#the great twenty thing left a SUPER bad taste in my mouth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruhlsbees · 3 years

Text

better man || ken hutchinson x fem!reader

summary: still wrecked from being put on suspension and learning about starsky's application to be transfered, hutch calls you to come over to comfort him

pairing: ken hutchinson x fem!reader

word count: 4,762

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, angst, maybe a little ooc!hutch?? i made him super soft in this

a/n: pls accept this soft!hutch fic as the first of many owen wilson related content coming from yours truly

You weren’t expecting to get a phone call from him that night, let alone ask for you to come over.

It wasn’t his usual night for you to meet up. The both of you had a mutual understanding of each other’s outside lives - him working during the day, you working at night. Unless he came around to Huggy’s, you’d only ever see him on the night you had off - where it was usually spent at his house, listening to him play the guitar and having one too many drinks.

So when you got a call from him that night only minutes before leaving for work, desperately pleading with you to call in, you couldn’t help but ask why.

“Huggy ain’t gonna like this, Hutch. You know we are already short-staffed with the girls. Can’t you come down to Huggy’s and we can talk there? What’s going on?”

You heard him whine faintly over the phone, sighing throughout your words as he tried to think of a good reason on the other end as to why he wanted to see you. Would it be so wrong to just say he just missed you?

“Tell Huggy I’ll pick up some extra jobs for him. Tell him I’ll owe him any favor he wants if you can get tonight off. Please, do this for me. Just this once.”

Something about the phrase ‘just this one’ didn’t sound too believable. Hutch had a good way of getting what he wanted even if he said prior that it was just a one time thing. But you couldn’t point all the fault to him, cause every promise you believed - you still ended up giving in.

“Fine,” You agreed after a moment of thinking, “I’ll give Huggy a call and then I’ll head over. Just give me a little bit to change. I’m not walking down the road in my work uniform. I don’t need to get picked up.”

Before you could get another word out, you heard Hutch rush his goodbye before hearing the phone call end with a ‘click’.

So after calling into work, relaying the deal that Hutch wanted you to negotiate with Huggy, you were free from your night of dancing down at Huggy’s Place and changed out of your uniform and into something less revealing and more comfortable.

Whether you would just be taking them off when you got there or not didn’t matter, you weren’t heading out into the neighborhood in your nightclub uniform for someone to mistake you for something you weren’t.

It only took you about twenty minutes before you were at Hutch’s front door, rapping your knuckles against his screen door until you waited for him to let you in or call for you to just come in. Not even thirty seconds later the door opened and you were greeted by Hutch.

“Hey...thanks for stopping by.” He greeted, stepping out of the way for you to walk in before he shut and locked his door. You nodded, slipping your shoes off before heading into his living room.

“Yeah, no problem. Huggy said he’d let you know if he needed a favor by the way, but he also said if you were going to start making this a habit, you’d need to pay for me to come over.” Unzipping your sweatshirt, you tossed it on his couch before turning, looking back at him.

Chuckling to himself, Hutch shook his head and made his way towards you, hands at his waist until his toes touched yours, hovering above you.

“Why do I get the feeling you made that last bit up?” He questioned, smirking down at you. You returned the smirk back, shrugging your shoulders before your hands moved to the front of his button up, resting on his chest as you hummed.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” You moved your hands up his chest before wrapping them around his neck, feeling his own arms wrap around your waist as he kept you close. “So are you going to tell me what you called me over here for or what?”

Leaning forward, Hutch pressed his lips to your forehead, exhaling through his nose while he held his position for a moment, until he pulled back to look down at you.

“Work stuff. Apparently I’m a shit cop with a partner who would rather transfer to another precinct than work with me,” He paused, shaking his head and pulling back from you, heading over to his couch to plop down on, running his hands over his legs, “Guy’s such a tight ass, I don’t know why I’m even letting him get to me.”

With a sympathetic smile, you listened to him carefully until he was finished, heading over and sitting down in the spot beside him, your left hand going to his hair to play with while your right hand found one of his hands to hold.

“It sounds like you care about him...and care about how he sees you,” Before he could protest your observation, you moved your hand from his and pressed your fingers to his lips to hush him, “You’re not a bad cop. Yeah your ethic might not be as union-friendly as it could be, but that doesn’t make you a bad cop. You’re a good cop, a great detective, and an even better man.”

Your words came to him like a prayer, taking in every syllable you spoke. He hadn’t planned on you coming over to praise him, but damn did you do a good job with it, and it did cheer him up...so maybe all along this was what he was looking for.

The relationship you had with Hutch was...interesting to say the least. It was well known down at Huggy’s that you were his favorite dancer and he was your favorite customer. The first time he walked in alone turned your legs to jelly and ever since then he had you wrapped around his finger.

What you had going on had been happening for a while now, escalating into not-so-secret evenings spent together at his place usually. Maybe it was just a hookup sort of deal, but you ignored that idea entirely, focusing on how Hutch made you feel.

He was a flirt with any pair of legs that walked by him, but he always knew how to make you feel special. The other girls down at Huggy’s always seemed to point out how well he would tip you, or even the look he’d give when you were giving him a dance. ‘He’s a customer, that’s what customers do,’ you’d remind them.

But that wasn’t the entire truth. You knew not too deep down you enjoyed being the only one he looked at, being his girl on the nights he came in and his pretty thing when you’d go to his house. The sex with him was great, there wasn’t any doubt about that, but you enjoyed the nights just as much when you didn’t have sex - when all you did was talk.

It felt, almost, like something real...hell, like you were dating.

His eyes moved from the coffee table and to you, smiling weakly as his blue eyes took you in. You looked tired, drained from the long nights at work, but there was still something so gentle about you, so pure.

“You’re the prettiest thing to walk this Earth, you know that?” Hutch whispered, head beginning to lull forward, closing the space between you.

Blushing, you followed in suit, your own face leaning closer to his, “When did you start going soft on me?” You found yourself asking, but before he could answer, your lips were already on him.

Humming into the kiss, your hands moved to cradle his face, holding either side in your hands as you were pulled into his lap, straddling him now as you continued to make out on the couch. He tasted sweet like honey and bitter like whiskey - overall though, sensuous.

You felt his hands run up your back, under your shirt until his fingers found the back of your bra. Being the man Hutch was, the back of a bra was like the back of his own hand. He could unhook a bra in his sleep if he wanted.

Maybe he was a grade a sleaze for the most part, but in times like this when that facade broke, and Hutch was just himself, nothing else really mattered besides you and him.

Pulling away from him, you leaned back to pull your shirt off, slipping your bra off your shoulders before tossing it to the side to join your t-shirt. At the sight of your exposed breasts, Hutch leaned forward with a sigh, his mouth warming your left breast while his right hand massaged at your other.

“O-Oh...Ken.” His name left your mouth like a song, holding his head close to you as he continued to suckle at your nipple, overstimulating your breasts until you began to shake in his arms.

Pulling away with a ‘pop’, Hutch looked up at you with a smile, keeping his eyes on you as he kissed up your chest, to your neck, before finally reaching your face. As he made his way up your body, your fingers found the front of his shirt and began to fumble with the buttons until his chest became exposed.

“You know everyone calls me Hutch, right?” He reminded you, smiling against your cheek before peppering your face with kisses. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his face, hurting his cheeks at the sound of your laughs.

“I know that, but you’re my Ken. Can’t I call you Ken when we’re alone?” You watched as his face pulled away, smiling your way and looking at you so endearing, as if you were his. Could there ever be a time where you could call him yours?

You shivered under his touch when you felt his calloused hand hold your face, fingers bending to stroke up the side of your face, “You can call me whatever you want.”

Pushing his shirt off his shoulders, you leaned forward and pressed yourself against his warm torso, wrapping your arms around him again as you went back in for another deep kiss. This time, while his right arm was wrapped tight around your middle, his left hand held your ass, lifting you up as he carried you to his bedroom.

Clinging to him until your back hit the mattress, you sank into his bed with ease, sighing against his lips as your muscles relaxed. He always did have a better mattress than you did. You were half expecting him to stay on top of you.

At first you were disappointed when he stood up, standing at the foot of his bed, only for that disappointment to turn into a grin when you saw him unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans and boxers down. He leaned forward and grabbed the waistband of your pants, yanking them down your legs and off, throwing them behind him.

Grabbing onto your calves, Hutch pulled your body down his bed and towards him, grinning at the way you stretched out on his bed, staring up at him with that serene look he always felt safe with. Before he could lean forward to sink his teeth into your plush thighs, you unexpectedly grabbed him there, possessively almost, your gaze darkening when you met his.

He choked on his words when your grip tightened around the base of his cock, slowly pumping him - your eyes never leaving his. His chest raised and fell back, staring down at your hand until his chest tightened, closing his eyes.

You leaned forward and swiped the tip of his cock with your tongue, continuing to slowly pump him as you heard the low grunts come from him above you, his head falling back and mouth gaped open.

“Y-You don’t gotta do that, you know.” He choked out, gasping when he felt you spit on him to later in your hand, the slick sounds of your spit mixed with his pre-cum sending him over the edge.

Pulling his cock up, you leaned forward and took his tightened balls in your mouth, sucking on them before pulling back and letting them fall out of your mouth. At this point, Hutch didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold on.

“I know, but I want to. You always take care of everyone, why don’t you let me take care of you?”

He carefully opened his eyes and let his head fall back forwards, looking down at you and reaching forward to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch before feeling him shift in front of you.

Crawling on top of you again, Hutch pulled you up by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he quickly positioned himself at your entrance, running the tip of his cock between your folds, sighing at how wet you already were.

“Next time,” He promised, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even possible, “Right now I just need to be in you. Okay?”

Nodding, your hands found his shoulders, holding onto them as your head settled into his pillows, staring up at him. You couldn’t help but admire his features; how his eyes were blue but sometimes twinkled green, the obvious bend to his nose where he broke it all those years ago, and even if you never meant to kiss him - you still ended up doing so because his lips were just that desirable.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You found yourself admitting, blushing when you caught the words slip out of your mouth. He didn’t seem to mind though, his cheeks going pink for a moment before he kissed you quickly.

“That’s supposed to be my line, you know that?” He teased, mocking you. Before you could really lay it on him, wanting to be the one to have the last word, your breath hitched to your throat, choking on your words as he suddenly pushed inside of you, filling you up instantly.

Hutch wasn’t cruel, he could be rough sometimes in bed, but he wouldn’t let you spend the entire time wincing away in pain. As he stayed inside you, feeling your walls clutch almost too tight around him, he waited until you adjusted to him, letting out a shaky breath before nodding for him to continue.

You didn’t need to tell him verbally to move, your nod was enough for him to grip the sheets beside your head and begin pumping in and out of you, staring down at your face as your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape and your eyes fluttered shut.

He couldn’t say it enough, how beautiful you were. In the dark overcast you were his sunshine. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much to know that you weren’t truly his.

You could lay under him all day, any day, crying out his name and whimpering in his neck until you both came undone together - but there was still that empty feeling inside of him, like something was missing.

As a cop, he knew he had a commitment to his job that left him with a bare minimum social life - which is why he was often found socializing on the hour. It wouldn’t be fair for you to be sitting around waiting for him to come home everyday - Jesus, was that the best excuse he could come up with?

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He knew the real reason why - of all the men on your street, hell, in Bay City in general, there were plenty of better men out there than him. Hutch was selfish and if he couldn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone to.

“Hutch? I think I’m close.”

Pulling out of his thoughts, Hutch looked down at you, feeling your hands move to hold his face as your body began to tremble under him. How long had he been thinking for you to already be close?

That didn’t matter though, the clamping of your walls around him were enough for him to feel his own climax rising. Nodding his head, Hutch grabbed onto you and pulled you up, flipping so he was sitting and you were in his lap.

His face fell back into your breasts, cheek resting over your heartbeat and listening as the rhythmic pumping picked up as you clung onto him tighter, bouncing in his lap. With his fingers sinking into your sides, Hutch kept you at your current pace, helping you move when your thighs began to quiver and you began to choke up.

This was about him, you had to remind yourself. This wasn’t anything more than a quick fuck, and maybe that’s why it hurt so bad to feel him hold you the way he did. With your own face resting on the crown of his head, kissing his hair, your hands grabbed onto any part of him you could find.

Continuing to rut up inside you, leaving you bouncing in his lap like a ragdoll, your stomach began to twist and coil into knots, leaving your walls pulsating around him. Usually you’d last longer than what you were going at tonight, but you weren’t complaining, and neither was Hutch.

When he heard your breath hitch, your movements freezing, his own movements picked up, feeling everything inside of him tighten and burn up until he was coming undone inside you, gasping against your skin, pressing light kisses to your collarbones.

You weren’t far behind, whimpering when your toes curled as you felt the wave of relief hit you, the high feelings hitting you like a wall until you laid slack against him in his arms. Hutch held you in his arms, stroking your hair, “Don’t worry...I got you.”

When the both of you finally came down from your high, Hutch felt you push off of him, groaning at the loss of weight inside of you and the loss of heat for him. You weren’t entirely sure if he wanted you to stay, or if this was just what he wanted you for, so you began to search for your clothes, picking your jeans off the floor until you felt his hand grab your wrist.

Turning you first looked down at his hand before at him, seeing him seated in the same spot, his bangs sticking to his slicked forehead. He looked tired, but more at peace than before when you first arrived. You sent him a smile, moving your hand to hold his, giving it a squeeze.

“I should probably go so you can get some slee-”

“I’m not working right now...you don’t gotta leave just yet, if you don’t want to,” He moved his thumb over your knuckles, gently caressing your hand until he pulled you towards him again, “You could stay the night if you wanted to.”

Now this was new. You had never spent the night with him before, let alone did he ever offer you to. There was the one time when you had quite a bit too much to drink, but you insisted on him just walking you back home. Tonight though, tonight he had actually thrown out the idea for you to stay with him.

At first you didn’t know if you should, but with how he was already feeling, how you were feeling in the moment, and how late it was - you knew you’d regret it if you didn’t say yes.

After not-so-careful consideration, you smiled weakly and nodded, “I’d like that.” Your words came out in a hush and before you knew it you were being pulled down into his bed, letting him hold you in his arms as he pulled the covers over the two of you.

You weren’t exactly tired, seeing as though you were usually up late anyways, but in that moment - feeling the weight and warmth of him around you - the safety and security of him brought you into a slow lull.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you hummed quietly as you felt his fingers trace patterns along your back, his movements growing slower until the both of you fell into a state of slumber.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Hutch wasn’t expecting to wake up to the smell of bacon being cooked, nor was he expecting to hear the sound of you singing ‘Good Vibrations’. It was a pleasant surprise though, one that he could get used to.

Shifting his body a little in bed, Hutch stretched up and reached towards the shelf above his bed, pulling up his alarm clock to see that it was going on just a little after nine. It wasn’t too early for him, but he knew for you it must have been hell getting up.

Then he began to think, had you even slept the night before?

It didn’t take him long to get dressed. Pulling out a clean pair of boxers and one of his old concert t-shirts, Hutch headed out of his room and down the hall towards the kitchen. At the sight of you lost in your own thoughts, dishing out food onto plates, Hutch could only lean against the doorway and admire you.

To think - he got so lucky, and yet you weren’t even his.

When you turned around, the plates in your hand, you jumped at the sudden sight of him, letting out a gasp before settling back down, letting out a weak laugh to match his.

“Hutch! Hi, morning - I’m sorry, was I being too loud? I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” You explained sheepishly.

Shaking his head, Hutch took a couple steps forward towards you, taking one of the plates from you before kissing your cheek, “No, you weren’t being too loud. Sorry for ruining your surprise.” He listened to you tell him not to worry about it, beginning to ramble on about how you couldn’t sleep and went out to get stuff to make breakfast.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but now that he was hovering over you, he noticed you were wearing one of his turtlenecks, the long-sleeve swallowing you. When you realized he had noticed, you watched his free hand grab onto your waist, his thumb running up and down.

“I can take it off, I just couldn’t find my-”

“No, no, don't worry. It looks good on you. Hell, I think it looks better on you than it does me.” He admitted, watching as you smiled and shook your head.

“That’s not true, you always look good in your turtlenecks.” You leaned forward and met him in the middle with a kiss, pulling away after a moment to follow him into the living room, settling on the couch to enjoy breakfast.

He appreciated the kind gesture, having you take care of him the night before and that morning after explaining his situation with work. It made him realize just how much you cared for him, and how much he began to accept the feelings he had for you.

Chewing on his strip of bacon, Hutch glanced over your way and watched as you were contently eating, your eyes casted down at your plate, thinking to yourself. Leaning towards you, Hutch pressed another gentle kiss to your cheek, watching as your head pulled up and looked towards him.

“Thank you, for everything,” He began. When you opened your mouth to tell him that it wasn’t anything, he stopped you by stuffing the rest of his bacon strip in your mouth, smiling as you giggled, “What are you doing today?” He asked out of the blue.

After chewing the rest of the strip of bacon, you shook your head, “Nothing...tonight’s my day off so I don’t really do anything,” You explained, watching as he nodded his head in thought. “Why?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Hutch dropped his head down towards his plate, picking at the eggs, “Oh, nothing really I was just thinking that since you’re here, and wanted to, maybe you and I could go out for dinner or something? If you were up to do something today?”

Taken back by his suggestion, your expression faltered slightly, not sure how to take his offer. Would you be going out to dinner as friends?

“LIke a date?” You questioned hesitantly, clearing your throat to choke back your own nerves with the question.

You were surprised entirely to see him nod, smiling at his plate before he looked back up at you. “Yeah...a date.”

Staring at one another, Hutch carefully watched your face, waiting for your reaction. When you let out a laugh, Hutch frowned, cheeks going pink at the embarrassment that now settled in.

Had he gotten the wrong expression all this time? Were you not interested in the way he was with you?

Seeing how red he became, your laughs died down and you reached towards him, grabbing the back of his neck before pulling yourself to him for a kiss. When you pulled away, you saw him return the smile, visibly relaxing.

