told [Name] that this time it wasn't because of his usual fashion choice.

She crossed her arms, in a way not to show her also shocked reaction on how things turned up, "turns out my dad knows yours."

"Great, fucking great," his nostrils flared. "Another new piece of shit in this town."

She scoffed. That was uncalled for. "Oh, poor you. Like I wanted this. I would prefer to stay home rather than spend the day with you."

His anger increased, but instead he held a snakry grin. "Oh? So you already know of me?"

"Word travels fast it seems, Bowers."

She couldn't lie that she didn't keep asking her cousin and Jamie and Evelyn – and slightly Aiden, but he didn't reveal much – about him and the rest of the gang. She found out pretty quick about their acts around town and that her bleach blonde classmate wasn't how he seemed when they first met. During school he didn't dare get in trouble, but later in the afternoon he was a completely different person. The larger guy from the rest was considered the most chill of the group, despite the incident that happened the day before in the cafeteria. She was told that the other two were the most feared, Bowers and Hockstetter, even though she didn't know much about the dark heared member.

Henry's grin widened at the use of his name. He was about to say something when another shout came from downstairs.

"Don't take your sweet fucking time, Henry! We have to go!"

He flinched just meekly that it would take someone to pay close attention to notice it. He grabbed her wrist and forcefully shoved her out of his room, obviously not too happy with her in his property.

"Ow! Hey!", she yelled.

He didn't care about her almost tripping and slammed the door at her face.

In the end it was agreed they'd drive in one car instead of two, which happened to be the one [Name]'s dad was driving, resulting in a rather awkward ride between the duo of teens in the back seat. The fathers didn't seem to notice the hostility around them, chatting and laughing loudly.

She couldn't help but glance at the angsty blonde on her right every now and then, who was glued to the door, looking out the window with crossed arms. He had changed into a pair of jeans and he wore the same denim jacket. He still had that angry look on his face, as if it was set on default while his mullet was way messier than yesterday.

She was humming alongside the lyrics of Fleetwood Mac from the radio when she heard someone call her name.

"Don't be rude. Butch is talking to you," her dad said.

"Oh, sorry... Could you repeat that?", she swore she caught a glimpse of Henry rolling his eyes.

"I was just telling you about the day I met this piece of treasure here," he let out a laugh and patted her dad on the shoulder, who also laughed in response. "One time I was driving home, you know on the dirt road after Witcham Street. Yeah well, I was driving home – I was about twenty-four or five at that time – and I saw a fallen motorcycle – it was a BSA Gold Star I think. Shame, it was a beauty! Well anyway, there was a unconscious man laying next to in, and, of course, I had to check on 'im. How do you know! – it was none other than [Father name] over here!"

The girl's eyes widened, "What?!"

He laughed, smacking his knee, "I will never forget that day. This peace of shit almost gave me a heart attack,"

the other man cleared his throat, interrupting him.

"Sorry, sorry... so anyway, I rushed to the nearest hospital – and as you know we didn't have a hospital back then in Derry, so I had to drive for twenty minutes. In the end he survived with only a broken leg and he was out after five days. Your father here is made out of steel!"

She leaned from her seat, grabbing both front seats to get a closer look at her dad. "Dad, is that true?"

"Yeah, well...", he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his nose with his thumb. "That's why you're never getting a motorcycle."

She pouted her cheeks. "Why? That's not fair."

He laughed again, this time in a teasing way. "We'll see. That all depends on your grades, missy."

"You wan' a bike? Not really ladylike," Butch informed. As if reminded of his existence [Name] sat back in her seat, her knee accidentally brushing the guy's next to her.

"I'm sure she would be fine, Butch."

The man shrugged, forgetting the subject. "Anyway, good times, good times... Nothing can rewind time unfortunately," he sighed loudly. "Enough about that, I'm sure you remember living in Derry, right? This town is anything but unmemorable."

"Uhm, hmm," she placed her forefinger on her bottom lip. "I guess a little. Maybe middle school... and me playing in the backyard..." A core memory suddenly popped into her mind. Of her mom. But she didn't want to think about her at the moment. "I also remember riding my bike, that was fun."

"That's it? I swear you used to hang with Henry over here," he revealed, looking at his son with a neutral look she couldn't describe. "Don't you remember, son?"

There was a pause of silence that lasted longer than expected. Too long, that she couldn't make out what he was thinking. Now that she thought about it more, she recalled vague memories playing in a large yard. No... it was a farm. She also remembered the animals. She chased after them too. The thing she didn't remember, though, was playing with Henry. She would surely remember a cruel bratty little devil bothering or bullying her. The other thing she remembered was a woman living there with her child that had long blonde hair and a big toothy smile, while the dad was usually absent.

"No," he finally answered, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Huh," Butch turned his head back forward, "Maybe it was another girl."

The diner was pretty small, but also chill and welcome, not at all fancy. Perfect for hangout between dads, but not so suited for two kids that didn't get on a good start. It wasn't because of the way he bumped onto [Name], but because of what she heard. She wasn't the type of person to believe in rumors, but there must have been a reason everyone fucking hated their guts. They even bullied her cousin. That's a good and reasonable reason. Also his attitude was really getting on her nerves. He could at least act nice, especially in front of his dad.

He was behaving like a bratty kid, seating in the same way he sat in the car: crossed arms and leaned back, manspreading. He was opposite from them and next to his dad.

[Name] leaned her head on her palm, playing with her food, or in better words, her leftover crumbles. The two fathers kept talking and talking, making her zone out on most of it. They kept saying old stories and whatever new stuff happened in Derry.

She glanced over at Henry, who didn't touch his fries one bit. He was glaring at her, which she couldn't take seriously and found honestly pretty funny. She rose a brow, in a way asking him, *what are you looking at?*

This made his breathing quickler, as if trying to calm himself down. Before she did anything to make him any more mad, his dad spoke.

"Eat your food. I didn't pay this for nothing," he said, his tone completely shifted from the one previously.

Henry froze again, not daring to look at him. Instead looking down. After what felt like hours, he said, "I'm going out."

He got up and left quickly, while also not making any eyecontact with anyone. Butch's head followed after him, until he had completely gone out of the diner. The sound of the bell above, then the shut of the door followed. Butch's eyes made chills run down [Name]'s spine.

Butch parted his lips in order to grumble another snarky remark, but [Name] got up suddenly.

"Uh, I, um, gotta go out too," she stumpered out before thinking. "Gotta hang out with some friends from school."

"You made friends already? Who?", her dad asked.

"Uh, Aiden." She said, whoever came to her mind at the moment. "Yeah, sorry. I totally forgot about that."

He sighed, "Okay, fine. You can go."

"Okay, talk to you later," she said and was about to leave, before turning back around. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Butch."

Just as she departed the diner her dad thought out loud, "wait, I thought I told you to cancel any- Ah, what the heck."

She didn't realize it before but it was literally freezing outside. October came like bitch. It was obvious it'd snow any minute now.

She immediately looked around, looking for Henry, which she did, since he kicked a dumpster over, sending all the trash flying. That made her regret her decision instantly.

She stayed outside of the diner, hugging herself and shivering, staring at his back, not knowing what to do.

Then he started leaving.

Fuck.

She quickly followed after, her fast but short legs trying to catch up after him.

What the hell was she doing?

Whatever she thought before clearly didn't really matter to her anymore, but she had to find somewhere warm to go. It'd be super embarrassing to go back at the diner. The two men would probably think she was a loser and got stood up or something.

But what was happening right now would probably also be considered embarrassing, if not more.

Maybe she should just follow him secretly and learn more about his secret wicked ways? Find some sort of secret to blackmail him into not bullying Richie anymore.

Or just go home. Which was kinda far, so she'd probably freeze until then.

Her breathing became heavier from both the cold and her lazy body suddenly having to walk so quickly. Just then Henry stopped. She also stopped. She quickly realized he was at a bus stop and he took out a cigarette, lightning it up and inhaling it. He shifted on one leg and placed a hand inside his denim jacket, shivering ever so lightly. He wasn't dressed properly for the weather, yet he refused to feel any cold. He looked to the right as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

It took her a minute to realize he had noticed her.

Shit.

"The fuck you lookin' at?"

She didn't know what else to do but to walk up to him, awkwardly sitting down at the wooden seat.

"Oh, hi," she tried to act casual, but obviously failing. "Cold weather we're having, huh."

"Are you fucked, Trashmouth no. 2?"

"Jeez, why are you always so fucking angry?"

"None of your fucking business, Missy," he snapped, using the nickname her father gave her, but sounding it way differently. "Why the hell did you follow me, you weirdo. Are you that pathetic you follow random people around just so they would talk to you?"

"No... I was just bored," she shrugged, her leg bouncing nervously. "Are you that egotistical, Bowers?"

And she used his name again.

If it were another day he'd definitely mess with her in a more fucked up way, she wouldn't dare approach him ever again, but now he wasn't really feeling it.

"Then why not just ask your old man to give you a ride home? Would make this shit all easier for me"

"Huh? Why?"

He threw his cigarette at the concrete, stepping on it with his heel.

"'Cuz I'm bored out my fuckin' mind, that's why. I wanna go back at the farm."

"Why not ask your dad for a ride then?", she placed her hands inside her pockets as a wind went past them.

He shot her a glare, yet said nothing. After a few minutes she thought to say something. Unfortunately, whatever she chose upon was too late as a bus had stopped.

Henry got on in without saying a word. Moments later she sat the alone, shivering, confused and with regret. She shouldn't have left the stupid diner.

She walked back home. Fortunately, she had brought her keys with her.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🌸]#it fanfiction #it x reader #bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #Spotify

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klarex · 2 years

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hiii <3 hope ur day is going well! can i please request reader is apart of the bad guys before the gala and mr wolf gets jealous when a guy flirts w/ them ?

Hello! I'm really tired today, but here it is a long fic just for you :)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: jealous Wolf, swearing, flirting, flustred Wolf and reader, blood, maybe a little spicy moment ;)

Summary: Wolf don't really like when someone flirts with you.

Paring: Mr. Wolf x reader

Bar

Not my gif

Pov. Y/n

Me and the gang finally have some free time for ourselves and Wolf invited me for a drink. He told me to be ready in 2h and we will be heading to this new bar in town.

I ran to my room and opened my wardrobe.

Frick. I need to wear something, but I don't have anything!

I throw things around searching and then an idea popped inside my head.

Webs.

I quickly got up and ran to her room. I knocked on her door. Then I heard a loud "come in". I opened the door only to see her playing on her computer.

- Webs. I need your help.

- Hm? What's up?

- Me and Wolf are going to the bar and I need your advice.

I said panicking. She paused the game and looked at me.

- Okey then! Go to your room and I will meet you there.

She said and I walked back to my room. I started to brush my hair to calm myself. The door burst open.

- Okey. So first you don't want to look like a slut and I prefer you to wear something casual, but also formal.

She said and looked through my closet.

When we were done with clothes, she helped me with my makeup and my hair.

- Thank you Webs for helping me.

- Yeah.. yeah.. you will buy me a drink later. Now go to your lover and have fun.

She said and I blushed while walking to Wolf.

- Oh! Hey Y/n. I just wanted to go for you.

He said smiling and I smiled back.

- By the way, you look really beautiful today Y/n~

I blushed again. He was wearing his suit. White shirt with black trousers and marine.

- T- Thanks.. Y- you look handsome yourself..

His smile grew bigger as he thanked me. He leaded me to his car and we jumped into it.

When we drove off from our base and we were going into the direction of new bar I felt a hand on my thigh. I blushed and looked at Wolf who was looking on the road smiling then he looked at me for a second.

- Is this okey, darling~?

He asked and I nodded. He looked back on the road.

When we parked he opened door for me and we went inside.

Bar was not small, but not big tho. There were some tables with chairs and in the middle of the room there was a dance floor. On the right side of the room there was a bar with tall chairs. There were a lot of people and music was playing really loud.

- Have fun, dear!

I nearly heard Wolf, because of the music that was playing in the background. I smiled and saw Wolf walking to the bar. I looked at some people in the front and saw my old friend.

- Y/n! It's you! Hey!

She waved at me and I came closer to her.

- Heey! Long time no see!

I said loudly and laughed with her. We shared a little chit chat, but I felt someone's eyes on my back for the whole time, I just ignored it.

- Oh! Y/n. I know someone who would like to meet you!

She said excited and dragged me through a dance floor to one of the tables.

- Y/n this is Mike. Mike this is my old friend Y/n.

She said and Mike took my hand and brought it closer to his lips.

- It's pleasure to meet you Y/n~

He placed a soft kiss on my hand. I took it back blushing softly.

- So Y/n, do you have a boyfriend, maybe?

F/n asked and I shook my head no. Mike smirked.

- You want to change that~?

Mike asked and got closer to me. I started to move away from him, but he put his hands around my waist, so I can't leave. I looked around for F/n, but she wasn't there anymore.

This stupid bitch!

She thinks I'm a slut or something?!

I thought and looked at Mike who was only centimeters away from me. I tried to get away from him again, but his arms were to strong.

- Fuck..

I mumbled.

- There is no exit Y/n~

When he said that I saw Wolf behind him angry as I never saw him. Seconds later Mike was laying on a ground with blood covering his face. I looked up at Wolf who had blood on his knuckles and a few drops of liquid on his white shirt.

- Don't YOU ever touch HER again, understand?!! YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!!

I didn't saw anything. I was shocked.

- We should be going if we don't want to end up in prison.

He said and we ran into the car. He turned it on and we drove home. While driving surprisingly there were no cops behind us. I sighned deeply.

- Thank you Wolf.. for saving me..

I said and looked down. He just nodded really not wanting to talk about this.

When we stopped home Wolf got to the bathroom for a shower to clean himself from blood. I went to my room to change myself into something more comfy. Later I sat on a sofa and turn on the tv. They were talking about something that happened in other countries, but really I wasn't listening. I just thought about that moment over and over again.

Why did he tell him that?

Was he jealous?

Does he like me?

No. It's not possi-

I was cut by a waving hand in front of my face and calling my name.

- Earth to Y/n!

I shook my head and looked at a person next to me. It was Wolf. Of course it was him. He was wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and a white T-shirt.

- What? Did you said something?

- I asked what are you watching, but I see you weren't actually paying attention to the tv..

He said and looked into my eyes then chuckled. I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut by a woman on a tv.

- -we found a man covered in blood in our new bar. We are searching for a person who did it, but also we are thankful for that, cause it was a villan that police was searching for a long time now. Thank you-

- Huh.. look at that. I saved your life plus I did something good for town. Strange feeling..

He said and I chuckled.

- I got a question for you Wolf..

I mumbled, unsure if that's a good idea.

- Hm?

Okey, now or never.

I took a deep breath.

- Were you jealous?

I asked quietly and he froze.

- Heh.. Me jealous? Never. Hehe...

He said while nervous laughing. He was blushing.

Okey he is lying and he is nervous, but I can use this..

I felt all the confidence start to fill me. I leaned to him and he nervously moved back away from me. When we reached the end of a sofa I was pinning him down, his head between my hands. I leaned my face closer to his. I decided to ask the same question again.

- Were you jealous, Mr. Wolf~?

He was blushing madly and his tail was slightly wagging. He just gulped and slowly nodded his head.

- Do you love me, Wolf~?

His tail started wagging faster and I chuckled. I leaned in, closing my eyes only to feel his lips on mine. He relaxed and kissed me back with passion. He put his hands on my cheeks and his legs wrapped around my waist bringing me closer to him. I fell on his, chest breaking the kiss. I brought my hand to his little sweet spot behind his ears and gently scratched it. His ears fell down in pleasure.

- You like it?

- Y- y- yeah...

I smirked and stopped what I was doing. He looked at me and I kissed him again with same passion as he did earlier. He wrapped his arms around my waist. Then we heard someone clearing their throat. We immediately pulled away and looked into their direction. We saw the rest of the gang watching us. We were blushing madly.

- Can both of you save it for later?

Snake groaned.

- Yeah. We just got an idea for another robbery.

Shark said. I looked at Webs who was wiggling her eyebrows.

Ugh.. I hate them..

masterlist

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot #the bad guys #the bad guys 2022 #the bad guys x reader #mr wolf x reader #mr wolf

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billythesimp · 2 years

Text

Road Trip Plans

These where a couple of shower thoughts I had.

Thinking of visiting friends sometime in the future and considered what it would be like to have the Gentle House + The Proxies go on a road trip.

tw: none

⋈ Wise is the designated driver during the trip, probably rented the car for the group as Nicole didn’t really plan it out other then convincing him and his sister to join them. Their little get-away vehicle wouldn’t fit them all so it was a good choice on their part.

⋈ The entire trip, he’s chugging energy drink after energy drink. Responsibility but still, he doesn’t rest until they stop for gas and ends up needing to take the longest piss. Gross but still, he needed it to stay away. Hopefully his bladder will forgive him after this.

⋈ Is happy that his friends are happy, though he can do with their whining and fighting sometimes. It’s not fun being the dad on the trip, consistently yelling over them to shut up or yelling at Nicole for not giving him the correct instructions when they need it. At this point, they’ve missed 12 exits, been pulled over twice, and almost three people have gotten motion sickness and had to pull over to throw up.

⋈ Maybe he should have had Belle in the passenger seat with him. He can’t wait to reach the motel to lay the fuck down and do a system reset with some water and a clean private bathroom.

⋈ Belle is the backseat driver, constantly pointing out the exits and warning her brother of oncoming traffic. Honestly, she should have been in the passenger seat but got stuck in the middle row behind Nicole. But she also doesn’t mind, it’s fun watching her brother miss stops and swerve between cars to pass the traffic faster.

⋈ Hands down bought the best snacks, is living the high life in the backseat while taking photos of all cool scenery. She shares her snacks with Nekomiya and Nicole, though hordes her best treats for herself. Gaming and munching is what she mainly did in the backseat.

⋈ Has plans on taking as many photos of the group during this trip. She wants to remember this for ages as it’s not often she is invited to go out with friends and not work everyday. Although she keeps tabs on the store and responds to emails from potential customers, she does leave the rest of their work to their custom-coded bangboos because she was down to make memories. Most likely plans on printing her favorite images for her desk and room.

⋈ Likes to buy something at every rest stop/gas station. Mostly foods for the others or just trying to find trinkets to mess with whenever her phone dies from playing games the entire road.

⋈ Nicole is in the passenger seat, designated DJ and also is supposed to be giving Wise the directions. I say supposed to because half the time she's on twitter or instagram looking at memes and goggling at cute outfits she wants. Her music taste is very much a girlboss, gaslight vibes. Like Doja Cat, Megan De Stallion, CupCake, really she likes songs she can twerk to.

⋈ Has fought Wise about the trip the entire ride, from putting her feet up on the dashboard to giving him the exit directions last minute. She wins most of the time, thinking it’s cuz she’s beautiful and sexy with those tits of hers. Really it’s cuz Wise was using her money to pay for gas and his energy drinks, but don’t tell her that. This is part of her bill for not totally planning out this trip.

⋈ Likes sitting in the front seat cuz she gets to mess with the driver. She likes Wise and probably does this to get closer to him while everyone is sleeping in the backseats. She likes the times when he’s just brain dead and puts his hand on her thigh instead of the shift-stick or when he scolds her with those charming eyes of his. Honestly, she enjoys the attention that she doesn’t notice her wallet being used for Wise’s needs and car gas.

⋈ I bet the moment they get to where she wanted to go in the first place, she’ll probably be whining about how hot it is or how she wants to go back to the hotel and nap. Only drag her out when you go shopping for clothes or look at food stands for dinner/lunch.

