#please ignore my horrible cable management

[semprvivum]

plant shelf 🪴

#please ignore my horrible cable management #this is 1 of 2 plant shelves 🙂 the other one is a mess right now #plant #plants #plantas #houseplants #succulent #succulents #succulentblr #plantblr #horticulture #grow lights #plant shelf #mine

[kaesaaurelia]

popcorn

For @whumptober day 9, using the prompts “mistaken identity" and "you're a liar."

Continued from Day 6, wherein something is puppeting Aziraphale, and Crowley is being tortured.

When Crowley had seen Aziraphale standing outside of the Bentley, looking anxious and apologetic, he'd thought, Fuck, he looks miserable, and then he'd thought Good, and then he'd felt bad about that.

Aziraphale had been apologetic. Deeply, desperately apologetic. "You were right," he'd said, "there's no fixing them, they're all miserable idiots Up There. I should never have gone. The tea's not even good."

He should, he thinks, have got Aziraphale to do the apology dance. Should have asked what was off about the tea. But he'd been too pleased to hear that he'd been right. "Don't know what to tell you, angel," he'd said. "You've made your lukewarm tea, now lie in it."

"I… don't, as a rule, lie in tea," Aziraphale had said, looking perplexed.

"You know what I mean."

Their argument had been wide-ranging and yet, now that Crowley looked back at it, weirdly lacking in specifics. They had talked about the kiss, and Aziraphale had, haltingly, shyly, said he wished they had time for more of that, but for the life of him, Crowley couldn't recall which of them had brought up the kiss first. Had he just given that information away? Was he no better than a mark at a palmist's, giving out all the details of his and Aziraphale's relationship and having them regurgitated back to him by someone who was only pretending to be Aziraphale?

Crowley really hoped this wasn't Aziraphale. Really hoped. He did not like to think what they must have done to Aziraphale to make him this awful, if it was him.

Aziraphale -- or whoever -- had begged for Crowley's forgiveness without ever quite articulating what Crowley wanted him to, and Crowley knew, in his small, bitter, stony heart, that he must be penitent, and that it would be wrong to keep sulking, but Crowley also knew that he had done plenty of wrong things before and would again, and besides, whether or not Aziraphale knew he was right, he was still angry. So he'd ignored all the apologies after a point, gone about his business of the day, with an apologetic shadow in white following him. (It had been particularly fun at the cinema. Crowley had got popcorn and not even offered to share, or even looked over to see if Aziraphale wanted any. All of Aziraphale's desperate whispered apologies had annoyed everybody else. It was a horrible situation for everyone but Crowley.)

He had been strong and held onto his anger for hours before Aziraphale had said, nervously, that he actually wanted to ask a favor of Crowley, and Crowley had continued to ignore him.

And then he'd said the word heist, and. Well. Even if Crowley had the reservoir of spite to keep him furious at Aziraphale for eternity, he couldn't resist a heist. Or getting one over on Heaven.

They had planned every detail. Crowley realized now that it was awfully suspicious, that Crowley got to do all the exciting bits, and that every time he'd said 'oh no, I'm not doing that,' the angel had readily agreed. Also, Crowley had asked if there was a bit where he had to enter from above and dangle from a cable, mostly jokingly, and there was, actually, that happened to be a key part of the plan. He'd been so excited about that that he'd forgot how little sense it made for Heaven's architecture to be constructed that way. And also that he had wings.

And now he was here in Heaven having 300 million volts run through him off and on while some awful Throne with no sense of humor asked questions and Aziraphale watched with apparent glee.

"My misstake," he told the Throne, after his third smiting. "Did I say 'gullible'? I meant 'credulousss.' Got to look that one up, all the plansss are hidden there."

He managed to look up at Aziraphale quickly, and he thought, Nah, can't be him. Because he was pretty sure, given what Crowley had put him through back on Earth, that if the real Aziraphale had changed his mind so drastically about Crowley that he'd let all of this happen, he would have been eating popcorn while he watched, just to rub salt, and maybe that weird liquid butter, on the wound.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #mistaken identity #you're a liar #good omens #fic #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #text #fiction #kaesa op

[boltsandscrews]

The Matrix’s Secret

Note: I love the idea of Optimus dealing with some sort of Eldritch entity, so, here’s my take on it! I hope it isn’t too bad, I haven’t written for Transformers in years. Anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

.   .   .

The voices were the least concerning part of being a Prime. The Matrix housed an unfathomable amount of memories, thoughts, and opinions—it was home to all the experience of Optimus’s predecessors. Hearing the occasional whisper or shout was nothing too concerning when you considered that within the Matrix rested a thousand lifetimes folded over one another. A million different contradictions and ideas intertwined into one unstable fabric, one of which Optimus tended to swaddle himself in whether he desired it or not. After bearing the voices for so long, they became a sort of background noise, a song he learned to tune out. But as Primus has Unicron, the Matrix is not all order and peace. Optimus, no matter how hard he tried, could never get over the feeling of the Matrix. 

When he was first bonded with the Matrix he swore he could feel something slithering through his fuel lines, tiny pricks of silent pain that slowly welded themselves to him. A parasite that clung to every inch of metal and alloy. He ignored it at first—greater pains racking his body like nothing he had ever felt before. His cables were sore, roaring with the stress of keeping his new frame together. He figured it was his body’s way of adapting to his situation. He had no way to know what was normal or not. It’s not often that a prime is forged after all. 

The feeling got unbearable as the war went on. Even as his frame adjusted and settled, his spark becoming used to bearing the weight of a leader, he could still feel something in him. He swore it was there. Sliding under the surface of his arms, coming to rest behind his optics—as if it was watching his every move. It never did anything malicious or sentient, but it was unnerving none-the-less. Eventually he came to the conclusion that this was simply what a Prime felt like. That this was Primus’s design. Why? He did not know, but what use would it be to ponder over such a thing during a war so brutal it ripped through the body of God like nothing? He shoved his own discomfort aside and let the unsettling thing in him do as it pleased. 

One instance finally pushed him over the edge though, sending him running to the med-bay. He hadn’t been in battle thankfully, but patrolling an isolated street for Decepticon activities. He had felt horrible that morning, waking up from stasis feeling like he was a guest within his own frame. Everything felt clunky and awkward. His hands too rough and stiff to maneuver in the way he wanted them too. After managing to avoid everyone’s concerns, he left under the excuse that he better check the outskirts of the city, where it was rumored that Megatron had been spotted. He found nothing but the forced realization of his own problems. Once he had felt remotely like himself again—whoever that may be, Orion or Optimus, he didn’t know—he decided to head back to base. They needed him more than the abandoned buildings did. But he found himself standing still. 

No amount of horror or terror will ever come close to what he felt in that moment. The rush of battle and the fear of death is one thing—but this? This was something else. Suspense driven into his very spark, dentas seemingly curling into the roof of his mouth, urging him to run. The voices of his predecessors, normally only a lonesome hum of a forgotten past, joined into a crescendo of yelling—every single one telling him to fight. But fight what? There was nothing there but himself and the ruins of a once wide-spread society. His optics snapped in every direction, torso twisting in so many different positions he could’ve sworn that he snapped a cable. Nothing was around him. Nothing but himself, broken buildings, and the Matrix.

He wished he could describe what he heard then, what kept his legs and pedes chained to the ground, but there is simply no language for it. It’s not a physical entity, no, but it doesn’t only exist in the mind either—yet somehow it almost seemed like the moment you truly captured what it was, the very definition of existence slipped between your fingers like sand; the coarse grains rubbing against reality like a knife to flesh, a weapon so strange that not one being could’ve thought of it. And Gods, the sound. Looking back Optimus still can’t find any other words to encompass the horrifying tune but emptiness. It was a sound without sound, a song with no music or lyrics, a tale that started nowhere and ended everywhere. It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t make sense, yet somehow everything clicked into place and Optimus heard it all. He heard the thrum of space and time as it collapsed and pulled the stitches of its birthed wounds to accommodate the creature within him. Reality bled for his spark and mind.

The Matrix—no, something hiding within the Matrix, drowned out every last Prime and came to rest just below Optimus’s audials. It sang its song, told its story, and laughed with the echo of dying worlds. It curled around him like smoke, yet heavy enough that he could feel his shoulders compressing with pressure. The thing in him, the slithering being in his fuel lines and cables, stretched outwards desperately—trying to free itself of him. Fingers so thin and fragile they broke every time they cried out for freedom and peace; shattering glass churning in Optimus’s fuel lines, beating against him in the rhythm of his spark. 

It was then he realized why the Primes within the Matrix talked so much, mourned when a new one came to take their place—they lived with this wretched thing and they would never be able to escape it; their memories and thoughts, the very definition of them, not resting with the Allspark but with this substance that constricted all existence and laws of science.

Ratchet had nearly dropped dead when the Optimus had stumbled into his office ranting about some kind of creature within him. He spoke in a tongue not known to him and talked as if he had lost his mind—as if his processor had been split into thirds and tossed to the stars. With several minutes of scrambled panic and immense concern, Ratchet managed to get the medical tools in working order. The scans had shown that everything was normal. Processor working the same as it had the day before, fuel lines clear and clean, spark so bright that it reminded Ratchet of the story of Primus’s glory. For all intents and purposes, Optimus seemed to be operating perfectly. He suggested lots of rest and asked some fellow Autobots to look over the frantic Prime. 

“It’ll be fine soon,” he said.

Optimus didn’t ask for any help regarding the Matrix after that. His soldiers worried and his friends were distracted thinking about his health—not to mention the war would not be lost because of his inability to handle his own problems. So, he locked his fears away and acted as he ought too. Strong, wise, and steady-fast—that’s who he is. Who he has to be—no matter the personal cost. This was the path he had chosen, the life that Primus had intended for him, so who is he to complain?

The thing never spoke to him again—at least, not outright. It seemed to have given up after that first try, only becoming more restless within him. Sometimes trying to control his body to act out its rage or sorrows, but Optimus had learned to stop such things. It took his whole spark and mind to prevent his frame from succumbing to the writhing creature that lived inside him, but the exhaustion would be worth it if he could keep everyone safe—keep everyone ignorant to what the Matrix had imprisoned. It wasn’t easy, Gods no. And sometimes on the battlefield he would entertain the thought of maybe moving a second too slow, rushing into battle a little too fast, maybe even taunting his enemies more than he should; but the Matrix—the Primes, stopped him every time and set him back on his rightful path.

Though, he had his doubts about if it was the “right” path, the “peaceful” path, the road that will lead to Primus’s will. He couldn't help but think about what he was doing, the God he worshiped and trusted for millennia. For if Primus made such a demon inhabit his child's body, is he really that divine at all? A God worth devoting millions of lives too? Optimus will never know the answer, for it rests not in life or death, but in some godly plane of existence that he will never be able to fully comprehend. 

#tf #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #Optimus Prime #Optimus #Ratchet #maccadam #maccadams #maccdam #Orion Pax #matrix of leadership #uhhh how do i tag this #i make up tf lore #my writing #tf headcanons #Primus #tfp Optimus #tfp Optimus prime #tfp rachet #there was more i wanted to write #but i am waaay to tired #i'd like to imagine that once megs realizes what oppy goes through #he's like #'damn i thought i was fucked up but ur on a whole 'nother level' #anyways #i like to torture oppy because I love him #poor guy #can't catch a break

[zaharadessert]

Wrong From Right (3/4)

Summary: Killian finds himself travelling alone to Houston for check-ups and therapy on his injured hand as Emma, Henry and Alice stay in Lubbock for work and school. But none of them realise just how far Walsh Ozman is willing to go to get what he wants, and what he wants hasn’t changed since the last time they saw him...

Rating: Explicit (Attempted non-con, Graphic descriptions of violence, threat)

Notes: This is the last part, and it’s probably the worst, so if you want to wait until it’s all up before you read it, then I am totally fine with that! I’d like to say a huge thank you to @snowbellewells​ for betaing this part too! You’re awesome, and I love you! Again, the artwork is by me, with a huge thank you to @kaeleemac​ for the Silver!David manip! It’s so ruggedly wonderful, thanks you! You're getting this early you lucky lot because next week is Halloweek and I don't want to be posting two different things in one day. This is horrible and I kind of hate myself. I promise I fix it...

Taglist: @jrob64​ @xhookswenchx​ @kmomof4​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @superchocovian​ @lfh1226-linda​ @teamhook​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @tiganasummertree​ @onceratheart18​ @karlyfr13s​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @ouatpost​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @winterbaby89​ @thepirateandhisson​ @xarandomdreamx​ @xsajx​ @captainswan21​

As always, please let me know if you would like to be added or taken off, thank you!

Read on the first two parts on AO3: Look Behind You | Unsuspecting Stranger

Read on AO3 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

- - - - -

As promised, the TSA Agent came and collected him from the staff lounge, Killian coiled up his charging cable and turned his phone off. There was nothing he could do, even if he did get a text about something important, and if he didn’t do it now, he was going to forget.

They walked down to the gate and the Agent put him at the front of the queue. The flight attendant checking boarding passes took his ID and boarding pass, and then looked up at him.

“Very good afternoon Mr Jones,” she said, her smile brightening.

“Afternoon,” he replied a little shortly, but that did nothing to dim her smile.

She looked down at his ID and cross checked his name, then handed them back. “Head on through for me, Sir. Have a pleasant flight.”

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a tight-lipped smile as she brushed his fingers with her own. He ignored it and turned to the TSA guy. “Thank you, John,” he said looking up at the hulking man.

“Always happy to help out a Ranger. Say hi next time you’re here, Jones,” he said, his handshake firm when Killian held his own hand out.

“Aye, I will,” Killian said, and grabbed the handle of his suitcase, dragging it behind him as he headed for the plane.

His boarding pass was checked again and he was shown to his seat, he popped open the overhead locker and picked up his suitcase by the side handle, but the wheel caught and it slipped in his haste. He caught it with his bad hand but grunted in pain, gritting his teeth, and trying desperately not to swear because there had been kids in the queue.

He took a deep breath, and tried again, using his wrist to support the case as he guided it into the gap. A hand appeared out of nowhere to help him, and he had to force himself not to snap that he’d got it. If Emma had been here, she’d have helped, and he wouldn’t have questioned it. He managed to smile at the man, who he noticed was in uniform.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Sir. Fogg, first officer, I spoke to Little earlier and he filled me in. We’ll get you back as quickly as we can,” he said.

Killian was shocked and he was fairly certain it showed on his face.

“My great uncle was a Ranger, a good man,” he explained. “Of course I’m going to do anything I can to get you where you need to be.”

“I appreciate it,” Killian replied, reaching up to scratch behind his ear.

“Let the attendants know if you need anything, and we’ll keep you updated best we can.”

“Thanks,” Killian managed a slightly warmer smile then.

“I’d best get back. Try and relax, we’ll get our job done,” Fogg told him with a polite nod and headed back up the aisle.

Killian sank into his seat, mentally preparing for the hour and twenty minutes from take-off, let alone the half an hour before that happened.

“Hold on, Emma, I’m coming,” he murmured under his breath, wanting to be there so badly it felt like a prayer.

- - - - -

The news Walsh had made Emma find on her phone and mirror to the television had barely shown any coverage of their situation. Walsh and Felix were unnamed, as was the extent of their crimes. She’d endured more of Walsh playing affectionate; with kisses on the cheek and hands in her hair, Emma felt like she was about to snap. She was barely holding back the tears as it was, but much more of this and she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself reacting to him violently.

Will’s knuckles were white and his expression dark from having to watch what Walsh was doing to Emma. But shackled to the bench as he was, there was quite literally nothing he could do.

Walsh’s patience was wearing thin; his touches were becoming less tender and more demanding, which made them easier to deal with, but told Emma that he was close to the end of his tether. They’d been in here since before lunch time, and Emma was hungry, but she didn’t dare ask for anything. Looking around she could see that they were all feeling the toll of their captivity, and she was sure that this was going to get messy if it didn’t end soon.

The only reason she didn’t need the bathroom was because she hadn’t had anything to drink in several hours.

“He’s not planning to get out of here alive, you know,” Will said, breaking the stillness that had settled over the courtroom below the burbling of the television.

Emma looked over at Will to see that he was looking at Felix. She wasn’t the only one, either.

“What are you talking about?” Felix said, looking from Will to Walsh. Clearly confused, if Emma read him right she knew what he was trying to do, undermine their alliance, but Walsh didn’t work the way they expected him to, ever. She didn’t know if this was going to help or make things so much worse.

“What did he promise you?” Will asked simply. “Money, and a way out, right?”

“Quiet, Ranger, who asked you?” Walsh snapped, standing up, letting go of Emma.

Emma took the opportunity to put a little distance between them, take a couple of deep breaths, and collect herself, all the while watching Will.

He looked calm, considering what he was doing, driving a wedge between the two criminals whose alliance had been tentative to begin with. She knew Walsh had grown so desperate for his revenge that he didn’t care how he got it, or who he hurt to do so. He didn’t care what this other guy wanted, but he’d trusted a blind promise that wasn’t going to come.

“This is insane. Let’s just ask for the chopper and the money and get the hell out of here,” Felix said, walking up to the bench and glaring at Walsh.

For a long moment, Walsh stood there, looking down at him.

“I’ll ask for a chopper when I’m good and ready for it. I still haven’t had one of the things I asked for,” Walsh insisted.

“Like what? You got your sandwich while the rest of us are still hungry. You got your TV and insisted on watching the news to see if you’re infamous yet! We’re stuck, we need a way out. Demand one,” Felix insisted.

“I’ll be honest, Foxx, I’m here for one thing. I’m waiting for Ranger Jones to walk through that door…”

“What is your obsession with this guy?” Felix asked.

Will started to laugh. Emma shot him a look, but he didn’t seem able to help himself.

“Shut up!” Walsh snapped at him and turned back to Felix. “When he gets here, and he will, because I have her…” he pointed behind him at Emma. “I’m going to make passionate love to my Princess, while her Ranger boyfriend watches, because then, I will have won. I’m going to make him watch while I take everything from him, just like he took everything from me!”

Felix gaped at Walsh and took a step back from him, shaking his head. He turned away and ran his hand through his hair.

Walsh had a manic, excited gleam in his eyes again, and he grabbed Emma by the upper arm and yanked her out of her seat. Emma tried to pull herself out of his grasp, but his fingers were like a vice – digging into her skin, harsh and unrelenting.

“And you’re going to enjoy every single moment of it, aren’t you?” he said as he gripped her other arm and pulled her harshly into the barrier between them.

Pain blossomed across the tops of her thighs and Emma knew she was going to be horribly bruised tomorrow. She hissed, leaning back from him.

“Aren’t you?!” he shouted, and Emma felt his saliva peppering her skin as he shook her.

He snarled and leaned in, nipped at her neck, and then soothed the bite with his tongue. He licked across her jaw and up the side of her face with a moan.

Emma screamed with defiance, and somehow managed to wrench her arm out of his grip, and before she could think, her fury manifested in the physical act of slapping him across the face as hard as she could.

Walsh’s head snapped to the side with the force of it, and when he turned back to look at her his lip was bleeding. He smirked, his eyes glistening with malice. He released her other arm, but before that could register, his hand was swinging at her face. And Walsh was stronger than her; he hit her so hard that in her unbalanced state she was forced into the front rail of the witness stand.

“Emma!” Will shouted from across the room, but she didn’t hear that nor the rattle of the chains he was pulling against.

Winded and with her ears ringing, Emma fought to suck in breaths as Walsh seethed above her. His hand fisted on the back of her head, and he dragged her back against his chest by her hair. Emma fought to stay upright by gripping the balustrade between them.

“Play nicely, Princess,” he hissed in her ear.