“Ken Hutchinson, when did it become so hard for you to ask a girl out?” You teased, caressing the side of his face. He shrugged his shoulders before leaning forward to kiss you again.

“When ‘that girl’ is someone I really like.” It was your turn to turn red, falling back in your spot, looking back down at your plate with a smile stained to your cheeks. So he did like you like that. “I just hope she feels the same way.” He whispered.

“She does,” You confirmed, slowly picking at your eggs, chewing them carefully so you didn’t choke, trying to find the right words to say next. “She just didn’t think you liked her.”

He couldn’t question why you had thought that, because it was the same way for him. At this point, the both of you were settled on the couch silently kicking yourselves as the revelations became clear. All this time, mutual pinning, and yet neither of you were able to see it.

“So it’s a date?” He confirmed after a minute, waiting for your answer.

Smiling, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yes, it’s a date.”

Letting his head fall back down to his plate, Hutch finished the rest of his plate with a smile on his face, the same as you. This time, while you ate, your body perked up at the thought of going on a date with Hutch. What would you wear? Where would you guys go?

For the rest of breakfast, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, eating the rest of the food that you made that sat in the kitchen before you decided it was time to go - wanting to get some sleep and get ready at your own place for that night.

Later that night, when Hutch came to pick you up, you were pleasantly surprised to see him holding a small bouquet of roses, wearing one of your favorite outfits of his - a pair of slacks, his black turtleneck, and brown jacket.

On the other hand, he nearly sank to his knees at the sight of you dolled up. Wearing a dark red dress that stopped at your calves, paired with a pair of black heels and makeup to match. He all but choked up on his words, watching as you pulled the bouquet from his hands to smell.

“Thank you, Ken, these are beautiful.” You noted, smiling up at him.

His own lips pulled into a smile, hands stuffed in the pocket of his slacks to keep from nervously twiddling with his fingers, “Well I had to find something equally as beautiful to match the owner of them.”

You blushed at his words, nodding in acknowledgement before motioning to the inside of your place, “Let me go put these in a vase really quick, and then we can go.”

Nodding, Hutch watched you walk inside and towards your kitchen, waiting out on the front porch for you.

Turning towards the street, the moon illuminating the neighborhood, Hutch couldn’t help the smile that stuck to his face, or the warm feeling he had in his belly. At that moment, he could believe your words now from the night before. It didn’t matter what anyone else said, so long as you believed in him.

With you, he knew he could be a better man.

#owen wilson #owen wilson imagine #owen wilson smut #hutch #ken hutchinson #ken hutchinson x reader #ken hutchinson x you #ken hutchinson imagine #ken hutchinson smut #starsky and hutch 2004 #starsky and hutch movie

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virgil-writes · 3 years

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two

chapter 2 - horned god in the woods

SFW, Heisenberg being Heisenberg, 1.3K words.

The beauty of Castle Dimitrescu did wonders to mask the brutality that took place inside its walls, Heisenberg mused as he crossed the main hall. Gold wherever one looked, comfortable cushions made of velvet to make any old butt feel like royalty. The curtains probably cost more than all the furniture he had in his own chambers combined, he’d wager, the shiny brocade imported from some far away country, crafted by hand by the finest whatever they were called, et cetera, et cetera. Alcina would always pick something to brag about, the rugs to the drapes to the china to the wine, and always when he was within earshot. She would invariably compare her riches and elegance to the riffraff of a sibling she had - not that she would name any names. He had always wondered why she bothered, considering that none of the foreigners, dignitaries or peasants that heard her tales ever lived long enough to appreciate them. Regardless, he always made sure to trek through the mud when he came to visit, use her curtains as an ashtray, throw a doily in the fireplace. It had become a bit of a game, to see how long it would take before she finally noticed he had left his mark, and the worse she treated him, the worse he’d ruin her precious property.

Twenty three years and counting was the longest he had gone unnoticed, a fight bad enough erupting over her insulting his long dead parents that she had threatened to slice him to ribbons when he fired back. He remembers the headache the morning after, the soreness in his throat from yelling so much. Remembers the tears, too, though he had bitterly swallowed them as she opened the floodgate of shit she called her mouth. When the metal claws came out, he had ripped them right out of their sockets, her knuckles bleeding as she looked to Miranda for something, anything. Mother intervened when he pointed all of the blades to his sister’s neck.

He had gone down to her basement that night, while the others tended to her injuries, or at least pretended to. Super-sized bitch always did regenerate faster than all of them. He had stomped out in the front door’s direction, only to take a turn through the courtyard and into the dining room. Sneaked past the kitchen maids, into the tasting room and down to the vats. The place was dark and damp, and like most everywhere else, it reeked of blood and death. Heisenberg soon found what he was looking for: the barrel of fresh wine she had boasted about earlier that evening, ready to be bottled, aged, and then sold for a premium. It had been twenty three years since he had unzipped his pants and pissed inside that barrel, a confused moroaicǎ that was too slow to catch him as his only witness. Not that she would tell on him. He thought about that barrel sometimes, and every day that passed since the whole situation it sounded funnier. He almost wanted to tell her sometimes, ask her to rename the vintage - A Taste of Heisenberg.

The frequency of their “family gatherings” diminished after that, and Miranda had asked him, kindly, that he never harm any of his siblings again. “Or else” implied. An idle threat, naturally; Miranda had influence, but no power over their choices. As it stood then, he had nothing to oppose her, his powers still growing, uses still being explored. As for now, she had played with their heads to get their full devotion - even if he could kill her, he would still have his siblings to deal with.

He’d taken to spending ever more time in his factory then, his public appearances kept to a minimum. Sometimes she would request that he visit the village to grace them with his divine presence, to bless some newborn named after him. None would go past the gate or the altar, and most did not even know a way to open the way to his home. Even Miranda had no domain over his mountain, and he had gone through great pains to make sure it became an impenetrable fortress. For that reason they rarely visited him, and such occurrences dwindled even more in the years that followed; no one had dared to set foot inside his factory after the incident. All the better for him.

“My lord, I would speak to you, if you allow me to do so?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the pathetic voice of the servant he had seen earlier, all rags and bruises and a mess of hair, kindness in her eyes. She looked starved and sleep deprived, empty silver tray shaking in her hands even though she held onto it for dear life.

She had stopped him in the hallway before he could step outside, her cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat resting on her brow. It seemed to him like she had run all the way to catch up, a sense of urgency in her words as she spoke. She had no reaction when he lowered his glasses to get a good look at her, flashed her his best smile.

“I thought it best to warn you, Lord Heisenberg. About the beast that lurks in the woods.” There was… Concern? In her expression. Like she feared he, too, would disappear like the others, or be drained of blood and left to rot in the snow. Had she any idea who she was speaking to? Was he not revered as a God, offerings made in his honor, heads bowed as he passed? “The Horned God stalks the forest. A great beast with a voice of thunder.” Her voice was quiet and solemn, tray falling to the side as she freed her other hand to cup over her mouth. “Some say it can shift from beast to man, take the form of a beautiful maiden of raven hair. Most dare not speak of it, but others…” She trailed off and looked around, worried that their little exchange would be heard by another maid, or worse still, by one of the ladies of the castle. “It has been known to trick those who stray from the Black God. It offers to heal their families and hurt their enemies, to perform rituals bathed in blood. What it asks for in return I do not know for certain; I would never dare to speak to a heretic who would contact such a monster.”

He had found it all too amusing, but something about her terrified expression, the way she had held her hands together in prayer as she finished saying her piece, had all but crushed his urge to burst out laughing.

“Good, my hunting skills have been a little rusty.” He offered in response, adjusting the hammer over his shoulder. “What better way to practice than to kill a god, huh?” She shushed him as his voice roared, apologizing immediately after, whispering a plea to not tell the lady anything about any of it. “Your secret is safe with me,” Heisenberg put his hand over his heart, the missing touch of melodrama that permeated all of his performances. “Thanks, darling.” He held her chin up to look at him as he spoke, and there it was, that blush again. Ah, he did so love… Entertaining maidens. “Any idea where I can find this thing?”

“Past the West Old Town and into the forest deep, my lord.” She announced in that same somber tone, as if this was the last time she’d ever see him. All things considered, it might be.

“Take care, sweet pea.” He waved as he walked away, pushing the doors to the castle open to be greeted by the comfort and vastness of the field of snow.

Heisenberg searched through his pockets as he made his way across the village, humming a tune and watching as every window and door shut with a bang at the mere sign of the sunset. In the distance, the familiar sound of lycans making their way to town to prey on unsuspecting victims, howls he had become far too accustomed to.

A screw, some knives, some change, but not much else. He wondered if the “Horned God” would accept some whiskey.

#resident evil village #re 8 #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #virgil writes #m: ash & soot

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echo-bleu · 3 years

Text

no one ever said it would be this hard

For @moonlight-breeze-44 Happy birthday Em!! I hope you like this. I made it all angsty and painful for you 💙

I've been wanting to write Alec breaking down after breaking up with Magnus for a good while, and this was a great opportunity. This is part of my map out a world series (though there's no need to read the other parts first as it's mostly canon compliant), but it can reasonably be read as a prequel to take me back to the start, too. Hence the Coldplay title.

Huge thanks to my amazing beta @jeanboulet who edited this super fast and helped me figure out a title.

[self-harm, self-injurious stims, meltdown, blood, dissociation]

Read on AO3.

It should be raining, or something. There should be some kind of external sign that the world has just turned on its axis. The night shouldn’t be this… normal.

Alec runs back to the Institute on autopilot. He doesn’t even realize that he’s forgotten to activate his speed rune until he arrives, panting, at the front doors. He runs fast enough to make his lungs burn, because it prevents him from crying all the tears in his body. He shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it feel any less like his whole world just ended.

Maybe because it did.

“Alec!”

He’s assaulted by Izzy as soon as he steps inside. He doesn’t even have time to take his hand off the handle of the door before she’s in his space, shouting. Something about Jonathan. Something about Clary. Something—

Wait. He didn’t follow any of that, but something clicks in his mind. He felt pain in the parabatai bond, before. He didn’t really feel it, with how fucking tense he was, but he noted it in a corner of his mind somehow. Jace is hurt. Izzy is panicked. Clary is… missing, if what his brain is parsing together is right. Jonathan is gone.

Fuck.

Alec pushes it all away. He knows how to do it, how to switch to soldier mode. Dissociate his feelings from his actions, make his body and his brain do what needs to be done. He’s always known. It was the first thing he learned, long before the Academy, long before formal training. He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, there is nothing but complete clarity.

As long as he holds on tight.

He takes Izzy by the shoulders. “Tell me again.”

“Jonathan got into Clary’s head!” Izzy shouts again, too loud in his ears, like she can’t control the level of her voice in her panic. Alec doesn’t wince. He doesn’t feel pain the same way, when he does this.

It’s useful. He can just hold her tighter and get the whole story out of her, how Clary knocked Jace out and freed Jonathan. “They’re gone.”

“Okay,” Alec murmurs, for Izzy’s benefit. “Okay. Calm down. We need to secure the premises.”

“Already done, sir,” Underhill comes behind Izzy. “No sign of them. We have a Seelie knight dead in the observation cell. Three dead guards.”

Alec tightens his fists, remembering just in time to let go of Izzy first. He doesn’t feel his nails digging into his palms. He doesn’t feel his phone buzzing in his pocket with the Institute-wide alert. He doesn’t feel.

It’s a good thing.

“Izzy, go find Jace,” he orders. “Underhill, I need a full sweep. Where’s Jens?”

Underhill points to the Ops table, beside which Jens is talking on the phone. Izzy shakes herself – she’s no stranger to obeying orders, either – and she jogs away. Alec doesn’t bother tracking where she’s going. He knows he’s operating on limited bandwidth, limited energy. He has to rely on his subordinates.

“I’ve informed the Clave,” Jens says over the noise of the ops center as soon as he hangs up his phone.

Alec walks up to him, Underhill on his heels.

“Sir,” Underhill starts, agitated. “Won’t they—”

“They will, but we can’t do without it now,” Alec says. “I assume they’re reinstating the kill order?”

“Yes,” Jens confirms. “We have orders to put all our available teams on it, and they will send additional ones in the morning.”

Alec places his hands flat on the edge of the table, and takes strength from the pressure for a second. “Brief the teams. Capture, don’t kill. I’ll handle the Clave.”

Underhill nods at his dismissal and walks away, but Jens lingers. Alec grits his teeth. There’s so much to do, and so little time to do it, and he can’t let go now.

“Alec, is everything alright?” Jens asks – not softly, not exactly, but he can see what no one else notices. He’s known Alec forever. He’s known Alec better than his own siblings for years.

“I can’t do this now,” Alec responds honestly. He can barely make himself speak out loud.

“The Clave is handled for now,” Jens answers. He’s switching almost automatically to trying to relieve Alec of as many duties as possible, like well-oiled machinery. He knows exactly when to push Alec, and when to hold back. He knows that Alec can’t handle more pressure now. “They’ll call if they need more intel. Paperwork can wait.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” Alec says. Maybe he won’t be able to handle it later.

“It will,” Jens asserts. “Go to your siblings. I can hold the fort.”

Alec sighs. He can’t slip now. He nods at Jens and grips the edges of the table tighter.

Jace, Izzy and Simon, his presence almost incongruous, stride up on the catwalk at that moment. “Alec!”

Alec moves like he’s in a sea of treacle. Every muscle in his body is tenser than a guitar string. It must be visible, because Izzy gives him a look of concern. Or maybe she suspects what he abandoned them for.

Fuck. He was supposed to be there with them. If he had been, maybe—

It almost makes him crumble. He stumbles, just barely, and pulls his control back tighter. They have a whole conversation around him about the Clave’s orders and the Heavenly Fire serum, and Alec is sure that he participates in some way, but he would be hard-pressed to say how.

He’s entirely unsure of what happens for the rest of the night. Or the next day. He doesn’t have a single second to himself to reflect on things, and it’s good. He’s fairly sure that he allows Jace desperate measures that he would have never signed on otherwise, but, well, Jace needs to get Clary back. One of them needs to end this with their heart intact.

There’s one moment, during the day, when Jace asks about Magnus. Alec nearly crumples just at hearing his name. “Sometimes things don’t go the way you want them to.” He hears the words coming out of his mouth like he’s far away, in another world, another universe. There’s a version of him that enunciates them, and Alec has lost track which. Alec the Clave soldier doesn’t have room for any of that. And he’s closed the door on any other part of him.

He falters for one moment, and as soon as Jace leaves his office, he activates half the runes on his body, just to anchor himself on the rush of energy. Stamina. He hasn’t slept in almost three days. Strength. His body feels like jelly. Calm Anger. It pushes everything back down.

And if he abuses them, well, no one else needs to know.

He’s sitting on his bed when his siblings find him. It must have been, what, six hours since Jace was thrown back through a portal into the Institute? He’s frozen, afraid that if he moves an inch, he’ll shatter into pieces.

He hasn’t moved for hours. He’s sitting with his back perfectly straight, his feet flat on the ground, still fully dressed in patrol gear, long past the time when the position should have become uncomfortable – but he can’t even feel it. His hands are clasped together, too tight, his knuckles white with the effort. Stuck.

He doesn’t move when Izzy and Jace knock, and at his lack of answer, they slip inside. He can’t look up at them, he can’t react. He clenches his jaw hard and tries not to fall apart.

“Alec,” Izzy calls quietly, passing through his field of vision. She disappears briefly and reappears kneeling beside him, just shy of touching him. Alec wants to jerk out of the way, but his body doesn’t obey.

“Alec, you’re feeling really awful, buddy,” Jace says, crouching on the other side.

Alec breathes carefully, evenly, as he has for hours, until there’s a hitch. His breathing goes out of sync with his brain, with his locked down body, and it crumbles. He falls apart.

He crumples in on himself, chin reaching his knees as he curls up, gasping. He digs his thumbs into his forehead and, when that doesn’t work, he stuffs his fingers into his mouth and bites down hard. He slips off the bed and falls onto the floor, and the pain of hitting his back against the bed frame doesn’t even register as he starts to rock back and forth.

“Alec!” Izzy reacts. But she doesn’t try to touch him. She knows if won’t go over well.

Jace doesn’t have the same compulsion, not when Alec’s fingers are still in his mouth and he’s tasting iron. Blood. “Alec, you have to stop,” he tries. He approaches his hand to pull on Alec’s forearm, but as soon as their skins touch, Alec lets out a strangled cry and backs away, into the bed frame, then brutally onto the bed, until he’s backed up against the headboard.

Fuck. The urge to hit his head to dull the agony is irresistible, and it makes a thud as pain erupts under his scalp. He hears, vaguely, his siblings trying to stop him verbally, but nothing is coming through anymore. He screams silently, mouth open in agony, as his head hits the wall again and again.

“Alec.” Izzy is crying now. Alec thinks distantly that she’s never seen him this bad, not since they were little kids and she didn’t have to handle him. He’s long learned to hide his meltdowns, to shutdown instead, like he’s done for most of today – yesterday. Dissociate until there’s nothing left of him.

This time, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough, because nothing is enough.

He’s been able to stay numb for twenty-eight hours, since he closed the door of his mother’s shop and left Magnus inside. He’s been—

Magnus.

Fuck.

He pulls at his hair, hard enough to uproot it. Nothing is enough. His skin is too tight for the pain bubbling inside of him, and he’s exploding, losing all control. He’s a giant knot, muscles taut and burning from staying so tense all day, runes overworked and overloaded.

His eyes stay dry, even as he craves the relief of crying. “Alec,” someone murmurs – he doesn’t know who anymore. “Shhhhh. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. There’s no such thing as okay, now, not without—

His chest feels like a hole has been punched through it, and it’s been filled with self-expanding foam. He sobs without a noise, his shoulders shaking and his whole body trembling.

Suddenly, there’s a warm body against him, and for a moment, Alec is about to throw it off, to react violently against the unbearable touch. He resists, but the arms around him tighten until it almost smothers him — paradoxically, that calms him down. Jace holds him and rocks with him and slowly, very slowly, Alec settles.