⋈ BILLY THE BACK SEAT KING~ He’s the tallest of the group and since he was rejected the front seat, it was settled that he’d have the backseat all to himself. It was the only way they could convince him to come with them. In the backseat, he made it like his nest, a body pillow to lay one with blankets and the AC blasting all the way. He is relaxed and cozy.

⋈ He is asleep for the majority of the ride, he made his home in the backseat and for once he is so quiet that everyone forgets he’s even there. Belle has to constantly remind them that Billy hasn’t spoken at all or get a group count to make sure no one was left behind at a gas station. But since Billy is asleep it’s easy to know he’s still with them.

⋈ There was at some point where he left the car to go pee once and buy himself lunch at a pit stop and when he came back to the parking lot, they were all gone. Cue Nicole getting called by Billy who is yelling that he was out taking a piss and Wise panic driving to the nearest exit to reverse and pick up Billy. They find him acting like a hobo asking for spare change until he spots them.

⋈ Either way, he gets to be babied by Belle and Anby who are in the middle seat. They force him to eat and whatnot. When they get there, he’s running around with Nekomiya like little kids and pointing at all the fun attractions there are. The long drive was worth it.

⋈ She originally didn’t want to go, but since Nicole was going she had no other choice. Anby spent most of the car ride watching videos and informing the group of any dangers like overheating or reminding them to eat their snacks/lunch. She doesn’t really do much other than keep an eye on the crew and watching movies.

⋈ She believes anything Belle and Nekomiya tell her, sometimes too seriously as Nicole scolds the two to stop it as they are scaring her. Plus, with Anby having a little bit of motion sickness, teasing her and giving her anxiety adds up and they all have pulled over to help her. They apologize by giving her water and letting her sit behind the driver’s seat where the good AC is. With her big headset, she dozes off relaxed and without fear as the sound of her mixed playlist of feel-good lofi songs fill her mind.

⋈ When she falls asleep in the ride, everyone shuts up just to hear the soft snores and take photos of her. Nekomiya tries stacking her fruit and crackers on her forehead, Billy braids her hair while Belle is taking a video of their shenanigans. If Anby every got a hold of Belle’s camera roll, she’d ban them from ever going on group road trips again. But watching her wake up and be confused as to why there are food items on her lap is the best thing ever.

⋈ the entire trip, she’s the babysitter for Nekomiya and Billy. Following them around and making sure they aren’t causing trouble among the crowds. She buys them tickets to booths and makes sure they eat their proper meals, scaring them by saying that if they pass out she won’t stick around.

⋈ Since Nekomiya is a lot younger then most of the other members of the Gentle House, she is placed in the middle seat. There, she gets to see everything, the road with all the cars, Belle playing her video games and Anby’s movies. She also gets a little bit of everyone’s foods since she’s in the middle and passes it between people.

⋈ She gets really fussy with sitting in the car all the time, so she gets out at every stop to do a full cat-like stretch and run around. Someone is usually watching her to make sure no one kidnaps her since she’s pretty cute. She gets out her energy before getting tired and ready to snuggle up to one of billy’s pillows that she steals. Better to have a sleepy Nekomiya than a fussy one.

⋈ She always is complaining about being hungry or needing to go pee, pranking Anby with Belle and letting everyone forget that Billy was left behind. Yeah, she knew he left but let it sink in until he called them. Little rascal, she laughs so hard when Wise serves and breaks a couple of highway laws to get their robotic friend back. Nicole gives her a warning look now and then, but she still causes trouble during the entire trip.

⋈ She has so much fun when they finally get there. After a long cat nap, she’s ready to hit the stops and is dragging everyone with her. An excited ball of energy walking around and taking in all the fun sights.

[09/07/2022]

Zenless Zone Zero Belongs to Hoyoverse*

#ZoneList #zenless zone zero #headcanons #wise (zzz)#belle (zzz)#nicole demara #billy the kid #anby demara #nekomiya mana

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x-pair-o-dice-x · 2 years

Note

Not sure if you’ve already talked about this Dice, but would you be willing to share how Phil and Kristin meet in By Nature?

Have a cake 🍰

thank you for the cake, mx. red!!! as for your question,,, i!! do not know how they meet quite yet!!!! but let’s find out together!!!!!

hmmm… i’d imagine it would have to be before the village becomes a thing.. maybe when phil is pretty young? let’s say.. young adult, early twenties?

he travels alone, something that is much easier for him to do than any other borrower, since he has wings, and can travel much faster than the average borrower.

he’s alone — not because he wants to be, but because he likes to explore, and he finds that other people just tend to hold him back.

one day, he finds himself near a house — a human house, that is. odd, this place is very far away from any other human buildings — it’s in the middle of a woods, and your can only barely see a trail that leads away from the house, presumably to a main road.

whoever lives here, clearly prefers their privacy.

they also.. don’t seem to be home right now.

and, well.. he is getting pretty sick of just eating various berries throughout the forest. you can only eat so many of the same thing before growing tired of it.

it’s a risky move — phil has absolutely no idea who lives here, or when they’re supposed to be home. for all he knows, they could come home any minute now.

but, well.. when has he ever turned down a challenge?

he ends up breaking in through a window - it was left unlocked, the human probably either forgot to lock it, or didn’t think any humans would try to break in, considering they live in the middle of nowhere.

and, well.. in a way, they were right — no humans were breaking in right now. just him.

so he gets in, and looks around for the kitchen. and as he looks, he ends up taking in the rest of the house.

it was a one story house, that much he could tell just from looking from the outside. it was fairly plain, for the most part — no decorations, just boxes laying around, only a few open.

did the human just move in? he thinks, as he examines the boxes briefly. sure enough, they were labeled, with various boxes dedicated to various things, like bathroom items, or dishes; stuff for the living room, or the bedroom. there was even a box dedicated to garden supplies.

this is perfect. if the human was in the middle of moving in, they wouldn’t notice a few things missing.

finally, he managed to find the kitchen, and made his way to the pantry.

after a moment of struggling, he opened the pantry door, and took a look inside.

it.. was fairly empty, actually. only a few shelves held food, and even then, what was there was just junk food.

guess the human hadn’t been able to go shopping just yet, phil grimaces, looking at his options. well.. there was a thing of crackers that was already open, it seemed. surely, the human wouldn’t miss one cracker?

he takes one out, and flies out of the pantry, landing on a counter.

it was as he was debating whether or not to stay and see if there was anything else he could grab, make his time here more worthwhile; that he hears the sound of something outside.

he hasn’t been around humans much, but he’s been out of the forest a few times to hear them talk about it, know what it’s supposed to be.

a car, he realizes. there’s a car outside.

and.. if there’s a car outside….

the human is back.

shit, he didn’t actually think the human would be back so soon. he- he needs to leave-

all too soon, phil hears the front door open up. fuck, too late to book it to the window. he’s just glad the kitchen is out of direct view from the front. he needs to find somewhere to hide, somewhere the human wouldn’t think to look, at least until he can make his escape.

he flies towards the top of the fridge nearby, and just hopes the human will leave soon enough.

—————————

kristin lets out a sigh of relief when she opens the door to her new home.

finally, that college class was absolutely just sucking the soul out of her. she knows she needs to take those classes if she wants to get into archeology, but by prime if it wasn’t taking a lot out of her.

at least i can just relax, now, she thinks as she heads towards the kitchen. maybe get some snacks, and put on a netflix show on her phone, spend the rest of the day like that.

she should probably work on unpacking a bit more than the bare essentials she has out already, but… that can wait for future kristin.

(future kristin absolutely hates her, but.. that’s just another problem for her to deal with.)

she walks into the kitchen, and opens the pantry door, before frowning at her options.

oh, right, i don’t have a lot in here, she thinks. she lets out a hum, before picking up some crackers.

she makes a mental note to go to the grocery store sometime(just another thing for future kristin to worry about), before turning around, and making her way towards her living room-

before stopping when she notices something on the counter.

her brow furrows, and she steps closer.

is that.. a cracker?

“what the..?” she mumbles under her breath, confused. did.. did she leave a cracker here last time she ate? she… doesn’t remember doing that, but she supposed if she did, she would have remembered to clean it back up.

she shrugs to herself, before picking it up, and eating it. doesn’t seem stale, so.. it’s good enough for her.

as she makes her way towards the living room, she notices that.. the.. the window is open?

well, that’s not supposed to be like that, she thinks, before closing the window.

did.. did she do that? but, no, she definitely doesn’t remember leaving the window open — hell, she doesn’t even remember opening it in the first place.

did someone break in?

oh hell, she really hopes no one broke in — she’s five wrong steps from being a broke college student, she really doesn’t need this right now.

she hurriedly examined all of the boxes she’s yet to unpack, but as she moves through them, she finds… nothing’s missing?

frankly, besides the window and that cracker, everything’s been looking normal since she got home..

did.. did they just stop in to steal a cracker?

..no, that just sounds absurd. she shook her head.

maybe i really did just leave the window open by accident..?

it’s unlikely, but nothing else seems plausible either.

she shrugs, and moves to lay on her couch. she pulls out her phone, adjusts the bag of crackers, and opens up a netflix show.

……..

it’s as she’s halfway through the episode when she hears a loud thunk on her window. she startled, dropping her phone on her lap, nearly doing the same with her crackers, before she sits up and looks at where she heard the noise.

laying right on the floor, presumably having fallen from banging against the window, was a little bird.

kristin jumps from the couch, and immediately runs over to it.

how in the world did a bird get in here? she thinks as she makes her way over. maybe through the open window?

but, as she steps towards it, she looks closer, and…

that’s…… that’s not a bird.

sure, it’s got the wings of one — ones that resemble a crow, she notes — but.. as she looks over it, she realizes… it..

it looks… a lot like a human..

if a human had crow wings, and was tiny — so, so very tiny.

as she stares at it, it seems to finally come out of the daze it was in, after it slammed into the window. it shakes its head, moving to push itself up — before freezing when it sees the shadow looming over it.

for a moment, it doesn’t move, until it.. it slowly looks over its shoulder, and makes eye contact with her.

blue eyes meet dark ones.

they stare at each other for a moment, while kristin takes the- the little bird-person-thing in.

it has blond hair, reaching just above its shoulders. it’s wearing a green cloak, and it’s got talons. sharp ones, at that.

the feathers on its wings, which look black on first viewing, seem iridescent in the light, now. and as she looks closer at its face, she realizes the feathers are also scattered around its cheeks, looking almost like freckles.

and as she takes a closer look at its face, she also realizes that… it.. it looks terrified.

am… am i the reason it looks so frightend? she thinks, eyes widening. oh, she doesn’t like that..

“uh, h..hello?” kristin speaks up, moving to sit down on the floor instead of looming over it. “uhm, hi. i don’t- mean to scare you.”

the- the bird, she guesses she’ll call it for now, doesn’t say anything. she’s not even sure if it can talk. hell, she doesn’t even know if it can understand her.

instead, it just backs away slightly.

“are you hurt?” she tries again, glancing up at the window, “i- i wouldn’t have closed this window if i realized you were in here.”

again, the bird stays silent.

a moment of silence, before suddenly, she moved again. she can hear the bird gasp a bit, shooting itself away, but she ignores it, moving until she’s on one knee, leaning in towards the window.

she pushes it up, until she’s sure it’s been moved high enough, and then pulls away.

kristin finally pushes herself off the floor, trying to pay no mind on how the little bird tenses, before she makes herself walk away, back to the couch.

she spares only one glance back at the little bird, before she picks up her phone and the crackers, and lays back down on the couch. she puts her show back on, and tried to not think about the tiny person in her house.

a few minutes pass, until she sees movement in the corner of her eye, and the bird flies out of her house, out the window.

she waits a bit longer, until she finally allows herself to relax.

in all honesty, kristin.. really wanted to talk to it a bit more. she has no idea what it was, and.. that piqued her curiosity.

but she could also tell that.. it was so.. so scared, so terrified. of her.

she.. she didn’t want that.

so, despite her curiosity.. she let it go.

maybe it’ll come back, she thinks to herself, but she knows, deep down.. it probably won’t.

still, though.. she can hope.

—————————

because it’s been almost two hours since i first got this ask and i don’t wanna write anymore,, i’ll just tell you what happens next.

after a few days, phil decides he wants to go back, against his better judgement.

he knows it might not end well, the human could change their mind, but.. they… they really did seem nice.

so he comes back while the human is gardening, much to the human’s surprise.

and, after a moment of hesitation, he decides to talk back to them.

they introduce each other, and he finds the human’s name is kristin.

and, over time, they get to know each other.

and.. little by little…. they fall a little bit in love with each other as each day passes.

#mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #asks #by nature au #my writing #tiny!philza #giant!kristin #was gonna look online to see how old he was when he actually met kristen but that seems a bit weird. so. early twenties it is!#anyway if you couldn’t tell i made this all up on the spot jdidjdodj #as of rn i’m still writing this. got into a part where i’m placing a readmore. dear god i’m making a minific again #shaking myself violently can i not just explain what happens without turning it into a fic #also i realized just as i finished this that i was spelling kristin wrong this whole time. H #if a ‘kristen’ manages to sneak into the final post. woops

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crackedoutwalnut · 3 years

Note

uhh could I request a wanda x reader doing something really reckless (like stealing the car for a 3 am drive) and Carol and Nat (who are like their mother figures - and also are in a relationship) scolding them for it!!

ps: I don't know if scolding is even a word but I guess you know what I mean hahahah

a/n: I am absolutely in love with this prompt and I had a lot of fun writing it :) hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none just some cursing and some underage drinking.

Word Count: 2,680

It was around 3:30 in the morning when you felt someone nudge your shoulder. Groaning, you pulled your blanket further over your head.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled under your breath.

It was only when a strand of red magic surrounded the edge of the blanket and jerked it off your body, did you awaken. You gasped at the sudden assault of cold air and shot up. Wanda stood over you in a Black Sabbath hoodie and ripped jeans with a far too pleased smirk on her face.

"What the hell, Wanda?" You hissed, rubbing your bleary eyes.

"Put some clothes on; I want to show you something."

"The sun isn't rising for another 2 hours, Wan. I want to go back to bed," you complained, grasping for the blanket once more.

Wanda pulled the blanket fully off your shared bed and looked at you pleadingly, "Come on, please? I promise it will be worth it," her eyes were wide as she looked at you hopefully. At this time of night- or morning, you supposed - her accent was thicker than it would be during the day. You cursed your weak resolve and slunk out of bed.

"Fine, but I'm stealing one of your hoodies," you grumbled.

She chuckled, "You are already hoarding at least half of them," she pointed out as you stepped out of your pajama pants. You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled on black yoga pants and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt you had been keeping on your side of the closet for at least a month now. Wanda gasped and slapped your arm lightly, "I have been looking for that everywhere, Y/n. I thought I lost it!"

"Your hoodies are comfier," you reasoned with a shrug. "Anyways, how are we supposed to get past mother hen one and two?" You gestured towards the direction of Natasha and Carol's room.

Wanda pondered this for a moment, "Just be fast and quiet, you go out and wait in the car, and I will grab the drinks."

You raised an eyebrow, "Natasha's a world-class assassin, and Carol wakes up whenever Nat does; this won't work. Also, we're going to drink at 3 in the morning?"

Wanda huffed, "It will be fine. You worry too much, Y/n. Plus, when have we ever drank irresponsibly?"

Narrowing your eyes, you stuffed your hands in your pockets, "Do you really want me to answer that."

Wanda pushed you towards the door, "Go outside and wait in the car." You snickered and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squealed slightly. It wasn't a matter of not being caught as much as it was a matter of being long gone before Natasha and Carol decided to go after them. Regardless of how sneaky they thought they were being, Natasha- if not both her and Carol - was bound to hear them. Ever so carefully, you wedged the front door open and slipped through it.

You had moved in with Carol, Nat, and Wanda a year into your relationship with her. Having graduated college with a nearly nonexistent relationship with your parents, you needed a place to live. Your girlfriend and the women who practically made sure you didn't starve throughout college seemed like the most reasonable choice. You had met Wanda on campus, and it had taken three weeks of being her friend until you realized she was an Avenger. Shortly after that, Wanda introduced you to the rest of her team. At first, your only interaction with the married couple was them giving you the "shovel talk" when Wanda first introduced you as her girlfriend. However, after working with them as a hacker for SHIELD, they quickly took you under their wing as well.

Smiling slightly at the memory, you opened the passenger door to Natasha's black Corvette Stingray. It took all of three minutes for Wanda to come running out the door, a bottle of apple cinnamon whiskey in hand. She threw the door open and shoved the bottle into your hand before pushing the key into the ignition and gunning it down the street. Your eyes bugged as your fumbled to get your seatbelt fastened. You clutched at your chest as the two of you went 45 in a neighborhood.

"Wanda, what the fuck!" you yelped, gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly.

"I'm sorry, I heard their door open, and I panicked!" She cried, grasping blindly for her seatbelt. The two of you slowed down slightly as you gained distance from the house.

"They're totally going to notice the whiskey's gone, Wan. We're both 19; we can't legally drink yet!"

"Relax, Y/n they won't notice one drink is missing out of a whole cabinet filled with alcohol," Wanda reasoned, turning onto a gravel road.

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend, "How many times do I have to point out that Nat is the world's top assassin and Carol was trained by both the US military and the Kree?"

"I promise it will be worth it," Wanda insisted, grabbing your hand from across the middle console. You sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of her hand.

"You're lucky I love you."

Wanda grinned and shot a wink at you, "I know." With that, she pulled off the dirt road and into the middle of a grassy clearing. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached down to grab the whiskey, which had rolled under the seat during your escape out of the neighborhood. Wanda stepped out of the car and went around the back to grab a large black and red checkered blanket. You followed her as she smoothed out the blanket atop the grass and pointed up at the sky. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw streaks of light blaze across the sky.

"I didn't know there was going to be a meteor shower tonight," you whispered, eyes never leaving the sky. Wanda grinned and unscrewed the bottle. She took a hearty drink from it and passed it over to you.

"I was hoping to surprise you," she explained, laying down on the blanket.

You followed suit and took a large drink of your own. "Why did we need alcohol for this, exactly?"

The corner of Wanda's lips quirked upward as she turned her head to look at you. "Make it a bit more...colorful, I suppose. I considered whether edibles would be better, but Nat and Carol would definitely skin us alive when they found out about that."

You giggled; the apple cinnamon whiskey had settled in your stomach, warming your body against the early morning breeze. Your head felt fuzzier as you leaned over to place a kiss on Wanda's cheek. "This is perfect, Wan. Thank you." Wanda placed a cinnamon-flavored kiss on the corner of your mouth. "How much do you want to bet Wanda and Carol are waiting by the door for us right now?"

Your girlfriend let out a drunken laugh and set the now half-empty bottle aside. "10 dollars that they left the house to find us."

"You're on." The two of you dissolved into hysterical giggles that lasted so long your stomach started to cramp. The blazes of white-hot light lit up the sky as your vision turned blissfully hazy. Clumsily, you crawled towards Wanda and placed your head atop her stomach. "Mmm, you're warm," you hummed, a goofy smile cracking through your lips. The witch placed her hands against the side of your head and started stroking them through the locks of your hair.

Just as your eyes started to slip shut at the attention, your felt her hands halt. "Y/n?" You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response. "How're we gonna get home?" Her voice was slurred and thick with her Sokovian accent.

Your eyes snapped open, and you shot up. "Shit, we can walk, maybe?" Wanda gave you a blank look in response as she gestured to the expanse of nothingness around you. You sighed, "We have to call Carol and Nat."