Emma couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid, but she’d had enough. She didn’t want to play his games anymore and she couldn’t stand to have his hands on her for a moment longer. Yet here she was, stuck in his grip again, heels slipping on the wood because of the angle he was holding her at. The only thing holding her up was the arm he’d slipped around her waist.

“Now, you’re going to sit down, shut up, and wait for your boyfriend, or I’m going to shoot his partner. Understand?” Walsh continued in that same sharp, threatening hiss that made her desperate to run as far and as fast as she could.

Emma managed a small nod, even with the tight grip Walsh had on her hair.

“Good Girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck before roughly pushing her down into her chair again.

Her elbow hit the arm and she hissed in pain, cradling her arm to her chest. It was by no means the worst injury she had sustained at his hands, but in that moment, she felt something inside her break. She curled around her arm a little, shoulders slumping in defeat.

She wanted Killian to get here just so that she knew it was going to be over soon. She didn’t want to fight any more, hurt any more, live in fear for her and Killian’s lives any more, let alone waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare caused by the subconscious thought of what might happen if he got hold of one of the children.

Silent, broken tears tracked down her cheeks.

She could feel more than one person’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look over at Will and see if he was one of them. She couldn’t take the look she knew was going to be on his face when he did. The regret he was going to feel for what he’d said and the rift he’d caused, which had spurred Walsh to take the actions he had.

This wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t hers. She did know that, but she hadn’t made it better. She never had. She’d always fought, when maybe she should have just done as she was told. Killian had always stopped those thoughts in their tracks when they’d started before now, but Killian wasn’t here. Killian was somewhere in the air between here and Houston - at least, she hoped he was. If he wasn’t in the air yet, she didn’t want to think about how much longer she was going to be stuck in here with a man who was never going to give up on getting what he wanted.

She should never have insisted on staying; she should have left with Will. If she hadn’t, he might not have reacted the way he did, and all those people might still be alive. She’d have invited Rosa for lunch, and they’d have had cocktails, and she would have called Killian and gone and picked the kids up from school.

They would know by now, know that she’d been stupid and put herself at risk yet again. They’d be sitting there, waiting to hear news with her mother. Terrified that they weren’t going to see her again and suddenly, she didn’t want Killian to walk through that door. She didn’t want to risk Henry and Alice losing them both, especially not in one day.

She closed her eyes and a fresh wave of tears flowed down her cheeks.

No, she hoped Killian never came through that door, and that Felix and Walsh shot each other out of sheer frustration. It was the best outcome she could hope for, but she knew it was futile to hope that Killian wouldn’t want to do everything he could to save her.

Part of her found that knowledge comforting, the rest of her was terrified.

- - - - -

Killian knew he should probably stop doing his hand exercises, he was at the point of overdoing it, but he had nothing else to do. There was nothing he could do to help Emma right now; he was doing everything he could just to get back to her, and the clouds drifting past beneath him were doing nothing to assuage his agitation.

They were going as fast as they could, and the screen in front of him was getting regular updates from the second officer about their progress and assuring him that they were ahead of schedule.

He looked up as the flight attendant cleared her throat beside him, and forced a tight-lipped smile onto his face. His thundering heart and the tension that was borderline giving him a headache were no reason to be rude.

“Sorry, lass, lost in my own head.”

“No problem, Sir. Would you like any refreshments?” she asked brightly. Her tone made his head throb.

“Just some water, thank you,” he replied.

Her bright expression sagged for a moment with disappointment at his short reply.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” she probed, sinking into her hip and dropping her shoulders back a little as she passed him the water.

Killian’s jaw ticked in annoyance as he watched what she was trying to do. He was so not in the mood for this. He missed having Emma by his side; her mere presence and his clear affection, even in front of the kids, plus the fact that they were travelling with kids, was normally more than enough to discourage this kind of behaviour.

Even if it wasn’t, Emma had developed some amusing, but subtle ways of marking her territory. Hand massages, leaning into his space to talk to one of the kids, brushing his hair out of his face, ordering the refreshments for the whole family without consulting any of them and getting it right every damn time, asking to borrow his jacket, moving her hair and adjusting her top to show off a mark he’d sucked into her skin, or the less subtle putting her hand on his leg. Once she’d shivered a little and he’d passed her his jacket without even thinking about it when they were checking in. The smile that had lit up her face then was worth every second of the stink eye they’d been given by the attendant.

“A bag of peanuts?” he suggested, with an exasperated wave of his hand as he tucked the water bottle between his thighs to twist the top off it with his good hand.

“Do you need me to open those for you?” she asked with a smile and a flutter of her eyelashes.

“No,” he said firmly, taking the peanuts from her hands and dropping them on the table beside him with a huff.

“Let me know if you need anything else, anything at all,” she finished brightly, as she placed a napkin and a plastic cup on his table, annoyingly unperturbed as she moved on to the next passenger.

Killian tore the bag of peanuts open with his teeth and tipped them onto the table with a sigh.

He didn’t even really like peanuts.

He ate them anyway, along with sipping the water he’d poured into the plastic cup.

It wasn’t until she came back to collect the rubbish that he realised she’d written her number on the napkin. He threw it in the trash bag with the peanut packet without a second thought.

If the way she stopped trying to catch his eye was any indication, she’d finally gotten the hint.

He’d never longed to have a ring on his finger so much in his life.

The revelation didn’t surprise him, not really, but it still gave him something to consider as he sat there. The hand exercises were less frantic now.

If they both survived today, and God damn it they deserved to, they deserved the chance to move on with their lives and forget the bastard who’d put them through all this.

In that moment, he was more determined than ever that this would be the last time Walsh threatened Emma. The last time he held her life in the palm of his hand. The last time Killian was forced to race against time to save the woman he loved. The last time he would hear her scream or cry because some despicable lowlife was trying to…

He took a deep breath as determination settled in his gut. He was going to get there in time. He was going to save Emma. He was not going to let Walsh walk away again.

One way or another, this was going to end today.

- - - - -

Felix was pacing across the width of the courtroom between the bench and the television. He was agitated, and the gun Walsh had given him earlier was now in his hand instead of tucked in the back of his trousers.

Emma watched as his fingers adjusted their grip over and over.

Walsh was ignoring him, staring at the television and huffing every time Felix got in the way of it.

He was close to breaking point, and Emma felt on edge about what was going to happen when he did.

She didn’t know much about Felix - just what Rosa had told her. He’d never been cruel, and even with his burglary gang they’d never been violent. The reason for his prolonged incarceration was simply because of the monetary value of the burglary.

Rosa’s reasons for divorce were simple. He’d spent almost their entire marriage lying to her about where his wealth had come from. Irreconcilable differences. Emma could see why. Rosa was good, was kind and generous, and maybe she’d been a little naïve not to have noticed anything amiss, but she’d been in love with him.

Once upon a time the thief in front of her had swept a kind young woman off her feet enough that she’d married him.

Felix couldn’t be all bad. She couldn’t believe that the man in front of her was somehow capable of that level of deceit.

He wasn’t Neal.

At least, Emma had to hope that he was enough not like Neal and enough not like Walsh that he would decide that this should stop.

But would he decide that before it was too late?

When the chips were down, would he make the right choice or the easy choice?

Emma had no idea, but apparently she wasn’t going to have to wait long to find out.

“Enough!” Felix snapped. “They aren’t going to say your fucking name, or mine!”

“What do you know about it?”

“I know you’ve kidnapped the daughter of the Ranger Captain, and that if anyone is going to keep anything quiet to protect his daughter, it’s him.”

Emma scowled, and Felix rolled his eyes.

“We’re just going to be nameless, faceless criminals because you chose the wrong people to fuck with, Ozman. This isn’t going to be a glorious retribution on your enemies!” he shouted, waving his gun around in the same kind of deranged manner Walsh had been earlier. “And her, what did she ever really do to you?” he asked, pointing his gun at Emma.

“Watch where you’re pointing that,” Walsh said calmly.

Far too calmly in Emma’s opinion.

“You’re the one who keeps threatening her!” Felix snapped. “Seriously, what has she done to piss you off? Reject your oh so charming advances? I’m not fucking surprised. You know what? I think that judge was wrong, you are insane.” He laughed then, and Emma shifted in her chair, putting some distance between herself and Walsh and whatever was about to go down between the two criminals.

“And I’ve played along with it because I was stupid enough to think that a man like you might actually have a get out plan, but you don’t, do you? He was right, wasn’t he? You don’t care if you get out of here or not as long as you feel like you’ve won! Well you won’t, and this madness has gone on long enough…”

His arm swung up and the gun pointed at Walsh.

Felix pulled the trigger, but instead of the loud bang they were all expecting, the gun simply clicked.

Walsh had given Felix an unloaded gun.

Walsh smirked and reached into his pocket. He pulled his fisted hand back out and then opened it, letting the bullets that had been in Felix’s gun roll off his fingers and hit the wooden counter one at a time.

Each clack made Emma flinch.

There was a long moment of silence, and Felix’s eyes moved slowly up from where the bullets had landed to Walsh’s face. He swallowed nervously and neither of them moved. It was like something out of the Old West, Walsh waiting for Felix to make his next move, fingers twitching as he longed to reach for the gun he’d left on the other side of the desk in front of him to where Emma was sitting.

He would never understand just how much she longed to reach for it and do what Felix had tried and failed to do.

But maybe he did, because it was certainly out of her reach.

Everyone was watching, waiting with baited breath for something to happen.

Felix turned on his heel and slipped a little in his haste to run through the gate, but Walsh, with a gleam in his eyes, snatched up the gun and took aim.

It was either a bad shot, or a good one; Emma still wasn’t sure of his skills yet, having only seen him shoot people at close range before, but Felix toppled forward with a scream, clutching at his leg.

Walsh moved quickly then, vaulting over the front of the bench once more and stalking down the middle of the room to where his prey had fallen.

“You should have checked the gun, Felix. I knew then you were a fucking moron,” he said, his posture relaxed, sounding almost casual as he looked down at the whimpering thief.

Felix tried to push himself away from Walsh, screaming as he aggravated the wound in his leg. Walsh laughed and stepped on his ankle to stop him from going anywhere.

“You could have walked out of here, Felix, with the rest of the men. I’d have let you go… But I thought maybe you’d be a useful recruit to my army. Turns out you’re just as useless as the idiots I worked with the first time I kidnapped my Princess,” he said with a sigh.

Emma almost felt sorry for Felix. He’d gone about it all the wrong way and now… Walsh was going to kill him. Or not… and Emma wasn’t sure which was worse. No one deserved the kind of agony Killian was dealing with everyday.

Well… She couldn’t say she’d stop anyone doing it to Walsh… but then did that make her as bad as him, or was she simply that done with his insane bullshit?

“Kill me then,” he hissed. Forcing himself to look up at Walsh. “Finish it!”

Walsh hummed, looked at the gun and then down at Felix. “You know what?” he asked, and Emma watched as he smirked, crouching down next to Felix. “I don’t think I will…” he brought the gun to rest on the thigh of Felix’s uninjured leg. “Beg me not to…” he whispered, the sound carrying in the otherwise quiet room.

Felix swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Please, don’t I’m sor…” his words were cut off with a scream as another gunshot rang through the room.

Emma gripped the arms of her chair tightly, her heart pounding.

One bullet on the bailiff, one embedded in the ceiling, the doctor, the lawyer, the judge. Two more on the men who’d tried to take the room back, and now two on Felix… Was he out…? Would he need time to reload…? Could she manage to rush him before he did…?

What gun was that? Could she even remember how big the magazine was?

Walsh pushed Felix onto his back, and a fresh cry of agony ripped through the air. He shoved the gun into his stomach. For a moment, Emma thought he was going to shoot him in the stomach.

“No, I’ve already wasted more bullets on you than I should have,” he mused aloud before pulling back, standing and turning away. But before he started back towards the bench, he turned once more and kicked Felix in the side and then the stomach when he curled in on himself.

On the bench, Emma’s phone started ringing.

“Who is it, Princess?”

“My… my dad…” she replied, her voice shaking.

“Well, do answer it, won’t you?” he said, almost sounding kind.

Emma swiped the green button.

“Ozman, what’s going on?”

“Just teaching an insubordinate soldier a lesson or two,” he said pleasantly as he swaggered back towards the front of the room. “He’s just a petty criminal, nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Is he alive?” David asked calmly.

“For now,” Walsh said with a shrug.

Emma felt sick. She knew he was callous, cruel, but to speak of how Felix’s life might ebb out of him before this was over…

“Which is more than I can say for Ranger Scarlet if Jones doesn’t hurry the fuck up!” he shouted, impatient anger suddenly pouring out of him in a torrent. “I will start by doing some very serious damage, and then he will die if Jones isn’t here to stop it,” he declared. He snatched Emma’s phone up off the desk and slung it at the wall above Will’s head.

To his credit, Will didn’t flinch at all. He stared Walsh down with a hardness in his gaze that Emma had never seen before. It was unnerving, but maybe Will was as done with Walsh and his psychotic stalker insanity as she was.

As Emma looked at her best friend, she felt the tears spilling down her cheeks. Will had been in her life since they were in elementary school. She was old enough now that a friendship that had lasted that long was rare, and she’d stopped imagining her life without her best friend years ago. Losing him would be as bad as losing a flesh and blood brother; it would break her in a way she couldn’t even begin to think about.

She couldn’t let Walsh hurt anyone else she cared about.

Desperation welled up inside her, but she didn’t know what to say, what to do. She should have paid more attention, if only she knew how many rounds Walsh had left in that gun.

- - - - -

The cabin crew held everyone else in their seats, letting him off first. The pilot and first and second officers were in the doorway to the cockpit as he paused.

“Thank you,” he said, his heart racing as he prepared for the sprint through the airport.

“Anytime,” the pilot said with a nod. Killian was running up the tunnel, through the door at the other end and across the terminal. He had to wait as he reached the elevators, and took the opportunity to turn his phone on. There was a message from Graham, an update from David, and Killian hit ‘call’ on the message from the former, knowing he would be the one picking him up.

“I’m right out front, blue lights all the way to the courthouse,” Graham said the moment he picked up.

“Great,” Killian replied, hanging up as the doors pinged open and everyone piled in.

His foot tapped in agitation as the lift moved slowly upwards. The moment the doors were open, he was walking, his brisk pace carrying him through the airport, past baggage claim, through nothing to declare and out into the arrivals lounge.

Every footstep was bringing him closer to Emma. Every heartbeat was a moment closer to seeing her again, to ending this nightmare.

Graham was just inside the airport door, taking Killian’s suitcase without asking, and heading for his truck. He threw the suitcase in the trunk, and Killian wrenched open the door, climbing into the passenger seat and dumping his satchel in the footwell before putting his seatbelt on.

Graham hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, flipping a switch to turn on the flashing lights and siren before pulling out into the traffic, which hurriedly parted ways for him.

“Glove Compartment,” he grunted.

Killian looked across at him with a raised eyebrow, but Graham had his eyes on the road. Frowning, he opened the hatch and then understanding flooded his face.

He picked up one item and secured it on his chest and then picked up the other, weighing it in his hand. The familiar weight settled into both his hand and soothed his racing heart just a little. He didn’t feel half so useless now, and he now had the means to end this once and for all.

Graham’s driving was impeccable as they raced through the streets. Killian started carefully checking over his gun, taking his time with his already agitated hand to do it properly, as he recalled the last time he’d been racing to Emma’s aid with this gun in his hands. Finally he checked the magazine, counting the seventeen nine by nineteen millimetre rounds held within.

“I cleaned it for ya, needed something ta do…” Graham informed him over the sound of the sirens.

Killian looked across at him and studied him for a moment. Graham had always been a little more distant than some of his other colleagues.

“I don’t say it, I know,” the man continued. “But she’s as much a sister ta me as she is ta Will,” He swallowed, glancing in his mirrors as he took a turn. “Do us all a favour, kill the bastard.”

Killian was a little stunned. If anything, Graham was the least bloodthirsty of all of them, but to know that he was as outraged by Ozman’s behaviour as the rest of them… Killian nodded, his colleagues' support of his own mindset was all the encouragement he needed as a plan started to form in his mind.

The sooner they got there, the better.

Killian wasn’t going to give Walsh another chance to hurt him or his family. This was the end of the line.

But he needed a plan. He wasn’t so lost to wrath that he was going to walk in there without one.

- - - - -

Felix had stopped whimpering, just gasping for breath now as he bled out in the aisle. Walsh was back on his ‘throne’, his fingers dancing up and down the inside of Emma’s arm, making her skin crawl.

“I’m done waiting,” Walsh said, his voice low and dark as he pushed himself out of the judge’s chair and his gaze turned on Will.

Emma felt her heart still as the world around her seemed to slow.

“No, Walsh, please…” she managed to force out, her voice hoarse with lack of hydration and fear.

He turned to look at her, his movements slow and calculating as he seemed to consider. “No?”

“It’s alright, Emma,” Will said, sounding resigned.

She was blinking back tears as she looked between them. She couldn’t watch Walsh do the kinds of things he did to Killian to Will instead. She couldn’t go through that again.

Walsh leapt over the wooden structure around them once more and ripped the power cable out of the back of the television before shoving it aside. It wobbled on its stand and fell to the floor with a crash as Walsh turned to look at her.

“Get up,” he said, and when Emma wasn’t quick enough, he pointed his gun at Will. “Get up!”

Emma stood, hands shaking, and when Walsh crooked his finger at her she swallowed, her mouth dry, and stepped out of the witness stand.

“Emma…” Will said, his voice choked and when she looked over at him, she could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Hurry it up, Princess,” he spat.

Emma walked faster, crossing the distance between them in a few strides. She stopped in front of him, and took a deep breath before looking up at his face. The twisted smile on his lips made her stomach twist and she was fighting the urge to bolt for the door.

“Good girl. Now, on your knees for your King, Princess,” he said, his fingers grazing tenderly across her jaw.

She couldn’t breathe. What was she doing? How was this helping anything? Walsh seemed certain there were still bullets in his gun. She dropped her gaze, trying to see what make and model it was.

Suddenly, his hand was around her neck, nails digging into her skin as he snarled in her face. Her hands flew to his wrist, trying to pull his fingers off her neck.

“Do I have to remind you what’s at stake here, Princess? All of these lives are in my hands, and all I want you to do is get on your knees!”

Emma was blinking rapidly as she tried to suck in breaths. Will was shouting, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. With a frustrated yell, Walsh threw her to the floor. She cried out in pain as she crashed into the marble floor, her arms only just coming up in time to stop her head hitting the floor. The angle she hit the floor at forced all the breath out of her lungs, and when she tried to breathe in, she felt like she was sucking air through a straw. Her head spun, dizzy and disoriented. The world around her sounded like it was muffled by water.

It took a couple of moments before the voices broke through. Will shouting her name, panicked and desperate and almost screaming, begging her to move. She choked on the small amount of air she was managing to suck in as Walsh grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her knees. She seemed to have lost control over her body, unable to move her hands to try and stop him as pain seared across her scalp.

For a moment he knelt behind her, holding her against him, and the all-encompassing feeling of revulsion gave way to numbness. She suddenly felt like she wasn’t there, like there was something suddenly stopping her feeling, or at least making the discomfort fade to a buzz. His hands were there, but at the same time, she couldn’t really feel them.

“Take off the jacket,” he murmured in her ear. For a moment, she didn’t move. She didn’t have the strength, or she couldn’t make her arms move; she wasn’t sure, but her recalcitrance pissed Walsh off. He pointed his gun at Will. “Take the jacket off!” he screamed in her ear.

She didn’t flinch, but she did push her jacket off her shoulders and shrug it to the floor.