The tears don’t come until Izzy’s smaller hands reach him, first checking him for injuries, then soothing him, running over his shoulders and his neck, always strong and tight. Alec hiccups and almost throws up, but he hasn’t eaten in too long. He dry heaves instead, coughing without breathing, gasping until his eyes water and finally he’s sobbing fully.

He hears Jace’s voice in between painful hiccups. “Izzy told me what happened. How do we help?”

Alec shakes his head when he’s finally parsed the sentence, probably too late for it to make sense. There’s nothing they can do, and Alec has no words in him to tell them. It’s over. Magnus is gone. Gone from his life, forever.

The sobs redouble, and Alec heaves over the arm holding him up, probably Jace’s. His chest is on fire, but it feels right. It should hurt. It should be so painful as to be unbearable, because that’s what it feels like inside.

There’s already a Magnus-shaped hole inside him, and it’s only going to grow deeper and larger. Alec wonders, vaguely, how long he has until it swallows him whole.

It feels like hours before his sobs subside, leaving him breathless and listless, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Alec gradually slides down until he’s curled up on his side on the bed, his head on the pillow Magnus slept on just two days ago.

Jace and Izzy move with him, refusing to let him go. They scoot over until they’re framing him, Jace curled against his back and Izzy in front of him, one hand cupping his wrist. Alec lets himself soak up their warmth as he starts shivering.

He doesn’t stop crying in one go. He keeps seeing flashes of Magnus, and it only takes a half-formed thought to start again, the sobs wracking his body. It’s less violent every time, though, and after a while it only extracts a pitiful hiccup from him, his tears long dried out. Jace and Izzy keep holding him silently, though Alec can feel the looks they exchange over his shoulder.

“Alec,” Jace murmurs after a long time. “Was there really no other way?”

Alec struggles to focus his gaze on something – Izzy’s hand on his wrist, in this case – and he wets his lips several times without managing to speak. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay if you can’t speak right now,” Izzy whispers. “We’re here for you.”

Alec nods gratefully. She’s only recently learned to do this, to recognize when he’s struggling to form words. None of his family ever caught on – his siblings used to laugh at him, when he struggled with seemingly simple things. His parents would shake him and force him to hide it.

Magnus was the first one to understand.

Magnus was the first one to see Alec. The first one to love him for who he is, and not for the image of Alec he had in his mind. And Alec ruined it, over and over. He betrayed Magnus and let him suffer because of his actions.

He brought Magnus nothing but pain.

He tastes ashes. His mouth feels dry, parched by a thirst that will never be quenched again. He hurts all over from tensing so much, but it feels like a too small punishment for his sins.

“I can’t,” he starts, forcing the words out over the knot in his throat. “I can’t imagine living without him.”

It opens up yet another avenue of thoughts, that he’s pushed away until now. All his plans for the future include Magnus. There is no Alec without Magnus, not in his head. He’s dreamed so often about marrying him, recently, about seeing the Lightwood ring on Magnus’ hand and moving in together and—

What is he going to do now?

He can’t stop seeing Magnus’ face as he left the shop, the desperation in his eyes. Did he really do the right thing? Magnus has lost so much recently—

But that’s exactly why Alec did it. Magnus has lost too much. His magic is an intrinsic part of himself, something he can’t just do without, even if it took Alec too much time to understand. His immortality is a part of him. Alec… Alec is just a lover. One more lover in a long string of them.

Magnus has had many relationships, and he’s lost them all eventually, and he lived through it. But this, losing his magic? He was ready to risk dying from Lorenzo’s transfusion, just to be able to use this second-hand, wrong magic. Even Alec could see how weird the yellow magic was in Magnus’ hands, how sickening, but Magnus latched onto it like it was more important than breathing.

No, Magnus can replace Alec in a way he can never replace his magic. As bad as Alec feels for hurting him on the short term, it’s the only decision he could make.

From the moment the idea of going to Asmodeus went through his brain, he knew that he couldn’t live with himself unless he tried everything. He wishes, selfishly, that he’d never thought of it. He’d be holding Magnus right now in this bed, instead of lying heartbroken between his siblings.

It wouldn’t hurt like this.

“You can do this, Alec,” Izzy says softly, but even Alec can tell that she doesn’t fully believe it. “I know you can. We’ve just gotta take it one step at a time.”

“That one of your mundane group things?” Jace asks when Alec doesn’t react.

He doesn’t know how to react. He can’t think of tomorrow, of next week, of any time without Magnus. One step at a time implies that he even wants to go on.

He’s not sure he does.

“Yeah,” Izzy mutters. “It helps. Sometimes.”

Alec wonders if this is what Jace felt when they thought that Clary was dead. What he feels right now when Clary is out there somewhere, brainwashed by Jonathan. Alec can’t feel anything through the parabatai bond, not on top of his own pain.

He grits his teeth against the urge to hit his head again, just to overwhelm the emotional pain. His scalp is going to bruise as it is, unless he uses an iratze. His fingers are covered in teeth marks where he bit himself, some of them still bloody.

“You hope the pain here will overpower the pain there,” Magnus told him once, hand on his heart. Alec almost whimpers.

Oh, to go back there, to the beginning of them. The pain of that day, the overpowering guilt at Jocelyn’s death, feels so inconsequential now. So much has happened. They never had time to stop running, one thing after the other.

It’s been over two years, but Alec feels like he never had time to just breathe. Curl up with Magnus and just enjoy the moment. They always had to think about the next step, the best thing for their respective people, the next threat coming to rip them apart.

And now they’ll never have that time.

Alec jerks his hands out of Izzy’s grasp and he digs his nails into the skin of his scalp, pressing on his eyes with the heels of his palms. Fuck. He can’t do this. He can’t live with this pain.

Jace must sense his distress, because he slings his arm over Alec’s and holds him, so tightly that it’s nearly painful. It eases something in Alec, calming his crawling skin until he can relax just a little. “We’re here,” Jace murmurs in his ear. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“We can’t replace Magnus, but we’ll support you no matter what,” Izzy adds, slipping her arms around both of them. “We love you, Alec. That will never change.”

Alec closes his eyes.

It doesn’t make things better. It doesn’t make tomorrow any less daunting, and it doesn’t stop the excruciating pain. But it soothes something in Alec, making it just a little less unbearable.

His body exhausted beyond its limits, Alec finally falls asleep.

#shadowhunters #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec fic #mine #echo's fanfiction #hm discord #malec discord server #the fandom playhouse #em tag #self harm tw

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 9

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint.

W/c: 2.5 k

A/n: Thank you so much to all of you have have given this fic so much love. And thank you to @cutie1365 for all her help and support! Hope you all are having a great week! Also I promise more Y/n x Bucky interactions are coming soon!

It had been exactly five days since the three men left on their recon mission to see what Zemo knew. Five days. Besides the occasional report on Natasha’s part, you haven't heard from Bucky again since that night.

This was a good thing, you thought. Maybe he was respecting your space. Maybe he had come to his senses. Maybe he meant that text for someone else. Ouch, You hurt your own feelings with that one.

In any case, the time away from the Super Soldier had given you the clarity you needed to think. You and Natasha trained almost every morning and in your spare time you would work out with Sam. He was a good trainer, besides the lingering eyes when he asked you to do squats. You didn't really mind though. You weren't really sure why you were training. It's not like anyone knew where you were, or even cared at that point. The Avengers in New York had their own problems and as far as the rest of the world knew, Y/n L/n didn't exist.

Everytime you would ask Nat what this was all for she would only shrug and say something about ‘Avengers must be prepared.’ The idea that you could even be compared to the world saving team was insane and frankly terrifying to say the least. You were just Y/n. Sure Hydra had pumped you full of some mystery serum but without your memories you weren't even sure what that meant.

Speaking of, since that fateful day at the market, you had no sign of anything else coming back to you. You felt like you were letting everyone down. Especially Shuri who had been working tirelessly to help try and regain something, anything that would make you remember. A part of you worried that no matter what she did, you would never truly know. And a small part of you was maybe a little thankful. The idea of your past life terrified and fascinated you all at once.

Over the past few days, Wanda helped teach you that little mind trick of yours. Once you got the hang of it, it was hard to say out of people's heads. Though you had more control over your ability than before, sometimes your friends were just too loud; you couldn't help but pick them out of a room.

“Hey good lookin'! You ready to hit the gym?” Sam's voice echoed through the kitchen while you poured yourself a tall mug of coffee. You signed, still sore from yesterday's workout.

“Don’t you guys do anything other than workout?” You asked, eyeing him sceptically.

“What's it look like?” He winked, flexing his bicep.

Guess that's a no.

“Okay, okay. Just let me enjoy this small fleeting moment of peace while I drink my coffee. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.” You spoke, exasperated. You weren't getting out of this one. You knew that, and so did he.

“Fine, but if you're late, we’re sparring. And you know damn well I fight dirty.” He smirked, jogging out of the room. God, he was insufferable. Over the time since Sam had come back you both had spent a lot of time together. He was a flirt and you were awkward as hell, but the two of you became close friends. Plus, he liked to shit talk Bucky as much as you did.

You brought your mug up to your lips and took a big sip, letting the rich aromatic smell of coffee invade your senses. While the others would lay down their respective lives to save the world, you would do it just for this moment. Were you a junky? The thought made you giggle.

“What's so funny, dear?” Nat strolled into the kitchen, eyeing you while you only shook your head.

“Oh, nothing.” You paused as she looked through the fridge for her usual morning orange juice.

“Top shelf, on the left.” You spoke.

“Got it. Thanks. What are your plans for today?” She questioned, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

“I’m heading to the gym in a few, if you care to join me. Besides that, I’m open. Why what’s up?” You asked, bringing the mug back to your mouth and finishing what little coffee you had left.

“No reason… the boys are coming home today and-” the coffee that once resided in your mouth spewed out in an almost cartoonish spit-take. Your hand flew up to your face, but it was too late. You choked on the fluid over coughs and apologies.

“Wait- What?” You asked dumbfounded.

…………..................................................................................................................

“Wait- what?” Steve asked in shock, his eyes almost bulging out of his face. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's delayed reaction.

“I kissed her Steve” He reiterated again, “… Or maybe she kissed me- I don't know, it just kinda’ happened.” Bucky huffed, rubbing the back of his head as his eyebrows knitted together. It didn't matter now anyways, he had ruined it. He knew he had to, but dammit, that didn't mean it hurt any less. Knowing no matter who actually initiated the kiss- it happened, and in turn, completely altered their relationship. Whatever it had been in the first place.

“How could you let this happen, Barnes?” Steve barked, knocking him out of his train of thought.

“Don't give me that ‘Captain’ bullshit, punk. Not with me. I don’t know, there's something about that girl. She just-”

“She's just nothing. No Buck, absolutely not. Do not go down this road. I’m warning you.” Steve pointed a finger at Bucky's chest, the sheer strength pushing him back a few pases. He held his ground though as to not let on that little Stevie was capable of such strength.

“Well it doesn't matter, I called it off anyways.” Bucky mumbled. Steve only sharply nodded in confirmation.

“Why do you care, anyways?” Bucky asked, watching his friend carefully.

“I- I don't. I don’t care. I mean- yes! I care, of course I do. You're my best friend… I don't want to see you get hurt…” Steve stuttered.

After all these years Bucky would have thought he’d get better at lying but, wanting to drop the conversation he nodded, accepting his failed attempt.

“I’m glad you broke it off with her, Buck. There's so much you-” He coughed, though it sounded like more of a choke, “We. there's so much we don't know.” He finished, obviously staring at Bucky’s forehead, rather than his eyes.

Damn he was bad at lying.

“Anyways…” Bucky started, desperate to change the subject from Y/n to something less gut wrenching. “When’s ship out?” He asked, as the two men walked back to their motel.

They had landed in Berlin five days ago. Five excruciatingly long days. Bucky had called and hung up on Y/n seventeen times since they got there. He prayed to whatever God he believed in the calls never made it to her end.

Meeting with Zemo took a lot out of Bucky. The man knew the deepest parts of himself. The parts that shamed him, and caused him nothing but heartache and pain. T’Challa had helped to sneak Steve and him into the Joint Counter Terroist Center, giving them a little less than thirty minutes to interrogate the man.

Bucky wasn't sure about any of this. Why would Zemo want anything to do with Y/n? Unless he was just a cog. The whole thing made very little sense, but then again, he trusted Y/n. With every fiber of his body he trusted her. Even if Steve wasn't quite as sold.

That's only because he hasn't kissed her sweet lips. God, if he only knew how you tasted.

Ouch, he hurt his own feelings with that one.

The memory for Zemo’s twisted smile knocked him out of his daze.

“The prodigal son returns, it seems,” He chuckled, sadistically. Even his voice sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. The idea of this man's hands on Y/n in any capacity was enough to send him into a blind rage. But they hadn't come to tear his head clean off his body, though Bucky knew he could do it without even flinching.

“Here to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer them.” Steve barked in his most authoritative Captain voice. Zemo chuckled, never once taking his eyes off Bucky.

“The Winter Soldier and his boyfriend. What a pleasure…” Steve only huffed in response causing a sadistic smirk to tug on the prisoners mouth.

“Twenty minutes.” T’Challa spoke into their coms.

“What do you know about Y/n L/n?” Bucky spoke this time. He hoped Zemo didn't see his harsh expression falter as the mere mention of her name.

“Ah, Agent L/n… Quite a specimen, wouldn't you agree, hound?” Zemo practically spit the word. Steve reached his arm out, gripping onto Bucky’s shoulder, holding him back.

He wouldn't even flinch. It would take seconds.

“Answer the Question.” Steve boomed.

“Yes, Y/n and I go way back. You have her don't you? Found her triggers yet? Does she even remember her own name?” He laughed, almost maniacally, like something out of those old comic books Bucky was so fond of.

“Steve…” Buck warned, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer. Steve nodded, turning his gaze back to the small man in the cell.

“What's in the serum, Zemo. What exactly did you give her?” He asked, stepping closer to the glass case he was sitting in.

“Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. But she knows… And when she remembers, oh. What. A. Day.” He smirked, tapping on the glass with every word.

“What does that mean? What are her triggers?” Steve questioned. When Zemo only shrugged the Captain’s fist flew against the glass, sending a booming echo through the room.

“Ten minutes.” T’Challa’s voice ran through their coms again. It was now or never. They probably wouldn't get another chance like this. The men were fugitives. The mere fact they crossed the European border was a god send.

“Why didn't you just kill her? Huh? Why go to all this trouble...Why give her the serum?” Bucky asked, trying, truly trying to keep his voice level. The idea of never meeting Y/n made his heart ache.

“We tried to clone the serum. She's a smart one, мой ребенок. Made it so that without being mixed with her blood and exposed to radiation, it would be useless. Her fail safe. I don't think she ever thought...” He chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. “Tell me, did her arm heal okay?”

Bucky gritted his teeth. The smug bastard. The thought of the torture Hydra must have put her though made him feel physically ill. Worse than anything they could have ever done to him. They touched her. He could practically hear her screams ringing through his mind.

He wouldn't. Even. Flinch.

“We must leave. Someone's alerted a guard.” T'Challa's panicked voice shook Bucky out of his rage. Zemo seemed to notice.

“Give my regard to мой ребенок.” He flashed a toothy smile, taking a seat again.

“Get out of there!” The king's voice boomed, but Bucky didn't move. Steve yanked on his arm, pulling him towards the doors.

“They know where she is.” Zemo spoke so quietly the two men almost didn't hear. But they did.

“Who?” Bucky snapped. The man only chuckled, and waved as Steve yanked him out of the room.

…………..................................................................................................................

You met Sam and Nat in the gym, fifteen minutes later.

He was coming home today. You always knew eventually he would, but you were hopeful you'd have a little more time. Time for what, you weren't sure. All you knew is your heart still ached with his final words.

The idea of seeing Bucky’s face again made a lump appear in your throat. You weren’t ready. I mean, truthfully, you weren’t sure you'd ever be.

You had dealt with rejection before, sure. Your freshman boyfriend asked Angie Cordillia to the winter formal instead of you. You cried all night. But this- this was different. You knew it. You felt it, and it ripped through your heart like a chainsaw to paper.

“You're late!” Sam shouted from the treadmill going full speed. Well, not full speed- it was made for Steve and Bucky after all.

“I am not. Right on-” You looked down at your watch. “Time…” Oh shit. One minute past ten.

“I’m just warming up, and then I’m coming for you… Ya ready, beautiful?” Sam asked, sending a wink your way.

You looked to Natasha who only sent you a smirk while she stretched on the gym mat.

You huffed, tying your hair back into a ponytail. “Listen, Sam, I know what you said but I’m just really not feeling-“

“You know why you’re here?” Sam suddenly interrupted. All joking tones had melted out of his words as you approached him.

“Well, do you?” He repeated.

You thought about that for a moment. Yeah, you knew why. The team needed to find out whatever serum was in your system before Hydra would clone it. You were a means to an end. You were of course willing to be that cog, if to help right the wrong you had done in your past life, but that’s all it was.

“You’re here because Y/n, the old Y/n was the best of the best. She was a fighter. And whether you remember or not, she’s in there. Maybe there’s a way to take that serum out of ya, maybe you can just start over. But if you can’t, whatever you believe in has put it in there to make you stronger. So you decide, are you just here to be here, or are you a fucking Avenger?” His words hit you like a ton of bricks.

Sam was never the sentimental type. Far from it, in fact. You’d never heard him speak with such passion. You wanted to believe he meant it, but a gnawing feeling in the fit of your stomach kept you from fully retaining his worlds.

“I- I’m not an Avenger.” You signed, wanted nothing more than to be the kind of person to spring into action after his speech, but you weren’t. You knew that was because you were no hero.

“Maybe not officially. The bands kinda broken up at the moment. But lemme’ just say this,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’re here for a reason. So we’re not going to sit around in Shuri’s lab all day. We’re going to train and maybe, if I kick your ass enough, you’ll realize just how special you are.” He gave you a little shove, knocking you back a little. You tried to speak but your voice betrayed you.

“Dammit.” You finally spoke.