Wanda groaned and covered her face with her hands. Her chipped black nails scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, leaving red lines all over her face. "Do we have to?"

"Well, we can't drive Wanda, and by the time we're sober enough, it'll be nearly 7:30!"

"They're going to kill us," she complained, burying her face in her hoodie. "Just get it over with."

You fished your phone from your pant pocket and hesitantly pressed Natasha's contact. The phone barely got through with its first ring before the older woman picked up.

"Where the hell did you two go?" her raspy voice was nearly brimming with anger. You almost dropped your phone at the venom lacing her words.

" 'M sorry, 'Tasha," you winced at the heavy slur in your words before continuing. "We thought it'd be fun."

You heard someone grab the phone, "Are you two drunk?" Carol demanded.

"No..." you trailed off pathetically. Wanda glared at you and lightly kicked your foot.

"Y/n try to say Natasha's full name, right now," you straightened slightly at Carol's military voice.

"N'tasha 'Manoff," your tongue felt too big for your mouth as you attempted to form the words. "...Okay, maybe a little bit."

"Where are you? We're coming to get you," Nat insisted. You heard footsteps from the other end of the line and someone pulling the hallway closet open.

"Wan, where are we?" you asked, glancing around the fields of overgrown grass and wheat.

Wanda winced and bit the tip of her finger, "Uhhh.."

"You don't know?" Natasha and Carol shouted. Wanda pursed her lips and looked down at her lap.

"I didn't have a specific route planned out beforehand," she admitted.

"Turn the location tracker in your phone settings on," Natasha ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you both grumbled in unison, feeling akin to a scolded child.

"When we get there, you two better hope you have a better excuse than the ones we heard over the phone," Carol warned.

"You took my Corvette?" Natasha complained.

"It was either that or Carol's truck, and Wanda isn't used to driving stick yet," you insisted. "Her car's still in the shop from last month." A speeding car had rear-ended Wanda's car on the highway.

We will talk about this when we get there, do not touch the Corvette any more than you already have," with that, Natasha hung up.

"Well, apple cinnamon whiskey isn't a terrible last meal," you reasoned as Wanda folded the blanket and set it in the backseat.

"Y/n, we haven't eaten since dinner time. Whiskey is hardly a meal," Wanda grumbled, shutting the door.

"Babe, I'm trying to be optimistic."

"Captain Marvel and Black Widow are on their way to kick our asses into the moon," Wanda replied, leaning back against the Corvette. You sighed and rested your head against her shoulder. "Sorry this night was a bust," she mumbled, eyes staring down at her boots dejectedly.

You smiled and leaned in to press your lips against hers. Wrapping an arm around her waist, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. "This is one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, Wanda. Thank you." Wanda grinned sheepishly and buried her face in your shoulder.

A few dreadful minutes later, you saw the headlights of Carol's truck speed down the gravel road. The truck lurched to a stop as the two superheroes jumped out of the car.

"Are you two alright?" Natasha demanded, half-running to the two of you.

"We're fine, I can protect myself, and Y/n was with me the whole time," Wanda reasoned. "We went out to watch a meteor shower, not go clubbing.

"I can protect myself just fine," you whined.

Carol raised an eyebrow, "Your hands were built for hacking and reading, not punching." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Wanda offered you a sympathetic smile but did not say anything to counter the older woman's claim. Rude.

"Wanda, get in the Corvette, Y/n get your ass in the truck," Natasha ordered. She was wearing a black leather jacket over her red silk pajama set. Carol was in basketball shorts and a tank top with a brown leather bomber jacket pulled over it. You quickly shuffled over to the truck and slid in.

Your foot nervously tapped against the floor of the car as you watched Carol grab the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and made her way over to the truck. Shutting the door, she set the bottle of whiskey on the open seat between you two and turned the keys in the ignition. As the pickup truck rumbled to life, she turned to face you. "Kid, you two nearly downed that bottle in a single night. What were you thinking?" You burrowed further into Wanda's sweatshirt as if to protect from her stern gaze.

"You're really mad at us, huh?" you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands.

Carol sighed and followed behind Natasha down the road, "You scared the shit out of us, kid. We didn't know where you had gone, why you left, plus it's nearly pitch black out here."

"But, we're adults just like you and Nat," you insisted weakly.

"You're still teenagers; we're in our 30's. Millions of things could have gone wrong; some creep could have taken you before Wanda could get to you, you could have crashed had you chosen to drive home, your phones could have died, or you could have gotten lost."

You shrunk further into your sweater, "Sorry..."

Carol sighed and looked over at you as she turned into the neighborhood. "Listen, kid. We really care about you two a lot. Nat and I have to resist the urge to duct tape you to the kitchen chairs to keep you two from leaving for missions. We know you can take care of yourselves, but a heads up in the future would be nice, and also more reasonable hours for your plans."

You grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, that seems fair."

Carol smiled and pulled into the driveway. Natasha and Wanda were waiting on the doorstep when you two got out. The latter looked thoroughly chastised as she burrowed her mouth and nose into her hoodie. When the four of you got inside, Natasha sighed and checked the clock on her phone.

"Well, we might as well watch a movie or something since it's nearly sunrise." You and Wanda settled on the couch, with Natasha to your left and Carol to Wanda's right acting as bookends. The assassin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head in the crook of her neck. You saw Wanda lay her head in Carol's lap as the older woman pulled up Netflix. Natasha was idly threading her fingers through your hair, causing your already drunk and lethargic mind to grow hazier. Your eyes started to slip shut as you felt yourself being guided to lay your head in Nat's lap. You jerked slightly, attempting to fight the drowsiness from taking hold. Forcing your eyes open, you tried to sit up. However, the battle for consciousness was quickly lost when Nat started using her nails to gently massage your scalp.

"Carol," the assassin whispered to her wife. The blonde stopped her search for a good movie as she glanced over at Natasha.

"What is-" her question was quickly cut off by her wife quietly shushing her. Nat gestured down to the younger women currently lying in each of their laps. Carol glanced down to find Wanda's face hidden against the sleeve of her hoodie as she let out soft snores.

"Well, guess the movie idea's a bust," she whispered.

Natasha nodded, "You grab Wan, and I'll get Y/n."

Carefully, the heroes scooped the younger women into their arms and carried them to your shared bedroom. Natasha gently set you onto the bed beside your girlfriend and pulled the blanket- which was lying on the floor for whatever reason - to cover the two of you. Ever so cautiously, the couple crept out of the room.

#carolnat #carol danvers x reader #Natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #Captain Marvel x reader #black widow x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #avengers fic #reader insert #prompt fill

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darwin-xf · 3 years

Text

Love is a Verb

His dick knew things.

In general, thinking with your little head not your big one got a bad rap.

But for him? The opposite seemed to apply.

Of course he’d been mortified when he sprung to life in her hand the night before, with Scully in full on doctor mode, acting so clinical and detached. While he was so very very exposed.

A wave of anger arose in the wake of his humiliation. At her. Which wasn’t fair. She was doing him a favor, after all. Examining him, because they were stuck in a crap motel in the middle of nowhere Florida, the day after a hurricane, flights snafued, roads clogged with debris. And him with a sea monster bite on his neck and an angry itchy red rash on his dick to match. She was caring for him, just like she always did. Even though neither one of them was exactly comfortable about the prospect.

But now, considering what that moment of vulnerability had led to, he was glad it happened. And hardly surprised.

And when his big head has been muddled and confused on a night a few weeks before? His dick had shown the way forward. When a different woman had laid her hands on him, slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t want her. He felt like a block of wood as she kissed him and touched him. And yet he let it happen. His mind filled with a fuzzy gray static as she whispered to him how she needed him, how she’d never stopped loving him, until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She opened his pants and he let her, hungry for something she was offering. He would think a lot about that later.

But then his dick was in her mouth. And she worked it, employed all her little tricks. And still it stayed soft.

Until, giving up, she stood. She crossed the room and poured herself a scotch. He tucked his junk in his pants and zipped up. Not even embarrassed.

“You love her,” Diana said, her back to him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“But Fox,” she said, closing the distance between them, sitting down next to him, “She doesn’t know you like I do. There’s so much I want to give you...”

She launched into the pitch he’d heard from her before. Since she returned, she’d been whispering to him whenever she could get him alone, offering him access. “There are so many things we can accomplish together, Fox. Why would you want to keep toiling in the dark when you can shape the future of the human race? You’ve more than earned your seat at the table. And your voice is needed there...”

Though he never really felt engaged in these conversations, his big head listened to what Diana had to say.

But the little one was more persuasive. Not to mention more persistent. The truth was, Scully had been the only one able to get him off for months. Though of course she hadn’t touched him.

His extensive collection of salacious videotapes these days stayed tucked in their hiding places, moldering in their cases. The magazines delivered to his door each month, Penthouse and Hustler and Escort and Razzle and Club, remained stacked on his entryway table, their spines uncracked, their pages unperused. Most with the black no-see-um wrapper still intact.

A fact Scully discovered while visiting his apartment a few weeks before. She turned up on the late side one evening, work on her mind, files in her hand, her body tucked dutifully away in some dark suit.

“Oh that,” he said when she placed her palm on the towering cache of smut, popped an eyebrow in his direction. She had spent enough time in his space to understand that this was a departure from his usual behavior, where his porn was concerned. Whereby he’d rip the covers off the mags as soon as they arrived and leaf through them, looking for anything particularly good. He’d turn down the corners of memorable pages then leave them piled haphazardly around his place: on end tables, under the fishtank, next to his bed.

The explanation was not something he was prepared to share. So he thought fast, and invented something on the fly that seemed remotely plausible. “Yeah, the boys tell me that those are going to be collector's items soon. Print is dead, Scully. Everyone making the switch from atoms to bits and bytes. Paper’s so pulpy and inefficient. I have a book on it somewhere...” He riffled through his bookshelf, glad to escape her excruciating gaze. He plucked out a book and handed her a copy of Being Digital by Nicholas Negroponte. “He’s a smart guy. You should check it out.”

His effort to distract her was in vain. She put the book aside without glancing at the cover and continued to silently cross-examine him. He pretended to be interested in another book he’d pulled at random, but the moment stretched on uncomfortably. "I thought I could get more for them if they remained in pristine condition,” he said as he paged through the book he wasn’t reading. For all he knew he was holding it upside down. “You know how people keep their Star Wars toys in the boxes with the cellophane on?”

She shrugged, unconvinced. But she moved on, willing to let it go. Her stacked heels clacked obnoxiously against his hardwood floors as she slowly made her way into his living room.

He doubted she wanted to know the real reason. Though he was pretty sure he could turn the tables on her if he blurted it out. It would serve her right for the way she roamed around his apartment and let her eyes light on his stuff, storing her little data points in that mind, trying to figure him out. But maybe one day the tea leaves of his pitiable life she seemed so eager to read would finally speak to her. Maybe it would occur to her what was actually going on.

Which was that every time he touched himself, he imagined it was her hand. And he would try to switch things over, open one of his skin mags— his trusty strategy for years when it came to getting his thoughts off his partner and back where they belonged —but it wasn’t working anymore.

He’d listlessly page through the glossies, looking for a promising spread, land on some blowjob scene and eyeball it for a while. But when he got down to business it, was her mouth on him, warm and receptive, her eyes on his face, his hands in her coppery hair. He’d smolder for a while, thinking of her lips, her strong small hands, and always her eyes, then feverishly work himself up. And the magazine, forgotten, would slip away onto the floor.

On the bright side, his inappropriate intrusive fixation on his FBI partner was saving him two hundred bucks a month he used to spend on phone sex. The last time he dialed in he couldn’t even get it up. So he spilled his guts to one of his regular providers, droning on for forty-five minutes about how he had it bad for his partner, all the things she did that made him crazy, the reasons he couldn’t tell her. Realizing even therapy would be cheaper, and feeling like a terrible cliché, he’d quit calling those numbers.

His videos were his last line of defense. Their absorbing input had always been able to capture his attention, so he’d try one of those. It might work for a few minutes, but the real action was behind his eyes. In his mind it was her heels digging in to the small of his back as he plunged into her tight little cunt. She’d be beneath him hot and panting, open her mouth to moan and he’d stuff his fingers in, slide them wetly against her tongue. Soon he’d be picking up the pace... The television would blare fruitlessly in the background, rife with bad dialogue and silicone silo tits and oh babys. The money shot would come and go, unseen by him, and the screen would fade to black.

The reason porn had quit working was simple: in his fantasies, she always comes too. Usually more than once. He’d start slow, imagine he was taking his time kissing his way down her body. That could take a while. Then he’d tease her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit. When she begged him to, he’d slip inside her and slam his hips forward. He’d hold there, bottomed out, and kiss her sweet mouth. Then he’d slide it in and out, looking into her eyes, feeling every inch of her.

Soon he’d need to fuck her harder, faster. He’d reach down to tease her clit until she was thrashing and pleading. Then she’d say his name, and her face would change, and she’d come on his dick. He’d watch her ride it out, humming with pleasure as her warm wet circles broke against him and travelled up his body in waves. Till his nuts and his gut and his heart and his throat and his brain were replete with her. Finally he’d come, imagining he was cradled by her hips and rocking, buried deep inside her, spilling his secrets into her ear.

In his dirty busy mind he’d already had her so many places and ways: in showers and motel beds, in cars and elevators, bent over his desk at work, the door unlocked, her skirt bunched around her waist, her drugstore pantyhose dangling from her ankle. Quick or slow or sweet or mean, acrobatic or missionary, rough or tender. Or both. God. Even boring. Just the two of them in his bed, nose to nose under the covers, whispering and giggling and whiling away a Sunday morning.

And the most pathetic and woebegone detail? Sometimes his fantasies contained no sex at all. He wanted to watch a movie with her feet parked in his lap. He wanted to shop for groceries with her and hold her hand on the walk home. To spend a weekend with her on the Vinyard and show her his old high school. He wanted to rub her back when she was sad and play footsie with her under the table during boring budget meetings. He wanted to gather her close and kiss her eyelids and hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. To watch her to rise naked from his bed and pull on his clothes she’d just stripped from his body. On red eye flights he wanted to leave the arm rest up and snuggle with her under those dingy felt blankets. To read to her while she soaked in the tub and find the nooks and hollows of her body where she was ticklish. He wanted to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her cry happy tears. He wanted to make her wet just with his voice. To lay in bed and watch while she got dressed for church. He wanted to kiss her in front of her idiot brother, maybe even slip her a tasteful amount of tongue. To shower with her before work, to soap her up and shampoo her hair. He wanted to stock his fridge with an assortment of her gross non-dairy yogurts.

Scully. Before she’d even descended into his office and introduced herself, he assumed she was a plant. Or a dupe, a patsy. Why else would a promising and talented young agent be conscripted to his lonely, disrespected division? Most likely she’d already agreed to keep tabs on him, to cast his work in a negative light. And even if she hadn’t, he was certain she’d be manipulated, using the lever of her obvious ambition, into doing so. He also suspected, since she’d spent most of her time thus far in the FBI in the lab or the classroom, that she was a house cat. The kind of agent who might hold romantic notions about working in the field, but who would soon balk at the grueling, unpredictable hours, the endless travel, the physical grind. And blanch at the dangers. It’s no kind of life for anybody who wants a life.

By the time their flight touched down in Oregon on that first case, he knew for sure that she was fun to spar with. And all kinds of smart. And even sort of cute. And while it can obviously be helpful to have a partner if things go sideways, he remembers hoping that didn’t happen to them before she washed out and retreated back to the lab. Because he suspected this itty bitty pathologist with zero field experience and impractical footwear? Would be more likely to become a liability than properly cover his flank.

After they’d worked a half dozen cases together, it was fair to say he’d reconsidered the hasty assumptions he’d made about Scully. Which is to say she surprised him at every turn. Except on the couple of occasions when she’d astonished him, leaving him flat-footed and slack-jawed in her wake. Against all odds, he had himself a partner. Which is not to say he fully trusted her. Not yet. And he doubted she’d hang around much longer.

But still. He’d learned that she was game. Skeptical and rational, but up for anything. She never complained about bad food or lumpy beds. And courageous, staring down firearms pushed in her face without blinking. She was fearless and cagy, and could take a punch or dish one out. And in the next moment she could soften, to connect with a suspect or a victim, to care for a child, or for him. She believed deeply in what she was doing. When he bumbled into trouble, which he seemed to have a knack for, she more than had his back. Yet when she’d sided with him and blew off her buddies from the Academy? It wasn’t loyalty to him she was demonstrating, but to the victims. To the truth. Above all, Scully was honest.

In some ways, he knew her so well. Yet all these years later there was there were aspects to her he could only guess at. Scully, he’d come to understand, was a deeply private person. Didn’t give pieces of herself away in idle conversation, like most people do. The fact that he was a trained and skilled profiler didn’t seem to help. In his fevered mind he’d become preoccupied with the things he didn’t know about her. Like how, exactly, does she like to be touched? He thought about that a lot. Is she a morning sex person? (God he hoped so.) Is she loud in bed? Or more quiet and intense? A little repressed, or wild and uninhibited? He could imagine it either way. Is she bossy? Submissive? A little of both? What does she taste like? Does she talk dirty? Will she like it when he does? (Because he definitely does.) How would he tease her? What are her kinks? Does she like it rough? And if he wanted to go down on her for hours, would she be okay with that?

So, yeah. He loved her.

That switch had been flicked for him on a steamy summer evening, a moment when he’d been staring down the real possibility of losing her. She walked away. He followed her, flew out his door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Stormed up to her where she’d turned to face him in his hallway. Fists clenched, voice raised, he was in full on fighting mode. But he wasn’t fighting her. He was fighting to keep her. So instead of telling her off, as his body language suggested he might, he told her what she meant to him. How he needed her. Things he hadn’t even realized before they came out of his mouth. But all of it the truth.

She’d been girded and resolute, her body rigid and self-contained. But then she broke, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she softened and stepped into his embrace. He looked in her impossibly blue eyes glinting with tears and realized with dreadful certainty that, Christ, he was going to kiss his partner. More than that, if she let him, he was going to pick her up and carry her back through the door of his apartment and lay her down and fuck her.

That plan had been derailed, but the urge for him remained. And not long after, he gathered his courage and, with all the earnestness he could muster, he’d looked her in the eyes and confessed.

So he’d told her that he loved her. But had he shown her?

That was a thorny question, and it made him uncomfortable to consider it. Because he had to admit that for the most part, he hadn’t.

It was strange, but once his feelings for Scully had shifted, his behavior toward her had become less loving. For one thing, he didn’t let her in on that fact that she’d become the only featured player in his secret late-nite fantasy theatre. But more than that, he found himself especially irritable with her. Dismissive. Self-centered. Sometimes even cold.

When he was looking for an excuse to be angry with her, he told himself a story that she’d rejected him. Because, oh brother. But he’d seen her eyes go wide for an instant, felt her animal panic. She’d pored over his hospital chart and had to know he wasn’t high. So he’d concluded that she didn’t want him. Didn’t love him.

And Fowley’d chosen that inopportune moment to skip back over the pond and make a play for his ass. And though he had no interest in rekindling that relationship, just having her around reminded him of all the reasons it just might be a bad idea to get tangled up sexually with your partner.

More than that, even though he knew that Scully felt insecure because of Diana for several legitimate reasons, he hadn’t bothered to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. When Diana called him and invited him downstairs for lunch, he’d go. Mostly to be near his files, and to mine the trashcans for cases when her back was turned. But he’d steal away from the bullpen, not tell Scully where he was off to, or why. He let her twist in the wind, wondering who Diana was to him and what her reappearance meant for their partnership.