“Now your blouse,” he hissed, his tongue darting out to taste the shell of her ear. This time because her hands were already moving it didn’t take her so long to comply. She started to undo the buttons of her top, and Walsh swept her hair aside, pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder as the neckline loosened. “Mmm Princess, you smell amazing,” he murmured against her skin.

The hand not holding the gun groped her breasts, parting the material of her shirt as she undid more buttons. He groaned into her neck, and Emma could hear Will fighting against the cuffs chaining him to the wall, but the sounds washed over her. She couldn’t even see the women sitting in the seats on either side of the aisle as her vision tunnelled until all she could see was the bar holding the door shut.

It didn’t matter that this time he was making her expose herself rather than doing the job with his own hands, or that he was making her do it in front of a room full of people. If she was any one of those women, she wouldn’t be looking. Walsh wasn’t making any of them look; he hadn’t threatened any of them more than in passing when trying to get her to do what he wanted. She was protecting them, and she hoped that was enough that even if they had been regarding his treatment of her like one might look at a car crash, they were looking away now.

Her shirt undone, Emma’s hands fell to her sides again, and Walsh swept it open so that it hung on the outside of her breasts. He hummed as his hand trailed up her stomach, clearly intending to take his time. His hips rolled against her, and she could feel his hard length pressing between her ass cheeks. He moaned, his hand splayed on her stomach, pulling her back against him.

He nuzzled into the side of her head and hummed in her ear as his hand moved down, pressing her pelvis back into his as he rubbed himself against her, rocking his hips and starting to moan louder. The arm holding his gun wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter against him as his other hand moved again, pushing her bra out of the way, and closing his hand over her naked flesh.

Was that movement she could see through the tiny gap in the door? Did she dare hope that something was happening out there?

Apparently, she couldn’t help it, and with that spark of hope the reality of the situation broke through the numbness and hit her full throttle. Her bottom lip trembled, she sucked in a shaky breath. She could not, would not scream. She could not, would not fight him. She could not risk him hurting anyone else.

Emma closed her eyes and let the tears flow, because now there was nothing else she could do.

#cs ff #Captain Swan #ZaharaDessert Writes #Lubbock Rangers #Wrong From Right #chapter four

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty three

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: story circle

disclaimer: that bloke Eric, harassment, cursing

One of the luckiest things to happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood

Avery had never stayed at a party till the very end. She wasn't a fan of the loud noises, the crowded space, the drunks. The atmosphere itself made her anxious. As the hand of the kitchen clock finally hit twelve, she assumed the party would start to die down. She thought people would slowly funnel out, all bidding their goodbyes and frantically making their way to the tube. Their thoughts, no doubt, thinking about the inevitable hangover they will face tomorrow. But, that didn’t happen. If anything, the party intensified. While she knew that she could go home, she didn’t want to. If she did, she would fall asleep. If she left, she would be alone.

A few minutes earlier a small group of people had formed, all of them sat around the living room. Harry, who was exhausted from showing Avery his amazing dance skills, had led her to where he was previously sitting, both of them sitting side by side on the sofa.

Francis, who sat opposite them, held up a cupcake with blue frosting and sprinkles all over it. "Okay, who made these cupcakes because they are so good! I need the recipe."

"All the credits to me," Another boy spoke up, he had black short hair and there was a golden earring dangling from his earlobe. "can't give you that recipe though, it's my mothers." He shrugs and Francis groans dramatically, making everyone laugh.

Avery sat in silence, taking everything in around her. The atmosphere started to grow on her. Harry grew worried by her silence, asking her multiple times if she was feeling okay, but she was having the time of her life. She loved hearing about everyone's family reunions, annoying relatives and friends who got married. It was so different to her life and she wished she could tell a story about her family. But she couldn't. Even Harry chimed in talking about one Christmas night when he was six and tried to catch Santa, tripping over the cable for the electric candles on the tree and causing the whole thing to fall over.

"Okay" Francis speaks up. "I want to hear the most embarrassing thing that happened to you in your childhood or teenage years. Starting with..." His eyes skimmed through the room before deciding on a ginger haired girl. "Zoe."

The stories went all over the place. From awkward kisses to first dates and failed pranks or trying to impress crushes. And before she realized, it was Avery's turn to tell her story. Her first instinct was to let them skip her, but no one in the group was having it. There wasn't anything to say, she had been homeschooled and her childhood had been not even close to any experiences here.

"Uhm... I don't really know... what to-"

"Oh come on, pet." A sudden movement in the corner of her eyes makes Avery move closer to Harry in fright. She gripped his forearm, Harry immediately noticing and taking her hand into his own, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on the back of her palm. Eric had sat down next to her on the tiny sofa, apparently deciding to join the little circle as well. "Don't act all innocent. Tell us, what did you do as a child?"

"If you'd let her talk she'd be able to answer, mate" Harry chimed in, throwing an annoyed look at Eric.

"Nothing comes to my mind right now." She quickly rambles, trying to just get out of this situation. Being the center of attention must be high up on the list of worst things in the world she thought. The eyes of all these people fixed on her made her incredibly uncomfortable.

"Oh, so she is all innocent" Eric exclaims, his breath smelling like beer and his words almost unnoticeably slurred.

She could sense Harry roll his eyes beside her before he leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Tell something about Oliver, love."

"Oh yes!" Avery grins, embarrassed for a second at how loud her voice was. "I have a cat and he used to balance on the rail of my balcony. There was one time where I had just gotten out of the shower, still in just a towel, and I saw him balancing outside on the railing. I got super scared that he would fall off, so I ran out and grabbed him, and in the process my towel dropped which ended up in me flashing an old lady living opposite me."

"Oh my god, that sounds horrendous!" Francis laughs.

"It was horrible, I didn't step foot on that balcony for a month." She giggled less aware of all the eyes on her. They continued on but Harry was still chuckling from Avery's story. "Oliver really is a bastard, huh?"

"No" Avery laughs. "He's so cute, I just had to forgive him."

Harry shakes his head but there was still a smile on his face. His eyes meet hers and he studies her face for a moment. "You look a bit tired."

"I am" She confesses, leaning her head against his shoulder. There was no reason for denying it, especially not when she was talking to Harry.

"Do you wanna try and get some sleep tonight?"

"Not really" With the party, and Harry sleeping over the night before, there surely was a lot on her mind and Avery wasn't eager to simply sleep it all off.

"I can put a pot of coffee on?"

She sits up with a grin. "That would be amazing."

"I’ll make you a cup." Harry knew that what he was doing was wrong. He shouldn’t be encouraging her sleeping habits, or lack thereof. But, making the night most bearable for her was his top priority, and if this was how, then that was that. Case closed.

"Thank you."

He gets up and disappears in the kitchen shortly after. Avery turns her attention back to the stories being told by all the strangers sat around her. Now that Harry isn't around, she felt irritable and increadoubly out of place now that he was gone. She groans internally because she knows that she has been relying on him too much. She was dependent on him. She felt as if she was no longer independent.

When it came to her job, paying bills, doing taxes, and managing her things, she had always been independent. She had to be. But as soon as she got confronted with social interactions, she simply couldn't stop her heart from beating or her thoughts from racing.

"So.. Avery,'' Eric beside her starts, turning his body towards her and leaning back against the armrest of the sofa, a new bottle of beer in his right hand. "How old are you?"

She fiddles with the hem of her sweater, feeling his burning gaze on her. "22" Avery whispers, focusing her attention on the guy with the black hair who is telling some story that she is too far away to hear. She was trying to show Eric that she really ins't interested in talking to him, but he doesn't get the hint.

"You live on your own then, right? At 22? That's impressive."

She nods, still avoiding his eyes, trying to concentrate on the story.

"Is it far from here?"

"Just a couple tube stops." Just don't look at him, ignore him.

"Hey, loosen up a bit, hm?" Eric jokes and his hand squeezes her thigh, making her jump cause she wasn't expecting him to be so bold.

"Please don’t touch me." She mumbles, scooting closer to the other end of the sofa. Eric simply shrugs, moving closer to her but before he can say anything else, a ball of crumpled paper hits his head. Avery looks up and notices that Francis was the culprit.

"Hey Eric!" He yells over. "Cut it out. You're being annoying."

Eric rolls his eyes at Francis, ignoring his request and turning back to the girl beside him, but Francis doesn't stop. "I mean it. Leave her alone or get the fuck out, okay?"

After huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, Eric finally gets up and walks towards a little group by the fireplace on the other side of the room.

Avery lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Finally feeling relieved knowing that he was away from her. She got up, about to thank Francis, before realizing that he had completely disappeared. Lost in the abyss of the party. So, Avery slowly made her way to the kitchen, knowing that Harry would be there.

Harry was leaning against the kitchen counter, texting someone on his phone, his brows furrowed. As Avery enters he looks up, his eyes becoming a bit brighter and his brows unfurrowed. "Your coffee is almost ready." He says, assuming that was the reason why she came to the kitchen.

"It's boring without you." She felt how her body had calmed down substantially, her heart had turned back to a normal beat and her mind slowed down.

"Everything in life is boring without me," Harry says and she chuckles tiredly at his ego. "Come over here."

Avery scrambles over to him and Harry opens his arms, pulling her small frame close to his chest. She allowed herself to close her eyes and take in his scent as Harry rested his chin on her head. Avery guessed that he would leave somewhen, maybe soon and there would be no one to blame for it. No one at all. Because if she can't stand herself, how could she expect someone else to be around her.

"Whatever happened to you, Ave, no matter what it was, you didn't deserve it. I know you didn't." She freezes but Harry doesn't let her go, instead he starts to draw small circles on her back. "I noticed how you were acting earlier when everyone was telling their stories. You seemed so... eager to take it all in as if.. I don't know..." He murmurs, she feels the vibration of his chest against her cheek.

"It doesn't matter to me what it was, and you don't have to tell me, but you didn't deserve it."

She had never told anyone. Not her previous boyfriends, not Tom, she could barely admit any of it to herself. For a moment, she thought about not replying at all.

"But don't you think bad things happen to bad people?"

"Oh Avery... I think you can be anything you want to be in life. Anything but a bad person."

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[chuckbass-love]

Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 9

A/N : Here is part 9, this is a shorter part. 

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome.

I hope you guys like this. 

Why Him? MASTERLIST

Ransom’s POV

I wake up to a loud knocking on my front door, i sit up and look to the other side of my California king bed to find that Claudia isn’t there. I shove on some boxers and head down. I hear the door open and a familiar voice. My mother’s voice. “Ransom honey, there you are. We’ve been calling you” i roll my eyes as i kiss Claudia’s forehead “Morning doll” she smiles “Morning”. 

“Ransom, don’t ignore your mother please” dad pipes up “I don’t have anything to say” i walk off into the lounge, sitting down on the couch. “Ransom, last night was horrible. We need to sort it” Claudia offers them both coffee to which they decline “No thank you sweetie. Ransom, we feel bad about letting it happen and best believe your grandfather gave them a stern talking to” words that come out of their mouths mean hardly anything to me anymore. 

“I couldn’t care less how they speak to me at this point mom, it’s Claudia that deserves an apology. They treated her as if she was some hooker that i bought home. Like trash. She’s my girlfriend for Christ sake” Claudia walks over to me, sitting beside me, her hands resting on mine. Calming me down instantly. “Claudia do you mind if we have a word with you in private?” wearing nothing but my cable knit sweater and booty shorts that are showing way too much ass, she heads over, they lead her into another room.

Claudia’s POV

“I’m so sorry about how my my brother behaved last night. His behaviour was unacceptable and we’re sorry you didn’t get the welcome you deserved” Linda explains. I can see the embarrassment on her face. “He warned me this would happen. I didn’t quite understand him as a person until last night. I feel bad for him knowing he’s had that negative impact for god knows how long” she nods her head in agreement.

 “You’re absolutely right. We’ve been dealing with this for as long as i can remember. He has a way of getting under people’s  skin sometimes which is no excuse for how things went down. Walt’s outburst was completely unprovoked and we want to make it up to you. Would you be willing to convince him to come over today?” i sigh “I’ve seen how you are with him in the short time that i have seen you together. You managed to calm him down just now and last night the way you defended him. I can see he’s besotted” she pleads some more. I take a deep breath “I’ll try my best but no guarantees” she leans in for a hug and so does Richard. “The mansion, 2 hours. Hope to see yu there” they walk away, bidding Ransom a quick goodbye before leaving.

“What did they have say for themselves?” he scoffs as he gets himself a drink in the kitchen where i’m stood. “They were apologising, asking if we would go back round in 2 hours, to try again” he shakes his head. “No way, i’m not letting them take another whack at you” i cup his face with my hands “Please, just try. Plus like you said, i can hold my own” a smile forms onto his lips. I kiss him passionately “Please Ransom” he breathes out, turning his head away before agreeing. “But if it gets heated. We leave” i kiss him once again. “Deal”.

He grabs onto my ass with a tight grip “Those shorts might as well be panties, your ass is hanging out” i wink at him “Well you like the view dont you?” he chuckles “That i do, doll”.

We get ready and i decide on a no make-up look this time around. I’m too lazy to bother.

We pull up to the mansion and we both get out to make our way inside. “Ransom, Claudia. You came” i greet them all with a fake smile. Trying my best to hold my tongue. I greet Harlan with a hug. “Come, sit down in the lounge” he invites. I take a seat in-between Joni and Donna. Ransom sits on the arm chair opposite me. he flashes me a wink when we lock eyes. 

“So... what was the invite for?” he asks, intrigued to see what they want. “I think some people here have something to say to you both” Ransom looks at Walt, whose head is bowed. “I’m sorry about my actions last night, it wasn’t acceptable” he looks up at Ransom who just glares at him. 

“I couldn’t care less about how you speak of me. It’s not me you should be apologising to” he nods towards me. Walt looks my way “Claudia, i apologises for my actions last night. I never set out to upset you. Can we please start fresh?” i can see Ransom smirking, i take it Walt never apologises. 

I fake a smile “I won’t say that your actions were okay but i can move past them and start a fresh” he smiles and we all go to move on but Ransom stops us. “Meg, are you going to apologise” she furrows her brows at him. “Don’t think i didn’t hear you laughing at Walt’s comments and you Joni” Joni denies it. “Ransom, whatever you thought you heard, you’re wron-” he rolls his eyes “Up your ass Joni” my eyes widen as they get into a domestic. “I might have laughed and for that i apologise Claudia but my mom didn’t” she swears. “Matter of fact, eat shit” i stand up from my seat and pull ransom out of the room. He continues to make comments as i pull him away. 

“Babe, you promised to behave” i drag him into Harlan’s study. “Why did you pull me away?” i push him against the door. “Will you quit the attitude” he pulls me closer “Oh you wanna get rough doll?” he raises a brow and i pull away from his grasp. “No, this is merely me putting you in your place. They have apologised. As much as i hate how they acted i’m not about to have your family hate me” he walks closer to me. “Okay, i’ll try. i promise. Can we just get this meeting over with” i unlock the door and we return to our seats. Linda gives me a surprised look when Ransom apologises for wrongfully accusing Joni. What can i say, i’m like magic.

I check my phone for the time to discover that it’s 9:00pm. We ended up staying for lunch and then eventually dinner. They got monopoly out and i can’t resist a good board game. Me and Ransom decide to leave being as i’m back at work tomorrow and i need an early night. I say goodbye to everyone and we head out to the beamer. “What time are you in work tomorrow doll?” he grips my thigh “I’m in at 8:30 why?” he looks at me occasionally as he responds “I just wondered if you wanted to stay at mine tonight. I can take you to work and pick you up”  all my stuff is at my place “I can’t all my clothes are at mine but you can stay at mine though” he agrees and we arrive at his place so i can collect my stuff and some clothes for him.

Ransom’s POV

I head upstairs as soon as we get to Claudia’s place so i can shower before we head to bed, she stays downstairs in the kitchen to have a hot drink. I wash my hair and body quickly before i step out, wrapping a towel around my waist. As i come out to go to her room i hear giggling coming from downstairs. “James, omg no. You don’t understand, it’s massive. The man ruins me” i smirk to myself, knowing full well what she’s talking about as i head to go change.

I dry off, putting some boxers on and i make my way downstairs. I hear her laughing again, almost as if she’s having a fit. “On a scale of 1-10 how good is the sex?” she shushes him “Be quiet, he could overhear. I’d say over 10. You don’t understand. It’s like he’s a porn star or some shit. And that dick just drives me crazy” i see her blushing as i poke my head round the corner. “You totally love him” she waves him off. “I don’t but it’s definitely heading that way. He’s not like Jordan at all. He’s kind and caring and he fucks me so good. I just- i really think he’s the one” i can’t believe what i’m hearing. She’s falling hard. Hearing her admit it causes a huge cheesy smile to form on my lips.

I wait a couple of minutes before strolling into the kitchen. “Hey” i lean down to kiss her forehead, playing coy and pretending not to notice the FaceTime call that she’s on. “Ransom, this is my best friend James, James meet my boyfriend Ransom Drysdale” she wraps her arms around my torso as i stand there, chatting away to James.

He starts telling me some embarrassing stories of their drunken antics. Making me laugh so loud. Like the time he said that she swore at a nun in the street after bottomless brunch. “I was hoping you’d forget that” she pouts. “So, when do we all get to meet you in person Ransom?” i shrug, looking down at her. “Whenever this one is free, i’ll be available” we say goodbye to James and Claudia finishes her drink before locking up. 

“Swearing at a nun huh? not so very sweet and innocent doll” she slaps me playfully as we walk up the stairs. “I was highly intoxicated” i desperately wanna bring up what i heard but i think it’s best to leave it.

She brushes her teeth and does her skin care routine then she joins me in bed. “I hope you don’t mind the early wake up call” she checks “It’s fine, i’ll drop you off and then head back to mine for the day to do some work before i come get you” she smiles, leaning down to kiss me. “As long as you’re sure it’s no trouble?” i kiss her again “It’s honestly not” she sets her alarms for the morning and we lie down. I kiss her slowly, gliding my tongue across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. This kiss isn’t like the other ones we’ve had. There’s more passion there. I pull away and we decide it’s best to stop. I don’t want to get carried away with her. I plant a kiss on her forehead “Goodnight baby” she lays on my chest, closing her eyes “goodnight”.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #knives out #chrisevans smut #chris evans smut #chris evans #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #fanfiction #smut #imagines #captain america #andy barber #andy barber smut #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #defending jacob #marvel #mcu

[elwenyere]

Little milestones

Happy FFWF! My first multi-chapter fic broke 2,000 hits today, which is a big deal for this baby FFW. In celebration, here are the two scenes that I wrote the whole fic for:

Scene One:

Steve hauled himself upward, ignoring a new string of profanities from Tony, who moved quickly to brace Steve's shoulder and hold him upright. Steve ran his eyes quickly around the room. Luckily, HYDRA’s hideout was not up to code, because the overhead lighting was connected to a circuit breaker through cables of exposed wiring. Steve gestured toward the wall.

“How fast could you rig those up to electrocute me?”

“You did not just ask me that, Rogers, I swear to God –”

“Tony! How fast?”

“30 seconds.”

“Do it. Tony! Listen to me.” He clenched his jaw around a fresh wave of agony. “We just need enough of a current to fry the explosive without cooking my brain. The device could blow any second, and then I won’t be able to get you out.”

“Get me out?! Get yourself out, you bastard –” Tony tried to interject, but Steve kept talking over him determinedly.

“We’re both going to get out. You’re going to shock me, you’ll short out the chip, and then you’ll bring me back.”