“Yeah, I don’t know where that came from either…” Sam chucked. You wanted to protest, to argue that you weren’t the person he thought you were. But you didn’t.

You weren’t sure if it was the look in his eyes, or the intro to Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC that came blaring out of the gym speakers, but in any case, you believed him.

“Fine, Give me your best shot, Wilson.”

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please remember to leave a like or reblog <3 Your validation means to much to me lol Hope you all are having an amazing weekend! Remember to take some time for yourself and practice self care! Lord knows we all need it right now.

@kalesrebellion

@projectcampbell

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thecaptainhelm · 3 years

Text

Aw, this comes to around an even 2080 words, isn’t that sweet? This is officially it, no more, no more I say! I’ll be working on something for Halloween, so look forward to that.

Blooper 1:

Sometime after he was left alone by Ladybug...

Robin blinked, shaking himself back to awareness, bewildered.

Just how much time had passed since...

He blushed scarlet. (Just like her suit.)

Robin grit his teeth and made his way downstairs on unsteady legs. His internal clock felt that close to an hour had passed and he tsked, sitting in one of the leather seats of the breakroom.

Reclining back, his thoughts tried in vain to remember what he had been doing, and when he did the rage came back.

“I still can’t believe that happened,” he grumbled to himself as he remembered his father’s disappointment. Because it was Everything is Damian’s fault This Week, except he didn’t get the memo.

Like always, he groused.

He sighed, tilted his head back, and caught sight of the stairwell. Warmth settled in his chest replacing the cold anger. He surreptitiously glanced around finding no one, he allowed his mind to go back in time.

Ladybug’s kiss had been tender and sweet, filling his entire body with a foreign sense of care that echoed through him even now. And when she pressed against him for insistently it took everything in him to try to kiss back, though that failed.

She had taken the lead completely, practically had him pinned with her tongue down his throat.

What if she did have him pinned with her tongue down his throat?

His face heated up in full force as he thought deeply, fantasizing.

Ladybug pulled back with a quiet noise, her gaze was unyielding and unapologetic.

“That’s...not why I offered, but I got lost in the moment,” Blue eyes like steel. His legs went weak.

“But it seems like you’re into this sort of thing.” She grabbed him by the scruff of his hood and slowly maneuvered him against the wall. She was gentle as her eyes pierced into his with dark promise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. Ladybug smiled, calm.

“I think I’m about to wreck an egoistic vigilante, what do you think you’re doing is what you want to ask, hm? Birdy,” Robin gulped as he tried to respond.

“Oh, do you not want to?” She leaned close in a mockery of concern.

“I...I, uh,”

“It’s okay,” her gloved hand carded through his hair. “Take your time, I’m not gonna rush you.”

“I…” His heart was going crazy. He wanted her to do something, but he didn’t have the guts to say it.

A sigh. “Aw, Birdy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you, I’ll leave and we can forget this ever happened.”

No!

“I want!” he rasped in a hurry. “Want it so bad, Ladybug, I--” Lips slammed into his own as deft hands pressed his shoulders into the wall.

She briefly pulled away, leaving him gasping for air. “Don’t worry, Robin. I’m going to give you exactly what you want and more,”

He whimpered, hot and pulsing with blood.

“Robin,” she pushed closer. “I need you to do something for me, can you be a good boy and do it real quick, please?”

“Yes, anything,” he panted. “I’ll be so good, so, so good,”

Ladybug giggled. “Then,” she yanked his head back by his hair with a vicious smirk.

“Open your mouth.”

Robin let his jaw go slack, shivering in anticipation--

A shrill chime reached his ears. It was his communicator. He flicked it open, and there was a message from Agent A, relaying a request to return home for a briefing of a drug bust tomorrow, all hands on deck. Great, just what he needed. He sent his ETA and stood to leave, but froze, halfway out the chair.

No , he thought, panicking. No, no, no. Absolutely not!

A glance down swiftly confirmed his denial.

He had an erection. From thinking about being pushed around. By Ladybug, of all people.

He flopped back into his seat with a groan, head in his hands. His blush had spread all the way to his ears and chest while the gentle warmth from earlier had formed into something that was mildly uncomfortable in his layers of clothes.

“Fuck it,” he rose up to storm towards the exit, refusing to walk bowlegged as his dick rubbed against the jockstrap of his suit.

“Fuck this entire day to hell!”

Blooper 2:

Two weeks after Damian’s freeloading begins...

Marinette hummed a jaunty tune as she closed the door to her art studio, kicking off her shoes.

“I’m back and I brought those madeleines you like!” She called brightly as she made her way to the kitchenette.

“Coming!” Damian gingerly walked in and immediately began to fiddle one-handed with the box.

“I’m going to have mine with black tea, what do you want?” she asked, pulling out the tea boxes.

He grimaced. “You’re disgusting, you clearly have no taste. Get me my usual.”

She pinned him with a hard stare. He sighed.

“If you could make me some lavender tea, I would appreciate it, thank you,” he said politely..

“You would also appreciate me kissing the daylights out of you,” she said, putting the kettle on the stove.

“...what?”

“Hmm?” she turned from the sink, seeing Damian looking at her with shock.

“What did you just say?”

Marinette placed two mugs down on the table, striding towards him. She plucked the box of madeleines out of his hands and set it back on the table.

“I said,” she stared. “You want to make out with me.”

Damian blinked owlishly at her, then scoffed. “Great, you’re an actual pervert, like I suspected. And here I was hoping that it was a spontaneous happenstance.”

“Aw, you know it’s just that I like you. “ She caressed his jaw, pulling a blush to his skin.

“You’re a human being, not an animal,” he put his hands around her waist. “Last I checked, evolution ensured that we don’t have an estrus period.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling close. “Fair enough,”

“But do you really want me to stop?”

Damian tilted his head down. “The answer should be obvious, Marinette .”

They gravitate to one another, an irresistible pull. Lips a breath away from contact, she stops.

“Well, in that case, it’s a real shame,” she whispered before abruptly pulling away with a gusty sigh.

“Since you never said how you feel about me, I won’t pressure you. I’m a human being after all.”

Damian stands arms outstretched while she walks back toward the stove as the kettle begins to whistle.

She pours him his mug and hands it to him, along with the bakery box. “Here you go!”

She cheekily grins at him before going to make her own tea. She vaguely hears him grumble and retreat to the parlor, no doubt to sulkily have his afternoon tea.

He’s so much fun to tease , she thinks, before gasping.

“Hey, all those madeleines aren’t just for you, save me some!” Silence.

“Damian!”

Blooper 3:

The second night of Damian’s freeloading…

Damian sat completely still as Ladybug checked his head for any lumps and fractures, a logical idea, but a terrible one in hindsight.

Why? Because it required her to run her bare, naked hands through his hair, light and fleeting touches moving all around his head.

He knew that it was merely a necessary medical procedure, but he still couldn’t help rolling his head away. It was nothing but him being stupid and childish. Yet no matter how many times he told himself this, no matter how many times he could see Ladybug quickly reigning in her frustration, he rolled out of her reach with grit teeth.

Ladybug sighed, exasperated. “Damian, what is your problem? I’m trying to check you for head trauma.”

He stubbornly glanced away.

“Oh come on, stop being such a brat,” he bristled at that. “And look over here, please.”

He remained unmoving.

“Oh for--” An exasperated sigh. Small, thin hands grasping his shoulders. He grunts and shakes them off.

“Stop being so whiny, and look at me --!” He’s grabbed again and what happens next is something that will make him want to wither away in embarrassment until the day he dies and some years after that.

Marinette pulls him to look at her and he abruptly spins around, tilts his head and--

“ Argh! Merde! Merde , que se passe-t’il!” Marinette grabs her jaw as she cringes away from him, pained cries warbling from between her fingers.

He cursed. “Shit, I didn’t mean to!”

“Marinette wasn’t having it. “A simple ‘stop it’ or ‘cut it out’ would have worked just fine! Ah…”

“Are you trying to say I should have spoken up or something?!”

“Um, yes? I’ve been telling you this entire time to let me know if something's wrong, but you keep your mouth shut as though you’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak! Oh, except when you’re insulting me. Can’t forget about that, now can we? Tell me, does your selective mutism only break whenever you feel like being an asshole?”

“Oh, well excuse me, I’ve been saying that I’ve been fine only to be met with skepticism--”

“And rightfully so, because for the past several hours--”

“--so far be it from me that I can actually--”

“--been constantly out of it--”

“--to the point that I can see that my opinion isn’t--”

“--like you’re Insisting that you’re Superman or something!”

“You take that back!”

Marinette fiercely raised both hands and gave him the finger.

“What even is your problem,” he snarled. “Stop smothering me!”

“Smothering?” She scoffed. “You are literally still injured from being exploded . Forgive me for being a little more hands-on. It’s clearly something else, otherwise, you wouldn’t be so obtuse about this.”

Damian spluttered. “Obtuse?! How dare you! You’re the only thing I have a problem with here!” A lie. He had a lot of issues, but she was the most present one at the time.

That’s right. This was borne from a crisis of proximity. Damian is, indeed, precocious a precious child.

“Problem? I’ve been helping you, tending your wounds nonstop for the past twenty-eight hours! I’m supposed to be getting drunk off my ass with the rest of Paris, because, and this is important, I’ve been busy catching a super terrorist who is being tried as an actual war criminal. I haven’t seen you for nearly a year and suddenly I’m the problem?!”

Marinette stood up and towered over him, glaring.

“Bullshit! What’s up with you for real, Damian? And I want the truth if I’m going to be taking care of you like this for the next few months.”

He gaped. “Months?!”

She crossed her arms. “Well?”

Damian gritted his teeth and felt the tell-tale blush spread up his neck and find its way all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Every time, you grab me, no, damn near manhandle me and you expect me to not have a problem with you? Not to mention you don’t know how to keep your lips to yourself!” He huffed, but Marinette was unrepentant.

“Seriously? Is that all?”

“Is that all…? That’s all you have to say for yourself?!”

“I’ve kissed you once. Once ! Is my grabbing you supposed to imply some sort of trend, buddy? No. I have had to grab you so you can sit still and get treatment, because, according to you, no hospitals . What do you take me for, a lecher?!”

“No, but would it kill you to tell me what you’re doing before you put your hands on me?!” He gestured towards his face.

“I can’t exactly see what’s going on if you hadn’t noticed,” he said fiercely.

“...yeah, that’s on me,” she sighed, losing tension. She sat next to him again, this time on his left side where he could still see her.

“Better?” He grunted, resigning himself since he didn’t really have an excuse to distance himself anymore. It was logical to just let her get it over with as soon as possible, but the humiliating shiver that would dance up his spine was too much an act to bear.

She went back to checking his head for injuries, with less fuss this time.

“...so,” she dragged the word out, her accent turning it into something completely different.

“Why did you bring up the kiss?”

“No comment.”

“I thought you would forget about it after such a long time, and it has to do with me so I was wondering if--”

He growled.

“Was that your first kiss by any chance?”