It would make sense that once you’ve discovered the person you love, the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your days (not even to mention nights), the person who is, quite possibly, it for you? That you would try to make that happen. To lock that down. And yet he seemed to be doing everything but.

Even after she’d been shot by Ritter, and he’d almost lost her again.

And why was that? How to explain this puzzling behavior.

Maybe she didn’t want him, and he was just protecting himself.

The thing was, when he was being honest, he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d been about to kiss her in his hallway, she’d looked confused at first. And then concerned, with real fear flashing in her eyes. But by the time his lips were hovering over hers? They were on the same page. She’d gone molten in his arms, and her mouth awaited his, wet and ready. His body remembered how she’d opened to him, with her sweet breath and her fingers on his neck. He knew in his bones how that encounter would have ended, if not for that stupid fucking bee. Recalled it every chance he got.

As a psychologist, looking at the situation objectively? He’d have to conclude that he was engaging in some epic self-sabotage. Yup.

That night in her apartment when Diana had made her intentions clear, he’d agreed like some kind of docile sheep to join her. To scrum up with the other chosen few at El Rico Air Force Base as Armageddon loomed and save himself at the expense of the rest of humanity. And Scully, even though he wasn’t by her side where he belonged, was still fighting. For him, For them. For the truth. For the future.

And to repay her for her steadfast faith in him and devotion to their work? He was flirting with the one thing that could tear them apart. With inflicting a betrayal that could send her packing for good.

They’d dodged a bullet that night. More than that, they’d gotten their files back, and were free to resume their work. And by any measure he should have felt relieved. But he woke the next morning with a hangover worse than any he’d ever gotten from liquor. He looked in the mirror to shave and realized he couldn’t even meet his own gaze. He was ashamed. And he had to admit that he’d been seduced by Diana after all. Not into bed, but into complacency.

Needing some time and space to think things through, he called Skinner and redeemed a few vacation days. He threw some clothes in a bag and set out driving, not sure of his destination.

On the road, heading north, armed with this new clarity, he mulled things over. How was he going to feel, he wondered, when he succeeded and chased her away? That seemed to be his end game, after all. He knew what he’d do. He’d track her down to wherever she’d absconded to and interrupt her as she attempted to reboot her life. Then, looking desperate and half mad, he’d profess his love.

But it would be too late. She would conclude, quite logically, that he only wanted her when she was leaving. And even if she loved him like he hoped she might, she would not settle for that. Not Scully. And it would be selfish of him to ask her to.

It hit him then, with complete and utter clarity, that he had no idea how to love someone. He’d had bad models and a dearth of life experience in that arena. He knew how he felt. But love is a verb. It’s about what you do. She had taught him that.

He was good with the grand gestures, sure. Tracking her down at the bottom of the world and fishing her out of an enormous alien vessel, for example. Then breathing life back into her and hauling her to the surface while sidestepping rabid lizard monsters who swiped at them with razor-edged claws? Check.

But she needed more. For him to find mundane ways to express his care and concern, perhaps. To show her how much she mattered to him. How much he valued her and all the ways she contributed to their work. To his life. She needed to see that he put her first. She deserved these things. She had earned them. And he knew wouldn’t let him glimpse her secret self, let him know her like he desperately wanted to, until he gave them to her.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. But he knew he had to try.

He decided to start right away. He’d been thinking of her all morning, of course. About celebrating their return by pressing her her against a wall in their office and pushing into her, fucking her breathless and senseless before lunch, to be exact. But he hadn’t thought of her at all, he realized. Not really.

Scully. She’d be there right now, in the basement waiting for him, their first day back where they belonged. Wondering where he could be with half the morning gone. Bewildered as to what might be keeping him from reclaiming his precious turf. Maybe she already talked to Skinner and knew he was taking a few days off. Maybe she’d be worried. Or pissed. Or worse, wondering if he was enjoying a morning lounging in bed with a treacherous leggy brunette.

At the next rest stop, he pulled off and powered up his cell phone. He was relieved to see that he'd missed a call from her. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

Rather than listen to her message, he dialed her back. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mulder,” she said.

“Hey Scully,” he said. “Are you in the office?”

“I am,” she said. “Where I thought for sure you would be. Skinner told me you were on vacation. What’s going on?” Her voice was brittle. Defensive.

“I will be, Scully. I’ll meet you there. And soon. But I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What kinds of things?”

“I, ah, I need to get my head straight before coming back. I’ve been mixed up. About some stuff.”

“I see,” she said.

They were both quiet for long seconds.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Me?” The question surprised her. “I’m good. Enjoying the quiet. Working on expense reports. Glad to be out of the bullpen.”

“You sure? You were popular, Scully. I think Agent Kargoll was working up the nerve to ask you out.” Mulder would glare at him as he brought her a donut on a little plate in the mornings. He’d leave it on the corner of the desk if she wasn’t in yet, like an offering to the high priestess.

“Yep,” she said. “I noticed that too. Reassigned in the nick of time...”

“I did my best to scare him off...”

“He was persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He seemed like a nice enough guy. You could do worse than landing a boyfriend who arrives bearing gifts every morning...”

“I could do better, too.”

“No doubt,” he said. “What would be better than that?”

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Research,” he said.

“Research,” she repeated. “Okay. Let’s see. The bearing gifts is ok. But maybe someone with some sense of what I actually like?”

“Let me jot that down,” he said. She snorted a little laugh. Which warmed him all the way through. “It’s true, Scully, you’re not a big fan of donuts. I benefitted from his crush on you more than you did.”

“I tried to wait until he had his back turned before handing those off to you...”

“You’re very kind,” he said.

Just then a truck blew by on the highway, laying on the booming brake, rocking his car.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I, ah, hit the road this morning. Just to think. Just to drive. But I suppose I’m heading home. To see my mother for a few days.”

“Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the concern in her voice, the fear that she’d be needing to tend to him trepanned and shocky, bail him out of jail. The usual.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or it will be. I really think it will be.”

“Allright Mulder,” she said after a long beat. “I’ll be holding down the fort. Drive safe. And keep in touch.”

“I will. And save me some of that paperwork, Scully.”

She laughed and hung up.

He had, in fact, visited his mother. She was glad to see him, and he stayed a few days, helped her out with some chores around the house. Got on a ladder and plucked the muck and leaves from the gutters, shifted some dusty furniture from the basement to the curb.

And he absorbed the silences of that house, his mother’s sadness, the way every possession, every exchange seemed steeped in a deep, abiding misery.

He remembered his mother different. Laughing, for example. Playing bridge with her friends, toying with her strand of pearls as she leaned in to gossip. Teasing him with a glint of joy in her eyes. Before Samantha had been taken.

It had broken her. Broken all of them. Now she ghosted around her own home, tending to her roses, watching television. Always alone. He lived much the same way. This was all that was left.

All because his father had been unable to protect them from the men he worked with, no matter how noble his intentions. The same men he had been tempted by Fowley to join up with, if he was telling the truth. Now they were reduced to ash. He had no idea what remained, but he knew he and Scully would find out.

By the time he climbed in his car to come home, he was committed to not making his father’s mistake. And to living differently. Less stubbornly solitary. To inviting some goodness into his life, no matter how strange it felt.

And last night, when it was actually happening, when he was wrapped up in bed with Scully in real life, it had been so vivid, so peculiar. As he rolled his naked frame against hers, time slowed down. In his head he heard the seconds ticking away distorted by doppler effect, whomp whomp. Felt his stiff prick slide against her buttery thigh, painfully slow. Pressed his ear to her chest. Imagined the steady squeeze and release of her heart beneath her breastbone. Heard the whoosh of her blood through her veins.

Looked up at her flushed face, this beautiful untamable breakable beast.

And he loved her.

He’d told her so.

Now he needed to show her.

Thanks for reading. Check it out at Ao3 This fic stands alone, but is also chapter 10 of Bedside Manner

#the x files #today in fic #msr fanfic #msr #mulder x scully #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #x files fanfiction #the x files fanfic

130 notes · View notes

markosmate · 3 years

Text

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au:// Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy.

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly.

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom.

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

#gw2021 #gw2021day3 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

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existential-angstt · 3 years

Text

37th and 101st // Shane “Dio” Morrissey X Reader

AN: Just a smutty smutty one-shot where the reader is Dio's gf and when they go to the mall, the reader decides to get a choker to wear for Dio. However, when you get Dio riled up and you suddenly end up trapped in traffic, Dio takes matters into his own hands.

You'd never really been one to wear chokers before Dio- they were too tight and irritating and just a little too much for you. But that was before. Since you'd gotten together with Dio your tastes had changed a lot and you were more open to the idea of keeping a few on hand just because you knew how hot it made him to see you in them.

So on one particular trip to the mall at your usual stop in Hot Topic, you made a choice. Dio was stood in the back corner staring up at the band t-shirts, his eyes running over the patterns quickly. "Almost ready to go?" You said, holding what you wanted at your hip, slightly out of sight. Of course, he noticed and he grabbed your wrist like a viper striking its prey, bringing it up to where he could see.

You had a choker in your hand- it wasn't anything too heavy. Clear PVC with an O ring and two small spikes on either side. His eyes flicked up to yours and he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's get the hell out of here," he replied, guiding you towards the counter to pay.

You could tell something had changed in him-- the way he was suddenly acting twitchy, his grip on your wrist. You'd certainly done something to him. You just weren't sure what was going to happen because of it.

He paid for the choker (you had planned to pay for it, but didn't fight him when he dug wadded-up bills out of his pockets) and he halfway dragged you out of the mall to the massive parking lot where your car was parked outside.

"Will you put it on, butterfly?" He said, nodding at the bag. You smiled and nodded, getting your keys in your hand so you could drive the both of you home. "I'm driving," he added, holding out his hand in a grabby motion for the keys. You handed them over and instead slid into the passenger seat, immediately working the choker out of its packaging.

You snapped it on around your neck and adjusted it, the PVC biting into your neck a little. You looked over at him and flashed him a cheeky grin and you could practically see him drool staring at you in it. His ringed hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and you knew he'd so much rather have his hands somewhere else right now.

Instead, Dio revved the engine and sped noisily out of the parking lot, nearly clipping another vehicle. You took a deep breath and tried to hide your smug smile and making him like this. With any luck, you'd be home in minutes and he'd be fucking you silly.

---------

Well, you weren't home in minutes. 20 minutes later you were still sitting in bumper to bumper traffic behind a bad accident at 37th Avenue and 101st Street. Had you known this would be in the cards you never would have teased him like this-- you could tell Dio was quickly getting so impatient he was irritated and that was never a good thing. It wasn't like he would take it out on you or anything but he'd certainly be moody for several hours, even if you did lay him like you planned.

You were staring out the window, watching the people walk past on the street, not thinking about anything really when the hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. You turned your head and--- he was staring straight at you, so hard you felt like he could bore a hole into your skull. He glanced down at the choker and then up at your wide eyes and huffed a little, turning back to face the traffic ahead. You blushed a little and went back to staring at nothing in particular until he said, "Unzip your pants."

You looked over at him in alarm, almost unsure you'd actually heard him say that. "What?" You said softly. His head turned sharply in your direction and his eyes burned. "Don't make me ask you again," he snapped. It was cold, yes, but you knew that was all an act, something he would cut out the second you told him to knock it off. At this moment, though, you liked it. It sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and did as he said. When you'd done it, you sat waiting, feeling like an absolute fool in stationary traffic with your pants sitting open.

Quick as he liked, Dio's hand reached over the console and slithered down the front of your pants, underneath your underwear where he pressed his palm against you. You'd felt yourself get a little wet earlier between the looks he had been giving you in the mall and the way he gripped your wrist the whole way to the car, so it was no surprise that as soon as he touched you, you were soaked.

You inhaled sharply and looked over at him, waiting to see what his plan was, but his eyes were forward, watching the traffic inch ahead as he let the car coast a few inches. He rubbed a few circles around your clit, finally looking at you after a moment, his eyes raking over your neck again.

"Dio-" you said, looking at him slightly alarmed. It was a busy Saturday and there were plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine, walking down the street and weaving between the stopped cars as they crossed here and there. "Dio-" you said again.

"Shush," he said, lowering his hand a little so he could run his fingers over your lips, tracing your entrance. You tensed in your seat, looking around frantically, so afraid someone would see.

"If you act like that, someone will see," Dio hissed, reading your mind. You hated when he did that. The traffic inched forward again and again Dio rolled the car forward, acting like he was doing anything besides what he was really doing.

Your breathing got heavier and you swallowed nervously. Dio chuckled under his breath and sank a finger into you, curling it inside of you. You cried out in surprise and froze as you felt someone on the sidewalk look over. "You want them to see you falling apart all over my hand? You want them to know I'm fucking you with my fingers here in the street?" Dio said, still not looking at you. That man had to have the best poker face you'd ever seen.

He withdrew his finger to reach up and circle your clit gratuitously a few times before sinking the finger back into you again, adding a second one this time. You could feel the cool metal of his rings pressing into you and it made you moan long and low. He was asking a lot of you, to keep it together for him here-

You looked over at him sharply. He flashed a sharp-toothed grin. This was payback. It was payback for teasing him in the mall. He was getting you back. You hadn't even said anything about the choker, hadn't whispered dirty things about all the things you could use it for, and still, he'd taken offense, like you'd slighted him, enough to do this to you in public.

Or maybe he was just incredibly horny. Who knew.

You clenched around his fingers and gripped the top of the passenger side door, clinging to it for dear life. "I think that guy over there is staring," Dio said teasingly, still not looking at you or the aforementioned guy, as though he had better things to pay attention to.

You groaned as he moved his fingers in and out of you but kept yourself composed for the most part, not daring to turn your head to look for the guy Dio mentioned. Best to pretend you weren't getting fingered by your boyfriend on a busy New York Street at noon.

You might have been keeping up appearances fairly well but you weren't far from orgasm. Dio liked to hear you in bed and you always made sure to completely let go whenever he made you cum, moaning and crying like you were being murdered. You weren't sure if you'd be able to keep yourself from a similar performance once you got there.

Finally, the cars in front of you started to move, the car ahead of you pulling away and still moving. Dio kept his hand where it was, his thumb messily circling your bundle of nerves while his fingers moved in and out of your pussy. He kept it up even as you passed by the accident, where three cop cars were parked around the two half-destroyed vehicles. That was where Dio fucked up.

As you passed by, one of the cop cars pulled away from the accident behind you on the road. "Dio, D- I'm-" you cried, trying to tell him you were about to cum when the cop car behind you flashed his lights.

"Fuck," Dio growled and pulled his hand out of your pants. You whimpered as he pulled over the side of the road and pointed his index and middle fingers at you. You quickly took them in your mouth, cleaning off your own juices and licking away as much as you could while your hands struggled shakily with your pants. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop just as the officer got to the driver's side window.

Dio rolled down the window lazily. "Officer," he said smoothly. He'd had his days running the cops around the city, causing trouble. By this point he was practiced with greeting the oafs they called law enforcement around here. You were still shaking, right on the edge of orgasm still, fighting every instinct to shove Dio's (or even your own) hand back down your pants to finish what he started.

"How are you today, sir. Do you know why I pulled you over today?" You stared down at the floorboard dizzily, trying to keep yourself as hidden as you could from the nosy cop.

"Uhhhh, no. Enlighten me," Dio said. You knew him well enough to hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice but the cop misread it as politeness, as he was meant to.

"Your girl there isn't wearing her seatbelt. That accident back there, someone died because they weren't wearing their belt," the cop said dryly.

Dio looked up in faux surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, officer. My girlfriend saw the accident and suddenly felt like she was gonna hurl, so I was just about to pull over to let her stick her head out the door when it passed and she felt better. She was just about to put it back on," Dio replied charmingly.

The officer looked at your full of shit boyfriend and then at you, who was flushed and sweating slightly, eyes wide. He sighed. "All right, just don't let it happen again," the cop said impatiently.

"Thank you, officer," Dio smiled menacingly at him as he turned and went back to his car.

"Now," Dio said to you, reaching over and grabbing the O ring on your choker, pulling you close. "Whatdya say we go home and finish what we started, huh, doll?" He said sarcastically, smirking at you.

#shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio x reader #dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader

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moronic-validity · 3 years

Text

The Vincent Sinclair’s Boot x Reader Fic

okay so a few notes!

1) Reader is a trans guy (like your’s truly)

2) This is smut for the sake of smut, plain and simple.

3) I finished this at 2:30am and I have to be at work at 8.

This Contains: dubcon/coerced consent, drugs, bdsm, dom vincent, a boot kink, typos, almost murder, masturbation, and car problems! Everything under the cut is 18+!!!

As the temperature gauge crept higher and higher, [y/n] had to kick himself. He had been told to check his oil periodically through the road trip, but more than that, he had always been told to keep an extra thing of 5-20 in his car. Both pieces of advice went in one ear and out the other.

Which left him here, in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, 30 miles shy of Baton Rouge.

The immediate reaction was to get out of his car and scream. Sure, it was near midnight, but there wasn’t anyone nearby, so what was the worst thing that could happen. The flash of headlights on him and his car answered his question.

Great. Fantastic. Cool.

“Hey, sorry about the yelling,” he called out in the general direction of the headlights. “Any chance you have some 5-20, I’ll be right out of here if you do!”

No response. [y/n] sighed and sat on the hood of his car and watched the car. It was the middle of the night and it was still hotter than hell and humid to match. Without giving it much thought, he pulled his t shirt over his head and sat it on the hood next to him. What did it matter, he had a binder on anyway. Not like anything was showing.

The mystery driver flashed his brights at [y/n], then threw it in reverse and went back to where he came from.

Well that’s fantastic. I’m in the middle of nowhere and someone knows I’m stranded here. Perfect.

Without giving any more thought to it, he got back into his car and went to sleep, his t shirt thrown over his eyes.

The sun didn’t wake him up, the tapping on his window did.

[y/n] scrambled into an acceptable position and pulled his still damp t shirt on. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the man standing near his window. The man wasn’t intimidating or anything, but the situation was odd and [y/n] was immediately warry.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn mean to startle ya or nothin,” The man with the green hat said with a small laugh, “it just looked like ya might need some help, most people don like sleepin in their car this time a year.”

[y/n] squinted at the guy. It wasn’t due to the accent or the look of him, the sun just happened to be right in his eyes. The perfect start to another fantastic day.

“Uh yeah, I’ve definitely had better days. Any chance you know where to get a quart or two of oil?” He asked, ending it with a still tired yawn.

“I could give ya a lift into town, ‘m sure Bo will help you out at the station,” The green hatted man offered helpfully.

“Actually, that’d be wonderful, thank you…” [y/n] realized that he just accepted a ride from a man who’s name he didn’t even know. His mother would be so proud.

“Lester, Lester Sinclair,” Lester said with an extended hand.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n]” He took the other’s hand and gave a firm shake. [y/n] was acutely aware of the tacky reddish-brown smudge that was now on his hand.

The ride into town was quite, aside from the rumble of Lester’s truck and the sound of tires throwing rock.

“So where’re you headed?” Lester asked, glancing over at [y/n].

“Ah, no direction, wanted to go up, down, coast to coast. Want to see a little bit of everything, I guess,” [y/n] picked at the skin around his index finger, “I’ve only broken down once, so I figure I’m doing okay.”

“Welcome to Ambrose, I know it probably isn where ya wanted t’ go, but there are worse places.” Lester said cheerfully.

The ride went back to being quiet.