“Oh yeah, no big deal, I’ll just kill you and bring you right back!” Tony yelled. But his gaze was steady, and then he was moving, already ripping wires from the wall and positioning them in the metal tub of water. “I cannot fucking believe you are making me do this.”

“I know you can, Tony,” Steve said firmly, arranging himself on the chair next to the cart. He pulled off one of his gloves and put it between his teeth to stop himself from biting his tongue when the current hit, and then he let Tony position his bare hand carefully in the tub.

“I’m still going to be really pissed about this when you survive,” Tony ground out, moving into place at the circuit breaker without taking his eyes off Steve.

Steve nodded, leaning back against the chair until –

“Wait!” he shouted around the glove before removing it from his mouth.

He needed just one moment. His skull was pounding, but the sight of Tony – vibrating with energy, pinched with suppressed fear, but warm and pissed off and alive – was like coming up for air. Since he’d seen the footage from Malibu, Steve had been aching to see Tony’s chest rise and fall, to see the glow of the arc reactor that meant his heart was beating. The need had been so strong that Steve had barely been able to acknowledge it; and though he hadn’t let himself work out the odds, he knew this could be his last view. Maybe that’s why what came out of his mouth was:

“I love you.”

Tony’s hand fell off the switch, one of the few clumsy things Steve had ever seen him do.

“You – what? What the fuck, Steve!” he exploded. “You can’t say shit like that when I’m about to kill you! You love me? I am going to bring you back and murder you five more times, you absolute asshole –”

“Tony!” Steve gasped out, shoving the glove back in his mouth as the pressure spiked to a new intensity in his head.

“I love you too!” Tony yelled as he flipped the switch, and then all the anguish in his voice was pulsing through Steve’s body until everything went black.

Scene Two: 

“Come on,” Tony begged, counting the beats as he drove his palms rapidly into Steve’s sternum. “Come on, Steve. Don’t you dare do this to me.” He was throwing all his weight into the compressions, but he could already tell it wasn’t going to be enough. Steve’s rib cage was too strong, and Tony couldn’t get enough pressure on his heart. He titled Steve’s head back, pinched his nose, and breathed into his mouth, but Steve remained motionless.

“No no no no no,” Tony whispered, compressing frantically with every syllable. “Please, Steve. Come on. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I can’t –”

He broke off, struggling to push back the desperation clawing at his throat. He was just about to start trying precordial thumps when, from outside the room, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Clint Barton clearing a hallway.

“Yeah, and you’ll stay down, you big ugly bastard,” Clint’s voice announced.

“Clint!” Tony yelled, his voice cracking with relief.

“Tony?” Clint came flying into the room, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Steve’s body – no, Steve – lying on the floor.

“Barton, please tell me you brought a suit.”

Clint was across the room in a second, his hand snapping up over his shoulder, where he had strapped one of Tony’s briefcase suits to his back.

“Thank God,” Tony breathed. He popped the lid on the case and held his right hand over it, clicking a switch to deploy one of the gauntlets. “I have to restart his heart,” he tried to explain, but Clint just grabbed his shoulder and nodded firmly. Tony leaned forward over Steve’s chest to get in position.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered as he calibrated the pulse. “Come back to me.”

He shot Steve directly in the heart.

After a horrible silence that might have lasted a second or a century, Steve sat up with a rattling gasp. Tony barely had time to register the fact that he was now tucked in Steve’s lap before Steve had swept Rumlow’s gun off the ground and pointed it toward the door, his other arm curling Tony protectively toward his chest.

Tony collapsed forward in relief, his forehead falling to Steve’s shoulder, and his hands gripping Steve’s upper arms.

“Oh my God, Steve,” he managed, at the same time that Clint let out a loud, “Fuck.” Tony could hear Steve’s pulse thundering against his temple, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He pressed deeper into it, retracting the gauntlet so that he could dig his fingers into the warmth of Steve’s arms. If he held on tight enough, he couldn’t feel how hard his hands were shaking.  

#stony #stony fic #stony fanfiction #new writer #thank you #fwff

[ecto-american]

Replacement Memories

Phic Phight Oneshot for @anthropwashere based on their prompt: "Memory Blank" AU where Sam can't convince Danny to go into the Portal, so she goes in instead.

Official summary: AU During the events of Memory Blank, Danny refuses to risk his life going into the portal because of what a complete stranger tells him. But the world needs a half ghost hero. And thus, Sam steps up to the plate

Read on FFN or AO3

His eyes scanned the photos that she had laid out before him, and Sam swallowed nervously at he tried to process what she was showing him. The book was full to the brim of photos of all the years they spent together, the three of them.

Danny's eyes honed in on a particular photo.

"Wait a minute," his voice hitched a breath, and Sam felt her heart race in hope. "That's my parents' lab…"

It was the three of them, Tucker, him and her. They stood in front of the Fenton portal. It was closed, but it was unmistakably the portal. Clearly no longer under construction, with wires poking out and parts not fully attached. Sam tried to read his face, but it had gone oddly blank. He flipped the page.

Danny holding the jumpsuit that would soon become his trademark look, in front of the open portal. Him and Tucker cuddled up on the floor, sleeping peacefully. The famous hero Danny Phantom, the secret identity Danny would have no longer known, flying in the peaceful night air, without a care.

The boy sitting across from her at the table looked up at her, eyes wide, and she could see now that they were full of fear and confusion. She couldn't say she blamed him.

"Who…" He paused, and she could see him swallow nervously. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sam Manson," Sam introduced herself. She reached forward to turn the page once more, and her finger pointing out a particular photograph. Danny Phantom floated before it, his arms crossed lazily as he floated in front of the open portal. If her train of thought was right, then Danny would have never seen the portal's glowing green swirls. The portal would have never been turned on. "This is you." She put her finger specifically on Danny before moving to the portal. "A few months ago, I convinced you to go into this. You went in there, there was an accident, and-" Sam couldn't help but fall silent. Danny stared back at her.

"I got super powers?" he finished for her. Sam exhaled deeply.

"Actually, ghost powers," she clarified. Danny shook his head slowly.

"Sorry, but you're not really selling me on this," he apologized.

"You have to believe me. I-I fucked up, okay? We had a fight, and I wished we'd never met, and th-that ghost in the school made it happen," she rambled slightly, and she lifted up the bright pink sweater slightly, shifting so that he could see the anti-ghost belt. "But I was wearing this, which is why I don't think the ghost affected me, and now you don't have your powers anymore."

Danny shook his head more, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with the palms of his hand. Sam's heart sank as she sat back down in her chair, scooting closer. Her hands grasped the edges of the book.

"This is crazy," he mumbled. She gripped the book tightly.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I swear on it." Her voice took a desperate tone, but she didn't know what else to say. It sounded absolutely insane, and it's because it was absolutely insane. All things considered, it was the most wild, flat out bullshit-sounding thing one could ever hear. A human having ghost powers.

"What do you even want from me?" Danny asked. He rested his hands on his knee, one of them bouncing anxiously as he observed her.

"We need to get you your ghost powers back," she said firmly. Danny's eyes widened. "Which means we have to re-create the accident."

"What the fuck? No, that's suicidal, that'd involve literally like, if it's ghost powers then you're literally asking me to kill myse-No!"

Her stomach flipped. She had never thought of it like that; this was just about putting things back as they should.

"No, it's not like that!" Sam tried to protest, but she only cut herself off. That's...that's basically what happened. She nearly killed her best friend. And now she sat here, trying to convince him to do it again. And...there was no guarantee that he'd become half ghost again. The past two days had already been horrible over losing him, emotionally. Post the first accident, she could barely live with herself and knowing the pain she put him through, but still was asking him go through it all again.

But Desiree was only growing more and more powerful, they couldn't just defeat her with Fenton gadgets. Especially when the only ones that were, assumingly, still around was the Spectre Deflector that Sam wore, and her only Fenton thermos and Jack-o-Nine tails. They'd be killed. They needed a half ghost. They needed Danny Phantom.

And almost as if on cue, the first cry of fear rang out.

Panicked screaming filled the store, and she could feel the ground rumble as people began to run. Her head shot up to see a ghost with sharp claws, the trademark sweater and fedora, pale skin. Sam could recognize the legendary movie monster.

Nightmerica.

"Danny, you have to-" Sam cut herself off as one look reminded her of everything. Danny's pale, pale, frightened expression as he was frozen to the spot. He didn't have his ghost powers anymore. He wasn't his powerful and confident self.

Fuck. It was...truly on her.

Sam reached into her backpack, digging around for the Jack-o-nine tails. Her hands found the Fenton thermos first, and she immediately attacked it to a loop on the anti-ghost belt before digging back in for her weapon. She grasped it, and she pulled it out, dropping her backpack and letting her newly freed hand turn on the Spectre Deflector.

"What the hell are you doing?" Danny's voice called out to her, completely baffled, but Sam ignored him.

Pressing the side button to let the invention activate, she began to charge. A net came out, and she spun it around above her head like a lasso.

Nightmerica had occupied herself with chasing after Paulina, the teen barely managing to dodge. Sam nearly skidded to a halt, throwing the net forward. The net wrapped itself around the ghost in a cacoon of webbing and ropes. A hard jerk of the pole, but Nightmerica stayed in place, jerking wildly in hopes of freeing herself. Sam gritted her teeth. This was a lot physically harder than she expected.

"Come on," she mostly muttered to herself, and she moved her left foot back, pulling harder. She could feel some sweat collecting on her forehead.

Finally, Nightmerica came to her, being jerked forward, and Sam grinned. She unhooked the thermos from the belt, and using a thumb, popped off the top. It rolled onto the floor, and she sucked the ghost in. The bright blue beam ensnared her, and she screamed in protest. The jack-o-nine tails dropped as it's ghost was captured, and Sam pressed the side button to retract the netting. She scanned the floor for the cap, and she put it back on, stopping the steam of the Fenton thermos as it powered down.

"...You've done this before." Danny wasn't asking, almost lightly accusing her. Sam could only shrug.

"...More than you could ever remember," she said, and she glanced down at the thermos in her hands. That wasn't too hard...maybe she could take on Desiree solo, and without ghost powers. The Fentons kicked butt without having to resort to ghost powers. Same with the Guys in White.

...That was what she tried to convince herself as her mind tried to ignore the countless times that this simply didn't work out. The amount of times the ghost got away because the human hunters couldn't keep up with the speed of a flying ghost, or how hard you went down because there was very few ways to match the strength and raw, internal power of a ghost. You were fucked if your weapons all were taken out of commission.

Danny studied her carefully, his eyes stealing a quick, nervous look at Tucker for some kind of help. Tucker did nothing but watch their exchange. Nobody spoke as Sam quietly relocated her bag, putting the thermos and the Jack-o-nine tails into it, before finding her book, letting it slip inside as well. Danny hesitantly cleared his throat.

"...L-look, you have my attention now," he said slowly. Sam glanced at him curiously. "Let's talk more."

Her heart thumped wildly. She zipped her backpack shut, slinging it quickly onto her back and reaching out to grab his wrist. Her other hand grabbed Tucker's.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "Let's go!" Danny paled once more.

"Right now?" he squeaked.

"Yes, we have to stop Desiree!" Sam insisted, tugging on both of their wrists. Danny refused to budge, swallowing nervously, despite Tucker taking a half-step forward. Tucker was, very uncharacteristically, silent, though Sam knew that this was because he was also very unsure and apprehensive about this. The geek was simply glancing back and forth between the two as they had their exchange.

"I'm not ready to die," Danny's voice barely came out, and Sam stopped pulling.

"Please, you have to trust me," Sam found herself begging.

"...Okay?" Danny hesitantly spoke. "I...trust you."

She knew he didn't.

123456789

"It's all clear."

Sam glanced up from the photos in her hand to see Tucker coming back down the stairs. Her eyes drifted to Danny. He was standing in front of the portal, the eerily familiar metallic inside being exposed. There was no familiar green opening, just the dark, cave-like insides. The cables were still all over the floor, having not been tied off yet and out of the way.

When Tucker spoke, Danny had turned to look at him. The youngest Fenton had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was bouncing in place, though he stopped at the words. He still looked pale, and Sam bowed her head at the console before him. She flipped to reference another photo, and she began to rearrange the dials so that it was the exact same.

"C-cool," Danny spoke shakily. "Hey uh...Sam, right? How's it going there?"

How was she supposed to ask him to do this? To go through with this? He was terrified and putting his trust in who he only knew right now as a total stranger. Could she really ask him to go through all that pain again? Sam was now beginning to doubt that she could even go through with witnessing that again. Tucker, in a strange way, was going to have the blessing that this was his "first" time experiencing this.

But Danny's screams after that portal blast...those noises still haunted her.

"Uh, pretty good," she lied. She had to keep some semblance of composure. "I'm guessing if we just, ya know, set everything to exactly the way it was before, when it happened, that it'll happen again."

Her hands messed with the dials and buttons, pushing them to mirror the photo exactly.

"So, are you really sure about this?" Tucker finally spoke. She wasn't sure who he was speaking to, or if he was just talking aloud, but...No. She wasn't. Well, Sam had no doubt that it'd happen again. But everything else...

"No," Danny replied. "But...we all saw those things…"

"Somebody's gotta stop them," Tucker finished for him, giving a nod of understanding. Danny exhaled deeply, his shoulders drooping as he looked back at the portal.

"And apparently that somebody's gotta be me," he said. His gaze fixed on the inside of the portal. It was hauntingly dark in there, despite the bright lights of the lab. "...I know I always wanted to go in there." He stopped, his eyes roaming the outside structure before staring straight into the seemingly endless tunnel. "...I mean, who knows what kinds of awesome, super cool things exist on the other side of that portal once you get it working? But just…" His hand reached out to touch the outlining of the doors, letting his palm slide down the smooth surface slowly. "I'm…I'm not ready to die."

"You're not going to die," Sam told him. The boys looked to her, and she was clutching a white jumpsuit with touches of black. She held it up before tossing it to Danny. His hand reached up, and he caught it with ease before bringing it down to stare at it. "You just get ghost powers. It's super cool, I promise."

Danny stared down at the jumpsuit in his hands, running his thumbs over the material. He slowly began to shake his head no. He dropped the jumpsuit, putting his hands up.

"No," he whispered. "No. I-I can't. I can't, I'm, this, this is absolutely crazy. I can't do it. I won't do it." Sam's heart fell. She rushed forward to scoop the jumpsuit up.

"The world needs Danny Phantom!" she protested. Blue eyes stared coldly at her.

"Well, there's gonna have to be a new Danny Phantom, which, sorry, is a fucking dumb name anyway. Fenton, Phantom? That's so obvious," he scoffed. "I'm not doing this. I'm-I can't! It's crazy! A human with ghost powers is crazy!"

"It does sound kinda wack, Sam," Tucker agreed. Danny gestured wildly to Tucker while shooting Sam a dirty look. "It's so risky. I'm with Danny. I don't think he should go in."

Her hands clutched the suit tightly.

"But-"

"But you're asking me to risk my life," Danny cut her off. Her body turned cold and numb at the harsh reminder. "To get some kind of ghost powers, so I can do, well, what? Go and fight monsters, continue risking my life? Turn into this-this, if you're even right and I don't die, this mutated human freak with ghost powers?" His hands were going crazy as he talked, becoming more and more agitated. "Can I remind you that my parents are ghost hunters? And you want me, me, to do that? What good do I even get out of this deal? It, it, it fucking sucks. I'm not doing this. No dice, no deal."

"...You're right," she finally agreed. They shot her a skeptical look. Both expressions turned into looks of horror as she began to unzip the jumpsuit, putting her right foot into the suit.

"W-what are you doing?" Danny asked, narrowing his eyes at her. Sam stared up at him as she slipped the other foot in, pulling the suit up over her arms.

"Amity Park needs a half ghost hero," she told him. Her stomach turned into knots as the reality began to sink in, just as she pulled the zipper up to her mid-chest. She began to pull her hair up, making sure that it wasn't stuck under the suit before she finally zipped the rest up. "And you're right. It's not fair of me to ask you to make such a sacrifice, to trust somebody you barely know. But the world needs Danny Phantom. Whether it's the actual Danny Phantom, or just another half ghost hero...the humans need somebody to protect them. So I guess it's gonna be me."

Danny went from annoyed to horrified. Tucker paled.

"Y-you sure? It's crazy, it's so dangerous!" Tucker said. Sam shrugged, putting her hand on the side of the portal.

She took her first step in, taking a deep breath. She forced a smile to show to the others as she looked over her shoulder.

"Well...Somebody's gotta do it," she replied, and she began to walk in.

In her memories, Danny always kept his hand to the wall. And so she did the same. Letting her palm lightly brush against the wall as she walked slowly down, her eyes flickering around briefly but always kept on the empty void before her. How deep did it go? It couldn't be that deep. This was still a residential home. But it looked, and it certainly felt, endless. Before her, she could see what she thought was the end, but nothing was hap-

Her hand slid over something small, something that lightly pressed inwards with the faintest click that immediately sparked a loud, rumbling reaction. The darkness was instantly flooded away in bright, blinding white and green light.

She began to scream, and it slowly turned into pained wailing. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Danny had never mentioned just how much it hurt. Electricity shocked her, and the tingling felt like it'd never end. Sam had to get out. She had to get out, abort mission, abort mission. It hurt worse than anything else she had ever experienced. Her heart thudded like crazy as her head spun, and she reached out. For what, she didn't know, she just had to get out, and she felt something. She grabbed it, and she pulled herself forward.

Almost immediately she stumbled to her knees, bending over as one arm wrapped around her stomach and another clenched at her chest.

"O-o-oh my f-f-f-f-fucking g-go-od," Danny's trembling voice only barely registered to her. It hurt, it hurt.

Sam forced her eyes to open, and despite being blurred by tears, she could tell that she was kneeling on the familiar tiles of the FentonWorks lab. She could see Danny kneel next to her, putting a hand on her back, and hear Tucker rushing towards her.

"S-Sam?" Tucker's voice was shaky too. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

No, she wasn't okay, but she couldn't form any words. She just kept breathing heavily, feeling tears escape. Even those were painful, feeling like harsh shocks on her cheeks.

"Wait, s-so a-are you d-d-dead?" Danny asked. Sam finally focused on herself.

The jumpsuit she had put on had inverted colors, leaving her with white gloves. The jumpsuit was black. She took her hand off her stomach to grasp at her hair, pulling it into view. To her surprise, it was a light blue-purplish color. The portal must have inverted her natural hair color, a blonde-orange, instead of the dyed black she had.

"H-half," she clarified.

"What's going on down there?" Jack's voice boomed.

The three teens froze, and they looked at each other.

"Oh fuck, it's your dad. I gotta change back," Sam gasped. She reached out, grasping the front of Danny's shirt in her first. "I gotta change back to normal. Danny, how do I change back?" His eyes widened.

"Change back?" he repeated, absolutely baffled. "You can change ba-what? How? Uh, I dunno how!" His hands gestured frantically. "Ju-just? Uh, t-think about it? Or something!? I dunno!" Her eyes welled up with more tears, this time of frustration. Everything still was tingling.

"You were the half-ghost before," she half-cried.

"Sam, just relax," Danny tried to soothe her. He reached out to lightly stroke her hair, doing his best to comfort her. "Ju-just try thinking about it? Or at least calming down, what would calm you down? You know more than us."

"Guys?" Tucker interrupted them, his tone hitching up a few notches as the trio all heard Jack open the door, and begin to come down the stairs. Sam's breathing picked up rapidly. She had to change back, how was she supposed to change back? Why did she never ask Danny how he did the things he did? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sam felt Danny wrap an arm around her back, pulling her to him. She allowed herself to be pulled into his chest in a tight hug. He kissed her forehead, and Sam finally felt her muscles relax as the electrical tingling died down.