“No. Comment.”

~~~

taglist:

@frieddonutsweets @iamablinkmarvelarmy @mochegato @mochinek0 @jeminiikrystal @silvergold-swirl @kris-pines04 @eliza-bich @alysrose-starchild @theymakeupfairies

#daminette #maridami #maribat

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noodlewright · 4 years

Text

Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton Pairings: None Rating: G -

Danny had hardly returned to the ghost zone when he was suddenly surrounded by dozens of ghosts. Each had a single eye and they wore ridiculously huge cloaks. He was surprised. Danny had seen them from afar several times, but never together. To be honest, he had assumed that it was just one ghost that liked to get around.

The one closest gestured toward him. “Hand the Infi-Map here, child.”

“No, I gotta take it back.” He had only taken it for a brief, but necessary, quest with the blessings of Frostbite.

“It shouldn't have left in the first place. You've done something terrible.”

The ones in back tutted loudly. “Atrocious.”

“Inconceivable.”

“Irresponsible.”

“Done what? I didn't do anything wrong.” I mean sure, Clockwork probably wasn’t going to be happy when he heard about it, but it wasn’t like Danny had planned to jump through time today. Things just, you know, developed. Like things always did in his life.

They muttered among themselves, as though affronted that Danny had spoken up for himself. “You put out that fire. Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“Well, if I had to guess," Danny ticked off his fingers, "I would say that I've put out a fire, saved a bunch of people from said fire, and nope, just can't think of any reason to let a house burn.”

“That family you saved will go on to raise a killer. I have seen it!” the first one cried.

“I have also seen it!” another one shouted.

“That child is Hitler!” came the final screech.

Danny's mouth dropped open. “I saved Hitler?” he squeaked.

“No! I was exaggerating! But you’ve brought Doom upon us all!”

Yep, these people were a little too much for him. “Hey, you know, this spectacle sure has been fun, but I think I have to go see my-”

One of them pointed at him. “You're not going anywhere!”

He gathered ectoplasm in his free palm. “I’ll go where I-!”

An influx of ear-bursting noise sounded. It was as if an explosion went off in a deep pit and pitched to where he didn't only hear it, but he felt a steady vibration from within. Danny instinctively ducked and raised a shield.

A blur of color careened into one of the ghosts. Purple merged and twisted around green in a flurry of movement. Everyone paused to determine what it was they were seeing.

Two masses struggled to get their bearings. A mess of arms tried to simultaneously push and pull at the other.

“-I’m here cut it out!” The purple mass shouted.

“Clockwork! You- you aren’t-”

Clockwork shoved his hand in the Eyeball-ghost’s- face? Head? “No! I have a handle on this! It's taken care of. Let's all just go home.”

Someone yelled from the right. “I don't think there's a handle on anything! Not-Hitler is alive! Forty-seven paradoxes developed, and a black hole in the Tiga quadrant regurgitated Neesyps Hell! How is this taking responsibility?!”

“I never promised that difficulties wouldn't arise, only that I would deal with them. And I have. The matter is closed.”

“I disagree! Let nature take him, you're too careless to-”

Clockwork launched off of the first ghost and latched onto the speaker, mere inches from his face. “It was four-hundred and eighty-three paradoxes and I fixed ALL of them. I put Hell back in its place and this is nothing. You sleep through worse. Are you calling me incompetent? Do you think I would let him into my abode if I wasn't prepared, and capable, of facing time-fracturing on the universal scale?”

The jelly around the guy’s eyeball turned a darker shade of green. “I- well- it's still sloppy.”

“I thought the same when my staff was lodged in your head last year.”

“. . . That was Johnson you inconsiderate savage.”

A thin, whiny voice sounded from among them. “You can manage a better grip, can't you? The eyestrain of that many temporal anomalies is a special kind of torture. Just because you're made for it, doesn't mean the same for us.”

A murmur of agreement spread.

“Fine. You have my word, the matter will be addressed.”

“Good,” the ghost said, incapable of forgoing the last word.

And they left, one of them shooting what Danny thought could be a stink eye toward him, but he honestly wasn’t sure.

Clockwork slowly meandered over to Danny. It was only just then that Danny noticed how strained the ghost looked. His color was off, and there seemed to be several new holes in his cloak. “Um, what-”

Clockwork pulled the map out of Danny's hand and swatted him over the head with it. It didn't hurt, but Danny still made of noise of surprise. “You've been very troublesome. Don't. Do it. Again.”

A sense of shame washed over him, but it didn't last. Indignation boiled it away in a heartbeat. “I didn't really have a choice! You know that! And if you were really against it, you could have stopped me!”

The spirit waved the map in front of his face. “This object makes it very hard to discern the time-line and obfuscates any it interacts with.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

When Danny had first hopped back in time, he did what he thought was reasonable, but he had been banking on the thought that if he messed up, or if something went wrong, Clockwork could fix it. And apparently he was right. Danny just didn't think it would possibly be that bad.

“It- Oh no.” He really messed something up, didn't he? “I- four-hundred paradoxes?”

Clockwork leaned close. There was a glimmer in his eye. “It was actually closer to two hundred, but four sounds very impressive doesn't it?”

Danny nodded slowly. “How . . . bad are they though? How do you fix them? What really are they?”

“It's complicated.”

“Well, who were those guys? They were really mad. Are they like your bosses?”

Clockwork laughed. “They’re the Observants and they like to think so. Steer clear of them, when you can. They are entirely capable of bringing trouble with them.”

The memory of burning flames and a tear-streaked face hit him. “What about Not-Hitler? Is he dead?”

“Oh yes, Lewis. I knew that that would bother you, so I made sure he never tasted human blood and got a satisfying life as a musician.”

Human blood? “That's . . . great,” he murmured, at a loss for words.

The ghost gave a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, it went pretty well, I think. But for the future’s sake, don’t ever feel like you need to mess with the time-line.”

It wasn't long after the Infi-Map debacle, that Danny posited another question.

“Do you fix a lot of stuff like that?”

“Mhm.”

“What happens if you don't?”

Clockwork eyed him, then looked away. “Odd things start to happen.”

“Like what?”

Clockwork took a moment to himself, but didn’t leave him waiting for long. “There was once a city that was the hot-spot of an anomaly. Everything and everyone there experienced a rapid change. Their local time had sped up to an astonishing degree and they quickly outpaced the world around them. One moment, the town over saw the city's normal horizon, and then in the next, there was nothing but crumbling buildings and dust.”

“That's scary. Really scary. How come it went bad? Couldn't they have like, a really cool super-advanced society?”

“Perhaps, but if I'm correct in this case, places like that have trouble securing a renewable water supply. Add that with unreliable daylight, and things go wrong very quickly.”

“So they die?” Those poor people. “That's terrible.”

“Yes. They're fine now though.”

“What causes them? I mean, other than me,” he asked sheepishly.

An irritated breath escaped the ghost. “Usually some uppity time travellers in this or other neighboring timelines. Although, some are natural and appear when black holes decide to shake things up. The moment I fix a dozen, twenty more crop up. It's ceaseless.”

That sounded like the kind of terrifying fact that would be keeping him wide-awake at night. “I guess we’re lucky we have you here to fix things then.”

“ . . . You might say that, but . . . ” Clockwork picked at the frayed edges of his cloak. There wasn’t a whole lot of reason to share it, but he literally didn’t see a reason why keeping it would be detrimental. “I don’t quite have proof of it, but I think there might be something about my existence that makes Time a little more fragile than it should be.”

Danny’s face scrunched in thought. “That’s weird.”

Clockwork agreed.

More - Next

#Danny phantom #danny fenton #clockwork #phandom #fanfiction #fanfics #fics #Not-Hitler is the worst man

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sunflowerkiwi93 · 3 years

Text

Now That We’re Done - HS

All Parts: HERE

Summary: A twenty year old dancer, Elizabeth Payne, is recovering from a traumatic past with the help of her older brother, Liam. The two of them have been yearning for peace for quite some time, and when a good friend comes to live with them for the summer they start their journey towards finding it. Through ups, downs, relapses, and two albums- Liz fights through her own mind to get better.

Warnings: There are mentions of abuse, PTSD, and anxiety throughout every part. Also- mature content. One of the guys doesn’t turn out to be so great- this story is not intended to give him this image. This is all purely fiction.

Part Three

I woke up at seven thirteen in morning to the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen. Tossing back my sheets I stood up and took a deep breath stretching my arms in the air. I slipped a sweater over my shoulders and stepped out to the kitchen where I found Harry only in a pair of shorts hunched over the stove.

“Don’t burn yourself,” I giggled. He turned over his shoulder and smiled.

“Good morning, gorgeous!” He said in a silly voice. I shook my head and sat at the counter bar trying to hide the cheesy smile on my face. His hair was pushed to the side of his head and his eyes were still sleepy. He turned back to the stove when the bacon in the pan began to pop.

“I hope you’re hungry,” He said, “You slept the day away yesterday.” I shrugged my shoulders and sighed.

Yesterday was a day I never saw coming, but it was bound to happen eventually. I hoped no one had caught it on camera and I was extremely embarrassed Harry had seen it even though he’s seen worse.

He turned back toward the counter I was at with the plate in his hand and sat it down in front of me. He placed both his elbows on the counter and put his chin in his hands.

“Are you going to watch me eat?” I laughed. His face was serious and his eyes were moving all around my face, as if he was studying me. He took a deep breath and stood up normally.

“No I suppose not,” He picked up a piece of bacon and crunched it between his teeth, “But I do expect you to eat something.” I picked a piece up and took a few bites. It was super crispy the way I loved it and it tasted so good. I finished it and ate another. It was bringing back memories of when he would cook at the Syco house. That kitchen always smelled delicious. Harry had turned his back to me to begin cooking some eggs in a new pan and by the time he was done I had almost finished the plate. He caught me mid chew.

“Well... okay,” He said grinning at me.

“Hey, you said to eat,” I said with a mouth full.

“Liam better wake up or he’s not going to get anything,” Harry started to laugh.

“His loss.” I said reaching for another bite. Harry sat the rest of the food out and then sat beside me to eat as well. We ate quietly until he turned to look at me.

“I’m probably not allowed to ask you this,” He said at a whisper, “But are you okay?” I looked at him, then at my plate, then back to him.

“You’re allowed to ask,” I said in the same tone, “And no... I mean, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to not know.”

“It’s exhausting. I’m beginning to feel alright but then I get an overwhelming feeling of shame, or guilt or anxiety.”

“Why do you feel guilt?” Harry asked, his tone becoming more serious.

“Guilty that I’m responsible for this. And before you tell me I’m not, because everyone tells me that, I just feel it.”

“I think it’s normal to feel that way, actually.” Harry reached over to put a hand over mine.

“Thank you,” I sighed deeply, “I always feel pain and there were even nights where... I used to miss him.” Harry looked away. I knew it was hard for anyone to hear that.

“I feel angry now... a lot,” I moved my hand to hold his and I gave it a squeeze.

“I wish you felt peace,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes.

“I will,” I whispered back.

When I got up in the morning I found Liz and Harry in the kitchen cracking jokes and eating breakfast. I joined them and got a roar of laughter when I asked why there wasn’t any bacon left. It was reassuring to see Elizabeth this way after the day she had yesterday. Kens had told me when she’s snapping back to what we call normal, after a situation, quicker that it means she’s getting better. Since the beginning of this summer, after we left the Syco house that day, she’s been snapping back.

Kens mentioned to me quickly on the phone before she had to hang up that when Liz saw the article that was left open on my phone that day it had triggered something in her brain. She told me that there could’ve been two reactions, one that was destructive and one that would subconsciously force her to recover. Seeing his face in a picture, reading about him, seeing him with another girl looking as if nothing had changed him had actually made her want to be better and she had no idea that that’s what’s happening.

Standing at the counter with Harry and my sister I listened as she told us that she was actually going to meet with Kens today for a cup of coffee, and needed Harry and I to tag along close behind her. This was one of the first things that has happened where I didn’t get a text from Kens first. Harry put an arm around her shoulder and agreed to come along, as did I. She thanked us and then left us to go shower and get herself ready for the day. Harry got up and began cleaning up from breakfast and I found my phone to open up my messages clicking on the bracket between Kens and I.

L- No heads up for the meeting today?

Three dots popped up as she was typing. They disappeared, but then came back.

K- Good morning to you, too! Remember that agreement? It is still in effect no matter what has happened. I apologize and I know you would always know what was happening. She’s got to start having a tiny bit of privacy... she’s requested it.

I sighed, looking away from my phone feeling a small tinge of anger. Taking a deep breath I shook my head and replied.

L- Right. I’m sorry. That will be a hard thing for me.

K- As it should be! You’re her brother. Be open to her growth and always remember that if she is in any kind of trouble or danger that I will tell you. That is in the agreement between the three of us, still.

L- Thanks, Kens. I’ll be seeing you later.

Harry and I sat three tables behind Elizabeth and Kens on the opposite side of the coffee shop. We were at the table closest to the door, Liz’s request. I was happy that Harry and Kens finally got to meet. She was a tall, thin woman in her late 30’s with natural light strawberry hair down her back. Kens always dressed in dark dress pants with a beautifully colored blouse on top. She wore sandals in the summer and carried a small white handbag. She mentioned to Harry that she’s heard so much about him and then the girls took to their table leaving us alone.

“How are you doing from yesterday?” I asked Harry when we sat down with our own coffees.

“Oh, you know,” Harry sighed and smiled sarcastically, “I’m going to be fine.”

“I hope she’ll be fine,” I said, glancing back at my sister. She was sitting with her feet tucked under her leaning a bit over the table to talk to Kens who had her own feet crossed under her chair. Liz was sipping a medium iced caramel latte, the same thing she got every time, and Kens had a small hot coffee.

“I believe she will be,” Harry nodded.

We both sat there comfortably, scrolling our phones or accidentally singing along to the music that was playing at the same time that ended in laughter. After some time Liz glanced over her shoulder towards us but looked at Harry and then back to Kens who was listening to her but looking at Harry and then Liz.

Harry saw her, gave her a small little smile even, and then looked at me bobbing his head slightly to the music.

I looked to Harry over my shoulder and then back to Kens quickly.

“That wasn’t too slick,” Kens giggled under her breath. I returned the laugh and covered my face with one of my hands.

“Now he will know I was talking about him!” I exclaimed quietly.

“It’s alright, he won’t really know,” She reassured me, “Was it a good idea to have him come stay with you guys this summer?” I looked down at my coffee and took a sip before answering her.

“I think it was,” I flashed my eyes to look at her, “I’m just scared that since I’m so far along in this and since I haven’t seen him in over a year that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to see him... as a friend.” I whispered. Kens nodded and tapped her fingertips on the wooden table.

“So, you mean, you’re seeing him as someone you can’t trust anymore?” She asked and I quickly shook my head telling her that wasn’t it.

“You’re looking at him as more than a friend, are you?” She asked me, but she knew the answer to that one. I raised my eyebrows looking a little guilty.

“That’s bad, right?” I asked quietly.

“Not at all,” Kens said reaching her hands across the table to hold onto mine, “It’s normal and very very exciting.” She squinted her eyes to me and smiled.

I glanced over my shoulder again quickly this time and caught a glimpse of Harry sitting with a hand through his hair watching the people outside the window. Liam was sitting on his phone.

“I don’t know what to do, or how to think, it’s been a day since he’s been here,” I started to ramble, “I’m not sure if this is how I really feel or if it is what do I do? Do I tell him? Do I tell Liam?” Kens watched me and waited for me to quiet down.

“Do you want Liam to know this?” She asked me, “Would you like your brother to know if you may or may not like Harry?” I quickly shut down the idea of telling Liam and shook my head giggling.

“No thank you!” I grinned at her, “I just... What if...”

“What if what, Liz?” Kens asked quietly.

“What if it all happens again?” I whispered looking at the table.

“After all this time, do you think he would want to hurt you?” She asked me, “Do you believe Harry would do something like that to you?”

“No,” I whispered so quietly even I could barely hear myself, “He wouldn’t ever hurt me.” I glanced up at Kens and she had a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t rush anything, enjoy your summer with him and your brother and don’t forget about how far you’ve come,” Kens reassured me, “You’re a very strong girl, Liz.”

Liz and Kens finished up and walked over to Harry and I. Liz slid into a chair beside me and Kens sat a hand on her shoulder.

“I think this was great,” She smiled, “It was nice to see you boys, and Liz it’s always nice to see you.” Liz smiled and stood to give her a hug.

“Thanks Kens,” I reached out to shake her hand, “We’ll do this again.” Kens nodded then smiled and waved to Harry before walking out the coffee shop door.

“Well?” I asked looking over to Liz.

“Yes?” She responded quietly.

“You all up for a day around the pool?” I asked. Liz and Harry both agreed quickly and with that we were out of the coffee shop.

Our car ride home was all of us singing obnoxiously along to some of Niall’s new music on the radio with Liz singing the background beat. Harry showed off some small dance moves that had Liz laughing so hard. I quieted down just to watch how Harry did it purposely knowing Liz was going to love it. Whenever Harry looked away from her she just gazed towards him and waited for him to turn back towards her.

Before I knew it we were home and Harry was opening the door for my sister, a job that was taken care of by me. We all stepped inside to change and then we found ourselves out by the pool.

Harry was ready to jump in as I was trying to clean the water. Telling him no didn’t stop him, he jumped in any way nearly soaking me. As he was underwater Liz stepped outside with her hair tied in a bun and sunglasses on. She tossed her towel on a chair and slipped off her glasses.

“Where’s Harry?” She asked and I gestured toward the water. He came up and shook his hair around, wiped his hands over his face and looked at Liz.

“You couldn’t wait?” She whined. He just looked at her. “Harry!” She shouted at him, laughing.

“Wow,” He sighed, “I mean. What?” He stammered.

“I tried to stop him, I really did.” I smiled. Liz shook her head and then got a running start to jump into the pool beside Harry. He shouted at the splash and Liz came up laughing, and then I jumped right in on the other side splashing them both as they yelled at me.

We spent that day and evening swimming, eating, laughing and singing and I couldn’t be any happier for my sister. For once her smile felt genuine. So genuine I was certain it was going to stay.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #1D FanFic #1d fanfiction #one direction #fanfic #fanfiction #fav oc #love lizzie #Liam payne fanfiction #Liam payne fanfic

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

what the fuck did you do

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,080

summary: Bucky’s been using you to try to make Natasha jealous.

chapter warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n: So like. This is lowkey angsty but with a sort of happy ending. Let me know what you think!

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You asked Natasha, frowning as you turned in the mirror. It was just your favorite sundress, the yellow material soft under your fingertips.

The redhead smiled warmly from where she was sitting at your desk, her legs crossed daintily. Her phone was twirling absentmindedly in her hand. “Y/N, you look gorgeous,” she said, her eyes drinking your form in. “Barnes is going to lose his shit.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you turned in the mirror, peeking back over your shoulder. “It’s not too much, right? I mean, it’s just a movie.”

“And dinner,” she reminded you.

“Yeah, probably from a drive through,” you said, barking out a laugh. “Or some twenty-four hour diner on the way.”

She uncrossed her legs, taking slow, languid steps towards you. “Do you feel good?” She asked, taking your hands in hers. When you slowly nodded, she continued, “Then that’s all that matters. And he’s going to be blown away no matter what you wear.” She turned you to face the mirror, resting her chin on your shoulder. “He asked you out because he likes you, not your clothes. He’d still like you even if you wore a potato sack.”

“I doubt that, but thank you for the pep talk,” you said, covering your mouth as you let out a giggle.

For the past two months, Bucky had been flirting with you nonstop. It had started slowly, with lingering hand touches and whispered jokes during dinner. Then it had turned into training together and curling up on the couch to watch movies together. Then, finally, two days ago, he’d asked you to go to dinner and a movie with him.

It had been some what of a whirlwind. You’d harbored feelings that were a teensy weensy tiny whiney bit more than a crush for over a year, but he’d never paid you any mind. Brisk nods and muttered “hellos” were all you’d ever gotten since you first joined the team. After the whole Thanos thing, there was a need for more Avengers, more people who could help keep the world safe on the off-chance that another catastrophic event like the Snap ever happened again.

Your heart fluttered as you turned towards the door. “Wish me luck?”

Natasha laughed as she pushed you towards the door. “You don’t need luck when you’re as stunning as you are, Y/N.” Once you were in the hallway, she squeezed your hand. “You’re gonna do great. I’ll be here when you get back and you can tell me all about it.” She sent you one last week before heading down the hall towards her own room.