“Oh shit,” Lester whined, more to himself than anything else, as he threw the car in park and jumped out, “ya wouldn’ mind givin me a hand flipping the hubs, would ya?”

What the hell does that even mean? {y/n] thought to himself as he hopped out of the car to help Lester with the task anyway. Help was a bit of a strong word for what [y/n] did, it was more get in the way and offer moral support. Lester appreciated the gesture and the company. Most people jumped out of the car and fled into town by this point.

The two got back into the truck and drove right on into Ambrose and parked in front of the service station.

“Now, you wait here, Bo ‘ll be ‘round soon,” Lester dropped [y/n] off with a wave then drove off to wherever he worked. It occurred to [y/n] that he never thought to ask.

It also occurred to [y/n] that he’d have to walk back to his car or hope that someone in town would be willing to give him a ride. Just one more thing. He sighed and sat with his back against the wall of the station.

At least there’s shade. It’s already starting to feel like the devil’s armpit, but at least there is shade.

Time passed, could’ve been hours, could’ve been minutes.

No, it was definitely hours.

Around the point [y/n] was sure that this Bo guy would have to pry him off the cement with a spatula, Bo happened to come down the road and up to the door of the station, near where he was sitting. Bo stood within arm’s distance as [y/n] pushed himself up off the sidewalk.

“I take it you’re Bo? [Y/n] [l/n], Lester said you might have some oil?” [y/n] offered the man he assumed to be Bo his hand. Bo flashed [y/n] a smile that seemed to try to hard to be charming.

“Well, I’d introduce myself but you already know who I am,” Bo chuckled. He was in a suit and tie, didn’t seem like he was dressed for his line of work. “ Let’s see if we can’t get you back on the road, hm?” He hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to let the two men into the store.

There was no AC, and that was the first problem [y/n] had with the station. The second problem was that there appeared to be no oil. Anywhere.

What type of station doesn’t carry oil. Oil. OIL. Walmart carries oil, DG carries oil. Why does this man not have oil.

“Uh….Hey Bo, any chance you have some oil in the garage that you’re willing to part with?” [y/n] asked, while squatting and looking at another shelf devoid of oil.

“I’m sure I could check,” Bo said, his voice drifting further away. [y/n] kept looking.

“So I’ve got some bad news, I don’t have any oil down here;” ,” Bo said as he re-entered the store, wiping his hands down on a grease rag, “Good news though, I got my restock shipment in yesterday and just haven’t gotten around to bringing it down from the house. I’m more than willing to let you wait here while I go up to to get what you need, but you look like you need something to drink.”

[y/n] thought it over. This would mark the second time in less than 24 hours that he went somewhere with a random stranger, but at least this time he knew the guy’s name.

Well, the south is known for its hospitality, so I might as well go and get something to drink.

“I’d really appreciate something to drink and thank you so much for the help,” [y/n] said, suddenly aware that his mouth felt like it was full of glue.

The pair were about halfway to the house, when [y/n] finally felt the need to ask about the suit.

“Okay so, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but why are you wearing a suit? Isn’t it a bit hot for that?” Bo stopped moving at [y/n]’s question and seemed to consider a few possible answers before he nodded to himself and kept walking.

“Well, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity,” he chuckled to himself, “and uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “My mom passed on, was at her service.”

“Bo, I am so sorry. If you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave town,” [y/n] couldn’t help but feel intense sympathy for Bo.

He left his mom’s funeral to help me get some oil so I can get back on the road. Holy shit.

They walked in silence for the rest of the day, [y/n] was unsure how to comfort this stranger, so he just followed the other man’s lead. Silence.

Bo unlocked the door when they got up on the step and lead [y/n] into the house.

“Washroom is down the hall if you need it, the door should be open,” Bo motioned towards the washroom, “Make yourself at home.”

With that, Bo was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of sweet tea. [y/n] decided to take Bo up on his offer of a washroom. Once the door was shut, he fought with his binder for a minute, before finally getting it off his chest, letting it hang loosely around his neck. At this point, it just felt good to take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes passed, [y/n] pulled his binder back into place, swore he’d keep it off until he hit the next rest stop, then went back out into the house and met Bo in the kitchen.

Bo handed [y/n] the glass of sweet tea, condensation already beading on the sides. Nice and cold and incredibly sweet, it even tasted southern. And a bit salty. [y/n] had never had homemade sweet tea before, so he assumed that maybe that just happened sometimes with the tea when it cooled.

The room started to sway.

“Hey, [y/n] maybe you should sit down, looks like the heat is getting to you,” Bo said, worry in his voice, but a smile on his lips, “maybe you ought to lay down for a bit.”

Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

That was weird, he tried to say it out loud, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Bo helped [y/n] to sit on the couch and as his vision started to darken, [y/n] swore he saw another person enter the room.

When [y/n] came to, he realized a few things in short order. It was much darker, he was not on the couch, and he was restrained to the metal table he way laying on. Ever the optimist, he was thankful for the fact that he still had his clothes on and also for the fact it was much cooler wherever he was.

A tall man with long dark hair entered his line of sight. [y/n] had a few ideas of things to yell at him, but instead, took a different approach.

“So, either I’ve been asleep for a really long time, or you’re not Bo,” [y/n] said, turning his head to get a better look at the man. The man’s shoulders shook, like he was laughing without the noise.

Okay so he can’t talk. Noted.

The man turned around to face the table and made sure his hands were in clear view as he signed, “Vincent.”

The motions were smooth and [y/n] caught it near immediately.

“Vincent is a nice name,” he mused, giving Vincent a charming smile of his own, “I’m [y/n]. Now, I do have a few questions, mainly, why am I tied up?”

Vincent turned his back on [y/n] and went back to preparing the paralytic, deciding to make it a bit stronger so the man on the table wouldn’t have to be awake for the worst of it. When he turned around and [y/n] saw the needle, the reality of the situation began to sink in and things snapped into focus.

“Hey Vincent, I don’t know what’s in that needle, but I promise you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re about to do,” [y/n] tried to keep his voice level as he squirmed and fought against the restraints, “I know we don’t know each other, but I swear you don’t need to do this.”

Vincent watched him writhe on the table and considered his options.

“Please, can we talk this out, please,” [y/n] continued to beg, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and bruises already forming at both his wrists and his ankles from the jerking around. Desperation in one hell of a drug, because in no other situation could [y/n] see himself saying, “I’ll do anything to convince you.”

Vincent set the syringe back down and walked up to the head of the table and gripped [y/n]’s jaw and turned his head to make sure he saw when he signed “Are you sure?” he drew it out to emphasize the importance of the question.

Was [y/n] sure? No. No he wasn’t, but he wasn’t in a place that allowed many options. Behind door one? Death! Behind door two? A questionable fate that could very well still end in death!

Yeah, I’ll go with door number two, please.

[y/n] nodded, Vincent’s hand still not leaving his jaw.

Vincent considered the situation for a moment. He considered the number of girls that Bo had brought to him after he had had his way with them at the station. Girls had never really been Vincent’s speed. There were plenty of attractive guys who had come through, but mostly they were either already dead or just spit curses at him. [y/n] was different. No threats, no insults, he was shockingly calm, all things considered. Vincent stroked up and down the side of [y/n]’s face, bringing his hand into the smaller man’s hair and pulling, eliciting a soft whimper.

“I want you to show me,” Vincent signed before undoing the restraints at [y/n]’s ankles. As for his hands? His hands were going to stay bound, but a change of position was still needed. Vincent kept eye contact with [y/n] as he undid his wrists.

[y/n] sat up on the table, moving slowly as to not startle Vincent. The last thing he wanted was to scare the guy who probably had a half dozen ways to kill him in arms reach. His wrists ached and were bleeding in some places. He rubbed at his sore joints before Vincent snapped his fingers, pointed directly at him, then down at the floor near his boot clad feet.

[y/n] had the opportunity to make a run for it, but instead knelt at Vincent’s feet. Vincent put his hand out and without thinking, [y/n] rested the side of his face against it. Vincent’s face burned beneath his mask, that was not what he needed the man to do. He pulled his hand away and gently slapped at the kneeling man’s face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to know that that was not the desired action. The kneeling man was a quick learner and when Vincent put his hand out again, he reluctantly placed his wrists in the larger man’s hands.

[y/n] was not thrilled at this situation, but he was also a simple man, and for all the terror in the situation, Vincent was a large man with shockingly soft hands that were big enough to envelop both of his wrists, who had complete control over the situation. Should he be getting wet due to the situation? Absolutely not, but in the one psychology class he took in high school, it was mentioned that fear and arousal were close together in the brain.

Vincent saw the bruising and blood on the smaller man’s wrists and was careful when he rebound them. Sure, he was planning on killing the guy, but his plans had changed. He threaded a rope and carefully suspended his wrists so that his wrists would remain above his head.

[y/n]’s first thought was that Vincent wanted head. Most guys he had met enjoyed getting head, so it did make sense. He carefully pressed his cheek against the man’s crotch and nuzzled against it, then looked up and into Vincent’s eyes for any sign. Instead, Vincent just lifted his knee and pushed [y/n] off of him like he was a disobedient dog.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as to what he wanted, if not a blow job. He was further confused when Vincent lifted his boot clad foot and pressed it into the smaller man’s pelvic bone, hard.

Oh.

The pressure of it was enough to lift him up just a little bit more and it had him wetter than he thought he could be in a situation like this. He pressed down onto the shoe and began to grind against it, shamelessly chasing the friction it created.

Vincent groaned. His cock twitched as he watched the man’s lewd display. He didn’t want [y/n] to touch him, not yet. There was still the chance that could go horribly wrong, what Vincent wanted was to see exactly how desperate the man was. Vincent began to palm himself, stroking through the fabric of his pants while he watched.

The answer was very. [y/n] was very desperate. [y/n] was desperate not to die and now, now he was also desperate to cum. He pressed himself harder against the toe of Vincent’s boot and rutted against it, groaning loudly when it pressed up against that bundle of nerves. He began to fall into a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot he could reach.

Vincent’s hand was now in his pants as he stroked himself to the same rhythm [y/n] was fucking himself to. God, Vincent thought to himself, this man was making an absolute whore of himself. It might not be a bad idea to keep him around. Could make work slightly less taxing. Then the bound man made a sound that snapped Vincent out of his thoughts and almost made him cream his pants.

He was getting so close, he had thrown himself so into chasing his high that he almost forgot that the circumstances that brought him to this were less than desirable. He pressed began to rotate his hips so that bundle of nerves caught significantly more pressure and more friction. He let out a loud, needy whine.

“Please Vincent, please tell me I can cum, I’ve been such a good boy, please God, Vincent,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he was babbling and begging for a different release now. Vincent bucked into his own hand, listening to the whines and pleas.

Tears were starting to form in [y/n]’s eyes again, he was trying so hard to be good for Vincent, trying so hard to be his good boy. Sure, less than an hour ago, he wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible, but God, he was so close to cumming and he just needed Vincent to tell him he had been good. Hadn’t he been good enough to deserve release?

Vincent pressed his crotch against [y/n]’s face and continued to jack himself off. He didn’t want the man’s mouth, but he wanted the proximity. He was so close to his own release. So so close, all he needed was-

“Oh GOD, sir please, I’ve been so good for you, please sir. Tell me I’ve been a good boy for you, tell me I’m your good boy, please sir; oh my God, please, please,” [y/n] continued to babble, now crying for release against Vincent’s aching cock.

Yeah, that just about did it for him. Vincent’s orgasm took him hard and left a sizable stain that leaked into the front of his pants and against the begging man’s face. Vincent closed his eyes, lost in his own release. When things snapped back into focus, he realized the other man was still whining pitifully, still having not came.

Vincent had to admit, he was impressed at the man’s willpower, it was oddly attractive to him that the man refused to grant himself pleasure without permission. This could actually work out wonderfully, Vincent thought to himself.

He took the rope in his free hand and yanked on it hard enough to knock the [y/n] off balance. He looked up at Vincent as he tried to regain balance. Vincent let go of the rope and let him drop onto his knees, but his eyes were still locked on his masked face.

Vincent thought about it for a moment before signing “I want you to cum.”

That was all [y/n] needed to hear before going back to rutting against the shoe, quickly going over the edge and coating the toe of the boot in his fluids. He braced himself against Vincent’s leg, mumbling thank yous as he came back down. Vincent allowed this to go on for a short while, before cutting the rope and pressing [y/n]’s face down to the still wet boot.

Vincent used one hand to yank [y/n]’s hair to make the blissed out man look up at him, with the other hand, he calmly signed “Clean it up.”

#slasher fucker #vincent's boots #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #house of wax #nsft #I haven't written a fanfic in years #fanfic #theo writes #theo's thoughts #teddy talks #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers

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pine-lark · 3 years

Note

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)

@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long

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larksthighs · 3 years

Text

drivers license

Word Count: 4.8k

Based off of drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo

I got my driver’s license last week

Just like we always talked about

‘Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

“Stop!”

You slammed on the breaks, turning to glare at Rafe for his sudden exclamation. He has his left hand on the dashboard and the right gripping the handle on the roof above the passenger side door. He looked at you with wide eyes, his gelled hair slightly falling over his forehead and into his eyes.

“What?” You exclaimed, annoyed at his overly dramatic reaction.

“Did you seriously not see the mailbox? You almost took it completely out!”

“You promised you wouldn’t yell at me! I’m trying, okay?” You exclaimed, exasperated. This is the fourth time he’s yelled at you in the past 30 minutes, and while almost hitting a mailbox may permit some yelling, the other times didn’t.

You thought having Rafe teach you to drive would be a good idea, having been friends with him since fourth grade. Your dad is best friends with Ward which led to you and Rafe hanging out together at every family party and business event that you were forced to attend. You and Rafe would always sneak out of the parties in order to escape all of the meaningless conversations that your dads managed to drag you into, claiming that it would help you in the future, and maybe it would, but at nine years old, the future wasn’t exactly on your mind.

This pattern continued on throughout all of middle and high school. You and Rafe were always best friends and were even each other’s first kiss, something that you both agreed would never happen again after the painfully awkward first time. Little did you know that at 17 years old, you would have a huge crush on Rafe, something that 11 year old you would be cringing at.

“I know, I know. Okay, one more time. All you have to do is turn into the driveway and then park between the cones in front of the garage. And remember to swing wide this time so I don’t have to explain to Rose why her mailbox is destroyed,” he says, relaxing back into his seat.

You brush him off with a ‘yeah, yeah’ before checking your rearview mirror so you could back up and attempt the turn into the driveway again. You swing wide in order to avoid the mailbox and start down the driveway, slowing down when you reach the concrete. You carefully start to pull between the ‘cones’ Rafe had set up for you, really just a random basketball and a weight he had found in the garage.

You pull in as straight as you can and then put the car in park, looking over as Rafe gets out of the passenger seat and walks to the back of the car. You watch him nervously, hoping that you were finally able to park straight and without hitting one of the cones. So far, you haven’t had much luck.

Looking in the rearview mirror, you make eye contact with Rafe who has a face completely void of emotion before he breaks into a big smile and gives you a thumbs up. You let out a squeal then unbuckle and hop out of the driver’s side.

“I did it! I finally did it!” you exclaim with joy, finally feeling some relief at the thought of finally being able to pass a mock driver’s test.

“Hell yeah!” Rafe exclaims, catching you as you jump on him in a hug, “Before you know it you’ll be driving up to my house all on your own.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Best driving instructor ever!” you exclaim with a smile across your face, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

It felt like time stood still as you stared into his blue eyes. Both of you were breathing slightly heavy due to the excitement you both felt. You still had your arms wrapped around his neck and he slowly slid you back down so your feet were touching the ground again. Your arms slowly slid from his neck until your hands were resting against his chest, still looking into his eyes. It felt like the world stood still as you both stared into each other’s eyes while exchanging soft smiles.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

And you’re probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She’s so much older than me

She’s everything I’m insecure about

With Rafe being as attractive as he is, seeing him with girls is inevitable. Girls seem to stick to him like flies everywhere he goes, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him with a senior girl named Aspen at the boneyard.

Aspen was two years older than you and you definitely get a little jealous to see her hanging with Rafe, especially since he had ditched you right when you got here, claiming that he was going to go get a drink. Fifteen minutes later and you’re watching him talk to her while Topper and Kelce are having a conversation about boats or cars or something. Honestly, you stopped listening right when it came up, not finding any interest in the subject.

Now all of your attention was on Rafe and Aspen and her group of friends that were all hanging around in a circle by the keg. Of course, you could walk over there and join the conversation but sometimes your insecurities got in the way.

Aspen was easily one of the nicest girls you had ever met. She never had one mean word to say about anyone and she always welcomed everyone with open arms, whether they were a kook or a pogue, it made no difference to her. She also had a beautiful body with naturally blonde wavy hair that never seemed unruly, even on a windy night at the beach. She was basically your definition of beauty and had a personality to match it, which made it so much harder to be jealous.

It would be so much easier if she was one of the kooks who hated the pogues or who thought she was better than everyone because of her money, but she was the complete opposite. You couldn’t even pretend to not like her because there wasn’t a reason to, which was so frustrating. But honestly, if you can’t have him then you want to make sure that he has someone who will treat him well and take care of him, which is why you want to leave him and Aspen alone. Of course, you’d rather it be you with him, but there’s only so much you can do.

“Hellooo? Are you listening? We asked you a question,” Topper says while waving his hand in front of your face. You slap it away with a scowl on your face before asking him to repeat what he said.

“We asked why you’re so spaced out tonight. You’re usually off mingling with anyone and everyone who will stop to talk to you,” Kelce said while giving you a strange look.

You easily became friends with the boys shortly after Rafe introduced you to them and over the past eight years, you have all gotten to know each other pretty well, which includes being able to pick up on the smallest ticks that let you know when someone isn’t acting like themself. So of course it means that the boys were able to pick up on your lack of attention, but hopefully not on the fact that all of it is directed towards Rafe and Aspen.

“I’m fine,” you said giving them a soft smile, “just tired. It was a long day today and I think the heat just made me sleepy. I actually think I might head home now, I’ll see you guys later.”

You get up and start to walk away, hearing the objections coming from Topper and Kelce but just turning around and giving them a small smile and wave before making your way off the beach and towards the road.

You take one last look at Rafe and notice him laughing while he and Aspen lean into each other in order to be able to hear their conversation over the crowd around them.

To be honest, you’re kind of disappointed that he didn’t notice you leaving because he was too busy talking to a girl. It’s not that he’s talking to a girl, he does that all the time and sometimes you even encourage him despite feeling your heart ache every time you do it. It’s more the fact that he told you he would be right back, but he never came or asked you to come with him.

It also hurts your feelings a bit because you somehow always fool yourself into thinking that Rafe may have feelings for you too. There are always little moments where you make eye contact with him and it feels like the world stops spinning and like it’s only you two in the moment, just for one of you to awkwardly break it and continue on as if nothing happened. There are the little touches and flirting but you can also just chalk that up to regular affection from being so close to Rafe. You always jokingly flirt with Kelce and Topper too and while you obviously didn’t like them, it would make sense if Rafe thought that you were doing the same thing with him.

You finish your walk home and get a shower before laying in bed and checking your phone, noticing that there are texts from Topper and Kelce making sure you got home safe, but not one from Rafe, which was odd considering he was your ride so you figured that he would have noticed you were gone by now, but apparently not.

You decide to send a quick text to Rafe to let him know you made it home so he wouldn’t be searching for you and then put your phone down and went to bed.

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

‘Cause how could I ever love someone else?