"Chill, it's okay." Surprisingly, he didn't sound so scared or anxious. Whether he had pulled it together for her or the relief of not having to take on the ghost powers finally hitting him, it was what she needed. "Just take a deep breath." Sam did just that. "Think about changing back."

Jack stepped down into the lab to the odd sight. His son's best friend looking like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, staring straight at him with wide eyes and visible sweat. His son was cradling a girl he didn't recognize, in a skirt and tank top with purple leggings and boots. Jack frowned.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded to know. "Danny, have you been messing with the portal? You could have been killed. You and I are going to have a talk. Tucker!" The geek made a frightened "eep!" sound. "Get on home, I won't tell your parents." The pale-faced geek needed nothing else, and he quickly began to rush up the stairs. "And you!" His attention directed to a fully human-looking Sam. "Who the hell are you?"

Sam pulled away from Danny, feeling her cheeks flush hard as she struggled to think. Her muscles ached, and her head was willing her.

"Um, I'm...Paulina?" she said slowly.

"Danny's not allowed to see you anymore, Paulina. You need to go home," Jack told her with a deep frown.

Sam felt too tired to be proud of her own move, or even smile. She nodded slowly, and she tried to get up. Her legs felt too weak.

Danny, thankfully, seemed to notice, as he scrambled to his feet and offered a hand out to her. She accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"Uh, lemme walk...Paulina out," Danny said. Jack motioned for them to shoo, his eyes focused on the operating portal as he walked past them to fully examine it. His eyes followed his dad, and he leaned in to whisper in Sam's ear, "Can you walk?"

Sam hesitantly took a step forward. She was immediately shaky.

"...I dunno," she admitted.

"Here, lemme-" Danny cut himself off as he wrapped an arm around her waist. They began to walk together up the stairs, slowly. "Do you want me to walk you home?" She shook her head.

"I'll call my mom and have her come get me," she replied. The idea of walking the several blocks home right now made her want to die. Even with assistance. Danny nodded.

"We can wait in the living room," he told her, and he took her to exactly there, carefully helping her to sink comfortably into the couch. Sam sighed deeply in relief at the comfortable cushioning, and she pulled her cellphone out.

Danny took a seat next to her on the couch. He said nothing as Sam had to not only quietly request her mom to pick her up, but explain where she was and lie about why she was there. The only bright side, it seemed, to all of this was that her parents had no reason (yet) to hate the Fentons.

She hung up, putting her phone back into her skirt's pocket, and she leaned into the cushions with a deep sigh as she closed her eyes.

"...Um...Sam?" Danny squeaked. She lazily opened her eyes, glancing down to see that her legs were invisible. She sighed, reaching for a throw blanket to toss over them for now. Figuring that out was not on her list of priorities right now. "...Is that going to uh...happen a lot?" She gave a disheartened hum.

"Probably," she slurred out.

"...So you really...everything you said was true."

Sam glanced at him before nodding.

"...Yeah."

"...I still don't remember it."

"We'll fix it," Sam promised. She held her hand out for him to take, and he accepted it. She squeezed his hand. "Before you know it, or well, remember it, it'll be back to the way things were."

"Will you still be half ghost? Like instead of me?" Danny asked. She shrugged. He looked down at their hands. "...We were dating, weren't we?" Her face flushed darkly, and she shook her head. He frowned. "But, what? We had to be."

"No, we were only best friends," Sam clarified, feeling her heart tingle once more. His hand squeezed hers.

"But just...," He shifted in his seat a bit to better face her, letting go of her hand in the process. His elbow rested on the back of the couch. "There was almost this...like, connection, and I dunno, it just really kind of felt like I knew you my whole life, and stuff, and...I dunno."

"We'll figure it out," she assured him with a light smile. "I gotta say, I don't really know like...what the game plan is after this. So I'm just gonna have to make it up as I go. But we can do it. We've done it like, hundreds of times before. We totally got this."

Sam felt her phone beginning to vibrate, and she immediately pulled it out. It was her mom, and she answered.

"Hey, Mom...Yeah it's the big FentonWorks signs...Yeah, yeah, it's super hard to miss...I'll tell you specifically on the way home, I'm headed outside now so you can see me...Alright, love you too. Later."

She hung the phone up, and she pulled the blanket off her legs. Thankfully, they were visible, and she pulled herself to her feet. Sam still felt a bit wobbly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as earlier.

"Here." Danny sprung up from the couch to link his arm with hers, helping her walk to the front door. As they reached the front door, she slowly pulled away from him, motioning for him to stay.

"Uh, I got it from here. I really don't want my mom to think that I was here for you, she'd never let me live it down," Sam said. He nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, my dad will probably hassle me about having a girl over," he sighed. Sam flinched.

"Are you really gonna be in trouble for this?" she asked. Danny shook his head.

"Nah, once my dad can see that the portal's open, he'll likely forget all about it," he grinned, but it dropped. "Just uh, stay safe, okay."

"I will," she promised. She opened the front door, seeing her mom's familiar car parked across the street. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

She gave him a final smile, and she slipped out of the Fenton home. The new half-ghost closed the door behind her, and with a slightly pained sigh, made her way to her mom's car to head on home.

#sam manson #halfa!sam #danny fenton #tucker foley #phic phight #danny phantom #my phics #phics #okay but this was legit one of my top favorite prompts and super fun to write #i hope others like it to #I may write more post-the phic phight but for now this is what y'all get

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 39

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse.

NEW WARNING - fictional police brutality. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer @silver-stormy . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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The X-Jet wasn’t made to transport so many passengers. There weren’t enough seats, so the most injured inmates were strapped in and everyone else had to hang on. Mimi carefully watched everyone. She hadn’t made it this far just to have a fellow freed prisoner do something that would make the X-Men turn them over to authorities and land them right back in prison. The last thing she wanted was going back to any holding facility. As the X-Men rushed around the jet, preparing for take off, Mimi made eye contact with as many individual freed inmates as she could, making sure they knew she was watching them.

The larger blue mutant was seeing to the more severe injuries. He was enormous, heavily muscled and had thick claws and fur, but spoke with a gentle accent. When the smaller bright blue mutant had boarded the jet, holding a barely conscious Rhonda, Mimi was surprised to find dread cracked her heart. 

“Henry!” he called in a German accent, and the larger mutant turned. “She doesn’t look so good, ja?” 

Henry’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He promised his current patient he'd come back to him and hurried to meet the German holding Rhonda. He moved a gear box to clear a spot on the deck of the jet. “Here, Kurt, lay her here.” Kurt took care to set her down in a smooth motion. "What happened?" Henry asked as he was already checking her vitals and pupils. "Pulse is weak. Pupils irregular. Is all this blood hers? Swelling at her temple." He worked quickly to examine her. 

“I don’t know,” Kurt shook his head, “Colossus is still on his way.”

Mimi craned her neck, and only saw Rhonda in bits and pieces past the men’s shoulders. Her skin was bluish, head lolling, breathing shallow and labored. The easiest thing she could see, however, was the soles of her feet - they looked like raw hamburger, absolutely riddled with shards of glass. “Hey!” She called to them. “Check her feet!”

Kurt and Henry gave Mimi a sudden wary glance, then both shifted to check her feet. The smaller mutant cursed in German. “Indeed it’s not good,” Henry agreed. He tore open Rhonda’s jumpsuit, “But there must be something else. Kurt, take the other first aid kit and help the others with the bumps and scrapes, please.”

With Kurt giving him space, Henry carefully tore away pieces of the grey cotton shirt under the jumpsuit, finding plenty of swelling and bruises that were starting to blacken. He muttered about broken ribs. He suddenly paused, and Mimi couldn’t tell what he’d found.

"STORM!” he roared to the cockpit, “We need a hospital! Now!" Storm gave an affirmative over the cabin radio. 

Several more inmates and the last few X-Men boarded the jet, including Wade and the tall, musclebound steel mutant. The tall brute immediately knelt by Rhonda’s side, and though Mimi couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, the anguish in his voice was unmistakable. “That’s her husband,” she said softly to Robinson. She shook her head, “Exactly as she used to describe him.”

“Huh,” Robinson slid an arm around Mimi’s waist to support them both as the jet rumbled its take off. “To be fair, an eight-foot-tall steel Russian man does sound made up.”

The floor tilted as the aircraft banked on a new course.

--

Piotr smoothed hair away from Rhonda’s face. The swelling around her temple worried him, but not as much as how her eyes rolled and how pale her lips were. "Stay with me, Rhonda, look at me," he urged. "You are safe now, stay with us." 

"Pi-Piotr," she barely managed to speak between wet wheezes.

Tears welled up in his eyes. She tried to speak again, but he shushed her, "Don't try to speak if it hurts. Let Cable help you, please." He waved Cable over, who carefully wove through the other passengers to loom over them.

With the ugly, bloodsoaked jumpsuit and the grey t-shirt under it torn open, Rhonda’s torso was bare to the warm cabin of the deck. There was no gaping wound, no horrible laceration, but just below her ribs, the last quarter inch of a toothbrush head stuck out of Rhonda's skin, the bristles slowly oozing with blood.

Beast carefully touched around it, figuring out at what angle the rest of the toothbrush pointed and how long it was. Rhonda couldn't even keep her eyes open anymore, and when she struggled to breathe and speak, she coughed and blood sprang to her lips.

"Henry, please! Pull it out!" Piotr begged with a strained voice, his stomach churning with panic.

"She's bleeding internally, probably a punctured lung,” Henry spoke quickly. “If I take that out here she'll bleed out before you can say dasvidaniya." He squirted saline solution over the wound, then moved to squirt saline on her head wound, rinsing blood away to examine the external damage.

Cable crouched by her feet and extended his telepathy. Where he had previously found a strong mind full of resistance to being read, he found no fight now. "She says, you brought me home," he read from her thoughts, "Thank you." He looked at her glass-crusted feet and scowled.

"No, no, no, Sladkaya, we're not home yet! You have to stay awake!" the Russian struggled to stay calm. He kept touching her face, shoulders, arms. Her skin felt cooler than it should.

"I can get this glass out, cleaner than your surgeons can in this time," Cable said. The other two either didn’t hear him or they ignored him. So he grabbed an empty cardboard box from between some people’s feet and leaned his weight on one forearm across Rhonda's shins. He searched for every little shard of glass and with his telekinesis, he pulled. Each shining glass splinter worked its way out as if they were seedlings in a spring garden, and ranged in size from a single snowflake to a quarter. Rhonda shivered, but didn’t react much besides that.

Blood bubbled at her lips as Piotr's vision blurred with tears. "Stay with me," he begged, "I can't lose you again, not like this."

After that, things moved in a quick blur. Hank improvised a chest tube from an inmate’s ballpoint pen, jabbing it near her collarbone and releasing the air that had been building up in Rhonda’s chest cavity. Her shallow breaths became a little deeper, but she still didn’t have long to live without tools they didn’t have on the jet. They landed on the rooftop helipad of the nearest hospital, and Cable levitated Rhonda to the gurney some nurses wheeled out. They slapped a medical grade power-blocking collar around her neck, and Piotr almost smashed them into the walls. "You take that thing off my wife!"

"Sir, sir!" One particularly short nurse patted the air between them. "This is standard procedure. Could this mutant's abilities be fatal to another person?" They had almost reached the elevator.

Piotr froze. He swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Yes...but...she cannot have that thing on when she wakes up."

The nurse promised, "She won't. Waiting area's downstairs." The elevator doors closed, and Rhonda and the nurses disappeared.

Ellie and Yukio stayed close to Piotr while the rest of the team helped coordinate help for the injured inmates. Storm made several calls to the Xavier house and started setting up a safe house and protection for any inmates who had to stay in the hospital. Kurt and Henry took the jet with a few passengers to head for the safe house.

--

In the waiting area, Cable studied how Piotr sagged into a plush chair that creaked under his weight. “Wade,” he snagged him by the arm as he was walking by. “When I was in Rhonda’s head…” he hesitated. His brow pinched. “I don’t know if she’s gonna make it through the night. If she doesn’t…” Cable jutted his chin toward Piotr, “We both know what it is to lose a wife.”

Wade frowned and shook his head. “No. No fucking way.” He batted Cable’s hand away. “A little head trauma, collapsed lung, torn shoulder, and a bunch of broken ribs never killed anybody. You know? Fuck outta here with your negativity, House.” All the same, he crossed the waiting area to sit beside Piotr.

Ellie found her way to sit beside her mentor and father figure. For a long while, none of them said a word. Eventually, Ellie drew her arms tight around one of Piotr’s biceps, crushing her cheek against the steel of his arm as the tears finally came. Yukio rubbed her back as she cried. As Piotr started to reach with his free hand to touch her face, Wade hugged his other arm the same way as Ellie. Together, they waited for the surgeons to finish.

--

Piotr stayed by her side in the intensive care unit. As promised, they had removed the medical grade collar, and Rhonda’s neck was mercifully bare. His uniform was still stained with her blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her for even the minute it would take to change into the fresh clothes Ellie and Yukio had brought. Swathed in bandages, breathing through a tube, his wife had never looked so fragile. He held her right hand, pressing the back of it to his cheek as he watched her face, tears streaming. His other hand delicately touched her hair. He whispered around the lump in his throat, “Come back to me, Sladkaya, come back to us. I’m here, whenever you are ready. Please.”

When the hospital staff tried to tell Piotr visiting hours were over, and that he could come back the next day, he said simply that he wasn’t going anywhere. He explained to the seasoned nurse in her fifties a short version of what had happened in the last few years. He would stay, and promised not to make any trouble for the hospital staff. The nurse took a slow sigh and replied simply, “I’ll get you a coffee, baby, be right back.”

Hours stretched into days. Wade, Ellie, and other friends could only get Piotr to take breaks if at least two of them stayed in Rhonda’s hospital room while he changed clothes or took a short walk. Every minute that he was with her, Piotr had a hand on her. He would clasp his hands around her feet to warm up her toes, check how the deep lacerations in her feet were closing, rest a hand over her stomach or chest to feel her breathe, study the finger stump on her right hand, and slide his palm up her arm over the Xs as he had seen her do so many times.

Once, when Wade was sitting beside him, Piotr had been studying the Xs again. “Wade...what are these?” he asked.

Wade puffed out his cheeks and blew a long breath, fumbling, “Ohhhh buddy, uhh, I - you should - you know - that’s just not my story to tell, you know?” Wade gripped his knees and stretched, popping his shoulders.

Piotr traced a few of the smaller Xs, then laid his palms to cover as many as possible. “They are signatures, aren’t they?” he said quietly, voice tight. “They called her Guestbook, and put these marks all over her. The x-rays showed scar tissue in this shoulder, like it had been dislocated more than once.” Wade’s silence except for sucking in a hissing breath through his teeth was answer enough. Lifting her hand, Piotr pointed out the newest one, with a long tail that curved around her arm. It was scabbed over and a little irritated, but no longer puffy with infection. “I have been cleaning and caring for this one,” he said with a tone that was too calm. “Wade, who did this to my wife? Was it guards? Other prisoners?”

The images flashed in Wade’s mind, another horrible thing he would never forget. Rhonda on the ground, arms pinned and twisted, knees in her back, a dead look in her eyes. Weak with cancer and restrained by several people, he had been unable to help her. He blinked. “Both.” 

With what could only be described as reverence, Piotr laid Rhonda’s hand back on the bed, and actually pulled his hands away to ball into fists on his thighs. His gaze was still riveted to her. “The prisoners we brought with us - was it any of them?” His voice was even, and clear, and filled with cold determination.

Wade could smell the desire for revenge like a shark smells blood in the water, and raised his hairless brows. “For what it’s worth, sexy, beefy Terminator,” he started to smile, “I’m pretty sure your lady killed about half the motherfuckers who ever touched her.”

For the first time in days, Piotr made direct eye contact, with a placid expression. Jaw tight, he asked, “And the other half?”

The seasoned mercenary was beaming. “As much as I love this color on you,” he waved an open hand in a circle. “Do I really have to remind you of your rules? One of the ones near the top - I think it’s number five, maybe nine - no killing? Anyone?”

“Perhaps you were right when you killed Francis,” he said. “Perhaps an exception can be made.”

Wade squirmed in his seat, groaning, then jumped to his feet, “Stop talking dirty to me! This hospital room is no place for a boner!” He growled in frustration, then pointed at Rhonda, “Plus…she said...we don’t know how many of them seem like fucking monsters now, but they weren’t like that until the Icebox made them that way. I - uggghhhhhh,” he grumbled incoherent cursing about turned tables and moral compasses. “I think she’d want you to leave them alone.”

The Russian’s shoulders sagged and he looked down at his hands, opening and closing his fists. “What good is all my strength,” he sighed, “if I could not prevent any of this? If I cannot protect her?”

#not a ghost #colossus x oc #piotr rasputin x oc #deadpool #xmen fanfic #deadpool fanfic

[timelordthirteen]

Some Other Time - Part 3

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: College student Lacey dumps her boyfriend and needs a new apartment, it just so happens her professor, Dr. Gold, has a room to rent.

Chapter Summary: Following Gold’s post-shower, full frontal mishap, Lacey attends one of his classes and things get...suggestive.

Notes: @prissyhalliwell prompted me for Lacey flirting with Gold while he was trying to teach a class and this is what happened. Welcome to my Golden Lace roommates verse. There is probably more to come. Asks and prompts welcome. Please note the rating change and some updated tags on AO3.

I barely spellchecked this so it’s probably awful and riddled with typos. I’m sorry.

[AO3]

Gold managed to avoid Lacey for three days after the incident in the hallway.

He didn’t think he could face her again, or the inevitable disgust in her eyes when she recalled the sight of him stark naked. It was entirely possible for them to never see each other at all if she used the back stairs to leave her apartment and went out through the mudroom door to the parking pad where her car sat. As it was, he’d taken to leaving about twenty minutes earlier than usual, just so he didn’t have to say good morning as they got ready to leave.

Unfortunately, it was Wednesday, which meant he’d be forced to see her as they swapped classrooms in the middle of the afternoon. He moved briskly down the corridor, laptop and materials tucked under his arm, hoping to appear in such a rush that she wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t stay to chat as he usually did. Breezing into the room, he set his computer down and flipped open the manilla folder on top of it before he realized he hadn’t seen Lacey in the hallway as expected.

Frowning, he looked up from his lecture notes to see her sitting at the back of the room, on the top tier of the seating. The middle row was open all the way up to the desk in the middle where she sat, putting her very long legs right at his eye level. Every time he would lift his head to glance around the room he’d be distracted by her crossing and uncrossing her limbs from beneath her short leather skirt. And she’d probably be distracted by the horrible memory of his nakedness.

She grinned and gave him a little wave, which he feebly returned as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Hello to you too.”

Gold shook his head. She didn’t seem disgusted, and he thought about just apologizing outright, but this was hardly the place to bring up what had happened. “Yes, right, sorry, Miss French. I just wasn’t expecting you to have taken a sudden interest in the history of the Middle Ages.”

She laughed. “Not so much. What part are you covering?”

He did his best not to look at her as he connected his laptop to the projector cable and laid out his notes. “The 9th century.”

“Ooooh,” she replied, leaning forward on her desk. “Saxon England and the reign of King Alfred. Maybe I should hang out here?”

“If you like...” he said, glancing up at her with some suspicion. She didn’t dislike history, but he knew the early history of England and Europe was far from her favorite period. “What’s the occasion?”

She sat back and shrugged. “Mal’s sick, so she offered to spot me 20 points on my final essay for Contemporary Lit and Cultural Theory if I covered her 11 o’clock, and since those points might be the difference between a very blah B or squeezing out an A minus…I accepted.”