There was a slight skip in your step as you made your way down the hall. Over a year of pining, and you were finally getting a date. A date with the man who’d completely stolen your heart.

You slowed down as you neared the living room, hearing Steve and Bucky’s muffled voices.

“You have to tell her,” Steve said.

“I know, but—”

Frowning, you pressed yourself back against the wall, trying to even out your breathing so that they couldn’t hear you even with their super soldier hearing. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but there was a sinking feeling in your gut that told you to listen.

“This has been going on long enough.”

“I know, Steve—”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do. Believe it or not, this isn’t how I wanted things to go,” Bucky said, and you could hear the pure frustration in his voice. You were holding your breath at this point, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve snapped. “But the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell her, Steve? ‘So, babe, I’m sorry that I’ve spent the past two months using you to make Natasha jealous, but—‘”

You didn’t bother to hear the rest, tears coming to your eyes as you ran down the hallway towards your room. There was a sharp pain in your chest, like someone had taken a dagger to your heart and twisted it. Once back in your room, you slammed the door shut. Your chest was heaving as you stood there, hot tears staining your cheeks. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said, your voice cracking, “Lock my door and don’t let anyone in.”

“Are you sure, Agent L/N?”

“Yes,” you snapped.

If an A.I. could pause, there was certainly one before the voice continued, “Agent L/N, I don’t believe it’s in your best interest—”

“Lock the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said, your voice cracking as your eyes rolled. Stupid perceptive artificial intelligence. Sobs wracked your body as you collapsed onto your bed, curling up in a ball and willing all of this to fade away like a bad dream.

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell her, Steve?” Bucky as pacing the living room, talking with his hands as he grew more and more angry with himself. “’ So, babe, I’m sorry that I’ve spent the past two months using you to make Natasha jealous, but don’t worry, I’ve actually fallen in love with you.”

“Sure,” Steve said, scoffing as he sat down on the couch. His elbows rested on his knees as he stared up at his best friend in disgust. “Just tell her the fucking truth.”

Both men froze as they heard pounding footsteps followed by a door slamming. “What was that?” The brunet muttered to himself, suddenly feeling even more uneasy than he had been before.

Steve stood from where he’d been sitting, both of them listening quietly. “Bucky… What time is Y/N supposed to be meeting you for your date?”

He didn’t even have to check his phone to know. “Now.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Who was in the hallway?”

“Agent L/N.”

Bucky felt his heart sink, panic rising in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that you’d heard him. You knew. You knew about what he’d done. What he’d been doing for the past two months.

And from the way you’d run off, he highly doubted you’d heard the last part of his little unintentional confession.

Without even telling Steve where he was going, he bolted down the hall, stopping at your room. His fist knocked against the dark wood of your door. “Y/N? Y/N, I know you’re in there. Come on, open up.” When there was no answer, he just kept knocking. “Baby doll. Please.”

He tried to twist the door handle, but found it wouldn’t open, and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice called out, “I am not permitted to let anyone enter, Sergeant Barnes.”

He cursed as he leaned his forehead against the door. “Please, let me in, Y/N. I need to talk to you. Explain.” After a second, he added, “If you won’t let me in, I’ll just tell you from out here.”

His eyes widened as he heard you say, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., soundproof my room.”

“Wait, no—”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, but Agent L/N has soundproofed her room.”

He growled, his hands clenching into fists. But underneath his anger and frustration was a deep sadness. He knew he had fucked up about three days into the whole thing, but hadn’t known how to stop. Within just a few days, he’d found that he would subconsciously go out of his way to make you laugh, the sound having become his favorite sound. He’d listen for you to start singing under your breath in the kitchen when you got up for your midnight snack to join you. He loved that your favorite ice cream was birthday cake (even though he always asked why you didn’t just make a cake if you liked the taste of it). The favorite part of his day had become watching you come into the kitchen first thing in the mornings, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

And he didn’t understand how he could’ve fucked up so badly. He honestly couldn’t have told you what kind of demon possessed him to think it was a good idea in the first place, let alone go through with it. He didn’t know how he could’ve ignored you for a year before getting to know you, since he’d decided a while ago that ‘feeling broody’ wasn’t a good enough excuse anymore.

What he didn’t see was that inside the room, you had dragged yourself out of bed and started throwing clothes into a duffel bag. You wiped at your tears, trying your best to suck it up and stop crying. You needed to get out, even if it was just for a few days. You couldn’t stay in the compound and have to deal with looking at Bucky and being reminded of how he used you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is he still outside?” You asked, shifting from foot to foot as you threw the duffel over your shoulder.

“Yes, Agent L/N.”

You cursed under your breath, trying to decide how you were going to do this. You could wait until he left, but you had no idea when that was going to happen. It could take minutes, it could take hours. Barnes was one of the most stubborn people you’d ever met.

The only other option was for you to push past him and try to make it to the elevator without him somehow stopping you.

“Piece of cake,” you said softly, trying to hype yourself up. Rolling your shoulders back, you opened up your bedroom door.

Bucky, who had been leaning against it, stumbled towards you, his sea blue eyes wide. “Y/N—”

Without even waiting to listen to him, you brushed past him. You willed yourself to keep going, despite the fact that he had started chasing after you.

“Y/N, where are you going?!” He asked, easily catching up with you. He broke into a run, getting ahead of you only to turn and block your way. “Would you listen to me?”

“No, Barnes,” you snapped, your hands shaking as you faced off with him. Your teeth were clenched together so tightly that they were starting to hurt. “Do you know what it’s like, hearing that someone’s been using you to get to your best friend?” You stared up at him with a steely resolve, despite the fact that tears were threatening to spill over at any second. He had gone silent, regret so clear in his eyes. “Do you know what it’s like to have the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year use you?” You couldn’t help but laugh self deprecatingly as he stayed silent. “And you know what the best part is? The best part is I actually thought I had a fucking chance with you. I thought that you might actually—” You broke off, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He watched as you moved around him, storming towards the elevator. You punched the bottom floor as soon as the doors opened, not daring to look at him as they closed behind you and took you down.

Bucky stared at the elevator you’d just disappeared to, his cheeks suspiciously wet. He didn’t even realize he’d started crying until Natasha appeared out of nowhere. Her hands shoved against his chest, sending him back a few feet as he looked at her with hazy eyes.

“What the fuck did you do?” She snarled, shoving him once again. The air around her seemed to crackle as she stalked towards him. Murder was clear in her eyes, and he knew he was in for it. “What the fuck did you do to her?” When she saw the tears, she rolled her green eyes so far back he was sure she could see inside her head. “Don’t give me those fucking tears, Barnes. What the fuck did you do?”

Steve came in from the kitchen, scowling. “Hey, what’s going—” The blond immediately tensed up as he saw the state Natasha was in.

“What the hell did he do to Y/N?” She demanded, but her withering gaze didn’t shift from Bucky.

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” He asked, glaring at his best friend. He clearly wasn’t very happy with him, and hadn’t been since he’d told him what he’d been doing for the past two months.

“I… I tried to make you jealous… by flirting with Y/N,” Bucky said, knowing that he was digging himself into a hole. There was really no excuse for what he’d done.

She stared at him in shock. “Trying to make me jealous?”

“Yes.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Listen, I know—”

“Bucky, I’m gay.”

He blinked owlishly at her, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. What about when we… You know… In the Red Room?”

Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You mean the one time we hooked up when I was trapped in an organization that would literally kill you for being gay? Yeah, I was definitely sure what my sexuality was then.”

“I…,” he said, trailing off. He was beginning to realize just how far deep he was. He had lost the best thing to ever happen to him, and all for a woman that would never be interested in him.

Not only that, a woman he had realized he wasn’t even really into. Around the month mark, he’d started realizing that he’d only wanted Natasha because they had history. She was familiar and easy and he wouldn’t have to worry about his history because they had the same red in their ledgers.

But you… You were soft and mysterious and new. You helped people no matter what, going as far as defying Nick Fury himself when he told you to take out someone you thought was innocent.

He stared Natasha directly in the eyes, his voice surprisingly steady as he said, “I love her.”

And then she punched him.

Bucky groaned, clutching his eye as he tried to ignore the pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“I’m still pissed at you,” she snarled, her lips pulled back in a sneer as she stared him down. “But if you don’t go after her, I’ll be even more pissed.”

He stared at her for a long moment, frozen in place. He was a little more than surprised that she was essentially telling him to go confess his love, but there they were.

“Go!” She shouted, pushing him towards the elevator.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, whirling around. He knew the elevator would take too long, so he flew threw the doors that led to the stairs. Flight after flight, he kept pushing himself harder and harder, hoping he’d be able to catch you before you got a way out of there.

He made it to the ground floor and began to run for the front entrance, knowing that you’d have to call an Uber or something.

And sure enough, he could see you through the glass doors. You were loading your duffel into the car that had come for you, the driver staring up at the huge building with a sense of awe.

“Y/N!” He screamed, willing himself to go faster. He finally made it outside and bolted down the steps. “Y/N, WAIT!”

You turned to look at you, brows furrowed. “What do you want, Barnes?” Your tone was cold, brisk, and he’d be the first to admit that he deserved it.

“Don’t go,” he said, his chest heaving.

“Why?” You asked, rolling your eyes. “Not like you want me here.”

Bucky shook his head, hoping that you would believe him. “I do. I do want you here.” When you looked at him in confusion, he continued, “It started out really bad, me trying to get Natasha by using you to make her jealous. I’ll be the first to admit it, and to be honest, I still don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.” He swallowed thickly around his tongue, his mouth suddenly dry. “But I realized within days that I want to be with you. I want you, Y/N. You’re the only one for me and I’m so, so sorry.” He took a chance and stepped closer to you. “I love you.”

“What?” You croaked, shaking your head. “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, his blue eyes piercing you. “Y/N M/N L/N, I am in love with you. I’m in love with your smile and the way you drool on my shoulder when you fall asleep during movies. I’m in love with how much you love cheesy romantic comedies. I’m in love with everything about you.” He hoped that he was getting through to you, since the look on your face wasn’t giving anything away. “And I know that I’m the biggest asshole in the entire world, but I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He then quickly added, “If you’ll let me.”

You wiped at the fresh wave of tears that had come over you, urging yourself not to fucking cry. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I guess you can’t,” he said, softly and meekly. His heart fucking hurt at seeing you cry, and even more since he’d been the one to cause it. “But I mean it when I say I want to prove myself to you.” Bucky reached out and tugged on your hand. “But please, don’t go. If only for Natasha.”

Sniffling, you eyed the Uber that was ready to take you to the city. “I…” You stared down at the duffel in the seat. “If you ever do this to me again, I will kill you.”

He let out a sigh of relief as he realized what you were saying. “I won’t. I promise.”

“And this doesn’t mean we get to be… a thing, right away,” you said, your fingers fiddling together. “But I… I forgive you.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need, baby doll,” he said, reaching out to pull you in a hug. He relished in the feeling of your head tucked into his chest, the smell of your shampoo wafting into his nose. “Just as long as you stay.”

You clutched onto his shirt, taking a deep breath in. He was everything to you, and even though he’d fucked this up, you wanted to know if it was possible for the two of you to still work. If you two could possibly have a future together.

“I’ll stay.”

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 11

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger!

Martin wants to do the right thing.

It's time to make some phone calls.

Martin resigned himself to a day of catch up. The recent circumstances hadn’t been the most conducive to completing his work tasks, but he was employed for the time being. He would wait for the right time to reopen the can of worms upstairs and in the meantime double down on the figures in front of him. The others went to work as well, going through the records they recovered from the library and verifying some information from the storage house.

After some time, he heard Sasha ask, “Martin? This place used to be a bigger fishing town, right? Before the Lukases showed up.”

Martin thought for a moment. “I don’t think it was that great to begin with? I’m sure they didn’t help, but the problem started long before I was born. There may be some people old enough to remember when things were a bit better, but it’s always been a shaky business despite the proximity to the sea.” He paused, then asked, “Is there a reason you’re looking into this? Doesn’t sound very ghost-related.”

Sasha tapped her pen on the table. “It helps to get a timeline of major events. Even if there are coincidences, a broader historical picture often helps with places where the phenomena are… far reaching.”

“What, did the lighthouse eat all the fish?” Martin laughed, but it quickly died as he continued to think about it. “...Could it do that?”

“Doubtful,” Jon said, keeping his eyes glued to his laptop. “It’s possible the family saw an existing, natural decline in job prospects and swooped in to create an even bigger vacuum they could then fill. Nothing supernatural, just horrid people finding a good opportunity.”

Tim snorted. “While they just so happened to buy and operate a possessed lighthouse?”

Jon looked over his screen. “People can have multiple motivations. For example, Peter Lukas apparently enjoys boating and taking the possessions of others for the fun of it. The two aren’t necessarily related.” His eyes dropped back to his task.

“Fair enough. Maybe someone in the family won it in a bet, then? Swiped it from some evil lighthouse keeper.” Tim wiggled his fingers.

Martin laughed silently through his nose and went back to work, assuming his part of the conversation was completed. If he’d learned anything from the situation earlier that morning, it was to quit before weird personal details about his deadbeat fisherman dad came out and ruined the mood.

The three continued to debate possible motivations and causes, eventually trailing off and lapsing into a focused silence. The scratches of pen on paper mingled with the tapping of the keyboard. It created an arrangement that echoed over itself in a round, filling the space and tunneling upward along the staircase. Despite himself, Martin strained to hear anything that felt out of place, but he could feel no intent in the repetition. It was loud, but it was the normal, unnerving loud he’d become accustomed to over the last few months.

There wouldn’t be anything, as long as he kept the dial in the correct position. Not anything he could perceive, anyway. Were they listening, even if they couldn’t stockpile his words? Were they seething at his decision? Were they-

Martin gritted his teeth, willing himself to focus on the page in front of him. The group would call Naomi soon, and if she responded they would be one step closer to confirming his suspicions. For the time being, he would sit with his churning insides and wait.

Relief came at eleven with his lunch hour, which the others were considerate enough to wait for. He barely tasted the sandwich he’d thrown together that morning. There was a heightened atmosphere spread across him and the others, a buzz of excitement. After hours of necessary but tedious paperwork and discussion, it was time again for action.

Sasha dialed the number and waited, drumming her fingers on a pad of paper in front of her. “Available number,” she mouthed, giving a thumbs up. A few seconds passed, and she frowned and ended the call. “But, of course, it is no longer her number. I would change mine too, if people were tailing me.”

They all slumped in their chairs and braced themselves for a long, slow afternoon as Sasha looked at her pad of paper and dialed the first number on the list of many, many Naomi Hernes.

Some answered with varying levels of politeness, mostly responding with “never heard of the place” or “the name doesn’t ring any bells”. Otherwise, she left a short, scripted voicemail giving little information other than Evan’s name in hopes that Naomi would take the bait. She kept their institute out of it entirely.

When asked why, Sasha explained that this part of the investigation would have to be off record. Evidently, the Magnus Institute encouraged thorough research until it involved digging into its own benefactors. Unless they discovered a lead that didn’t implicate the Lukas family, they would be on their own.

The minutes ticked on, dragging more and more with the lack of success. After thirty minutes of fruitless calls, Sasha said, “It may take a while. We don’t know her schedule or if she’s even on this list. I was able to go off her last recorded location, but that’s about it.” Sasha leaned back in her chair, stretching her shoulders.

Jon pulled his laptop back in front of him. “We’ll need to give her time. If she’s aware of the Lukases keeping tabs on her, she’ll probably be wary of us. Keep going through the list. Tim and I will continue with the rest.”

Martin sat around for the rest of his lunch hour, losing hope with each passing call. He ought to have considered how long it could take to reach her, or that she might not answer at all. Why would she? What reason did she really have to trust a bunch of strangers?

He looked down at his phone, mindlessly flipping between apps before settling on his notes. Under Naomi’s old number was the one for Evan’s mobile, locked safely away in the storage house. Running his thumb up and down the side of his phone, he peeked up at the others through his bangs.

“I know we’re waiting to hear back from Naomi, but-” They looked at him, and he swallowed hard. “We know who it probably is, right? We have something he would know, and we could even-”

“Sorry, Martin, but that’s a big ‘no’ from me,” Tim said, crossing his arms. “If it’s him, he can wait a bit longer. If it’s not, then there could be something bad on the other side that we’re not ready to deal with, something that might even pretend to be him given the opportunity.”

There was an edge to his voice that made Martin shrink sheepishly in his seat. Tim’s face grew soft. “You want to help. I get it, but we should play it safe for now. Once we’re certain of the situation, we’ll do the heroic thing and release his trapped soul or get him out of the sound booth he’s locked himself in or whatever it is that needs to be done.”

Martin nodded glumly and looked back at his phone. After a moment, a notification popped up on the screen.

Tim: and if we get him out and hes as hot as they say he was, then who knows ;)

All the tension in Martin’s shoulders was released with a high-pitched snicker that his hand failed to stifle. The other two turned their gazes on him. Martin’s ears turned beet red at the attention he’d brought upon himself. Jon shot a suspicious glance at Tim, whose broad smile denied nothing.

By twenty minutes to four, there had been no sign of the person they were hoping for, ignoring one response by someone who thought they were being hilarious. Martin had only one task remaining before it was time to leave, and once his things were carefully packed away he walked over to the stairs and placed a hand on the rail. From behind him came the sound of chairs squeaking against hard tile.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the three had all risen from their seats and were shooting surprised looks at each other.

Martin sighed. “I’m just going up for my normal work stuff. I won’t be touching anything I’m not supposed to.” Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but if he’d wanted to do anything there in secret, which he didn’t, there was no point in doing so when other people in the building could hear every amplified word.

“Well, I’ll be coming up anyway. Might as well get a better look at what buttons you’re pressing.” Tim jogged over, waving a hand at the other two dismissively and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Keep an ear on the phone and text us if something comes up.” Jon and Sasha, who’d clearly been about to walk over and join them, sat down despite their visible apprehension. Tim started up the stairs, leaving Martin to trail behind.

Before long, Tim began to rely more and more on the handrail to keep his balance. About halfway up the stairs, he held up a hand for Martin to stop and dropped his head.

“Okay,” he said, flexing his grip on the rail. He took a moment to breath. “Okay, I’m good. Damn this place, though.”

When they reached the top, Tim faced the stairs and, at a regular speaking volume, said, “Hello? Tim Stoker to Boss Man.” He waited, then checked his phone. “Huh. Guess sound does have limits in this place. Good to know.” Tim smiled at Martin. “Let’s see those switches, then.”

Martin could see that Tim’s eye was just as drawn to the dial as Martin’s as they approached the panel. Martin slowed down his process, taking care to show Tim what he was doing with the different buttons and knobs, and Tim seemed to be taking notes on his phone.