Waking up the day after the boneyard party you check your phone to see that Rafe hadn’t replied to your message but had read it. You decide to get up and get ready for the day before heading over to the Cameron house, figuring that Rafe was probably hungover and still asleep.

You stop on the way to Rafe’s and grab a coffee for you and him, also picking up a breakfast sandwich for him in case he needed some greasy food in his stomach. It was a habit that you guys had gotten into over the years after a night of partying lead to both of you going to a cafe early the next morning in order to cure your hangovers. You hop back in your car and start the short drive over with the windows down and music blasting. It was a beautiful day out and you were hoping that Rafe would be able to convince Topper to take you guys out on the boat today.

You were driving down the road to Rafe’s house and slowed down when you got to the driveway. You were about to pull into the driveway when you noticed a car that isn’t usually there. A black Jeep Wrangler with stickers on the back window that looked like they were from surf shops and a monogram that looked familiar. You see this Jeep at school all the time and know it belongs to Aspen.

You don’t know why you feel so hurt when you see it, but you do. Obviously seeing another girl at your crush’s house isn’t the best feeling, but you didn’t expect it to hurt this bad.

Well, you know why he didn’t answer your text last night, he must’ve been a little too busy. You decide not to go in the driveway, slowly driving past it before turning around and making your way back to your house. You decide to call Topper on your way back asking what he was doing. When he tells you he isn’t busy, you make your way to his house.

You pull into his driveway and then grab the coffee and sandwich that was originally for Rafe before walking to the front door and ringing the doorbell, waiting for Topper to answer. When he finally does you give him a quick hug before walking to the kitchen table for him to eat his breakfast.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the breakfast and coffee, because I really do, but why did you bring it to me? Isn’t this usually you and Rafe’s thing?” he asks before taking a bite into his sandwich. You make a face at him as he takes a bite that was way too big and starts chewing obnoxiously.

“Yes, it usually is our thing but he had some… company with him this morning. Aspen’s Jeep was there so I figured that I shouldn’t intrude,” you say while giving a soft smile and fiddling with your keys that are sitting on the table in front of you.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded if you brought them breakfast,” Topper says.

“Yeah but hanging out with Rafe and a girl he hooked up with the night before doesn’t exactly fit my description of a perfect morning,” you say sarcastically while rolling your eyes.

Topper raises his eyebrows slightly and his eyes go wide.

“Wait a minute… You’re jealous! You’re jealous of Aspen being over there,” he says with a little laugh. “Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll take the position of best friend after one night together.”

“That’s not the position I’m worried about her taking,” you mumble under your breath. Topper stops in the middle of bringing his sandwich to his mouth.

“Oh shit. You actually like him don’t you?” he asks, shocked.

“Yeah, honestly I’m surprised it took you this long to figure out, it’s only been like four years,” you reply with a little laugh.

“Yeah well I figured it was just a small crush, I didn’t think it was actually anything serious,” he says with a shrug, “are you gonna tell him?”

“Considering what I saw this morning, no. I think if he liked me back then we would’ve figured it out by now, we have little moments together but they don’t seem to be anything serious. Besides, Aspen is a good match for him, she’s really sweet and she’ll keep his attitude in check, match made in heaven right?”

“I mean, I guess,” he shrugs, “sorry you had to see that, I know it sucks.”

You’re happy you had Topper to talk about this with, you know he can relate after the situation with John B and Sarah happened.

“Yeah but I mean, what can you do? Anyways, enough depressing talk. Do you want to take me on the boat today?” you ask, giving him a big smile that you hoped would convince him to take you. You can tell he’s hesitating and you dramatically try to persuade him, “Please Topper, I need something to distract me from this heartbreak, and I brought you breakfast! Wasn’t that so nice of me?”

“Okay, first off, I was your second choice for breakfast so that argument doesn’t work. Second off, do you really classify this as heartbreak?” he questions, “but yes, I will take you on the boat today.”

“Yes! Thank you! You’ll be my first choice for breakfast and coffee next time, promise.”

You call Kelce and he meets you at Topper’s house where all three of you get on the boat and start heading out to a sandbar where you guys will be able to swim and hangout. You also had Kelce buy Truly Lemonades on the way over so you could drink on your day out.

You and the boys spent the afternoon swimming around and hanging out with some other friends who brought their boats out on the water. Music was blaring and it was a perfect sunny day and the water was just the right temperature and nothing could make it a better boat day. It really was just what you needed in order to take your mind off of the Rafe situation.

As it got later in the day and the sun started to set, everyone started to head in. You were sitting on the front of Topper’s boat enjoying the final hour of sunlight and enjoying the breeze on your sunburnt skin. As you enter the channel and get closer to Topper’s house you go to the back of the boat where the boys' seats are. Since Topper is driving you squeeze yourself into the seat with Kelce and start asking the boys about dinner plans, wondering if they wanted to go to The Wreck with you once you got back in.

“I think we should go, I’ll pay, it'll be the perfect end to a perfect boat day. Plus I want to spend more time with my best friends, I love you guys,” you say sappily while wrapping your arms around Kelce’s neck and leaning your head on his shoulder. You are definitely tipsy from the lemonades that you drank throughout the day. “Also, I need a ride because I can’t drive anywhere in this state.”

“We’ll go out to dinner with you drunkie,” Topper says with a playful eye roll, “and you don’t have to pay for us, we got it.”

You give him a big smile, your head feeling light from the drinks you had. You were laughing at the conversation the boys were having but you stopped when you caught sight of Rafe’s backyard. He and Aspen were in the backyard but you could tell they were wet like they had just gotten out of the pool. She was sitting in a pool chair and he was sitting at the end of it with his hand on her knee. They were both smiling at each other and laughing at whatever was said, looking insanely happy.

By now Topper and Kelce had noticed you looking over at Rafe’s yard. Kelce squeezed you with the arm that was around your waist in order to keep you in the seat and Topper squeezed your knee that was closest to him, both giving you sympathetic smiles. Throughout the day you had managed to update Kelce on the situation and now they both know about your crush and why you were so spaced out at the boneyard last night.

“I’m sorry bud,” Kelce said quietly, “I know it sucks but it’ll get easier. Either that or he’ll get his head out of his ass and realize you’ve been right in front of him the whole time.”

“I appreciate the optimism Kelcey Welcey,” he rolls his eyes at your nickname for him while you smile, enjoying teasing him.

You slowly pull up to Topper’s dock where he and Kelce grab the ropes from the dock and tie them to the cleats before hopping off of the boat. You grab your bag and towel before the three of you head up to Topper’s house, hopping in Kelce’s car to go to The Wreck.

And I know we weren’t perfect

But I’ve never felt this way for no one

What Kelce and Topper don’t know, is that you and Rafe had a fling last summer. It only lasted for about three months, but those three months felt like pure bliss to you. You had decided to end it when school started again because you both were busy and it became a little overwhelming.

The relationship itself was everything you wanted, but there were rough patches. With Rafe being so hardheaded, there were a lot of times when you tried to reason with him but he just couldn’t see where you were coming from.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is! It’s not like I’m addicted, I just use it when I need to relax a little, you know my dad has been on my case recently,” Rafe tries to explain. Recently he’s been making visits to Barry more frequently and it’s starting to worry you.

“But Rafe, it can escalate so quickly, and the more you do it, the harder it’s going to be to quit. You should switch the weed at least, it’s not addictive and there aren’t bad side effects,” you try to convince him. If he feels that he needs a drug to help him then you won’t be able to change that, but you can try to get him to use one that isn’t as hard on his body.

“I’m not gonna get addicted,” Rafe scoffs, “I don’t do it enough to get addicted, so please stop bugging me about it.”

The harsh tone of his voice makes you flinch. You didn’t want to upset him and you hate feeling like you’re stepping on toes, especially knowing about the hard time he’s been having with his dad recently.

“I’m just worried about you babe,” you say softly while reaching for his hand. You’re sitting on his bed and he’s pacing around in front of you. He stops when he hears you say that and walks over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you up to stand in front of you. He wraps you in his arms and squeezes you tight as you nuzzle your head into his chest.

“I know and I’m sorry, I’ll try to stop,” he said while resting his chin on top of your head. You gently rub your hands up and down his back, letting them drag to the side and resting on his hips as you step back to look at him. You give him a soft smile before bringing your hands up to rest on his cheeks, softly kissing him.

After that conversation, he slowly stopped doing bumps every time Ward got onto him. It was hard on him but you tried to spend as much time with him as possible because Ward was less likely to get angry when you were around.

Throughout the weeks it took him to stop, you got to know Rafe on a deeper level than you had before. Practically living with someone really allows you to see every little detail about them and you start to pick up on the little mannerisms that they have. You didn’t think you could like Rafe more than you did, especially because you know living with someone really shows how they actually act and is usually make or break for most relationships, but during the time you lived with him is when you realized how much you actually liked, maybe even loved, him.

You know your relationship with him wasn’t perfect, but you haven’t felt that way for anyone else and you aren’t sure if you ever will. You know you’re still young but he will always hold a special place in your heart since he was your best friend before your boyfriend. No matter what he will always be your number one.

And I just can’t imagine

How you could be so okay now that I’m gone

It’s been three weeks since the night at the boneyard and the communication between you and Rafe has been pretty low. You guys still text every day but he takes longer to reply and leaves you on read more often than not. He always seems to be busy every time you ask him to hang out with you too. It’s kind of starting to drain you if you’re being honest, it’s getting tiring being the only one who’s trying to keep your friendship alive. It seems that all of your attempts are failing and it’s been affecting you a lot recently. You and Rafe were always texting, whether it was about what you had for lunch or new gossip on the island or new clothes you got and now all you were getting was radio silence from his end.

You know that you need to talk to him soon or else your emotions are going to keep bubbling up until you get to a point where you won’t be able to forgive him. You send him a text around lunchtime.

To Rafe: hey, do you want me to get lunch from the wreck and bring it over? I need to talk to you, it’s important

You wait five minutes before you hear a ping come from your phone, you pick it up and get a heavy feeling in your chest as you read the message.

From Rafe: sorry but I can’t, dad has me meeting a business partner today

To Rafe: that’s fine, are you free tonight?

From Rafe: I don’t know.

You leave him on read after that. It hurts your feelings a little but you decide to ignore it since Ward is probably affecting his mood, he always got really agitated around him.

You decide to head to The Wreck anyway because you’re hungry and you figure that going by yourself will give you time to think and clear your head a little. You ride over there with the windows down and Tom Petty blasting on the radio, breathing in the ocean air. It was a relaxing ride and just what you needed to help calm you down a little.

You pull into the parking lot and put your car in park, rolling up the windows. You unplug your phone from the charger before grabbing your wallet and heading inside the restaurant. When you walk in you see Kie standing behind the counter and walk over to say hi.

“Hey Kie, what’s up?”

“Hey! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! You don’t come by as much anymore,” she says while leaning her arms on the counter in front of her, leaning closer to you.

“Yeah well, that’s a long story,” you say with a sarcastic chuckle.

“Well I get off in 10 and then we have all of the time in the world, I can join you for lunch if you want?” she asks.

“Yeah of course! I’ll just wait for you,” you say with a smile, walking over to a table that seats two people. You pull out your chair and get on your phone, waiting for Kie to come sit with you. When she pulls her chair out she sits down with a smile before leaning her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand.

“So, what’s the story?”

You start diving into the story about Rafe and Aspen at the boneyard and all of the other times you saw them together. You also include how he hasn’t been answering your texts and when he does they’re so dry that you can’t respond to them.

As your wrapping up your story with the news about today’s events and how he couldn’t meet you because of the business meeting with his dad, you see Kie pause and her face drop. She takes her chin out of her hand and crosses her arms on the table in front of her.

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think he had a business meeting with his dad today,” Kie says, looking at you sympathetically before looking over your shoulder again.

You turn to look over your shoulder, seeing Rafe walk in with Aspen. They were both coming from the dock and were wearing bathing suits while Aspen had wet hair, telling you that they had clearly come here on a boat. He was definitely not on a lunch break from a business meeting.

Rafe looks up and catches your eyes before awkwardly looking away again, directing his attention back to Aspen. You turn back around to Kie, feeling embarrassed. You had just told her how he was at a business meeting only for him to show up with Aspen, you feel kind of humiliated for believing him if your being honest. It felt like a punch in the gut.

At this point, you and Kie had already finished your lunch and you paid for yours before looking up at her with tears in your eyes.

“Can we leave?” you ask, “we can head to the beach or something, I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

She nods sympathetically and then you both stand up and start walking towards the door, looking back one last time before you walk out of the door, only to see that Rafe’s attention isn’t on you at all, it’s all on her.

When you make it to the beach, Kie sits with you in silence for a little while. She knew you needed someone to be with you and it was therapeutic to listen to the waves crashing on the shore and to watch the birds flying by. After a while, you felt a tear run down your face before you look over at Kie and sniffle.

“How is he so okay now that I’m gone? I mean look at me,” you let out a sad laugh before wiping under your eyes. Kie wraps her arm around your shoulder and you lean into her, watching as the waves crash and wondering what you’re going to do without Rafe.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

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“There’s a catch” - Jacob Black x Reader

Request: “ If you are taking requests, could you write a Jacob\reader on where they "hate" eachother and the reader is very good friends with Paul (always around the pack) and Paul being like "Sure. You know you like him, right?" and teasing them in general.”

“My god, Jacob… you’re so annoying!” I shout, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Yeah, you’re not so great yourself, princess.” He scoffs.

“Alright, easy there, killer.” Paul laughs, picking me up and moving me.

Jacob, as always was pissing me off. He just always had to butt in and say something to piss me off.

I was in the middle about complaining about my car breaking down earlier today, having to walk in the rain to Paul’s house.

I was rambling about how the engine overheated, causing me to have to pull over and try to figure it out, but to no avail. I was unable to get the car to start again.

“Maybe you should have had that coolant in your trunk like I told you.”

“Maybe you should have listened to me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so forgetful.”

“Maybe if you actually listened to me.”

“Maybe if you would actually take care of your car.’

Statements like all of the above immediately came out of Jacob’s big mouth. Him insulting me and my competence for when it came to taking care of my car.

“Jacob, it’s a crappy old car! I used the rest of the coolant the other day in it, there’s a leak somewhere! Embry said he’d help me fix it, but he had to patrol. So he can’t fix it until Saturday.” I huff, rolling my eyes at the jerk in front of me.

“Jake, maybe you could look at it.” Paul suggests, nudging his friend.

“Yeah, no thanks.” Jacob chuckles.

“Alright, Paul you’re stuck with driving me to work the rest of the week.”

“Please, at least teach me what to do. I can’t drive her to and from work, I can’t wake up that early.” Paul laughs.

“Eh.” Jacob smirks.

“My god, Jacob… you’re so annoying!” I shout, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Yeah, you’re not so great yourself, princess.” He scoffs.

“Alright, easy there, killer.” Paul laughs, picking me up and moving me away.

I find myself plopped down on Paul’s couch as Paul walked outside with Jacob.

Jacob and I weren’t always so hostile towards one another. In fact, I used to have the biggest crush on him, but then he turned into a shifter and grew to be such a pissy guy.

Paul and I were always best friends, and he often brought Jake around. I thought he was a cute guy. He was nice, he was sunshine. However, that all shriveled up and died when he phased for the first time, and now we always bumped heads.

Now almost every time we hang out, he goes out of his way to piss me off. I just want to punch his pretty face in. I did, I really do. His laugh just made it difficult to get pissed off, sometimes.

But overall, I was ready to take Jake in a fight at any moment, he was always trying to get under my skin.

Just like the other day when he invited everyone out, except for me of course, to go to the beach to hang out. I was sitting right at the same table, watching as the smirk plastered itself across his smug face knowing I was pissed off. Paul insisted I came anyway, so I did. I hung out with Paul and Jared, making fun of Jacob the entire time. It felt good to get under that thick skin of his.

I heard them getting a bit louder out there, shrugging my shoulders.

“Good, I hope Paul sinks some teeth into him.” I scoff to myself, smirking at the thought as I sat on the couch.

Though at the same time, the thought of Paul doing anything to Jake also worried me. I’ve always felt a pull to Jake, even since he became such an asshole to me.

A moment later, Paul walks in the door with a smile on his face, Jacob trailing behind with his hand on his nose. It made me think about all the times Paul teased me about how he thought, or knew, that I had a crush on Jacob.

“Is it because you like him?”

“Oh so you know you like him, right?”

“I can’t you won’t just shoot your shot.”

“We settled it, so Jacob’s going to fix your car while I’m on patrol tonight. We’ll go pick yours up right now, sound good?” Paul asks, a triumphant smile on his face.

“Yeah, that works for me.” I smirk, standing up.

“Yeah, but you have to help him fix it.” Paul says, a devilish grin pulling at his lips.

I look over to see Jacob, his eyes rolling.

“Of course there’s a catch.” I bite my lip.

Paul only smirks, grabbing his keys off the counter and making his way outside to his truck, Jacob and I following behind him.

I took shotgun, directing Paul to where my car was left.

“Great, so you’ll be steering and Jake’s gonna push it. Good luck!” Paul yells through the open window as Jake and I exit the car, laughing his ass off.

“Great.” Jacob scoffs, kicking the dirt on the side of the road.

“Thanks.” I press my lips, bending my head down.

I get into the car, waiting for Jake to get ready to push. Once I get the all clear, we were on our way to Jacob’s garage. Due to his inhuman strength, we made it there quicker than I thought.

I get out of the car after it’s parked in his garage, quickly noticing Jacob’s shirt clinging to his abdomen. I immediately tear my eyes away from him and back to the car. My shoulders were shivering from the cold. The smell of oil and tools invading my senses.

“I’m gonna change quick, but I’ll be back.” He says, running his hands through his soaking wet hair.

I turn back to my car, popping the hood open to get a jumpstart to things. I turn the remainder of the lights on in the garage, knowing that we would need more light. I sat down on an empty crate, holding myself to keep warm.

Jacob soon returns, a different t-shirt and pair of jeans on, a hoodie in hand.

“Here, I can’t listen to all that teeth chattering all night.” He walks over, laying the maroon fabric on my lap.

“Oh, thanks.” I raise an eyebrow, immediately grabbing the hoodie into my shaking hands.

I stand up, throwing the hoodie over my body. I watched as it fell well-past my hips and the sleeves slinging inches lower than the end of my hands. Shrugging, I make my way over to the front end of my car, joining Jacob as he watches me.

I thought I almost saw a glimor in his eyes, but I knew that wasn’t true.

“I have a tube that’ll be the same size as yours over on that shelf over there. Top shelf, blue bin.” He points over to the left.

I nod, walking over to the shelf. I look up and see the bin he’s referring to, shocked that he thought I could reach it. I decide it was better to just try to reach it. I stand on my tippy toes, gripping onto the shelf with one hand, and reaching the other up as high as I can. I felt my body stretch, growing tired quickly as I tried to reach.

I heard chuckling come from behind me, I go to turn around to give him a stink face, but when I do I’m met with his chest in front of my face. He simply reaches a hand over me, easily grabbing the bin and bringing it down, a smirk on his face as he looks down at my own, a blush creeping its way to my cheeks.

“Forgot you were two feet tall.” His husky voice whispers with a smirk on his face.

I quickly exhaled, suddenly flustered with the close proximity of our bodies.

He turns around, walking over to my car, beginning to take things apart.

“So what can I do?” I ask.

“Nothing, you already failed task one. Can’t have you mess anything else up.”

“Oh shut up, that was an impossible task. Sorry I’m not almost seven feet tall.” I roll my eyes, sitting on the work bench next to where he was working.