“So...you’ll be staying?” he asked, swallowing hard as the first few students entered the room.

Lacey nodded and uncrossed her legs to twist sideways in the chair and lean her elbow on the narrow edge of the desk. The motion tugged on her skirt and made it ride higher on her thighs, and he could feel a trickle of sweat on the back of his neck.

“It made more sense to just stay put than trek halfway across campus to the library, stay for ten minutes, and then come all the way back.” Then she flashed a crooked smile at him and flipped open her notebook. “Think of it like me auditing the class.”

“Great,” Gold muttered under his breath, cuing up the presentation he had prepared as more students started to take their seats. None of them gave Lacey no more than a passing glance, and he hoped that once he got going on his lecture she would fade into the background and it would be like she wasn’t even there.

He was wrong. So very wrong.

“His death -”

Lacey scribbled something in her notebook as her lips closed around the lollipop in her hand. She’d pulled it out a few minutes ago and his concentration had immediately fled. The room had three levels of chairs and desks, but it was not a large lecture hall. The tiers were relatively narrow and crowded, making it so he could easily see the way her wrist twisted as she turned the candy in her mouth, no doubt swirling it against her tongue.

It was too easy to imagine her mouth doing the same thing to his cock, holding it, sucking it, lapping at it with her hot little tongue.

Gold coughed and slipped behind the small podium as he tried to resume teaching. “His death changed the political landscape for Alfred. There was a power vacuum among the Danes, allowing -”

A light pop could be heard as she pulled the candy out and then slurped at it with her lips. She wrote down something else, the lolli held inches away from her mouth in her other hand. As soon as she was done, her head dipped, taking it back into her mouth.

He shifted from one foot to the other and swallowed. “Allowing, um, -” His trousers were getting tight, and she looked up, meeting his eyes as she reached for the little white stick again and opened her mouth. “Allowing warlords to take Guthrum’s place, and -

She drew the candy over her tongue, holding his gaze and pushing her tongue out so he could see how pink and wet it was. Then she caught the round ball in her teeth and smiled around it.

There was a loud clattering sound and a murmur went through the room as the students looked between each other and then to Gold. His eyes were fixed on Lacey, who very nonchalantly went back to her notebook, sucker tucked into the hollow of her cheek like nothing of any consideration had happened. Someone laughed and then he looked down, ignoring the slight bulge under his belt, to see the remote for the projector on the floor, the battery cover popped off, and two triple A batteries rolling around.

He took a deep breath and fixed the class with a hard stare. “And bringing about the end of the quiet years.”

The shifting stopped and he saw Lacey watching, her eyes looking up through the fringe of hair that fell over her forehead. He looked pointed at his watch, and felt a surge of relief when he saw it was ten till the hour.

“For next time,” he said, pausing to pound the tip of his cane against the floor. The students immediately snapped back to attention, and he affected his most authoritative tone. “The Danish attacks of the 890s, and legal reform in Wessex. Read from page 387 to 450 in Wormald by Monday.”

Gold let out a slow breath as chairs and desks squeaked, and students shuffled out of the room. He busied himself with closing down his laptop and sliding his notes back into their folder, remaining behind the podium just in case.

When he was finished, he looked up to see an empty room. Lacey had left as well, taking her bag and notebook and jacket, leaving no indication that she was returning to teach a class. He frowned and looked towards the door, half expecting to see her standing there, white stick hanging out of her mouth and a smirk on her lips. But the door was closed and he was alone.

Sighing, he bent and gathered up the projector remote and batteries, reassembling it before he left. He had two hours in his office after this, and then his afternoon graduate class, which should remain blissfully free of erotic distractions.

It puzzled him why Lacey was there if she ended up not staying for the class she was supposed to cover, but he supposed Professor Mallory might have just canceled it instead. He was surprised Lacey didn’t just slip out the back, which left him with the very confusing and strange conclusion that she had stayed intentionally.

If that was the case, then were her antics with the sucker also intentional? The way she had opened her mouth and lewdly traced the candy down her tongue was - He shook his head and shifted his laptop and folder, holding it down by his belt. It was preposterous to assume she had done it on purpose, unless her intention was to make him embarrassed and uncomfortable. The alternative was that she wanted the very reaction she’d received, to arouse and tease, to taunt him with the possibility of sexual pleasure.

To show him what she might do to him.

Gold shivered and hurried down the hall, hoping to make it back to his office before his mind wandered further and his traitorous body followed.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #golden lace #golden lace fic #some other time #fic #my golden lace fic #my rumbelle fic

[shireness-says]

The Hazards of Hot Neighbors and Stubborn Roommates

Summary:  Elsa Arendelle is instantly attracted to her new neighbor. But the whole thing is complicated by her roommate's own love life. A Frozen Jewel companion piece to The Perils of Firemen and the Food Network. ~4.3K. Also on AO3.

A/N: For @kmomof4, who accidentally gave me this idea when she asked for more of The Perils of Firemen and the Food Network. Hope this lives up to the hype! 

Special thanks to @awkwardnessandbaseball, my delightful beta. You’re the best.

Somehow, this turned into the most suggestive thing I’ve ever written? I don’t know. Whoops. Still no smut, but rated M. 

Tagging: @aerica13, @branlovesouat, @searchingwardrobes. If anyone wants to be tagged on future stuff, shoot me a message, and I’ll start a list.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Elsa meets the dreamboat on a Tuesday evening.

(She can already hear that voice in her head that sounds an awful lot like Anna snorting ungracefully at her use of the phrase, but she stands by it.)

It’s been a long day, and she’s still loaded down with files for her to work her way through tonight. It’s research for this big case she’s working on; entirely boring, entirely necessary. Her current plan for surviving the ordeal is lots and lots of wine. Which is probably the most adult thought she’s ever had in her life.

Stepping into the elevator, she’s so ready to just hit that 4 button and go home, when she suddenly hears a commotion by the entrance. Well, maybe commotion is too strong a word. No one is being attacked, or trying to force their way into the building, or any number of other reasonable situations to use the word ‘commotion’ (God, she’s probably read too many legal briefs if this is where her mind goes). This particular commotion is one man trying to wriggle his way through the lobby doors with a stack of boxes, and all the noise that accompanies such an action.

Elsa won’t lie - she’s tired, her feet are killing her, and she’d really like to press the door close button. But she may need to have the door held for her one day, and anyway, it’s probably not the best way to start her interactions with this new neighbor. So she holds the door open button, and waits for the guy to scootch his way into the elevator.

“Thanks,” he says in a deep, accented voice, readjusting the load in his arms. “I wasn’t looking forward to holding these any longer than necessary. Five, please.”

Peering his head around as she presses the button, Elsa finally gets a good look at his face. And Lord, is she glad she does. He’s a gorgeous specimen of man - broad-shouldered and strong, with sandy curls and blue eyes she could swear were twinkling, like some kind of fairy tale prince. And his arms… Elsa is sure she’s being less than polite and gawking, but the way he’s supporting his stack of boxes perfectly displays his biceps beneath his short sleeves. Emma may tease her for having a thing for lumberjacks and mountain men, but to Elsa, there’s just something about a man who looks like he works with his hands, who has the calluses and muscles to prove it. And this man, the new tenant, is a prime example.

He offers her a sly smile - and God, even a bit smug, it’s a great smile, one that really suits his face - and Elsa frantically searches for words, flustered at having been caught staring. “Moving in?”

(Smooth. Real smooth.)

He offers her a warmer smile all the same, much to Elsa’s relief. “Aye, 5E, my brother and I just signed the lease. I’m Liam, by the way - I’d offer you a hand to shake, but…” he trails off, smile turning cheeky.

“Elsa, 4E. I suppose you’ll be our upstairs neighbor then?”

“Seems so. We’ll keep it down, I promise.”

Elsa chuckles, taking a final moment to imprint his features as the elevator doors slide open. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Liam in 5E. I’ll see you around?” Her voice, traitor that it is, takes a turn for the hopeful at the end of her sentence, and she only hopes she doesn’t look a complete fool.

Liam doesn’t seem put off by it if she does, at least, offering a final smile before the door closes. “Aye, you will.”

(And then the door closes, and Elsa’s left to collect the rest of her scattered composure.)

------

Emma, of course, is already plopped on the couch when when Elsa slips in the front door, and immediately notices her distraction.

“What’s up with you?” Emma all but demands.

Elsa just waves her off, toeing off her suede heels in the entryway and trying her best not to make eye contact. “Don’t worry about it. Anything up with you?”

Emma, thankfully, is good enough to ignore whatever is up with her roommate, shrugging casually and digging into the microwave meal in her hands. Looks like ravioli tonight. “Nothing much. Trying to track down where this latest douchebag might turn up. Think someone’s moving in upstairs, there’s been a lot of scraping and whatnot up there.”

Elsa’s distracted flipping through the mail, which is her only excuse for why the next words slip out. “Yeah, I met one of them in the lobby. Nice guy.”

Emma’s head jerks back to attention in Elsa’s direction, a devious grin on her face that Elsa is sure Emma would resent if the tables were turned. “Oh? Is that why you seem so distracted?”

Elsa can feel seemingly all the bloody in her head rush directly to her cheeks, eliminating any chance of denying the truth of Emma’s question. Her roommate knows it too, smiling smugly before continuing her interrogation.

“It is, isn’t it? Oh, I’m going to have to meet the guy who can rattle stoic Elsa Arendelle. He’s got to be cute to get you this shaken up, right?”

Cue another rush of blood to her face. Damn her Norwegian genes, she must look like a blonde tomato at this point.

“C’mon,” Emma wheedles, apparently committed to breaking out her best Ruby Lucas impression this evening. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

With a deep breath, Elsa finally confesses. It’s apparently the only way to please her roommate. For a woman who really hates people asking about her own love life, Emma seemingly has no qualms about meddling with Elsa’s. “Yes, he’s cute, alright? Really cute. He’s got fantastic arms and the bluest eyes. Happy?”

“Very,” Emma announces smugly, before digging back into her dinner. That’s the thing with Emma Swan - if she’s gotten the information she wants, she doesn’t see the need to ask any further. Bless her for that, in this case. Elsa isn’t in much of a mood to elaborate further.

“Good. In that case, I wanted to talk to you about maybe upgrading our cable service…”

------

It’s almost a month before Elsa sees him again - a month that she does not spend looking for him every time she enters the building, no, not at all.

When they do finally run into one another, it’s at the worst possible moment, of course, when Elsa’s on her hands and knees in the lobby trying to gather up the files she dropped. She’s muttering curses to herself, just trying to gather everything up - at least it hasn’t rained, this could be a lot worse if the floor was wet - when suddenly, there’s another hand trying to gather everything up with her. A large hand. A male hand. A large, male hand, connected to the arm of Liam in 5E.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he teases, blue eyes twinkling. Elsa couldn’t agree more. She’d like a lot of meetings, preferably not in this lobby, and not in her work clothes, and maybe with some mood music and generally without anyone being in danger of dropping things. Except maybe their pants. In a manner of speaking.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” she manages to stutter out, fully aware that her face has become a bright red beacon. Really, damn her Norwegian pastiness.

It does, however, get him to chuckle - a deep, rich thing that sets her insides all a-flutter as they work together to pick up the last of the pages, the occasional brush of fingers only encouraging the butterflies in her stomach.

“Thanks,” she says as the both straighten up, the stack of papers returned to their folder. She’ll worry about the proper order later.

“Not a problem, lass,” he replies, “it was my pleasure. It’s not everyday I get to play the gallant knight. Coming back from work late, I take it? Unless these are your leisure clothes.”

Elsa had been deeply uncomfortable in her tight dress and heels most of the day, but honestly had all but forgotten her discomfort in the time since Liam had entered her line of sight. Glancing down again, she’s pleased to note that she’s at least no horribly wrinkled. “Oh! Yeah, I stayed later than I should dealing with some paperwork. I do have less formal clothes, I promise.”

“I suppose I’ll have to see those sometime.”

Oh my God, is he flirting with her? He’s totally flirting with her. She thinks. Elsa isn’t really all that great at this whole thing, but she’s, like, 85% sure that his words combined with the roguish smile means he’s flirting with her. Which means he might like her too? Maybe? Wow, that’s new and different.

But it’s a good different, a great one in fact, so she gathers up all her courage to say something marginally flirty back:

“Well, I’ll have to make sure of it.”

------

It’s always the evenings. Without fail, if she’s going to see Liam from 5E, it’s when she’s coming home from work in the evening.

She learns he’s a firefighter the day he walks into the elevator with her, tired and smelling of smoke. He must read the concern in her face because he waves her off with an exhausted smile before she can ask why he smells like something burning.

(“Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. We work down at the local fire station, my brother and I - I’m the captain, actually. Sometimes that means I have to be on call, or sleep at the station, and sometimes it means I come home smelling like something’s still on fire. I’ve rather gotten used to it, I’m afraid.” His tone is almost apologetic, which really concerns Elsa.

“Oh, it’s no problem! Just… a little confusing to smell when I didn’t know the rest of the story.”)

He learns about her sister in London when she’s pacing the lobby, trying to finish the call rather than lose cell signal in the elevator.

(“I’m sure she could have found a perfectly lovely job with a stateside auction house or art dealer, but Anna’s always wanted to spread her wings and see the world. And I do have to admit, the stuff she’s dealing with in London is a lot more impressive than a lot of what is dealt with on this side of the Atlantic.)

Every night they see each other, it’s harder to talk for only a short snippet of time (regardless of how slow the building’s elevator is), and eventually, Liam starts walking her to her door. It’s a little ridiculous - for Pete’s sake, she’s already in the building, there’s not a safety issue or something - but they both ignore it in favor of spending just a little more time in one another’s company.

She’s actually just left Liam walking back to the elevator when she walks in her and Emma’s apartment to discover the younger Jones also inside, and Emma herself somewhat flustered by his presence. Which is probably valid, considering it turns out he climbed in through the window in response to Emma’s poor attempts at cooking. But Emma can hold her own, and Elsa can tell this is more than just disconcertion born of the unexpected situation. No - her roommate, prone to one-night stands and an impressive avoidance of feelings, likes Killian, finds him attractive, and doesn’t know what to do with it. Elsa gently tries to prod her to talk about the encounter, but Emma is stubborn, and changes the subject to avoid the matter.

They’ll work on that.

------

It’s been over two months of this emotional standstill - waiting for the other at the elevator and long, drawn-out talks and pretending that there’s no underlying attraction - when Elsa decides she’s sick of it. She gets enough of that just watching Emma with Killian. Elsa likes Liam, a lot, and she’s practically positive he feels the same. So one evening, as he’s talking about God only knows what (something his brother did, probably - Killian always seems to provide conversation fodder with his antics), she grabs Liam by the front of his damnably tight t-shirt and forcibly hauls him close enough to plant her lips on his.

There’s a short, muffled grunt of surprise, but Liam more than willingly joins in, kissing her with an insistance that Elsa relishes. Liam may be just her type, but Elsa’s always gone for nice boys, sweet boys, boys who kiss slowly and deliberately and delicately like she’s some fragile flower or precious gift. Liam may be that nice boy - nice man - too, a man with a charming smile who listens to her like every word from her mouth is fascinating and holds elevator doors so she doesn’t have to worry about rushing, but his kiss is a far cry from that: passionate and deep and determined in a way she might almost label aggressive if she wasn’t enjoying herself so damn much.

Somehow, he’s backed her into the wall beside her door, hands on her hips and crowding somehow even closer into her space. Their lips break apart for a minute to catch a breath, but he’s far from idle, mouthing along her jawbone in a way that makes Elsa’s head tip back in appreciation, barely stifling a moan. Almost against her conscious thought, her leg in its tailored pant is rising to hitch around his own thigh and create more space for him to occupy. As his hips willingly fill that space, flush with her own, their mouths reconnect and Elsa finds herself rocking forward, and forward, and forward…

It’s only a vague awareness of her surroundings that suddenly reminds Elsa that they’re still in the fourth floor hallway, grinding on one another like a pair of horny teenagers. And she is an adult. They both are. They can’t keep doing this, no matter how much she wants to…

And in a sudden epiphany, Elsa remembers:

Emma has that stakeout tonight, and won’t be home.

After that, it only takes a moment to push Liam away (to no small protest, she’s pleased to note, pained groans and chasing lips and all) and frantically dig the keys out of her briefcase to get the damn door open. When the final bolt clicks, Elsa turns to dramatically (and hopefully seductively) lean against the door, one arm still grasping the doorknob behind her back. She never does things like this; she may as well revel in the moment while it’s here.

“I’ve got the place to myself tonight…” she says, voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. Jesus, he really did a number on her with that kiss, didn’t he?

Liam’s eyebrow quirks; whether in amusement or interest, she can’t tell, but honestly, either will work for her purposes as long as it gets him inside and onto a flat surface. Any flat surface. She’s not picky. “Is that an invitation, lass?”

“If you want it to be.”

There’s no verbal response, but Liam steps back into her space to fuse their mouths once more, reaching to clasp the doorknob along with her and finally open the door.

And really, that’s enough of an answer, in and of itself.

------

They’re lying in bed in the aftermath, sweat pooling, breaths still uneven, hearts thumping frantically, when Elsa decides to just go ahead and address the elephant in the room. Turning her head to face Liam, he looks remarkably content; sprawled in her bed naked, one of his fantastic arms tossed over his eyes and brow. She could get used to such a sight, but she’s got to make sure that that’s something he wants too. Going into this, Elsa had been confident they were on the same page, but she’s always been a girl who looks before she leaps, and diving right in without discussing things first, like they’ve done now, makes her nervous.

“So…” she begins, eliciting a muffled hum from the man beside her. “Is this something we’re going to do again, or…”

Liam snorts, his whole body heaving with the effort. “I’m going to need a little time to recuperate, lass.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters. “Not like that, smartass.” Even if her wording really did leave that response wide open.

“I know.” There’s a pause. “I suppose… well, I know this meant something to me. I’ve fancied you for quite a while, lass, it just took you practically mauling me in the hallway to do anything about it. I know we’ve done this all in a bit of a round-about fashion, but would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Even laying naked in bed, after all the activities such a thing suggests, Elsa feels a sudden wave of shyness at his earnest entreaty. Resisting the urge to curl back in on herself, she rolls over to snuggle into his side instead, revelling in the feeling of his warm arm coming to encircle her waist. Meeting his eyes, she smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

It surprises her when Liam exhales a sudden sigh, seemingly in relief. At her questioning hum, he elaborates. “It seems ridiculous now, but you wouldn’t believe how nervous I was to ask you out.”

It’s Elsa’s turn to offer her own snort, before tightening her own arm more securely across his torso. “Well, I was the one doing the mauling. That should have made it fairly obvious I’d accept.”

The smile that overtakes his face at those words is breathtaking, in it’s own small and quiet way. “I’m glad to hear it,” he murmurs, forehead coming to rest against her own as his arm snakes tighter around her bare waist.

“Good.”

And then they’re kissing again. The franticness of earlier has ebbed, the passion of new discovery subsiding into something more languid and sensuous. Neither of them are ready for another round (though God, does she want one later), but it’s an enjoyable occupation, and a fitting seal to their brief discussion.

It’s with a small reluctance that Elsa pulls away some minutes later, but there’s always the reassurance that they can pick up again. There’s an issue that needs addressing, though, and she’d rather deal with it now when they’re both happy and basking in that new relationship glow (okay, the post-sex glow too).

“I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Anything, lass,” he murmurs, still nosing behind her ear to drop small, delicate kisses.

