#now how in the hell did davis manage to pull that one off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justwhisperingfantasies · 24 days

Text

Memories Part 2

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Mick Davies. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: memory wipe, language, angst, cute dean, fluff, not exactly cannon, implied smut, gun being pulled.

A/N: This is a continuation of my first-ever fic post. Please go easy on me. Hope you enjoy

Summary: You've had your memory wiped and sent off to your death. Sam, Dean, and Cas save you just before it is too late. the guys struggle with being strangers to you after all the years you have shared. You are forced into a life-altering dilemma.

Word count: 4,105 words

************************************************************************

Your stomach twisted. “Are you serious?” Why would I not want all my memories back?

“Don't look at me like that. This life is hard. You could have a clean cut right now.” His face turned glum as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers“ You've been through a lot of shit. No one would judge you if you did choose not to.” You heard his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out and answered. “Yeah. Alright. Give me a minute.” He tapped the phone and put it in his back pocket, not taking his eyes away from yours.

You could see the extra wetness in his eyes, making another tear roll down your cheek. He wiped it away and pulled you into his arms, your arms automatically wrapped underneath his and around him. You laid your face against his chest. He kissed your forehead and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, just worry about getting cleaned up right now. Everything you need should still be in your bathroom. If not, your phone is on the nightstand on the right. Text me, and I'll make sure you get it. The food will probably be done right around the time you get out. Okay?”

How can he do this with just a hug? It was so peaceful and safe in his arms. You never wanted to let go, but it had been a tough day and you needed a shower. (your fav food) didn't sound too bad, either. You nodded as you slowly pulled back your face. He took your face in his hands, wiping away more tears. “We will figure all this out later, okay?” he kissed your forehead again, and you felt a drop on your face.

“Okay. I'm sorry” you manage to pull yourself together.

“Don't apologize. We will get it all figured out,” he said as he let his hands fall to his sides and you did the same.” Do you want me to stay here and wait?”

“No, it's ok. Thank you though. For everything.” you smiled

“Anytime. Call or text if you need me.” he smiled back and then walked out the door closing it behind him.

You sit down on the bed as you try to collect your thoughts. How could you not get your memories back?! However, you did notice when Dean was describing everyone, it was in the past tense. It might be nice just to break away and have a normal life I guess. No monsters, no demons, no insane British people trying to wipe your mind. (y/n) have a nice hot shower get some food and think about this later. You told yourself. You got up and tried to shake it off.

“Yes hot shower and some food,” you replied out loud to yourself. You walked into the bathroom and it was simple and nice. the same wood panel as the bedroom. White tile walls with black grout line. Decent size shower. The bathtub was probably bigger than most and a white porcelain sink with a black cabinet underneath. Big mirror above it with a black frame. You turned the shower knob all the way over to hot and waited for the water to warm.

************************************************************************

As Dean shut your door he leaned back on it and sighed. What the hell am I going to do if she doesn't want her memories back?! How could l live without her?! Just then his cell phone started vibrating again. “Yeah, I'm coming.”

He walked back down To the library.

“Well, it's about time chum?” Mick Davies was sitting at the first table across from Sam and Cas.

“Oh, I'm sorry I made you wait while I had to comfort my girlfriend that has had her memory wiped twice, almost killed, and kinda freaking out right now. I feel so bad for you.” Dean said raising his voice some.

“Dean, I know. okay? That's why I called you.” Davies said with guilt in his eyes. “Did you find it?”

“Yes we did,” Sam said as he wheeled Over an older machine. Davies plunged it in and it turned in.

It started beeping and lights started flickering.

“Ah, she still works.” He said as he opened a small door below the device. “And there's more than enough of the serum to work. Where's the lovely lass?”

Dean's eyes narrowed “She's upstairs taking a shower.”

Just then the kitchen buzzer went off. “Shit gotta get that,” Sam said as he hurried to the kitchen.