“If it would help, I have a list of everything I do up here on my desk. My handwriting isn’t the best, but it’s legible.” Martin continued to complete the steps without thinking, allowing muscle memory to take over. “Not that I’ve looked at it super recently. I also have the version in my work contract? But that would have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Tim nodded, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe there’s a hidden ‘I cede my right to file a claim against any injury due to imprisoned spirits’ clause or something in the fine print.” Martin laughed weakly but said nothing. Leaning on the side of the panel, Tim looked at him. “You really think it’s the guy? Evan?”

Martin’s finger slipped, missing a button entirely. “...Yeah. I can’t think of anything else it could be? And I get it, there are some things I don’t know about-”

“Lots of things, actually. Look,” Tim stood up straight, crossing his arms. “I’m not usually the lecturing type, but you seem like a well-meaning guy, and this thing could very well be taking that from your voice and turning it back on you.” There was an unmistakable discomfort, though Tim was doing his best to look authoritative. “You’re not used to this stuff, but most of it ends up being not so nice.”

Resuming his task, Martin looked down and asked, “Have you ever… studied something like that?”

From the corner of Martin’s eye, he could see Tim shift a bit and lean against the panel again. “They’re something I’ve worked on, yeah.”

After a final flip of a switch, Martin looked back at Tim whose gaze was firmly centered on the window. Martin rolled his fingertips on the surface of the panel. “Any personal experiences or advice? For my benefit?”

Tim took some time to think, and without taking his eyes from the window responded, “If you can shut them up, make sure they stay that way.” Tim let out a breath through his nose. “And if someone’s got by one, chances are they won’t be kept alive. Once a copy is made, there’s no reason to keep the original.”

The bitter twinge in Tim’s voice warned against the questions forming on the tip of Martin’s tongue. If Tim was talking from experience, the specifics were none of Martin’s business.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shook his head. “So, since I was the one who turned the dial, do me a favor and keep away from it?” When Martin nodded in agreement, Tim uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the panel. “Good. It’s a deal then. Now, when we get back down, we can pretend to have had a riveting talk about how fish hate your town.”

Once they were back on the main floor, disappointment washed over Martin. “Was it too much to expect anything back so soon?” He looked through his bag, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“You get used to it.” Sasha paused from collecting some papers to watch him sulk in his corner. “Can’t tell you how many follow-up calls I’ve made that led to nothing.”

“Or all the numbers we’ve gotten that were for takeout places,” Jon grumbled.

“I dunno, I’ve been pretty lucky with numbers.” Tim winked at Sasha, who shoved some of the papers into his arms.

Martin smiled, though Tim’s comment reeked of forced levity. He zipped up his bag and walked to the door. “Let me know if anything comes up?”

“Of course.” Jon pushed himself out of his chair and walked at a brisk pace to meet him. “Could I have a word with you, before you head home?” He opened the door and gestured outside.

“Oh. Sure?” He avoided Tim’s very pointed eye contact and walked through the door. Jon followed behind with his arms wrapped around himself, his thin, long-sleeved shirt doing nothing for him in the cold. “Do you need to-”

“I’ll be back inside in a moment.” His stubbornness did nothing to protect him from the shivers. “About tonight.”

With all excitement and distraction gone, the weight that had been balancing precariously in Martin’s chest dropped to his stomach like a lead ball. “Is there a way to make this not horrible?”

Jon frowned. “I don’t know the full circumstances, but ultimately, I believe you’ll be doing the right thing.” He placed a tentative hand on Martin’s shoulder and gave it a stiff pat. He immediately retracted his hand and wrapped it back around himself, keeping his eyes on anything but Martin. “You know her better than I do. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Martin clung to that confidence and the feeling of pressure from Jon’s hand. “Okay...” He took a large breath. “Okay. I should get going then. No point in putting it off.”

Jon nodded his head and hurried back inside, leaving Martin to walk home with more courage than he’d managed to gather for himself. As the sun drifted closer to its exit, Martin latched onto that little encouragement and thought of what to say.

“Hi, Mum. I found your skin? No, that sounds weird-”

“I know there are things I don’t understand, but-”

“Mum, I found this in the attic. I know it’s yours. Do you want to-”

“A guy from work said to give you this? Wait, no-”

And so he continued, muttering under his breath all the ways he could broach the subject without it being a complete disaster.

This could change things.

Would she scream? He’d never heard her truly scream. It wasn’t her way, but this could unlock something so much worse than he’d known. How dare he bring this to her if she’d hidden it for a good reason? That seemed a likely reaction.

Would she talk to him about her time in the water? Would she reminisce about a time before things went wrong, when he would watch her from the porch? Too hopeful to consider, but nice to think about.

Perhaps she would tell him to return it to the attic, and it would never be spoken of again. Things would be as they always were, just with a new secret to hang over them both. Another weight on their shoulders, another little barrier keeping them from being anything but what they had been for decades now.

Jon had said it would be the right thing to do. He would know about these things more than Martin, right? His word had to be worth something. No matter how she might react, this had to happen sooner or later.

The walk home sped past like nothing. The front door was before him, and then closed behind, and he felt more than ever like he was on a track, being moved from place to place without any consultation of his will. The night proceeded like clockwork, dinner prepared and completed with only his voice and the occasional terse response from his mother for filler noise. It wasn’t yet time.

The fog had rolled in thick as evening turned to night, and they looked out into it from the front porch, her breaths steady and bracing. Through his barely open eyes, Martin saw a hint of rolling waves before the salt brought out the tears and washed away his vision.

He walked his mother back inside and helped her prepare for bed. Once she was settled against the headboard, Martin coughed and began in a low, gentle tone. “Mum. Can I talk to you about something?”

She frowned, tired contempt rippling across her face. “Must you now? You’ve had all night to talk.”

Martin clenched and unclenched his teeth. “It’s important. Please, it’s...it’s about something I found in the attic.”

His mother froze, her hand gripping the quilt on her lap. Annoyance gave way to a wide, blank stare that brushed just over his shoulder. “I did not ask you to retrieve anything from there.”

Martin shrank back. “Yes, I know. I just went up to make sure there hadn’t been a-any issues with the roof after some of the rain recently since we keep some things in storage up there, and I wanted t-”

“Bring it to me. Now.” Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Martin stood too quickly, grabbing the rickety bedside table for balance and causing a loud thump as one of its legs slammed into the ground. The dim lamp on top of it wobbled, creating unnerving shadows on the walls. He winced. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and let himself breathe. Okay, he thought, this was a good thing. He walked up the stairs two at a time with his long legs, speeding down the hall while keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. She wanted him to bring it to her. He would do as she ordered. Everything would be okay, he told himself, ignoring the strange sinking feeling in his gut.

It was where he’d left it, folded loosely in the corner to avoid any possible creasing. It pressed heavily into his hands, and he brushed off a little more dust as he walked back down the stairs. At his mother’s door, he paused and adjusted it one more time to a position he felt was the most dignified. Then, he entered the room.

She was looking out her window, through the misted glass and into the fog that surrounded their home. Her hands were limp over the quilt, one placed gently on top of the other. When the door clicked shut behind him, there was an almost imperceptible turn of her head, though he couldn’t see anything but her clenched jaw.

“Mum? I’ve brought it. Do you want me to place it on the bed? I-”

His mother turned to face him fully, and as her eyes locked onto him a torrent of pure fury slammed into his chest. He stumbled, the selkie skin almost escaping his large, clumsy hands.

“Give it to me.” Her rasping voice made Martin’s throat hurt, and her neck seemed to throb with effort. When he failed to move his legs, she forced out, “now, you stupid man!”

He tripped forward, and when he was within reach she snatched the skin from him. She clasped it to her chest just as Jon had that morning, with the same smoothing motion over its surface. Unsure of what to say, he became a statue. Every muffled intake of air burned down into his chest.

Taking in a shuddering breath, his mother whispered, “Leave.”

“What?” There was a painful crack in his voice.

“Leave me alone.”

The only thing he could see were his own near-faded footsteps as he climbed up the cliff side, the fog doing well to obscure the surrounding foliage.

He needed to be out of the damned fog. That’s why he’d fled the house, and the beach, and the crashing waves. That’s all it was down there, a house adrift in grey nothing, and he was too loud of a presence to truly give her solitude with his tramping feet on the floorboards upstairs.

It was past sundown when he reached the end of his climb, and the corner lights looked as much as they had the night before. As they had on any other night he’d spent wandering the dark, emptying streets. Pulling his coat more tightly around himself, Martin marched forward, drawn to the only other place to which he had a key.

He looked up before he could think too hard about it, and the sky bore down on him until all he could do was fall back into the gaping pit waiting just behind his heel. Had it felt like this before? Yes, it had, hadn’t it? A giant emptiness in the ground waiting to swallow him whole, and as he had seen it, so from it the vertigo had come. Only now it was polite enough to slow down and let him see the horror below.

He woke up on the ground with a groan, just outside of the florist shop. It was closed for the night, and there was no one inside or out to stare as he lifted himself out of a puddle, the arm of his coat soaked through with water. He was halfway through trying to regain some semblance of focus when he realized his glasses had fallen from his nose and were now lying on the ground beside him.

Relieved that his impaired vision was no worse than usual, he reached over to pick up his glasses. As he did so, he glimpsed at the water’s surface, and for just a moment the blurry vision of his face looked just enough like someone else. He gasped, snatching his glasses and scrambling to sit on the curb.

She’d never called Martin that. She’d had other ways of showing her frustration with him, but that… that had been for someone else. Of course. He hadn’t even thought to warn her of his re-entry, so he had gone into her room and with just that lamp by her bed the doorway must’ve been so dark-

The pounding in his head grew more fervent, and he curled into himself until he faced the ground, head between his knees. As the minutes crawled by, the pain began to subside, and eventually he was able to stand, even if there was a slight shake to his legs.

“Twenty years and still you don’t learn.”

He continued without reason, thankful for the empty road ahead, his arm going cold in its dripping sleeve.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #jonmartin

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

Acting Your Age (Part 4)

Summary: When Jensen returns from a business trip, he and the reader have a few more dates and a few sleepovers as their relationship continues to develop...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 7,000ish

Warnings: language, age gap, implied smut

____

You hummed when you plopped down in your bed that night after your shower, smiling to yourself.

You’d spent the afternoon in the pool and had some barbecue for dinner, Jensen like a puppy dog and always smiling whenever you saw him. He had some paperwork to catch up on and eventually headed home though, letting you get in some playtime with the kids.

“Someone looks happy,” said Gen, stepping into your room that night.

“Mhm,” you said, staring up at the ceiling.

“Thinking about lover boy?” she teased as she walked in and lay on the other side of your bed.

“Sorta. I don’t know. I had fun today,” you said, closing your eyes. “I have a voicemail from my ex.”

“Really? What’s that about?” she asked.

“He saw my picture online. Told me not only is he younger than Jensen, by like two years, but, he also has way more money and is way more attractive. He wants me to go on a trip to Greece with him so we can ‘reconnect’ on his yacht,” you said. “He was a stock broker.”

“Oh boy. Someone realizes what they lost out on,” she said.

“When we were alone, he was great. But he was embarrassed of me, even when we went out to dinner. He was a lot more outgoing than Jensen but Jensen is the guy bragging that his girlfriend broke the woman’s record on hole six this morning at lunch to the waiter. He’s a quieter guy but he’s not embarrassed of me, you know?”

“Honey, Jensen is head over heels. He’s also not a douchebag so I don’t think you have to worry about that. I think he’s more concerned about trying to make sure you’re able to keep some of your privacy. He’s no big movie star but he gets attention,” she said.

“I don’t care,” you said.

“Good. You’re gonna need that. Trust me,” she said. “The internet can be a cruel place.”

“He’s not gonna be like, showing me off at an award show or anything. He doesn’t need to worry about that crap,” you said.

“Boys are weird,” she said. You laughed and nodded, looking over at her.

“What’s your honest opinion on me and Jensen? You’re my sister in law. You’ve always been the one keeping an eye out for me. What do you really think?” you asked.

“I think you should be with someone that respects you, is your best friend and that you can see spending the rest of your life with. That’s it,” she said.

“Gen. Come on. If I brought home a guy like Jensen but you didn’t know him,” you said.

“Exactly what I said. It’s not rocket science,” she said. “Jensen’s good. You’re under his skin. Enjoy it.”

“I am,” you said. “You wouldn’t happen to know any architects or interior designers looking to hire in town, do you?”

“I may be able to hook you up. A friend of ours just bought a house and they’re looking to redecorate. I know you’re very good,” she said.

“Independent contractor? I’ve never done that before,” you said.

“Maybe you could while you look for a place. I’m sure it’s not a ton of hours,” she said.

“Maybe. Taking Jensen out to dinner last night was a tad expensive. It was great but my funds are dwindling,” you said.

“He didn’t even go Dutch?” she asked as she sat up.

“He tried to pay but I caught the waiter and gave him my card instead. Jensen was a little mad over that I think,” you said. “But I want to be able to take him out on dates too, you know?”

“Let him pay next time, he’s got the money,” she laughed. “Take him hiking around Austin sometime and then do food trucks. Super cheap date and it’s fun.”

“Sometime,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Get some sleep. You’re exhausted from playing all day,” she said as she sat up, pulling your covers out from under you.

“Alright, mom,” you said, turning into your pillows with a laugh. “Night Gen.”

“Night,” she said, closing your door part way.

“She’s asleep already?” you heard Jared whisper outside the door.

“What?” you called, not bothering to open your eyes.

“I was wondering if you guys wanted some ice cream and to watch a movie but-“

“There’s always time for ice cream,” you said as you sat up with a smile.

You woke up on the couch the next morning, Odette poking your cheek until you opened your eyes.

“Hi Aunt Y/N!” she said loudly, your body letting out a large groan as you heard Jared laugh from the kitchen. “Daddy made pancakes.”

“Awesome,” you said, her little hand peeling your eyes open. “Jared.”

“That’s not nice, munchkin,” he said. “Why don’t you and your brothers get your Aunt some orange juice.”

“I got it,” you said, standing up wearily and taking a plate when it was shoved in your hands. You took a seat at the table between the boys, digging in with a hum.

“Dad, are Aunt Y/N and Uncle Jensen gonna get married?” asked Tom. You nearly choked on the food in your mouth, Jared whacking your back as he went past.

“They’ve been dating a whopping five days. Let’s hold off on the wedding bells,” he said and setting down some orange juice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I am not getting married anytime soon,” you said.

“I think you should,” said Tom. “Before you’re too old.”

“How old do you think I am?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“How old is dad?” asked Gen as she cut into her food.

“37!” said Shep.

“Yup. Y/N is about ten and a half years younger so she’s…” she trailed off.

“Two...something,” he said.

“Twenty six,” you said.

“Daddy, why you so old?” asked Odette.

“Mom’s older than me!” he said.

“I live with five children,” she sighed.

“I’m like a child half time,” you said, Gen giving you a smile. “So what are you guys up to today?”

“School,” said the boys.

“Swimmies!” said Odette.

“Sounds fun,” you said. “Mom and dad gonna swim with you?”

“Mommy. Daddy’s playing at Uncle ‘ensen house,” she said.

“I’m gonna help him film his audition tape,” said Jared. “Your unemployed ass is welcome to join.”

“I’m actually going to take a me day, maybe talk to those friends of yours with the new house,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “I’m running to the grocery store after so write down what you want on the list.”

“Sure thing,” you said, taking another bite of food when the doorbell rang.

“I wonder who that could be,” he said with a smile, nodding for you to get it. You stood and walked to the door, knowing they must have expected someone if they’d left the gate open. You tried to fix your bedhead as you opened it, giggling as you saw the ticket on the ground with a sticky note attached to it.

Something unexpected popped up at the brewery, potential opportunity so I will unfortunately be flying out of town this afternoon. I’ll be gone until Sunday night but there’s a concert downtown if you’re interested. Text me whatever you decide. I’ll meet you there, kiddo.

“He’s adorable,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the ticket and note, walking back inside and setting it on the counter. “Most guys would just text.”

“He’s old,” said Jared. “Fashioned.”

“He’s sweet,” you said. “And dorky.”

“Are you blushing?” he teased. You shook your head as you sat down.

“Your face is all red Aunt Y/N,” said Tom.

“Eat your breakfast kid,” you said, ruffling his hair with a smile.

Sunday Night

You felt a tap on your shoulder, spinning around to find a smiling Jensen behind you.

“Hey, kiddo,” he chuckled.

“Hey! How’d it go?” you asked, giving him a hug, getting a peck on the lips quickly from him.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “It’s a good opportunity but I don’t have the manpower for it, namely me. I’d probably have to give up acting for good and that’s not something I want.”

“Well that’s too bad. Can’t you hire someone to help?” you asked.

“See,” he said, grabbing your hand as you headed into where the outdoor concert was going to be playing soon. “There’s this farmhouse on the land the brewery is on. It’s a few hundred feet away. It’s a gorgeous building. A bit run down but the bones are good. It was always sort of this side idea to make that into something. Restaurant. Bed and breakfast. Fancy tasting room. Something cool. I settled with the bed and breakfast since I thought that’s kind of a little of the restaurant and there could be a tasting room too or something. But I don’t think I can run two businesses and then act on top of it, you know?”

“Do you want to do it?” you asked.

“Yes. The brewery is pretty self-sufficient now but there was so much aggravation getting it set up and trying to work at the same time. I don’t want to go through all that again,” he said.

“Don’t you have more free time now?” you asked.

“It was just a really sucky time in my life I’d rather not go through again,” he said.

“Well I think if you really want it, you should do it,” you said. “Free manual labor, right here.”

“My last girlfriend broke up with me because of that whole incident so I’m not playing with that fire,” he said, smirking at you.

“Well now you totally got to do it,” you said. “I’ll help if I can. I’m an independent interior designer now so I make my own schedule.”

“Really? That’s awesome. Being your own boss is the best,” he said.

“True. Kind of scary though,” you said. “We’ll see how it goes. But you should go for it.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, wandering the two of you over towards a beer tent, ordering two.

“Well the internet thinks I’m a slut over one innocent picture so if I can handle that, I can handle a little overworked Jensen,” you said. He stared at you, taking the beers and handing you one before you took a sip. “Yeah, I looked. Fuck ‘em.”

“You really shouldn’t get in the habit of doing that. It’s a nasty rabbit hole to go down,” he said.

“I found it amusing,” you said, grabbing hold of his hand again. “Plus I needed to. So you fix up that farmhouse and don’t worry about this, alright? I like spending time with you but I don’t need constant attention. I’m not Jared after all.”

He chuckled and nodded, swaying your hands as you walked.

“I hope you like rock music,” he said. “Please say you like rock music or else this is going to be a very long night.”

“I’m like, totally only into Top 40,” you said, giving him your best bitchface.

“Something tells me that’s not the truth,” he said with a smile. “What about country?”

“Eh, some country. Depends on how much I’ve had to drink honestly,” you said. “I like most music.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’ve never heard these guys before. I figured it beat dinner in a restaurant again.”

“It’s not that late. Did you not want to grab a bite after this?” you asked.

“Oh, I do. But something...easy,” he said. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Wow,” you said, carrying your fast food in one hand as you followed Jensen into his house a few hours later. “Wow.”

“It’s not that nice,” he said, showing you where to put your shoes. You walked into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter, Jensen going to the fridge and pulling out a few beers, some of his brewery’s brand from the looks of it. He set his bag down on the counter opposite you and sat up on it, letting his feet dangle off the edge while you started to pull out food.

“You got to show me around your house after we eat. It’s so...interesting,” you said, glancing at the ceiling above you. “Nice beam work.”

“I bet you tell that to all the boys,” he said, earning a laugh from you. “It’s alright. I let some designer do everything once the house was finished being remodeled.”

“It’s nice. Not exactly what I would have thought your style would be. There’s definitely some unique things,” you said.

“I was had a girlfriend when the house was being updated. She picked out some of those things,” he said. “The girly stuff.”

“In the designer world we like to say feminine,” you said, taking a bite of your taco. “Same chick that didn’t like you working so much?”