“Alright fine, hand me the paper towels.” He laughs.

The air was less tense between us than it had been in months, since the day he phased.

I hand them over, he graciously takes them as he begins to clean the oil off the engine and wiping his hands off when he finishes that.

The garage was silent for a few moments as he did so, I had to try to tear my eyes from his arms as he was working on the car.

“Jacob?”

“What’s up?” He groans, pulling something out of the car and observing it.

“Why do you hate me? We were friends.” I look over, twiddling my thumbs.

“I don’t hate you, (Y/N). It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He huffs, looking over at me with sympathetic eyes.

“So why are you such an asshole to me?”

“I don’t know, I’m stupid, I guess. Or at least that’s what everyone else says.”

“I mean, agreed. But what is this all for then, Jake?” I ask, realizing that was the first time I actually called him Jake in a while.

“I just, I didn’t know how to handle this all. I phased, which we both know I was pissed about. And then suddenly, I had no say in my life anymore.” He puts the tool down, standing in front of me.

“I understand, Jake. I’m really sorry… I just don’t understand why you’ve been upset with me, though.” I look into his eyes, furrowing my brows.

“I just… it’s a lot. I was never ready to tell you about it, but I guess now’s a better time than any.”

“What?”

“Listen, I… I always had a crush on you, alright? And then I phased… and something else happened. And it just felt like everything I had a say in was taken from me. My body, my time, and then my feelings. I just, I wasn’t ready to accept it, yet. I’m sorry I’ve been being a dick to you, okay?” His deep brown eyes meet mine, searching to see what was going on in my mind.

“Jake… I thought you hated me. I had no idea that you… ya know. I always had a thing for you, too. It hurt a lot when you were so cold to me.” I frown.

“Well, it’s time I maybe start making up for it.” He smirks.

I smile as I realize what was going to happen. His warm, large hand found the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss. It was quick, warm, and sweet. It was like electricity flowed throughout my entire body. Pulling away felt like an extreme absence of warmth on my lips.

I rested my forehead on his, closing my eyes. My hand lightly gripped the hair on the nape of his neck.

“And then, I’ll fix your car.” He lowly chuckles, removing his hand from the back of my neck, lowering it to my hand.

“Thanks.” I exhale, still in shock.

We made our way back over to fixing the car, not really talking about what just happened, though the tingling never left my lips and the atmosphere surrounding us was heavy.

He ended up finishing my car and handing the keys back to me.

“Here’s some more coolant, but I think you’ll be fine. I fixed the leak.” He smirks, walking over to put the coolant in my trunk.

“Uh, thanks.” I smile.

“Of course.” He looks at me, smiling awkwardly.

“Thanks again for fixing my car. And before I forget, here’s your hoodie.” I reach down to the bottom of the hoodie, attempting to peel it from my body but a warm hand stops mine.

“No, keep it. I think it looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks.

A ferocious blush invades my facial features, making him laugh a little.

I feel soft, warm lips press onto my forehead, a warm hand once again on the back of my neck.

“We can talk more about it all tomorrow. It’s been a long day.” He whispers.

“Sounds like a plan.” I nod, walking to my car door and getting inside.

“Goodnight, (Y/N). Let me know when you get home.” He smiles, watching me back out of his garage.

__________________________ Word Count: 2107

#jacob black #jacob black x reader #jacob black imagine #paul lahote #embry call #quil ateara #jared cameron #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #sam uley #twilight #twilight x reader

318 notes · View notes

impalas-r-important · 3 years

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Branch Out - Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N left everything she's ever known, and Dean just wants to be left alone. With both of them trying to heal from heartache, they might just end up finding what they need in the last place they'd ever look.

Word count: 6219

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventually, maybe?)

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter, but if you think i should add one, feel free to let me know!

A/N: I started this series a long time ago and just barely had the motivation to start it up again. I really love this series, and have been enjoying writing it. Let me know if you want a tag!

My Masterlist

Branch Out Masterlist

Thank heavens for GPS, there’s no way you would have found this place without step-by-step directions. A narrow gravel driveway branched off from the worn mountain road and wound to a homely cabin. You stepped out of your old pickup truck and pulled out the key the realtor had given to you. Buying a house sight unseen wasn’t the smartest idea and you second guessed your impulse decision as you took in the dense woods that were so foreign to you. The seasoned wooden boards of the porch creaked under your feet while you made your way to the door and let yourself into your new home. Dust rested gently on every ledge and the frigid January air was lined with a twinge of must from sitting unoccupied for so long, but something felt so promising about the sturdy structure.

A modest kitchen and living room made up most of the house with a bedroom and bathroom on either side of a small hallway. A small, metal woodburning fireplace sat just next to the backdoor and you had a feeling you would end up putting that to good use if you ever figured out how to use it.

Your hand was subconsciously touching the bruise that was prominent on your forearm and when you realized, you pulled your sleeve down to cover it. The decision to leave your family and friends behind was a heart-wrenching one, but you knew you had to make a change if you wanted to heal completely. You needed to do something for yourself, and you wanted a fresh start. A small cabin in the freezing cold woods of Idaho was about as far from what you knew to be normal as you could have gotten, but a seed of hope was planted firmly in your chest.

When a job posting for the assistant city accountant had fallen in your lap a few weeks back, you applied without thinking twice. A few online interviews later, you had secured the job and things fell into place effortlessly, as if some external force was paving your path to this small town. You bought this quaint home with the help of a local realtor, packed your things, and left the only home you had ever known in Arizona, despite the protests of your family. Not knowing what your future held was scary, but something about this place felt right from the moment you pulled in.

You had brought only what you needed to in hopes of making a quick escape, meaning you had only a mattress, some clothes and a few personal belongings. After working for a few years, you had a built up a good savings account and figured it would be easier to buy furniture once you got here instead of trying to move big pieces by yourself. It didn’t take long to move your things inside, and you felt grateful that you called ahead to have the power and water turned on so you could shower once you had unpacked what you needed for your first day on the job tomorrow. Anxiety sat like a rock in your stomach, so you skipped dinner and went straight to bed, burying yourself under a mountain of blankets to shield you from the winter chill that had settled in your bones.

Your nerves woke you up well before your alarm went off, so you dragged your feet across the frozen floor and pulled your clothes on quickly before digging through your boxes for some granola bars for breakfast. You leaned against the kitchen counter and began to make a list of things you would need to buy since you were essentially starting from scratch. Double checking the email that you had received with instructions for your first day, you took a deep breath and headed out.

City hall was a historic, two-story red brick building that was shared with the fire department. It looked like something out of a storybook, but then again, this whole town did. You pushed the door open and looked around at the empty lobby, checking your watch to make sure you weren’t crazy early. Rustic chairs lined the walls by the door, and a few empty desks were placed behind the tall front counter.

“Hello?” You asked, turning your head left and right to look for any signs of life.

“Oh!” A muffled voice responded, and distant footsteps quickly scuttled your way from the back room. “You’re here!” A pretty, dark haired girl gave a few excited claps as she made her way to you. “You must be Y/N. I’m Sarah. Sarah Blake.” She eagerly pulled you into a hug which caught you by surprise and she chuckled a bit to herself before taking a step back. “Sorry, my boyfriend says that my enthusiasm scares new people away. I’ve just been so excited since I heard they hired you. I’ve been praying for someone my age to come work around here for a long time.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re the first person I’ve met in town so it’s nice to see a friendly face.” Her warm welcome calmed some of your nerves.

“That’s right, you just moved in yesterday, huh?” You tiled your head in question, wondering how she knew that. “It’s a really small town, everyone knows everything, especially when it comes to new people. You’ve been the talk of the town the past little bit.” She shrugged. “Well, I’m the marketing/PR girl here, and we all just kind of pitch in with working the front desk. Come on back, let me give you the grand tour.”

Sarah led you around the corner and stopped at the first office on your left. “This is Ellen Singer’s office. You’ll be working under her, she’s the lead accountant.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Hmm, she should be here by now. I bet her car is giving her trouble.”

A friendly voice called out to Sarah from down the hall and she motioned for you to follow her as she stepped just inside the end office which was significantly bigger than the rest.

“Y/N, this is Garth Fitzgerald, he’s the mayor. Garth, this is Y/N.” Sarah introduced you and he stood to shake your hand.

“It’s great to meet you, Mayor Fitzgerald.”

“Please, call me Garth.” You smiled and nodded. “We’ve been excited about you around here. I think you’ll make a great addition to our community.” His phone ringing broke the conversation. “Excuse me, ladies. Oh, and welcome to Wallace, Y/N!”

“Next up is Arthur Ketch, he’s the city planner. Sometimes he can be a little abrupt, but deep down he’s a big softie. Don’t let him scare you.”

He was on the phone, so he simply waved to you two as you passed. Sarah’s attention was drawn back down the hall when two police officers walked in. “Jody, Donna!” She hollered to them.

“Heya, kiddo! Who you got with you?” The blonde officer sent a warm smile your way.

“You must be Y/N!” The other responded.

“Oh, that’s right! I heard you were coming to town. I’m Donna and this is Sheriff Jody Mills. It’s so great to meet you.” She pulled you in for your second hug of the day.

“Everyone here is seriously so nice. I don’t know why I didn’t move here years ago!” You joked.

“Well listen, if you need anything, you can always come to me, okay?” Jody put her hand on your shoulder. “We’re all so excited to have a new face around.”

“Thank you. You’re all making this transition so much easier than I thought it would be.”

Sarah waved to the officers as they left and pulled gently on your arm. “Come on, let’s chat while we wait for Ellen.” She took a seat at one of the desks in the front and you sat across from her.

“Thanks for showing me around, it’s nice to know that I have a friend at work already.” Sarah’s eyes lit up when you called her your friend.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying for you to get here. I knew we’d get along.” She folded her arms and sat back in her chair proudly. “So, where did you move from?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

“And you moved to Idaho in the middle of January? Are you crazy? I would give anything to go lay out in the sun for an afternoon.”

“Yeah, I might be!” You laughed. “I guess I just needed a change, you know? It was just time to move onto the next chapter of my life.”

“I get that. I grew up here and couldn’t wait to leave for college, but as soon as I was gone, I missed this place.”

“I can see what you’re talking about. It has a good feeling to it here.”

“So, now to the juicy stuff.” Sarah leaned forward. “Are you dating anyone? Because there’s a whole pool of eligible bachelors I could set you up with here.”

“No, actually I just got out of something kind of messy, so I don’t think I’m really looking for anything at the moment.”

A sympathetic look was sent you way. “I’m sorry to hear that. But if you ever feel ready, you let me know, okay?”

“You will be the first. What about you? I heard you mention you have a boyfriend. Tell me all about him.”

A smile spread across Sarah’s face and she pulled out her phone to show you a picture. “This is Sam, we’ve been together since high school.”

She handed you her phone and you looked at the tall, handsome guy whose arms were wrapped around her. “He’s cute, nice work!” She beamed as you handed her phone back. The expression on her face was clearly one of adoration as she looked at the picture.

“We actually broke up before we went to college. He went to Stanford and I went to the University of Oregon and we figured it would be easier to break it off on good terms rather than fade away in a long-distance relationship. That lasted about two weeks and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Do you think you’ll marry him? You guys are so stinking cute together.” You weren’t sure if you had ever seen a better fitting couple.

“I overheard Sam talking to his older brother about buying a ring. I don’t think he knew that I was just in the other room, but I’ll let him try to surprise me.” Sarah giggled. Your conversation was interrupted by someone walking in the back door.

“Hey, Ellen.” Sarah greeted. “Your reinforcement has arrived.”

Ellen looked at you with relief in her eyes. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Come on back here and we’ll get started.”

“Have fun!” Sarah left you to meet your new boss as she went up to help someone at the front desk.

“Y/N, you’ll have to forgive me for being so late. My stupid car has been giving me hell the past few weeks. You’d think with my husband owning the only mechanic’s shop in town, I’d have a reliable vehicle, but here we are.”

“No worries. It gave me a chance to meet some people around the building. I’m excited to get started though.” You sat in the chair across from her desk and she plopped down with a sigh as well.

“I’ve been begging Garth for two years for some help, so you are a light at the end of my tunnel. I’m hoping to retire in a few years and hand you the reigns, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

The next few hours were spent introducing you to all of the systems and procedures. After receiving a call from her daughter, Ellen decided to call it a day just after three in the afternoon and the two of you agreed to hit it hard tomorrow. You gathered your things and returned to the front area where Sarah was scrolling through her phone. She looked up when you entered the room.

“Hey! How are things going?”

“Ellen has to take off, so we’re going to call it a day and just work a little longer tomorrow.” You sat at the desk adjoining Sarah’s and set your things down.

“Take any desk. It’s just you and me out here. Charlie is the county IT girl and works out here sometimes, but she hops from building to building.”

“Well, I suppose this one is as good as any.” You unpacked a picture frame and a few supplies at the desk across from Sarah’s. “Hey, are there any places to buy furniture around here? I only moved with the bare essentials so I’m in desperate need of a few things.”

“So, what you’re saying is you need to go on a shopping spree? I’m in! I’ll drive.” Sarah grabbed her purse and coat and led you out the door.

She took you on a short tour of the staples around town before arriving at the only big box store nearby. You browsed up and down the aisles, pulling all the necessities off the shelf and tossing them in the cart. You’d have to order some of the bigger furniture pieces online since it was a small place, and they didn’t have anything like here.

Sarah had a basket and was creating a good-sized stockpile of her own. “Sam has been trying to put me on a budget for a while now, so I’ll have to hide this stuff before he sees.” A guilty smile pulled on the corners of her mouth.

“Just tell him you were shopping with an accountant and I approved all your purchases.”

“Hah! We’re going to be good friends.” She picked up a candle, smelled it, and placed it in her basket.

“Where does Sam work?” You asked as you looked through the bathroom towels.

“He’s the lawyer for Winchester Lumber, the sawmill in town. A lot of people work there actually, it’s kind of the main business that brings people in. Sam’s great grandpa started it and it’s stayed in the family. Sam’s older brother, Dean, runs the place right now, but I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to hand the throne over to their Dad when he gets back. He got cancer a few years ago and they moved to Kansas to be closer to medical treatment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How is he doing?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. He’s in remission and they’re hoping to move back soon.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent checking things off of your to-do list and grabbing dinner with Sarah. She dropped you off back at your truck and you thanked her for showing you around before you went your separate ways.

Back at home, it took you a few trips to unload your haul, but you were just happy to have a few more things to fill your empty home. Your first day had gone better than you could have imagined, and you were filled with confidence in your decision to uproot your life.

Sarah opened her front door and did her best to sneak her shopping bags past Sam and Dean who were sitting in the living room, sharing a pizza and some beers. She successfully stowed her treasures away in the hall closet and joined the boys.

“Hey hon!” She placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza and plopping down on the couch next to him.

“You’re in a good mood.” Sam noticed his girlfriend’s chipper energy.

“I made a new friend today.” She took a big bite and gave a smile.

“Don’t you already know everyone in town?” Dean’s voice sounded as pessimistic as usual.

“No, actually. There’s a new accountant at city hall, Y/N. She just moved in yesterday.”

“That’s great! You’ll have to invite her over sometime.” Sam placed his hand lovingly on Sarah’s knee. “Where’s she living?”

“She bought a cabin up in the mountains sight unseen, so we went shopping for some essentials. I think she might be kind of close to you, Dean.”

Dean frowned, trying to think of which cabin the new girl would have bought. He moved up there to be alone, so the thought of a neighbor was disheartening. “You mean that old shack just off of Placer Creek Road?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

“She’s got a lot of repair work to do on that place.” Dean shook his head, glad that it wasn’t him that put any kind of investment into what he was sure was a money pit.

You awoke early the next morning to find that it had snowed overnight. Growing up in Arizona, you had never really experienced snow like this before. Every breath you took felt like your lungs were filling with ice and you couldn’t help but cough, willing the warm weather to find you soon. Winter was one thing you didn’t think about when moving to a mountain town, so you wanted to give yourself plenty of time for the commute. After packing a few things for lunch, you stepped outside to find your truck buried in a mountain of frozen powder.

“Ugh!” You groaned and threw your head back, looking around for a stick to help you dig out your vehicle. You made a mental note to buy a scraper after work. Ten minutes and one soaked pair of shoes later, you had finally freed your car. You twisted the key, forcing the engine to sluggishly turned over, then blasted the heat on high while you ran inside to change into dry shoes and socks before taking off down the road.

The feeling of your back wheels slipping around on the frozen dirt road was so foreign to you, and you weren’t a fan. About two miles away from the main road, your engine began to sputter as it struggled to trudge ahead through the wet snow.

“Please don’t do this to me…” You steered towards the side of the road as much as you could while the truck wound down to a full stop. An annoyed sigh escaped from your lips. “Great.” You turned the car off and then back on, willing it to start up again, but the clicks of defeat that sounded from under the hood dashed your hopes.

You hadn’t had the time to buy a heavy winter coat yet, so you zipped up the light jacket that you had on and began walking. You didn’t want to make a bad impression on your second day of work by calling in sick, so you picked up your head and kept going. One of the points of starting your new journey was to be more self-reliant, and this definitely fell under that category. Ten minutes had passed, and your toes were so cold that you were sure they would snap off and rattle around in your shoes at any point now. The sound of an engine coming down the hill made you look over your shoulder to see a snowmobile barreling around the corner and straight towards you. You quickly side-stepped out of the way, but not enough to avoid the kickback of snow that was thrown into your face as the machine drove past.

“Seriously?!” You yelled as you shook the snow from your clothes. The snowmobile stopped and slowly backed up to meet you.

“What are you doing up here?” The man abruptly asked as he pulled off his helmet. If you weren’t so annoyed and cold, you might have thought he was attractive.

“Being buried alive by some maniac speeding down the mountain.” You retorted and brushed the snow from your hair with your fingers.

“I’m going to assume that’s your truck back there?”

“Lucky guess.” The wind-chill blew through your jacket and you crossed your arms. “I don’t think it likes the cold, and I don’t exactly blame it.”

His eyes assessed you. “Crappy shoes, thin jacket, and no gloves. I’m going to assume that makes you the clueless new girl.”

“What an ass...” You thought to yourself.

“I guess it does, Kowalski.”

“Kowalski? Really?”

You were surprised he got your reference to Clint Eastwood’s infamously crotchety main character.

“If you’ll excuse me, I gotta get to work.” You didn’t find much point in continuing on this conversation with such a smug jerk, so you continued on your path down the road and heard the snowmobile make a sharp u turn to climb back up the trail.

Ten more minutes later, you could see the main road just ahead of you had been plowed, and you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to be hiking through any more ankle-deep build-up. You could hear a vehicle slowly coming up behind you and you made sure to move as far over as you could to avoid being blasted with snow again. The truck slowed to a stop next to you and you looked over to see the same man from earlier rolling the passenger side window down.

“Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” His voice still sported an undertone of condescension and he rolled his eyes when a doubtful frown from you was sent towards him. “Just get in.”

Hundreds of episodes of Dateline should have taught you to not get in a car with some stranger, but you figured that even if he didn’t murder you, you’d end up dying of frostbite and decided to you’d rather die inside a warm truck. You opened the door and took off your damp jacket before getting inside.

The man’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. You placed your hand by the heater on the dashboard in hopes of defrosting your fingers enough to feel them again.

“You shouldn’t drive a pickup in the winter.” His gaze stayed firmly glued on the road ahead.

“Uhm…” You dramatically looked around, “aren’t we in a pickup right now?”

“Yeah, a pickup with chains on the tires and a weighed down bed.”