“What are we havin'?” Davies asks

“ I don't know what you're having, but We are having (your fav food).” Dean still had an attitude.

“Dean, let's go see if Sam needs any help.” It was obvious Castiel just wanted to talk to Dean in private. They walked over to the kitchen doorway. Dean looked back, keeping an eye on Mick.

“ Dean, I don't like them either, but he did just risk his ass to save her. Maybe we should be more welcoming.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “ I'll feed him, but I'm not painting his toenails.” he went over to help Sam.

Cas then rolled His eyes and walked back to the library.

************************************************************************

That shower really hit the spot. You dried off and put your clothes on. You were brushing your hair when you started thinking about Dean. It's nuts how close you felt to him even though he was a stranger at the moment. Thinking over the tour you remember the our rooms thing you could have sworn he said our room.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you opened the closet. There were women's clothes on the right and men's clothes on the left. You couldn't help yourself. You went to the nightstand on the left And opened the drawer. There was a lore book, a flashlight, a phone charger, a gun, a silver knife, and a box of condoms. You went to the other nightstand and opened the drawer, you found a pair of glasses, a lore book, a silver knife, a gun, earbuds, hand sanitizer, with a phone sitting on top of the stand. You put on the glasses. Yep, this Was your side you thought as you put them back. You picked the phone up and swiped the screen. A picture of you and Dean showed on the screen. you two were standing By the car again in mid-laugh. It was super cute. You flinched when it started to vibrate. Dean's name came up with an adorable picture of him sleeping. You tapped the Green button.

“Sup?” you said in a deep voice

“Really? Well, home dawg I was calling to see if you done because the food is ready.” Dean understood your banter so well.

“Alright, I'm on my way.”

“Lov…’ the call ended.

“ God, I fuckng hate this!” Dean said as he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“I know Dean.” Sam tried to comfort his brother as he carried the food over the table. “Just let her eat some food and then we can fix this..”

“Well if that's what she wants,” Dean said hoping you wouldn't want to forget him. He walked over to get the plates out.

“Wait what the hell are you talking about?” Sam Demanded

“ Think about it Sammy, she has been through so much pain. She could turn the other cheek and start living a normal life.” He set a plate for each of them on the table.

“But dean?”

“It's her choice and we will be happy for her either way!”

“So you could just let her go?” Sam doubted as he put out everyone's silverware.

“If that's what she wants,” he argued. “Do you need anything else?

“No, that's all. Thanks.” Sam sighed “My money is on her choosing you.”

“GET BACK CASTIEL ITS ONE OF THEM!!” Sam and Dean heard you yell

They looked at each other and then ran for the library.

“(Y/N) PUT THE GUN DOWN!” you looked at Dean. “He is here to help. This is Mick, he's the one who called us and told us where you were. He can restore your memories with that thing.” he pointed at the machine.

“Don't ya think someone should have mentioned to her I was coming?!” Mick shouted in fear.

“Where the hell did you get a gun?” Dean stormed over to you and held out his hand. You took a couple of steps back. Dean stayed where he was and bounced his hand a few times.

You looked down at his hand. You still had the gun pointed at Mick. “Ha! not happening! Its mine. It was in my nightstand.”

“I should have known,” Dean said as he shook his hand. “Come on. We aren't gonna let him hurt you.” he started to step closer.

You stepped back and pointed the gun at Dean. He stopped immediately “How do I know that?! How do I know this isn't a big trick?”

“Really (y/n)?” you could see the tears”s in his eyes. “You saw the pictures. You know I wouldn't let him hurt you.”

“Oh yeah? Then how did they take me the first time?” tears started streaming down your face. You felt so betrayed. You trusted these 3 men and they let one of them in here. You didn't know what to think. You were so confused and couldn't remember anything. Before you saw the British guy everything was fine. It's like he triggered something in you, something you couldn't control. You were angry, panicked, and overwhelmed.