“Different one. We were gonna live together which is why she was helping. That didn’t work out,” he said. “Obviously.”

“It’s still a very lovely house,” you said.

“Could I hire you? To re do some of that stuff?” he asked.

“Sure. We could work out some kind of deal I’m sure,” you said. He nodded and started to eat, swaying his feet again like a kid would.

“You probably think I move fast in a relationship huh,” he said.

“No. All you said was you almost lived with a girl. I’ve lived with a guy before. You’re a whole lot older, I sort of expect you’d have had more relationships,” you said.

“I think I thought us working on this house together would fix the stuff that was wrong, you know? I don’t know how I ever thought that was a good idea,” he said.

“Going through something hard teaches you more about a person than everything being easy breezy,” you said.

“Kinda like you and your brother?” he asked.

“You didn’t have to drive down there to fix that last week you know,” you said.

“I’ll take the not easy breezy stuff too,” he said, giving you a smile.

“That wasn’t us though. That was something…” you said.

“If I’ve learned anything from my married friends, it’s that a relationship is picking a partner that doesn’t just do cute stuff. They have your back when shit happens. It’s just finding someone that you want to go through the highs and lows with. Never found anyone yet who wants to stick around for a low is all,” he said.

“You got someone to take care of you when that happens?” you asked.

“Yeah. Sorry, this going into a much deeper conversation than I intended,” he said.

“So?” you said. “The lows don’t scare me.”

“Not sure much does, kiddo,” he chuckled.

“I’m serious,” you said.

“Well that girl was the last time I dated. A few years ago now,” he said.

“I should set her up with my ex,” you said.

“The British douche?” he asked.

“He called me last week. More than once. I politely told him where to shove it,” you said.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Why’s he talking to you again anyways?”

“Oh, I think he’s jealous of you. I told him maybe he should try being a bit more respectful for like my new boyfriend if he wants a girl to stick around,” you said.

“Maybe I should set this guy with her,” he chuckled. “She only ever wanted money after a certain point anyways.”

“Peter was an idiot that wasn’t comfortable with our age difference is all,” you said.

“I thought he made you feel stupid though,” he said.

“Oh yeah. Never mind, throw him to the wolves,” you said.

“Remind me to never break up with you,” he said as he ate.

“I’m not letting you go so easily,” you said.

“Good,” he said with a laugh. “Not to mention your willingness to eat fast food at one in the morning makes you far more attractive than anyone I’ve ever dated.”

“I’m a cheap date,” you smiled.

“You know last week, you paid for dinner at the restaurant. That was a pretty pricey meal,” he said.

“I can afford it,” you said. “You’re just gonna be getting happy meals for the next six months but I can afford it.”

“Let me pay next time,” he said.

“Alright,” you said. “But I get to pay the time after that.”

“Y/N.”

“Jensen.”

“Well since we’re not gonna be able to agree on this, let’s settle it with a bet,” he said.

“What kind of bet,” you asked.

“Arm wrestling,” he said.

“That’s so not fair,” you said.

“I mean, I know you’re probably going to win but…” he said, biting his bottom lip. “Oh, that’s adorable. Your little cheeks are red but you’re kinda grumpy too.”

“Such a boy,” you groaned. “Fine. You win. But...nice dinners are not the norm, agreed?”

“Deal,” he said. “So I can totally get like, the cheeseburger happy meal though right?”

“Wow,” you said, shaking your head as he laughed. “Yeah, we can go all out on that.”

“Sweet,” he said, taking another bite when the lights flickered. You looked overhead, watching it happen a few more times before they shut off and the house was dark. You heard a hum and the refrigerator kicked back on. “At least the generator works. Only keeps the kitchen and bedroom going though.”

“It’s not even storming,” you said, a loud boom of thunder overhead. You finished the rest of your food and cleaned up, Jensen looking out the front windows at the pouring rain.

“I’m sure it’ll clear up in a minute,” he said. You grabbed your phone and checked the radar, the storm slow moving and another one right behind it.

“It’s like solid red for a few good hours,” you said, a big crack of lightning appearing, Jensen stepping back from the windows. He turned to you in the dimly lit kitchen, a question on his face. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“I can sleep in the guest room, you take my bed. The power works in there,” he said.

“We could share,” you said. “Just sleep.”

“Yeah,” he said. “As long as you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yeah,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down a short hall, Jensen pointing to a dark space.

“Bathroom. Other side is the closet,” he said, stepping through the open door into a large master bedroom. “Comfy bed.”

“Pretty vaulted ceiling,” you said.

“Always looking at the ceiling,” he chuckled. He ducked into his closet, returning after a moment in just a t shirt and his boxer briefs. You kept your gaze up, spotting the shirt and boxers in his arms. “I don’t know if you wanted something to sleep in.”

“Thanks,” you said, stepping past him and going into his closet. “Oh my God. Can I have your closet?”

“It’s a closet,” he laughed.

“It’s huge! There’s so much space you’re not using,” you said, spotting all the clothes in piles on the floor. “Ah, so he’s not Mr. Perfect. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to hang up your clothes?”

“Oh shut up,” he laughed from the bedroom. You changed out of your jeans and shirt, taking off your bra after a moment. You carried your clothes out to the room and set them down on the dresser, Jensen sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared for a moment and ducked his eyes away. “Clothes fit?”

“Mhm,” you said, walking over to the other side of the bed. You sat down and threw back the covers, flinching when there was a loud boom.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Don’t really like storms at night,” you said. “Normally not a problem cause I’m sleeping.”

“S’okay,” he said. You nodded and lay down, flinching again when the storm was louder. He got under the covers and you felt him move closer, turning on his side and putting an arm over your waist. You turned your head towards him, swallowing hard when the house shook. He smiled and nudged a little closer. “You’re alright, kiddo.”

“Forgot about stupid Texas storms,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the storm got louder and louder.

“Come here,” he said, turning you towards him. You didn’t mean to but you grabbed onto the front of his shirt, Jensen moving his arm to wrap around your back. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Sorry,” you said, moving away when he turned you back.

“Really. It’s okay,” he said. You gave him a small nod before you sighed and closed your eyes, resting your head on his chest. “You’re okay, honey. I promise.”

You blinked open your eyes wearily, catching Jensen rolling over in bed, his arms flailing about before one landed on you. He immediately pulled you into his chest, giving you a big morning cuddle and jamming his face into your back. You giggled when he started to breath softly again, Jensen stirring this time, whole body tensing before his arms were off of you.

“Good morning,” you said, looking back over your shoulder.

“Morning,” he said, rolling away some. You moved to where he’d been, spreading out and smiling at him. “Oh, you don’t get the whole bed young lady.”

“Comfy bed,” you said, turning on your side, tucking your arms under the covers.

“You look so pretty,” he said quietly. You leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You’re a cuddler,” you said. He groaned and turned away, your hands shooting out to grab him and move him back. “Oh no. Jensen Ackles is a cuddler and you are not denying it.”

“You wouldn’t dare tell,” he said.

“What do I get in return for my silence?” you asked. He smirked and wrapped his arms around you. “I will accept being paid off in cuddles.”

“Yes, yes you will,” he said.

“I like cuddles too,” you said. He smiled and you moved your leg, a strange noise coming from him as he shifted away. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. No one ever tells you morning wood keeps happening no matter how old you are,” he said as he fixed himself.

“Here I thought it was me,” you said.

“That part of me certainly likes you very much,” he said, quickly clearing his throat. “Sorry. I make it sound like…”

“Maybe tonight,” you said with a smile. “If you’re in the mood.”

“I think I could be,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We’ll see. For now though, all I want to do is make you some breakfast. Thankfully the power is back on.”

“How about you cook and I’ll set the places?” you asked.

“Deal,” he said, moving out of the bed. You followed after him, Jensen chuckling when he looked at you in daylight for the first time. “You look like a grumpy toddler.”

“Joke’s on you, Ackles. Too big shirts are my go to pajamas,” you said.

“I like it,” he said, starting to pad around the kitchen as you discovered where he kept the plates. Less than ten minutes later you had a plate of scrambled eggs in front of you, Jensen sitting two seats down at the counter, back against the pillar in the kitchen, legs spread out over the middle stool.

“Someone’s comfortable,” you said.

“Just enjoying the view,” he said, scooping some eggs into his mouth. “So you’re not a fan of storms, huh?”

You blushed and stared at your plate, eating quietly for a few moments.

“I don’t like spiders. Dolls are super creepy to me too,” he said.

“Yeah, not a fan of storms, at night,” you said, poking at your food.

“Well next time there’s one and I’m not around, give me a call,” he said. You glanced over, Jensen taking a bite off his fork.

“You don’t think it’s childish?”

“No. I wish maybe you weren’t so scared but it’s not childish,” he said.

“When I was in college, I rushed for a sorority. The last hazing thing was pledges had to stay in this old abandoned house off campus. It ended up storming that night. They were going to prank us but we didn’t realize, some guy was squatting there. He was pretty...terrifying. We thought it was part of a prank but it wasn’t and he got violent super quick. Safe to say, I didn’t join,” you said.

“Fuck. I thought guys were bad. You were alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen staring at you. “I got a little beat up. I was okay. Far more damage has been done wrestling with my brothers.”

“Still. I get why you don’t like stormy nights,” he said.

“It’s silly,” you said.

“You know what I say to Jared when he says that? Tough shit. It’s bothering you so it’s not silly or stupid so let’s try and take care of it,” he said.

“Yeah but how do I take care of something like that?” you asked.

“Make it into something good. I used to be so afraid of public speaking and now I tell myself it’s okay and it works. It took awhile but it does,” he said. “So next time there’s a storm, turn it into something good.”

“I suppose,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“So you were almost a sorority girl,” he said with a smirk.

“Shut up, pretty boy,” you laughed.

“I am pretty, aren’t I?” he teased.

“You have dried drool on your cheek,” you said. “Hot stuff.”

“You’re one to talk,” he giggled.

“You’re saying this is not the epitome of hotness? Messy hair and a tired face?” you laughed.

“We have very different definitions of how you look,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“I think I’m going to get dressed,” you said, sliding off your seat. “You know you aren’t getting this shirt back, right?”

“I figured as much,” he chuckled. You headed into his bedroom, changing in his bathroom and tucking his shirt under your arm. After grabbing your purse, he walked you to his door, carrying a cup of coffee now. “I’ll see you tonight, kiddo.”

“Yes you will,” you said, giving him a short kiss. “Hey, since you made me breakfast, can I cook you dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? It has been a long time since someone has made me dinner,” he said.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“I’m easy going,” he said.

“You like meat?” you asked.

“I love it,” he said.

“I’ll pick something out today. Drop by my place say seven?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

You had just finished pouring the pasta in the pot when the doorbell rang that night. You looked down, cursing yourself for still being in a pair of leggings and your hair up in a messy bun. You jogged to the front door, opening it with a smile.

“Hi,” said Jensen, plucking a flower out from behind his back.

“Well thank you,” you said, Jensen stepping inside as you looked up after him.

“I don’t know what it is. Thought it looked pretty is all,” he said. “Reminded me of someone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, Jensen following you back to the kitchen. “Apparently tomorrow is some teacher workshop day at school so Jared and Gen packed up the kids and shipped them off to our parents house so they could have a night alone.”

“Nice. Sounds like we got the place to ourselves then,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, we do,” you said. “You mind watching the stove while I put on something presentable?”

“Alright. I mean, I’m not in a tux over here or anything,” he said. “I am a very big fan of leggings.”

“I bet you are,” you said, pausing before you decided to leave on what you were wearing. “So what’s your poison?”

“Wine?” he asked.

“Preference?” you asked.

“I’m good with anything,” he said. You walked around to the far side of the kitchen and picked up the bottle you’d gotten earlier, popping out the cork and setting it near a pair of glasses on the counter.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, sliding into the kitchen.

“No, no. I’m making you dinner. You just sit there and look pretty,” you teased.

“Can do,” he said, grabbing the bottle and pouring you each a glass. “So are you a cook?”

“Uh, not really so if this goes horribly, I do have the number of a restaurant,” you said.

“You could honestly make me some kraft mac and cheese and I’d be happy,” he said. “Like I said earlier, it’s been a long time since someone cooked for me that wasn’t my parents.”

“Well you deserve to be taken care of too, hm?” you said, giving him a smile as you took a sip of your wine.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could do with some of that I guess,” he said.

“How about after dinner, I give you the world’s best foot massage,” you said.

“I’d say I could get used to this.”

“Dinner was so good,” said Jensen again as you finished cleaning up. “You’re a way better chef than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’m a better baker than chef,” you said.

“I bet you’re an amazing baker then,” he said. “You gotta let me taste test next time you make something. Quality control.”

“I’ll be sure to enlist your services,” you said, heading into the family room, Jensen taking a seat on the couch. “Alright. You kick back your feet and I will be back in just a second.”

You dashed upstairs as he peeled off his socks, returning with a bottle of cream and a small towel.

“Oh. I see I’m dealing with a professional here,” he teased.

“Just get comfy, Ackles,” you said, Jensen adjusting a pillow behind his back as he turned sideways. You rested his feet in your lap on the towel, squirting some cream on your palms before rubbing them together. You started at the top of the arch of his foot, Jensen immediately closing his eyes.

“Fuck. That feels awesome,” he said, melting back into the couch. “How’d you get so good at this?”

“Dated a masseuse once. Ditched the guy but kept the incredible massage skills,” you said, rubbing your thumb into the skin. “For a guy, your feet are pretty clean to be honest.”

“Don’t laugh but my sister gave me some of those lotion socks for Christmas one year cause my feet always got crackly. I fucking love those things,” he said.

“Boys are allowed to be pampered too,” you said, moving to the other foot, Jensen letting out a large sigh.

“Remind me to yell at Jared for not introducing us sooner,” he laughed.

“To be fair, probably better that we waited,” you said. “It let me figure out what I like.”

“What do you like?” he asked, smiling lazily from the other end of the couch.

“You.”

“Cute,” he said. “I could say the same about you.”

“Alright then cutie,” you said, sliding his feet off your lap. “Once I wash this stuff off, we can watch a movie.”

You were only gone a few minutes, Jensen already flipping through the TV when you returned. You let him pick, some cheesy 80’s horror movie from the looks of it, and you sat down on the other end of the couch. He hummed and moved his feet to the coffee table, giving you a quick glance. You slid over next to him, tucking your legs under you, his arm going to the back of the couch.

“I don’t even get the yawn and stretch?” you laughed.

“I ain’t tired,” he said, resting his arm over your shoulders. You turned your head, his gaze on you.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. His eyes moved around your face, his hand on your shoulders going to the back of your head as he leaned in.

You met him halfway, the kiss already more heated and playful than you’d ever received from him. His free hand went to the small of your back, pulling you into his lap, a tiny smile on his face before you took the chance to invade his mouth. You went back and forth, both of you trying to control it until you needed air and broke off, his hot breath hitting your face.

You took the chance and pushed him back on the couch until you were leaning over him, Jensen going all kinds of gooey.

“You like that, don’t you,” you said, brushing your lips over his ear.

“Normally no,” he said with a quick laugh.

“Gonna make an exception for me,” you said.

“You are something el-” he said, groaning when you cut him off with another kiss. You used one hand to hold yourself up, the other shooting to his hair, running through the strands and messing the short spiky strands up.

He bit at your bottom lip, the two of you going back and forth again until you fell into a harsh but smooth rhythm, his hand rubbing circles against the small patch of skin on your lower back. He pressed his fingertips into the flesh, a shiver running through you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw while you caught your breath. He moved his lips, finding that one little spot that turned you into jelly and he sucked, a keening whine escaping you. He pulled his mouth away, staring up at you with dark green eyes. You blushed, a dark smirk spreading over his lips. He moved his mouth again, finding the spot and sucking. Hard.

“Jensen,” you whimpered, already knowing you were going to be sporting a hickey. You only seemed to encourage him, your head dropping as he pulled back with a chuckle you felt through his chest.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he said. You raised your head, staring him down.

“You’re turn,” you said, ducking your head down before he could even blink. A minute later he had the beginnings of a mark on his neck appearing, Jensen bit his bottom lip hard, making the thing even more swollen and red than it was. “Was that a moan I heard?”

“Groan,” he said, narrowing his eyes, grabbing your head and kissing you. His hands started to move though and you felt them on your hips, your breath catching in your throat when he started to tickle your thigh. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what,” you said, resting your forehead against his, your noses jammed against each other.

“You want me to do this, right?” he asked.

“Touch me? Hell yeah, Ackles,” you said.

“You on anything?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, sliding a hand in front of you, a finger tracing over the top of your leggings against your stomach. He peeled back the elastic and slid his warm hand underneath, staring up at you as he moved oh so slowly. “You have no idea how hot you are, do you.”

“Jensen,” you said, kissing him as he reached your underwear, his fingers curling under it. You sucked in a breath, arching into his hand.

Just as the front door opened in perfect view of where you were on the couch.

“What the fuck!” you heard Jared shout as you immediately shot up, Jensen yanking his hand away as you went to the other end of the couch. He walked in the room, staring at the both of you. “What the fuck!”

“Movie,” you said, Jensen nodding, not making eye contact.

“Were you just...in my family room!” he said. “No sex in the family room!”

“It wasn’t…” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “You said you’d be gone until the morning.”

“I left my phone here and-”

“He has a hickey,” said Jensen, pointing at Jared’s neck, turning to you. “He can’t blame us for doing exactly what he was.”

“You better not be doing exactly what I was for how long you’ve known her,” he said.

“So sex is cool if it’s in my room?” you asked. Jared groaned. “Well you said the family room is off limits.”

“You got a house. Go have sex over there,” said Jared.

“But we’re here,” you said.

“What are you two? Rabbits?” said Jared, throwing his hands up. “I don’t care. Let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed,” you said.

“Oh and Ackles,” he said, pointing at Jensen. “Please never let me see you with your hand down my sister’s pants again.”

“Roger that,” he said, Jared sighing as he went upstairs, returning after a moment and heading outside. “Surprised I’m still alive if I’m being honest.”

“He understands,” you said, crawling back over to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked as you resumed your position from before.

“He’s not coming back,” you said. “I think you were about to do something really fun.”

“I was, wasn’t I,” he said, a mischievous look back on his face. “A whole lot of fun.”

“Morning,” said Jensen when you rolled over in your bed, the sun just starting to fill the room. “Still a bit early.”

“We went to bed early,” you teased, placing your hand on his bare chest.

“We most certainly did not,” he said.

“Can I ask a question? I thought, and in my experience, as guys get older, it takes them a bit longer to recover downstairs,” you said.

“Got a problem with it?” he smirked.

“With you being hornier than a teenage boy? No, no problem at all,” you said.

“It wasn’t too fast for you?” he asked.

“I think you took it pretty slow at some points,” you said, scooting closer. “But no, not for me. Do you-”

“No, not at all. Not that I was expecting anything...I had fun,” he said with a sleepy smile. “I feel like I have a lot of fun with you.”

“I know I do,” you said. He hummed and lay his arm over your back, his fingers dipping into the curve of your spine.

“S’always the quiet ones,” he teased.

“You’re one to talk,” you said, getting a soft lazy kiss from him. “Any big plans for the day?”

“Catch up on a few brewery things. My agent called yesterday. Sounds like they got that part I wanted narrowed down to me and another guy,” he said.

“That’s awesome! I hope you get it,” you said.

“And after I tag up with him, I’m going to call that investor back. Give the bed and breakfast the go ahead,” he said. You gave him a big smile and a kiss, Jensen’s cheeks pink for a moment.

“That’s great. I’m sure it’ll be a big success,” you said.

“I’m okay with little success,” he chuckled. “I’m just happy I’m actually doing it.”

“Well I will be your first guest,” you said.

“If I play my cards right, that may end up being very true,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “You look sleepy.”

“It’s early,” you hummed, nuzzling into his chest.

“How about we go back to sleep for a little while and then, we can have some coffee on the back patio?” he asked.

“I like the way you think, babe.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

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