“Ok, I know this is going to sound stupid, but there really is a good reason, and I promise I don’t mean forever, just for the time being, so really -”

“You’re rambling, darling. It’s quite a cute nervous habit, really.”

“- I don’t want to tell Emma yet.”

That warrants a hard pause.

“I know that it’s probably really stupid, but she’s so damn stubborn and she’ll probably view us getting together as some weird prelude to a set-up she’ll resist on principle. I know she has a thing for your brother, and I think that will resolve itself within a couple weeks, just… Please?”

“You do realize if we don’t tell Emma, I can’t tell Killian either, right? They’re thick as thieves and he’s absolute shit at keeping secrets.”

“Please?”

Liam huffs and sighs, but finally nods in agreement. “Alright. But let’s hope they resolve this soon; I don’t relish the idea of keeping this to ourselves for too long.”

“Agreed.” Because really, Emma needs to get her ass in gear, before it gets truly ridiculous. “But in the meantime…” Armed with a new confidence in their budding relationship, Elsa straddles his still-naked hips, letting the sheets slip from her bare shoulders in a sensuous display.

Liam grins slowly, eyebrow quirking as he seems to catch where her mind has gone. “Aye?”

“In the meantime… Let’s see what I can do to make it up to you.”

------

It’s a wonderful new world, dating Liam Jones. It’s all the beautiful companionship of their previous friendship, but with the added bonus of amazing kissing and some really great sex. Liam seems to revel in taking her on proper dates, and they spend every chance they have together - in and out of bed.

The one drawback is the continuing Emma/Killian situation. They’re both so damn stubborn, and Elsa has long since learned that any attempts to engage Emma in a conversation about the man the the latter doesn’t start herself is absolutely fruitless. It would have been annoying, before, when Elsa was just trying to help her roommate come to terms with her own feelings; now, with the reveal of a relationship waiting on that acceptance, it’s downright infuriating.

“I wish they’d just do it !” she practically growls from the Joneses’ couch one evening, Liam and herself curled up pretending to watch Dial M for Murder on her favorite classic movie channel while Killian is on call at the fire station and Emma has a stakeout. The movie-watching endeavor was never destined to be successful; even without Elsa’s frustration with the non-existent progress in her friend’s relationship, they’d likely just be making out on the couch anyways, Liam making an admirable attempt to do just that only a few minutes ago by placing a series of increasingly insistent kisses along her jaw and neckline.

“I hate to be speaking in support of their lollygagging in any way, but we both knew they’d both need to get their in their own time, especially Emma,” he replies, ever her voice of reason. “I will say, I fully expected them to cave by now.”

“That’s exactly it!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up and nearly whacking Liam in the head in the process (he’ll live). “What the hell is taking them so long? Hurry it up already!”

But they don’t hurry it up, and they don’t cave. There’s just a constant dancing around one another, and a seeming increase in Emma avoiding her. It’s infuriating.

It finally comes to a head when Liam picks her up for dinner one night (well, as much as that term is applicable; he’s literally just walking down some stairs, not driving halfway across town to collect her), a gloom casting his usually calm and handsome face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elsa asks, concerned. It’s wildly out of character for him to show up acting like this, and she almost worries about what that means for them. He adores you, she’s careful to remind herself. You’re not the problem.

Despite plans to find a little place to eat near the water, Liam comes in and crashes on the couch, already aware that Emma’s not home. “Apparently, Emma kissed Killian last night. And then ran out of there like the hounds of hell themselves were on her heels.”

“Shit,” Elsa somehow manages to say, sinking onto the couch herself. “She hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

“What are we supposed to do?” he all but demands. “Do we now have to go on pretending forever? Do we assume they’ll still eventually figure this shit out and get together? Or are we at lost cause stage? I have to be honest, I’m rather pissed at your roommate - Killian’s devastated, moping around the apartment like the world itself is ending.”

“I don’t know,” she mutters absentmindedly, still trying to process all the new information. Shit, what are they supposed to do, in light of this new development? “I guess we wait and see? Give it a week, see if the situation will resolve itself?”

“A week,” Liam repeats with finality. “But after that, I don’t care. It’s been long enough, we’ve been keeping this quiet for seven weeks. 2 months even is more than enough.”

“Okay, a week.” They really should get going - both are dressed and ready to walk out the door, but they sit there just a minute longer, trying to process their resolution and the events that led to it.

“Shit.”

------

“I kissed him,” Emma blurts out, and Elsa does her best to look surprised. She’s known for almost three damn days now; it’s hard to really muster up a look of true shock, but Emma’s flustered emotional state thankfully means she doesn’t pick up on her faking.

Honestly, Elsa is holding back a laugh the entire time. Emma’s been avoiding any relationship with Killian because she thought Elsa liked him? True, she did say the upstairs neighbor was cute, but there are two of them - even if Emma has never met Liam. That’s the only excuse Elsa can come up with - Emma has never met Liam, has never seen what he looks like, has never observed Elsa and Liam together. Otherwise she thinks it’d be so damn obvious which Jones she had meant was cute, that it’s almost laughable.

She only lets the laughter loose again when Emma rushes back out of the apartment, and that’s how Liam finds her a few minutes later - still shaking on the couch with subsiding laughter and wiping tears from her eyes because of it.

“I take it things went well with Emma, considering she’s about to jump my brother and you’re laughing your arse off down here?” he asks amusedly. Oh, how Elsa loves how he says ‘arse’ - it’s enough to send her into another fit of giggles.

Liam is increasingly confused as her laughter deepens, one eyebrow creeping higher and higher as he grins in that way he does when he doesn’t quite get the joke. “Really, lass, I must insist,” he finally interrupts. “What in the world is so funny?”

Honestly, she has to take a moment to catch her breath, holding a finger in the air in a waiting motion, trying to collect herself enough to speak. Finally, she bursts out - much the way Emma did, not half an hour earlier:

“She hasn’t been making any moves because she thought I was into your brother!”

The joke explained, Liam breaks into his own guffaw as his smile turns genuine, collapsing onto the couch beside her and pulling her slender body into his side. “Well, darling, is there anything I need to worry about?”

And who’s to blame her, if she sets about proving exactly how much he doesn’t need to worry?

#the hazards of hot neighbors and stubborn roommates #my writing #the perils of firemen and the food network #frozen jewel #companion fic #why did this get a little dirty #no one knows #cs ff

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 30

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count:  2k

Two Months Later

Xavier’s School had officially closed for the school year for nearly a month now for the summer holidays, although a lot of the kids chose to stay behind due to their home situations, if of course they had homes to return to.

This meant Wade and Russel had plenty of catching up to do in terms of chaos and havoc, in his new honed abilities and Wade’s pre-planned pranks, which were of course aimed towards stressing Colossus out greatly, or irritating Ellie beyond reasoning.

Hayden sat on the couch with her music playing in her ears, thinking back to yesterday where Wade had tried to prank Nathan and how it went horribly wrong, for Wade that is. She grinned as she replayed the events in her mind.

It started off early in the morning when Nathan decided to have some coffee…

    “C’mon Nathan, don’t you trust me? I swear I just made it, it’s still hot, see?” Wade insisted as he poured the black liquid into Nathan’s large mug.

“No, and you know that, but you’re still a persistent little shit anyway,” he grumbled but took his mug anyway; he eyed the steam that floated out and decided to let his initial instincts on the matter go.

That was his first mistake of the long day.

He took a big swig of the coffee and spat it out almost immediately after his tongue caught on to the foul taste.

“What the fuck is this?” he half yelled as he slammed the mug down on the table, it shattered all over the counter and the remaining coffee spilled to the floor as well.

“It’s Balsamic Coffee!” Wade laughed, albeit rather nervously. “Look Cable it was just a-”

“Just a prank? I’ve had it up to here with all the pranks you’ve both been doing on Colossus and Ellie, everyone’s trying to relax after a long year and you’re making us sit on the edge of our sanity with your endless ‘practical jokes’,” he took a step closer to Wade with gritted teeth.

He grabbed Wade’s shirt collar and lifted him off the ground, the muscles in his arms tensing up and the veins revealing themselves.

  “Nathan,” Hayden touched his shoulder gently, his muscles relaxed and he lowered Wade slightly. “Put him down, please,” he put Wade onto the ground again, “Thank you,” she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, making it hard for him to hide the smile creeping up on his hard demeanour.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in acknowledgement, still glaring at Wade.

“As for you Wade,” she turned and poked him hard in the chest with her finger, causing him to take a step back in fear, “I completely agree with Nathan, you need to stop with all these pranks, and soon. Or I’m going to beat your senses back into you, understand?” Wade nodded nervously, “Good. Now go.”

                      Wade quickly ran from the room, still managing to maintain a skip in his steps from the joy of messing with Nathan.

“That wasn’t just about the crappy coffee, was it?” she turned back to Nathan after she shook her head at Wade, “What’s bugging you?”

“You read me far too well for my liking darlin’,” he huffed but still wrapped an arm around her waist.

“It’s about Hope’s birthday, isn’t it?” she pressed, he only nodded in response, “I don’t see why you can’t have Hope come here-”

“You know she wouldn’t have it-”

“So what, Nathan, she’s your daughter for God’s sake, you have every right to celebrate her damn birthday with her!” Hayden moved away from him feeling irritated as she tried to make her case, starting to pace back and forth as she spoke.

“Her mother has full custody of her-”

“That didn’t stop you from taking her to the carnival months ago! And it certainly didn’t stop you from bringing her back here several times to spend time with you-”

“I can’t kidnap my own daughter every time I want to see her Hayden,”

“And why the hell not?” she crossed her arms, “Hope loves it here, she wants to be around her dad as much as she can, she’s allowed to make her own choices of who she wants to live with-”

“Hayden-”

“I mean it! You can’t let your ex run half of your life Nathan-”

“Hayden,” he placed his hands on her shoulders stopping her pacing.

“What?” she asked angrily.

  “What’s this really about?” he asked looking down into her eyes.

“It’s not about anything besides you spending time with Hope,” she answered too quickly.

“Wrong, try again,”

“I- fine,” she sighed, “I really want to see Hope again, alright? She gives me the chance to see everything through the eyes of a real kid, not like me. I was training as a soldier from her age- I love her Nathan, she’s a sweetheart and I’ll be damned if I can’t see her be happy for her birthday,”

Nathan’s expression turned to that of a big grin, “Really now?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Just a little,” he teased.

“Nate, seriously,” she tugged at his shirt and looked up at him as his arms circled instinctively around her waist, “do you know what Hope told me would be the greatest gift for her birthday?” he shook his head, “To quote, ‘to be with my Daddy, last year he promised he’d come back on time but he didn’t, I don’t hate him though. I know he still loves me’, unquote.”

“She really said that?” his face softened and his eyes wetted slightly.

“Of course she did, she’s your daughter and she loves you Nathan.”

  He thought for a moment before finally speaking up, “I’ll probably be hearing from her lawyers because of this, but for my little girl’s birthday, how could I say no?”

“Good,” Hayden patted his cheek and smiled, “You’re doing the right thing Nathan.” She rested her arms playfully around his neck.

“God I hope so,” he sighed and leaned his face closer to hers, “You’re getting me into a lot of trouble you know that Haydes?”

“Not that you’re resisting much to begin with,” she giggled and he smiled before kissing her lips slowly, she smiled and pressed the kiss back eagerly.

                                                         * * *

  Afternoon

Nathan had insisted that Hayden play her guitar and sing for him up in her room, telling her that it helped him relax better, especially whenever Wade was driving him crazy, which was more often than not. She didn’t mind though, seeing as how today Wade was driving him up the wall more so than usual.

He was laid back on the bed and listening with his eyes closed and a calm expression across his face, he was practically in a dozing state until he heard the sounds of someone clambering around in his room; he sat upright and sighed irritably.

“That better not be Wade,” he grumbled and Hayden stopped playing.

“I highly doubt that it isn’t,”

“OH GOD WHAT I COULD DO WITH THIS BEAR,” they heard Wade say loudly.

“WADE-” he shot up from his seated position and ran out from Hayden’s room, “YOU BETTER NOT BE TOUCHING MY DAUGHTER’S BEAR YOU-”

  Hayden got up and followed quickly only to find that Nathan was rolling on the floor by his door, his upper torso covered with saran wrap, he struggled with it as it clung tightly around him. Wade stood inside the room cackling with success.

“What the hell is this, get it off!” Nathan yelled.

“Wade seriously?” Hayden sighed and held Nathan still on the floor; she started peeling off the material slowly and eventually unravelled it all from him.

                  “I thought his futuristic cyborg eye would have helped him at least see the stuff, that went way better than expected,”

Nathan got himself up from the floor and gave Wade a death glare, his own face flushed red from his embarrassment at being fooled by such a silly prank, Hayden put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright Nate? You didn’t get hurt anywhere?” she eyed over his form quickly.

“I’m fine,” he didn’t meet her gaze as he was embarrassed.

“Good,” she pecked his cheek before turning to Wade, “Do you remember a word of what I told you earlier?” she asked through gritted teeth.

He gulped, “Ah, that corporal punishment is wrong and getting off with a verbal warning is the only way a person will learn?” he said rather hopefully.

“Definitely not,” she approached him and slapped him hard in the face, leaving a bright red handprint clear on his cheek, “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t go and poke the bear, and you certainly don’t torture the bear with stupid shit like this,” Wade rubbed his cheek and didn’t meet her gaze, “Wade, seriously you could have hurt him now-”

“I said I’m fine Haydes-”

She ignored him, “Promise me, and really promise me, no more pranks that can really hurt someone?”

“Fine, I promise,” Wade gave in, throwing his hands in the air.

“Thank you, it’s really big of you to take responsibility like this,”

“Ugh responsibility, that’s the worst,” he tilted his face towards the ceiling.

                                                           * * *

  Evening

Hayden was helping Nathan out with his new phone (again) that he’d gotten, he didn’t have a need for smartphones in the future, as whatever information he needed was always displayed around for everyone to read or he could simply find it by using his metal arm to locate the information on a server when he got hold of some wiring.

He still wasn’t used to the smaller screen in his big hands, and he was altogether unfamiliar with the topics of interest in this era, making him get rather irritable with the ‘complicated’ device very easily.

“I don’t see why you want to learn all this; it’s all just a fad anyway,” she shrugged at him.

“Because I don’t want to be the old man who doesn’t understand technology,” he insisted.

“You don’t even use this stuff in the future, and for the last time you’re not old,” she squeezed his hand and he gave a small side smile, “Besides, you only really need to be able to call one of us, if it’s absolutely necessary and you already know how to do that,”

  Whoop.

  Nathan’s phone sounded and the notification panel displayed at the top of the screen, ‘New message from ‘Wilson’’.

“What does that idiot want now?” he opened the chat and saw there was an attachment that needed to be downloaded, the caption ‘Open me when you’re alone’ along with it, he looked to Hayden.

She shook her head, “I really wouldn’t, who knows what he’s done now,”

“That’s exactly why I have to open it,” Nathan sighed; he tapped the screen and after a moment the image downloaded to his phone he opened it and gagged. “God what is wrong with him?” he put his phone to the side.

“What is it?” she asked trying to reach for it but Nathan grabbed her hand to stop her and shook his head.

“It’s a picture of the cunt’s dick, I can’t believe he actually- wait a minute,” Nathan’s eyes went wide and he grabbed the phone again, “Son of a bitch this was taken in my room!” he got up and went upstairs, Hayden followed closely behind.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nathan muttered as he stormed into his room, the entire of it being covered with multiple coloured edits of blown up images of Wade’s dick, “He’s relentlessly disgusting,” he pulled an image off the wall and tore it into pieces, “I’m cutting his dick off for this.”

“I might just hold him down for you,” Hayden said from behind him, “Um Nathan,”

“Yeah?”

“Do you own anything remotely pink?”

“What? No, why are you asking me that?” he turned to frown at her.

She nodded in the direction of his bathroom, “Then he’s left something in there for you,”

Nathan hurried into it and found that some of his toiletries and bathroom décor had been changed to ones that were Hello Kitty themed; he gritted his teeth and turned to Hayden before looking back at the newly decorated room.

“He’s dead, he’s so dead,”

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 31 <<

#nathan summers #cable #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #writing #hayden jones #original character #fire fist #russell collins #piotr rasputin #colossus #wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool 2 #fanfiction

[scruffyhappaboreherder]

For Bodhi Rook Week, day 5 (after Scarif).  Not a complete thing, but more tomorrow, assuming my brain and available time cooperate continued here.

K-2SO considered the personnel crammed into their stolen shuttle, possible deployment scenarios for their forces, and likely opposition they would face.  As he simulated the possible outcomes, one critical problem appeared repeatedly. 

The former Imperial pilot had performed well under unprecedented pressure, but he was not trained or prepared for combat.  Given the likelihood of high attrition of their forces, he would need assistance.  Ranking the available options, K-2SO settled on a strategy that he felt would be most effective, and used his computer interface arm to access the shuttle's defensive subroutines.

* * *

"This is for you, Galen," Bodhi told the empty shuttle.

Something clattered on the floor.  He turned to look and saw the grenade.  Oh, well, this is it I guess, he thought, and closed his eyes.  The shuttle rocked, and the explosion made a loud noise that left his ears ringing.  He staggered, and instinctively gripped the edge of the control board.  When the rocking stopped, he opened his eyes cautiously.

Why wasn't he dead?  "Kriff it," he muttered.  "I can't stay here."

He reached for the controls and got the shuttle aloft.  Somehow, it was still driveable, and there were no red lights suggesting that hull integrity had been compromised.  Maybe he could make it look like he was fleeing in panic, and pick up some rebels on the way.  

He tried to remember where Melshi's last transmission had come from.  He'd said they were near the master switch, right?  He guided the shuttle along at a low altitude.

Why am I flying towards a place that stormtroopers are attacking? he wondered.  Because those are bolts from Baze's cannon, said another part of his brain.  He squinted and made for the place the bolts seemed to be coming from, and landed nearby.

Carefully, he peered out the hatch.  "Baze!" he yelled.  "Come on!  Let's get out of here!"

"You couldn't have gotten here two minutes ago?" Baze demanded.  "Lay down some covering fire!  That way!"

Bodhi hunted for the controls and fired, baffled.  His heart sunk when Baze reappeared with Chirrut's limp form in his arms.  "Is he—"

"Tell me you have a field aid kit in here or I'll kill you," Baze snarled.

"Uh," Bodhi stammered.  The ones on cargo shuttles were mostly designed for problems like hangover headaches and accidentally cutting yourself on a sharp edge.  "Tonc had one, I think, check his pack, it's in the cargo hold.  We've got to get out of here!"

"Can you get us out of here?" Baze called as he landed in the hold with a thump.  He re-emerged holding Tonc's pack, and ran back to Chirrut.

"I got through to Admiral Raddus," Bodhi panted.  He felt short of breath.  "They're going to get the shield gate down.  Somehow."  There were unsettling sounds coming from where Baze was kneeling by Chirrut, interspersed with swearing.  He didn't turn to look until Chirrut suddenly spoke.

"Beach."  It came out in a horrible rasping croak, and Bodhi didn't understand it at first.

"What?"  Neither did Baze, apparently.

"Beach.  Jyn—Cassian—"  And then Chirrut started coughing.  Bodhi tried not to hear it, and turned his attention to finding where exactly Chirrut meant by beach while trying not to get shot down.

He spotted them stumbling toward the shoreline and set down a few feet away.

"Baze, get them," Chirrut said faintly.  Bodhi didn't need to see Baze roll his eyes to know it was happening.  But Baze's tred sounded on the deck and stopped as he reached the sand.