“Well, I’m still pretty new at this whole snow thing…”

The man glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “I couldn’t tell. You’re Y/N, aren’t you?”

“Should I be concerned that you know my name?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, no,” he must have realized how creepy that came off, “I know Sarah. She’s dating my younger brother and she was telling us about you last night.”

“Oh, it all makes sense now. You’re the grumpy older brother. Dean, right?”

Another eyeroll made an appearance, but you could tell he wasn’t going to make any further comments.

“Well, I appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I screwed up your morning routine.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that Dean wasn’t a man of many words, and you were okay with that. You weren’t really one for small talk either. Dean’s eyes moved to your arm that was extended towards the vent blowing heat.

“That’s a gnarly bruise. How’d you manage that?”

You pulled your arm back quickly, hoping that your sudden move didn’t come across as suspicious. “Oh, you know, just being a clutz. They never tell you that moving by yourself is a dangerous game.” You chuckled casually while watching his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he glanced at the bruise one more time. No further remarks were made so you assumed he bought your story.

Dean pulled up in front of City Hall and stopped as close to the door as he could get. Before you could reach for the door handle, Dean instructed, “give me your keys.”

“What?” Your face twisted in confusion.

Yet another fed-up sigh escaped from his chest. “Bobby Singer down at the auto shop owes me a favor. I’ll get him to tow your truck down and take a look at it.”

“Oh.” you weren’t expecting such a generous gesture from such a grumpy guy. “I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Hand it over.” The tone in his voice remained gruff, but the bluntness was slightly faded at this point. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your key ring, sliding the truck key off and placing it into Dean’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean’s eyes avoided yours and you took the hint that it was time to leave.

The wind blew flurries in the air, forcing you to quickly sprint to the door, meaning that you missed Dean watching you with curiosity. Sarah, who was observing from the front desk, didn’t miss his wondering stare. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw her spying and peeled away.

“Kowalski.” He muttered to himself with a half-entertained chuckle once he was a few blocks away. Dean would have never admitted it, but he quite enjoyed the witty nickname.

Sarah couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk that crept up on her face and leaned on the counter to greet you the second you stepped through the door.

“You look like you’ve had quite the morning.” She greeted.

“Yeah, something like that.” You hung your jacket up on the coat rack in the corner to dry and stomped the packed snow from the tread of your shoes.

“Am I going blind or did Dean Winchester give you a ride to work?” She quickly cornered you.

“Yeah. My truck broke down and then he tried to bury me in snow, so he gave me a ride.” Goosebumps covered your arms as you made your way to your desk. You had never been more grateful for heat.

Sarah crossed her arms and sat on your desk as you took your seat. “You know, people call him the Grinch because he moved way up the mountain to be all broody and alone.”

“I can’t say I don’t understand it. It’s kinda fitting.” You logged into your computer, but Sarah continued to press for details.

“Well did he say anything on the ride over or did he just glare at the road?”

“A little bit of both I guess. He told me I shouldn’t be driving a truck in the winter, but that’s about it.”

Ellen arrived and cut the chatter short. “Hey girls. You ready to get started, Y/N?”

“You bet.” You stood from your desk, but not before Sarah pointed an accusing finger at you.

“This conversation is not over!” She warned.

After lunch, Ellen had given you some expense reports to review and organize. It was tedious, but you didn’t mind the slow afternoon after a crazy morning. Sarah was helping you to punch holes in the stacks of papers and organize them into departments while the two of you chatted away. The snow had kept most people inside, so it was a slow day at the front desk. Just before it was time to call it a day, the bell of the front door dinged, and Sarah walked over to see who it was.

“Hey, Dean. You going over to Benny’s tonight?” She greeted.

“Not sure yet.”

Dean’s hands were shoved into his front pockets as he stared Sarah down, not wanting to give her any more room to speculate as to why he was here.

“Hi.” You smiled softly, trying your hardest ignore Sarah’s curious stare as you joined in the conversation.

He pulled a key from his pocket and set it down on the counter. “She’s all fixed up. Battery terminals were corroded so I cleaned them up a bit, but you’re going to need a new battery soon. That one doesn’t have much juice left in it.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you worked at the auto shop.” You remembered Sarah saying something about Dean working at the sawmill.

“No, I used to. But I figured it would be an easy fix, so I took a look myself. I stuck some old grates in the bed for some weight. Take it into Bobby’s tomorrow after work and he’ll take care of the rest. He knows you’re coming.”

“Wow, I really owe you one. Thank you.” You slid the key from off the counter and fiddled with the metal ring.

“Don’t read into it.” Dean tapped his fist on the counter twice before swiftly leaving.

Sarah was biting her lip, and you slowly turned your head towards her. “Spit it out.” You gave permission for her onslaught of questions.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to fix your car for you!”

“He said he would have Bobby tow it back to the shop and take a look at it. I didn’t know he was going to fix it himself.”

“I’ve known Dean for a long time, he’s pretty much my older brother at this point, so I can see past all the grumpiness. He’s a really good guy, he’s just been dealt a hard hand the past few years that made him swear off people.”

That was a feeling you could easily relate to. “He really went out of his way to bail me out today, so he can’t be all that bad.”

“He’s all bark and no bite. Granted, it’s a big bark.” Sarah checked her watch. “Closing time! Hey, would you want to come back to my place after we clock out? Sam’s playing poker at a buddy’s house tonight so I figured maybe we could grab some take out and find some furniture for you online?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually! It definitely beats the PB and J I would be making otherwise.”

After work, you ran home to change and Sarah stopped for some Chinese food, then the two of you met at her apartment.

Some crappy TV movie played in the background while mostly empty take-out containers littered the kitchen counter. You were sitting on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table, browsing through loveseats while Sarah lay on the couch behind you giving her input.

The door gently swung open and the man you assumed to be Sam walked through. Sarah stood up and stretched before giving her boyfriend a hug.

“How was the poker game?”

Sam tossed his keys on the counter and pulled off his jacket. “About the same as always. Benny won most of the games, Cas still has no clue what he’s doing, and I lost a little too much pride.”

“You’ll get them one of these days. Come on,” she tugged on his shirt sleeve, “I want you to meet Y/N.”

You stood when Sam and Sarah walked into the room. “Y/N, this is Sam.”

“Ah, the infamous Y/N, I’ve heard lots about you the past day or so. It’s nice to put a face with the name.” He shook your hand. “How are you settling in?”

“Honestly, the move has been a lot easier than I thought it would be. Everyone here has been super welcoming and helpful.”

“Including Dean.” Sarah gave a knowing look to her boyfriend, who was clearly confused.

“My brother, Dean?”

“The one and only. He gave Y/N a ride to work and fixed her truck up for her.”

Sam’s face read skeptical. “My brother, Dean?” He repeated.

“I found myself knee deep in snow and car problems this morning. I’m sure he helped me out of pity more than anything.” You tried to explain, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow. I guess that’s why he was late to work today. Well, I hope he didn’t scare you off too much.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not at all, he really helped me out. But I have to admit, I feel bad. He would barely acknowledge my thank yous. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he heard you loud and clear, he’s just hasn’t been properly socialized yet.”

Sam finished off the rest of the Chinese and got to know you a little better while Sarah sat next to you on the floor, scrolling through furniture.

“Where’d you go to school, Y/N?” Sam stacked the empty red food containers together and set them aside as he pulled his feet up on the couch.

“University of Arizona. I didn’t originally plan on staying so close to home, but a full ride soccer scholarship is hard to turn down.”

“No way! That’s awesome.” Sam’s face lit up with an idea. “Oh! Every summer we do this obstacle course race thing here in town as part of the summer festival. Maybe you can be on our team this year?”

“That sounds super fun! Count me in.”

“Yes!”’ Sam made a fist in the air. “We’ve used to win every year, but we’ve come in second the past three times, so maybe you’ll be our secret weapon.”

Sarah joined the conversation once she’d had her fill of online shopping. “I was thinking, Y/N, I don’t know if you’re much of a baker, but if you wanted to say thank you to Dean, he’s a sucker for a good pie. I know he wouldn’t just brush that off.”

“It’s true. He’s a pie whore.” Sam nodded.

“Sam!” Sarah scolded.

“Noted,” you said through your laughs.

The clock in the corner of your laptop screen caught your eye and you realized how late it was getting. “I should probably start heading home before I hate myself tomorrow at work.”

“At least it’s not supposed to snow tonight.” Sarah teased.

“Wow, it’s going to be like that, huh?! It’s a learning curve, okay?” You stuck your tongue out as you gathered your things.

Sam stopped you after Sarah had said goodbye. “Hey, Y/N, I know Dean doesn’t make the greatest first impression, but do me a favor and don’t write him off just yet. He’s had a rough go the past little while and could always use another friend in his corner.”

“I won’t. I’m sure there’s a great guy buried under all that angst.” You gave a reassuring smile and Sam gave you a hug before you left.

The next day was Friday and between training and helping out with the front desk, the workday flew by. You needed to take your truck in to get the battery switched and Sarah had agreed to give you rides while you were without transportation. After work, you dropped off your truck at Bobby’s, and Sarah took you home. You were glad for a little time to yourself so you could clean up the house before the first delivery of furniture tomorrow morning.

On your lunch break earlier that day, you had gotten all the ingredients to make blueberry pie bars as a thank you for Dean. Time was in short supply, so you hoped these would be a suitable place holder in lieu of a regular pie. You quickly threw them together and loaded up a plate once they were cool enough. Baking had always been a stress reliever for you, and the way it filled your small cabin with warmth and sweet smells felt so cozy and charming.

Dean’s place was only a ten-minute walk from yours, so you bundled up and began your hike. You had finally gotten yourself a suitable coat and boots and couldn’t believe the difference they made as you crunched through the snow that was matted on the gravel road. His cabin was much newer than yours, and considerably nicer. A long staircase on the right side of the house led up to a wide porch. Smoke spilling from the chimney and lights beaming through the windows told you he was probably home, so you knocked on the door.

Clattering of locks being undone broke through the silence a few moments later and an expressionless Dean opened the door.

“Hi,” you began, “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out so much the other day.” Dean stood silent and stone-faced, so you awkwardly continued. “I, uh, heard you were a big fan of pie, but I didn’t have enough time to make one from scratch, so I hope these will do.” You extended the plate of goodies and he looked at them doubtfully.

“Look,” a gravelly voice ended his vow of silence, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not looking for any new friends or whatever this is.” He began to shut his door when you interjected.

“Listen, this is nothing more than a simple thank you for bailing me out when I really needed it. I’m not going to force you to eat them, but I’m also not going to take them home with me. Maybe just wait until I’m gone before you throw them away though.” You set the plate on a neatly stacked pile of firewood off to the side of the door. “Don’t read into it.” You echoed his parting words from yesterday and took your leave. A sneaky glance over your shoulder as you walked away revealed that Dean had picked up the plate and was looking at it with a half-impressed nod. You assumed that was as much of a reaction as you’d get from him and marked the trip to be successful.

Chapter 2

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean fic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fic #supernatural fanfic series

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Text

i know we always talk about billy easily submitting to his dad but imagine this:

neil is charismatic, that must be where billy gets it, because he has the whole town fooled. nobody sees the demonic beast hiding under human flesh.

neil knows all the neighbors by name. he treats the custodian as he treats his boss. he offers help to old ladies with groceries and helps them cross the street.

people wonder why billy seems to glare at his father and disobey him so often; for how good a man neil is, it’s astonishing how resentful billy is of him.

billy will snark back in public, blatantly roll his eyes, flip him the bird when he’s not looking (and leave it up long enough for him to see when he turns).

the party thinks he’s an asshole who hates everyone. steve can’t believe the amount of disrespect he gives his dad. nancy and jonathan are floored at the vulgar words he speaks about him with, how he talks about him to his face.

max is more sympathetic than ever. how neil is so well known and widely liked by the people of hawkins and how nobody would ever even begin to believe a word of the truth billy could tell.

it’s almost like there’s nothing to be done. because as awful as neil is, there’s some days when billy won’t shut his mouth. and it gets him into trouble.

he’s spiteful and vindictive and vulgar when they shout at each other, but once billy is shoved against the wall, it’s a 50/50 chance he’s gonna fight back.

some days he can’t be bothered. is sick and tired of his own life, he lets the one ‘warning’ hit be enough.

other days he shoves back. he always gets shoved harder after. he’ll rile neil up to the point of maximum damage, but it’s so easy to get him angry it’s almost funny.

billy wishes, every time he gets hit, that some random townsperson would just walk into their living room. or kitchen. or billy’s bedroom. or, on one occasion, their back yard.

nobody sees billy hargrove: victim of abuse. they see billy hargrove: hates the nicest man in town. it’s ridiculous and billy can’t stand it.

he’s almost 18 now. he’s sick of hawkins and ready to leave and go anywhere but where his dad is.

but he wants one last joyride on the anger express. maybe ruin a reputation in the process.

so he acts out one day, while they’re walking down the sidewalk from a store max and susan had wanted to look at before grocery shopping.

billy knows how to get under neil’s skin. it’s one of the things he prides himself in knowing well.

he makes an off handed comment about how shitty it is that he’s being dragged into family outings. “we aren’t even a family,” he’ll say.

neil will give him a look. one that says he’s gonna get it when they’re home. where nobody can see who neil really is.

then billy brings up his mother, how she was so much better than neil could ever be. “she made the right decision to leave you,” he snickers as he watches neil’s fists clench.

a myriad of comments follow. ones about how neil is gonna lose another wife. ones about how he still can’t get billy into place. ones about how awful it must be to enjoy hating children.

there’s one more thing that he’s depending on to be the final fuse to make neil explode, right in broad daylight. bringing in the one thing neil hates most in life: “it’s too bad you’ve got a faggot for a son, huh?” billy says, just loud enough to be almost heard by the old lady walking a few steps in front of them.

when neil’s mustache curls into a pained grimace, billy knows he’s won. knows that he’s got the upper hand of the situation, even if he’s gonna get hit for it.

knows, right when the name “william,” comes out, threatening as ever, that he has won.

so he adds fuel to the fire. “do you think red or pink lipstick would look better with my complexion?” just to see the extra line that forms above neil’s eyebrows.

neil stops walking. turns to look at billy. they’re still in the middle of the sidewalk, max and susan a few feet away, stopped as well. max looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole.

“well, you know, when i become a drag queen, i’ll have to look good, right?” billy asks his father, and it’s like he’s lost control over his own mouth. “so what’ll it be, dad? pink or red?”

and maybe the alarm bells and flashing red lights in billy’s head should have stopped him from talking. maybe he should have let this grocery trip be about getting weekly groceries.

but something about how he could see his fathers breathing speed up and his face turn so pink it’s almost purple, it’s fun.

with the added addition of seeing some of max’s little friends leaving the theatre at that moment.

right when the boys notice max, neil lunges for billy.

the old lady that had been steps in front of them has turned to see what the thud behind her was, only to see neil holding billy by his collar and his neck, shoved against a brick wall, billy’s toes barely touching the floor.

for being in such a compromising position, billy shouldn’t look as smug as he does when the old lady drops her purse with a gasp or when he sees max’s friends’ faces contort with fear. or when he sees harrington exit the movie theatre as well.

it happens quickly, the fight. billy thinks his brain went black and acted on instinct, he doesn’t remember a thing.

but the bystanders see it all. how close neil leans in to sneer something in billy’s face. how billy laughs, then lifts a knee to hit neil where it hurts.

how he stumbles enough for billy to get on his own two feet.

there’s a quick moment where neither moves, then neil rams into billy, but billy keeps his balance well, planted feet and all, and shoved neil back.

within the next minute, they’re both on the floor and alternating who’s got the upper hand. they’re decently matched as opponents, but neil has the upper hand. he’s taken billy down so many times he knows just how to bring him down physically, like how billy can destroy neil with words.

max and susan are backed up another few yards, susan holding max behind her, but not saying a thing. both are too shocked. this has never happened in public.

the party are watching from across the road, and steve feels like he should do something, because neil just slammed billys head into the cement. and he can’t really tell from how far they are, but billy’s nose is sure to be broken.

“call hopper,” steve instructs the party as he moves to walk across the street.

dustin grabs his arm before he can move far. “billy beat you once before, and now there’s like two of him, steve!”

steve walks over anyway. billy had been straddling neil prior, pushing a finger into his shoulder, before being slammed back to the ground.

there’s many different slurs being spewed from neil’s mouth, many of which change steve’s perception of billy entirely, but that’s not important now.

steve gets to where susan and max are when neil gets a grip on billy’s dangly dagger earring and pulls until it rips out of billy’s ear.

susan is staring, horrified at the scene, and max has shoved her face into the pink cardigan her mother wore, peeking out every moment or so.

when she spots steve, she doesn’t feel relived like she hoped she might, she just feels worse. more people don’t need to be involved.

“max, the party’s over there if you wanna...” steve suggests, motioning over his shoulder where the boys are crowded around a pay phone.

max pulls susan along with her across the road, glancing back at steve, who doesn’t seem to know what to do either.

what is he supposed to do? it’s not like dustin was wrong, steve’s never won a fight on his own.

luckily, right as he sees neil stand up and literally stomp as hard as he could on billy’s elbow, backwards, he hears a siren.

sees hopper’s cruiser pull around the corner and feels like a weight is both equally being lifted off his chest and being pushed down heavier.

neil is standing above billy, a few scrapes and forming bruises, ruffled clothes and a tear in the polo he was wearing, but nothing more damaged than his ego.

billy, on the other hand, is laying face down on the concrete, elbow bending in a way that is not natural and half his face covered in blood from both his nose and his ear.

neil looks only mildly frightened by hoppers appearance, and something about it rests uneasy with steve.

steve feels like he’s having an out of body experience as things happen. like he’s only there to observe, which he kinda is, but it’s hazy.

susan comes back, along with the boys following a shaken up max.

another cop, steve thinks it’s callahan, tries to wake billy up, because at some point neil had rendered him unconscious.

neil looks calm while this happens. he has an almost proud air about him as he watches a man try to wake up his son that he’d beaten so bad, he’d passed out.

it makes steve sick.

it also makes steve wonder if this were a semi common occurrence.

billy is driven to the hospital, mostly because his nose is crooked, his ear is still bleeding, and his elbow is most definitely facing the wrong direction, but they also think he may have cracked a rib or two.

neil is driven off in a cop car, callahan’s, while hopper stays to take stories.

it’s news to steve when susan and max share that this has happened multiple times, just never to such a detrimental state.

max recalls the first time that she’d met billy, he’d been wearing a cast on his arm and refused to tell her how he broke it.

steve sees billy in his head. sees the bruises on billy’s back when they’d play shirts and skins and how he’d chalked it up to a childish fight or a fun night with a girl.

sees how billy would favor his left leg for two weeks during basketball, and only wear sweats, but steve had noticed bruising around his right ankle when he’d change his shoes.

sees how billy seems to have insanely good intuition to when people are behind him or when he’s in a crowded place, always on the lookout.

sees, not justification, but a reason behind the way billy acts.

steve can’t imagine, even if his dad was like neil hargrove, having enough nerve to hit him back. even speak rudely towards him.

he recalls all the times he’d seen billy talk shit about his dad or snark at him in public. now he sees them as acts of bravery and defiance from an abuser rather than impolite and hateful towards a parent.

billy’s been fighting this whole time. and he’s been on the right side of the fight.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #steve harrington #kinda but not really harringrove but imma tag it anyway #harringrove #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #lol none of this is proof read so good luck #tw abuse #tw domestic violence #tw neil hargrove #tw gore #kinda??

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