When it sounded again, he and Jyn were supporting Cassian between them.  "Someone close the hatch please," Bodhi said frantically.  "I'm getting us out of here."  Jyn was yelling at Cassian for trying to help—something about got shot and fell 12 stories and then climbed back up, so you sit DOWN—and then there was a thunk.  Bodhi breathed relief when the indicator light went green.

Leaving the atmosphere was a blur.  Once they hit space, he found the coordinates for the rebel base, tried to ignore all the alert sirens and red lights as the computer calculated their path, and pushed the lever to get them out of there was soon as it was done.

"Control," he said faintly, once he'd guided them into orbit.  "This is Rogue One.  Request landing clearance for Imperial cargo shuttle.  We have wounded."

"Copy, Rogue One.  How many?"

"Uh—" He looked behind him.  "Five."  Chirrut and Cassian were in the worst shape, but Jyn and Baze didn't look so great.  He'd been grazed a few times trying to get the cable plugged in, but it barely stung at this point.

"Medical team will be standing by, Rogue One.  You are cleared to land."

"Copy.  Uh, thank you."

He landed, killed all the engines, and sat down on the deck.  Not moving seemed like a great idea.  He watched vaguely as medics swarmed the shuttle and made off with Chirrut and Cassian, with Baze and Jyn following behind.

Eventually, another medic appeared: a tall woman with a determined look on her face.  It might have been days, it might have been a few minutes.

"They told us there were five of you.  You the last one?"

"Yeah.  It's nothing, really, just blaster grazes, I'm fine now I think."

"Why don't you let me decide that."  She smiled—why did medics always look sinister when they smiled—and knelt beside him and started taking his vitals.

* * *

Being debriefed by General Draven was not as bad as being detained by Saw Gerrera and mind-vacuumed by Bor Gullet.  But it wasn't great, either.

"What do you mean, you don't have the plans?  You just said you got them."

"Jyn and Cassian and, and K2 got them.  They transmitted them to the Rebel fleet, and I don't know what happened after that.  I was trying not to get blown up, okay, it was a war zone!  And I just wanted to find anyone who was left and fly out."

At the end of an interminable session of being asked the same thing in different ways over and over, with inconsequential questions about the base layout and defenses and other things in between, Draven pursed his lips sourly.  "All right.  Thank you, Pilot Rook.  My assistant will escort you."  He waved his hand, and the woman took Bodhi for some food and then to a bunk in the medcenter.  He fell into it and slept for what seemed like years.

* * *

When he woke up, Jyn was sitting in a chair beside his bed, dozing.

He cleared his throat.  "Hey," he muttered.  "Jyn?"

She blinked and sat upright, clearly startled.  "I didn't mean to fall asleep.  Sorry."

"What's happening?"

She shook her head.  "I just wanted to say, thank you for saving us."

He pulled himself up.  "No, really, what's happening?  Is there any news?"

She looked unhappy.  "A few other ships have come back.  But none of them got the plans.  So far as I know."

"Shit."  He felt a hollow feeling inside.  Tonc and Melshi and the rest of the strike force: had they died for no reason?  Had all of that been for nothing?

"But they think there are other ships that escaped and haven't made it back yet.  So we wait."

"And hope."

"Yeah."  She managed a half-smile.  "Chirrut and Cassian are still in bacta tanks.  Baze got bacta bandages like you did."

"What about you?"

"I just pulled a few muscles.  Nothing big."  She grimaced.

He realized something then.  "Jyn, what happened to K2?"

Her eyes fell.  "He stayed behind to keep the data access active, and delay the stormtroopers.  He told us to leave him."

Bodhi shook his head, and Jyn nodded glumly.  "The last thing he transmitted was goodbye.  I gave him a blaster.  I hope it helped."

"We did get the plans out?  Yes?"

"Yes," Jyn said, and closed her eyes.  "I told Cassian I was sure that someone out there was listening.  I hope I wasn't lying."

"I hope not, too, little sister," Baze rumbled from behind them.

Jyn half-turned to look at him.  "Have you heard anything?  How is Chirrut?"

"No, I haven't.  And he's all right.  He had a weird spasm in the tank not long ago.  But all his bio-readouts are normal."

"That's something," Jyn sighed, and Baze came closer.

"It was a suicide mission.  Amazing that any of us got out."

Jyn grimaced.  "I came in here to tell Bodhi thanks for that."

"Why did you show up when you did?" Baze asked.

"If I stayed the stormtroopers would have blown me up.  I should be dead--I don't know what happened.  A grenade exploded, but it didn't get me.  Or the ship.  Somehow."

Baze frowned.

"I'm just as confused as you are!" Bodhi said hastily.  "There's no rational explanation.  Or even an irrational one."

"I might be able to help with that," Cassian said.

"A survivors' convention," Baze remarked.

"Minus one," said Jyn, getting up, and staring pointedly at Cassian until he sat in the chair.  She stood behind the chair, put her hand on his shoulder briefly, and let it fall away.

"Please explain," Bodhi asked.  "Because I would really like to know why I'm not dead when I know I should be."

"Those cargo shuttles.  They have countermeasures.  Against theft and tampering."

Bodhi blinked.  "Well, yeah.  But they're mostly disabled.  They don't really do anything, or work very well.  More hassle than they're worth.  Those shuttles hardly ever see the outside of an Imperial facility, and only locally assigned pilots have the access codes."

"Before we landed, K2 sliced into them and made some improvements.  There's an internal shield generator; he programmed it to activate automatically in response to certain things.  Like a grenade being tossed in."

"Oh," said Bodhi, thinking it over.  It was far beyond him to think of, much less do.  "Now I'm even sorrier that he didn't make it.  He saved all of us."

"Yeah," sighed Cassian.  Jyn's hand was on his shoulder again.  He tilted his head back to look at her.  "I believe you," he told her, though she hadn't said anything.  "I believe that the plans got out."

Her hand tightened, and he winced.  She hastily let go.  "Then why aren't they here?"

"There was a courier ship in the Profundity's hold.  Admiral Raddus's flagship," he explained.  "Sensor logs from the survivors give us reason to think that they escaped.  We hope they have the plans.  There's still reason to think that we'll get them.  We just don't know when."

Jyn sighed, but she managed a tiny lopsided smile.  She was still staring down at Cassian, but Bodhi could see that much.

"You two should stop making me feel extraneous in my own hospital room," Bodhi told them.  Baze snorted.

Cassian clambered hastily to his feet.  "I have to get back to Command.  But I wanted to let you know what was happening.  If I hear anything else about the plans, I'll get you word."

Bodhi watched Jyn watch him go.

"Not a word," she said finally, when Cassian was out of earshot.  She narrowed her eyes at Bodhi.

He held up his hands.  "If Cassian is out, maybe Chirrut will be soon."

Jyn scowled.  "Cassian wasn't due to be out for several hours.  I bet Draven had him pulled out when he was well enough to answer questions.  Since our answers weren't good enough for him."

"Don't antagonize him," said Baze.  Jyn and Bodhi blinked.  "He has influence.  And maybe something we want."

He scowled when they looked baffled.  "Whatever happens next, it isn't a fight for makeshift infantry.  Or cargo pilots," he added, nodding at Bodhi.  "We make a deal: the cargo shuttle for something we can use to get out of here.  Something less conspicuous than a stolen Imperial cargo shuttle.  You could pilot it."

Bodhi considered.  Jyn crossed her arms.

"It's all right if you want to stay," Baze told her.

Jyn sighed.  "I think I need to stay," she said quietly.  "Even though getting out is almost certainly the sane choice."

Baze nodded, his lips pursed judiciously.  "I'm not sorry we followed you.  But, little sister, forgive me: I hope Chirrut doesn't want to stay."

Jyn nodded back, with a sad half-smile on her face.  "Thank you."  Her lips quirked up.  "Even if you were just following Chirrut, we couldn't have done it without you."  Baze bowed his head.  "Go check on him," Jyn added.  "I know you want to."  She managed a grin; he gave her a small fierce smile, and turned to go.

Jyn turned the chair around and sat, resting her chin on her crossed arms, looking at Bodhi, apparently waiting for him to say something.

"Are we really all going to go our separate ways?" he asked finally.

Jyn shrugged.  "We all wanted to fight, and we did.  Five of us made it out.  I'm sure the Rebellion would have a place for you, after this.  I don't know how often there would be opportunities like this, little pinpoint strikes, a chance for a few people to really hit the Empire.  It's all right if you decide this isn't who you are."  She looked at him and smiled a little.  "But if you want to stick around and find out if it is, that's all right too."

* * *

continues here (in case you came from a version of this post that doesn’t have the later edit at the top <3)

#bodhirookweek #this is sort of a setup thing for something else i've been messing with #not beta read #barely proofread lbr #;P #also i hope you don't mind lots of unspoken rebelcaptain and implied spiritassassin #though the latter is more ambiguously implied #i think #i need sleep but no this had to eat my brain #>.> #ficlet #my posts #in which i sentimentally keep everyone of the main cast alive but k2 #i couldn't think of a way to do that #:P #bodhi rook fic

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Locked In (Part 9)

Summary: Detective Winchester might have a lead on Sam but it comes at a cost...

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

Pairing: Detective!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, violence

A/N: So I might have broke my own heart a little while writing the end of this one...

“Hi, Dean,” you said into your phone as you piled the groceries into your trunk. 

“Hi sweetheart. Everything okay?” asked Dean, an edge to his voice.

“Yes,” you said, putting a smile in your words. “Guess what?”

“What?” he said. “I thought I was supposed to take a nap after my relaxing shower by the way.”

“Did you take a relaxing shower, Dean?” you asked. He hummed on the other end.

“Had to use some of your shampoo though. Apparently we’re out of mine,” said Dean and you knew he was rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to make you run back inside but-”

“I grabbed you some shampoo and deodorant. You were running low on that too,” you said, climbing into your car.

“Like I said, always taking care of me,” he chuckled. 

“Hold on a sec,” you said, letting your phone sync up with your car so you could go hands free. “So you haven’t guessed yet.”

“Did you pick up steak or something for dinner?” asked Dean, a poof of air in the background telling you he’d flopped down on your bed. Good. The poor boy needed to relax.

“Even better,” you said. “They had it for once.”

“Pecan? They never have pecan,” said Dean, a brief smile probably crossing his lips.

“It’s the little stuff,” you said, pulling out onto the road and getting stuck at one of the few lights in town. “I always catch this red.”

“You have horrible luck,” said Dean, hearing the tease in his voice.

“Alright, I’m gonna...” you trailed off, ready to hang up when you saw it. You’d glanced to your left, knowing this light always took forever and there he was, the face you’d seen a million times on posters and on screens, the one you’d committed to memory.

Henry Anderson.

“Dean, I see him. Anderson, he’s in the car right fucking next to me at this light,” you said, trying not to stare and tip him off.

“What kind of car?” asked Dean, bolting up from the sound of your head board smacking the wall and his feet on the floor.

“Maroon. Sedan. Looks older, maybe early 2000s. I can get a plate if I follow-”

“Do not follow that car, understand me?” said Dean, the light going green and the other car taking off.

“Sorry,” you said, going along after it. You told Dean the plate number and knew he was fuming.

“Fine, you got it,” said Dean. “Now get your ass out of there.”

“What if he’s going to where he has Sam?” you asked. “If you were in my position, you’d follow him.”

“Think about it, Y/N,” said Dean, trying to keep his cool. “He took down, Sam. Giant, strong, badass Sam. Don’t get me wrong, you're a badass in your own right but I cannot risk something happening to you. Please just pull into one of the other stores or something. Please.”

“Dean...” you said, knowing he was heading out of town and you only had a few seconds to make a decision.

“I’m begging you, Y/N. Please,” said Dean, the plead in his voice too strong to ignore. You turned left into the small lot of the hardware store and parked, watching the other car drive off down the road to who knew where.

“I’m in Franklin’s lot,” you said, hands shaking on the wheel. “I need to...I need to calm down before I can drive again.”

“I’ll come get you. Be there in five,” said Dean.

“You don’t have to,” you said, hearing him throw open your closet door and grab some clothes.

“I want to. I’ll get you and we’ll go to the station and...” Dean said but you stopped paying attention and looked out into the distance. 

“I think...I think the car is coming back Dean,” you said, grabbing your phone and stepping outside to get a better look.

“Do not...did you get out of your car?” Dean asked, his voice raising as you shut your door.

“Well there’s a bunch of trees and shit in the way! I-” you said, walking over to the passenger side to peer around the shrubs.

“Get the fuck back in your car and drive to the station. That’s an order,” said Dean, things slamming in the background.

“I’ll just go in Franklin’s,” you said, turning around and pretending to grab your purse from the passenger side door as the car came closer. “It’ll look fucking weird if I just get back...”

“Y/N?” you heard Dean shout as you took a step towards the end of your car. 

“He’s pulling into the fucking parking lot. What the fuck do I do?” you asked, knowing you were panicking. Dean was telling you to calm down and just get in your car but you already knew he’d seen you. “Oh shit.”

“Y/N!” Dean shouted through the phone as you scrambled into your car, the maroon one not pulling into a space but instead coming to a stop behind yours, blocking you in.

“I’m in the damn car and he’s blocked...oh God he’s getting out of the car,” you said, climbing into the drivers seat and turning the engine on.

“Put it in reverse and gun it,” said Dean. You did as told but there’s was no space for you even back up into and get some kind of momentum going. There was a solid cement wall in front of you that gave you no other option. “Y/N?”

“I’m fucked,” you said, Anderson standing a few feet away from your door with an amused look. 

“I radio’d Bryce. There should be someone there in two minutes, sweetheart,” said Dean, the sound of Baby’s engine revving in the background. “I’m coming for you.”

“Dean...” you said, watching as he walked over and curled his finger, telling you to get out. “It’s a maroon car and he was heading west, towards a bunch of the old farmhouses. That’s probably where Sam is...where I’ll be if I’m lucky.”

“Y/N, I am not letting this psycho get you too,” said Dean. You heard him wince in time with you as Anderson used a crowbar and smashed through your window. “Y/N!”

“Sorry darlin’ but you’re coming with me,” said Anderson, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you out of your car. You swung your right fist and connected with his jaw. You put up a pretty decent fight actually and managed to scamper away at one point. “I’m done playing,” he said, grabbing you and tossing you to the ground.

You could still hear Dean shouting through your phone as you saw the fist come down and you knew he was about to enter a whole new level of Hell.

“Rise and shine darlin’,” said a voice that made your skin crawl. You were groggy from being knocked out and stumbled on your feet as you were pulled out of a trunk. 

“Mmphf hmf,” you mumbled under the tape over your mouth. 

“Was that supposed to be a ‘Fuck you’? I don’t tolerate that kind of language,” he said, shoving you over so you feel on your arms bound behind your back. He kneeled down over you before holding up a knife. “Behave. I’m not sure if I want to kill you yet or not. I think Sam might be happier with a friend though. We’ll see.”

It was nighttime by now and you couldn’t see that well but knew at least your farmhouse theory had been correct. You were led inside and down a musty hall and then another before coming to a door that looked reinforced. Anderson undid a few bolts and the door flung open. The two of you went down a set of stairs to find a mostly empty basement.

Apart from Sam laying on a mattress in the corner facing the wall, something on his ankle tethering him to the spot.

“Hiya Sammy,” said Anderson and you saw the shake run through Sam’s body. God, you hoped Dean could find the two of you quick. “Brought you a present.”

“Go away,” said Sam quietly, still in his now filthy pajamas from over a week ago. 

“Sammy-”

“Stop calling me that!” Sam shouted as he spun around and sat up. His gaze landed on you and everything in his demeanor changed. “Let her go.”

“Sam, I can’t do that. She saw me,” said Anderson, leading you over to the corner opposite Sam and pushing you down.

“Let. Her. Go,” said Sam. Your captor looked more than a little surprised at Sam’s tone.

“Here I thought you were starting to be good for me, Sammy,” he said, wrapping something around one of your ankles before releasing you. You ripped the tape off your mouth and went to throw another punch but he’d barely given you enough room to lay down and he was quickly out of reach. “Teach her the rules. Next time she’s out of line, either of you are out of line, you both get it.”

Sam didn’t retort as he watched the man walk back up the stairs and lock the door behind him. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, standing and trying to take a step over to him but finding your foot catch. You tugged on it but it was a thick industrial cable you wouldn’t be getting it off anytime soon.

“Not really,” said Sam, shifting over to be as close as he could. “Probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“No, but I wasn’t expecting you to say you were having the time of your life,” you said, forcing a smile on your face.

“You look like you were in a bar fight. Dean’d be proud,” said Sam, reaching over with one of his long arms to wipe some blood away from your face.

“Dean’ll kill me if this guy doesn’t,” you said, using your shirt to wipe your face off as best you could. “I was stupid and followed the car when I saw it was Anderson.”

“You weren’t stupid, Y/N,” said Sam, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes I was. If I hadn’t followed it, he never would have seen me. Dean is going to murder me when he finds us,” you said, looking around. If Sam hadn’t found a way out yet you certainly weren’t going to.

“First off, you were trying to save me so relax. It’s my fault this happened anyways,” said Sam, letting his hand slip away.

“No it’s not. It’s mine,” you said, turning to see Sam with a sad smile.

“Don’t go all Dean on me Y/N. When I say my fault...” said Sam, rubbing his hands against his head. “This guy is a fucking psycho, wants me to be his kid or family or something. Well, I’ve already got one with you and Dean so I told him to go screw himself. He said earlier today he was going to go get me something to try and make me happy. I really don’t think you followed him, Y/N. I think he was waiting to get you alone so he could take you too. I think...I think he was coming after you whether you knew it or not.”

“If that’s true, it’s still not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” you said, turning over your scratched up hands. 

“Were you getting close? To finding this place?” asked Sam. You shook your head, even if you thought Dean might have a chance now. It could take ages to find you and you didn’t want Sam to have false hope. It wasn’t like there weren’t about fifty farms heading west or anything. “I just want to go home.”

“Dean’ll save us. I just hope he doesn’t lose himself along the way when he does.”

Dean’s POV

“Detective Winchester?” asked Bryce, handing me a cup of coffee as I sat behind Y/N’s desk.

“Thanks, rookie,” I said, taking the styrofoam cup from him. I downed most of it in one shot, even if it burned and had no cream or sugar. Y/N always put those in for me. I couldn’t think about stuff like that if I was getting them back. 

“They aren’t going to take you off the case,” said Bryce, looking around to the outside officers who were working away at developing a search plan.

“Conflict of interest much? They barely let me stay on when it was just Sam. Y/N too? They’re afraid I’m going to go in guns blazing,” I said, finding Y/N’s stress ball off her desk and squeezing it hard. “Fuck, Bryce, I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“It’s Y/N. She isn’t going down without a fight,” said Bryce, pulling over a chair and taking a seat nearby. “Come on. We’ll stop at the diner for a quick dinner and then come back.”

“Bryce, I don’t need-”

“Excuse me but I wasn’t exactly asking, Detective Winchester,” said Bryce, crossing his arms. “You going to let me take care of you like Y/N and Sam would want or are you going to stew and make things worse?”

“Thanks Cas,” I said after a moment, seeing the confused look on Bryce’s face. “What? You didn’t think I knew your last name or something Castiel?”

“I just...you always call me rookie or Bryce,” he said, running a hand through his short black hair.

“If you’re going to insist on calling me Detective Winchester at work then I should start calling you Officer Castiel. You’re not a rookie anymore. Not after this,” I said. 

“Thanks Dean,” he said. “You’ve got to be the strangest best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Come on,” I said standing up, trying not to let it show that no one had ever called me their best friend before. No one apart from the two people who were depending on me to save them. “Let’s grab a bite and then get back to work.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

A/N: Read part 10 here!

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