Just then you felt Castiel behind you. He quickly put his fingers to your forehead and you passed out. Dean hurried to help Cas catch you, but he didn't need it. “I got her. I can go lay her in her bed?” Dean nodded as he took the gun out of your hand and put it in the back of his jeans. Castiel disappeared with you in his arms.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Mick said. “Seriously why didn't anyone explain the whole situation to her?!”

Dean shook his head and hurried for the door.

He made it outside before the tears started falling. He leaned up against the Impala, then slowly slid down the side. What the fuck happened?! Was it just Mick being there? Was it a side effect of the mind-wiping? Did she really not believe he would everything in his power to make sure nobody hurt her? “Then how did they take me the first time?” her voice echoed in his head. It was his fault. If he was a little more cautious or a little less cocky maybe he wouldn't have gotten shot. Maybe she would be better off without him, living a normal life. She wouldn't have to run, wouldn't have to fight, she wouldn't have to hunt. He knew he should let you go. It felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, his heart breaking in his chest as the tears fell.

************************************************************************

Sam blinked and thought about going after Dean. But decided against it. He’ll want to be alone. So he walked into the kitchen to put the food in the fridge for later. He turned around as he closed the fridge finding Mick standing in the doorway.

“So was she freaked before she saw me?” Mick hesitantly asked.

‘No. She was fine. Even joking.” Sam sighed and then explained everything that he witnessed today. “I don't know what happened after she and Dean went upstairs. I don't know anything about the pictures”

“I'm guessing it was me.”

“No. I mean you probably made it worse, but she said the gun was in her nightstand. So she felt threatened enough to carry it downstairs before she even knew you were here.”

“I have heard of the mind-wiping having a side effect, but I never seen it in myself.

“Is it temporary?.”

“I don't know. All I heard was side effects. Nothing specific. I'll start checking the inventory list for anything about mind wiping.” Mick didn't know what else to do.

“Hey Mick, If she is experiencing side effects would it even be safe to give her memories back?”

“I'm not sure mate.” he hung his head and walked out.

“Son of a bitch!’ Sam said as he threw one of the pots he had used in the sink.

************************************************************************

You awaken to Cas sitting in a chair beside your bed. You didn't say anything just stared at the ceiling of your room, playing back what just happened in your mind. You remembered everything that happened, everything you said, everything you did. But you could not remember what sent you into such a frenzy. You don't even remember being able to stop. The gun wasn't even loaded, but they didn't know that.

“(y/n)?”

You shut your eyes and stayed silent.

“Come on (y/n). How are you feeling?” You rolled on your side putting your back toward him and you could feel the tears start. “Please don't ignore me.” he pleaded

“Cas, I just can't right now okay?” you were so ashamed of what had just happened.

“Okay, But I'm gonna sit here until you can.”

“Why? I just acted like a fool and pulled a gun on innocent people. Why would you want to stay with me?” you started crying.

“Because I care about you. No matter what,” he said as he put his hand on your shoulder for comfort

*********************************************************************

He didn't know how long he had been sitting by the impala. Dean just sat there numb. His eyes were on fire, his head pounding. He needed to move, need to get this the fuck over with. He found the will to get up. It was so quiet in the bunk, peaceful chaos.

“Dean?” Sam yelled from the library

“Yeah.” Dean's voice cracked. He cleared his throat as he walked into the library. “Whatcha doin'? Where is everyone?”

Sam looked up at his brother he could tell Dean had been crying, but he wouldn't dare say anything about it. “ (y/n) and Cas are still upstairs. Mick and I are reading up on mind wipe lore. He just went to the dungeon for something. He told me he had heard some things about it and you know how the men of letters were.”

“They documented everything.”

“Exactly. So if we can find anything that can help, maybe there's a spell..’

“Sam.”

Sam continued his thought. “ Or if we can get rid of the side effects somehow.”

“Sam!” Dean spoke a little louder. Sam stopped and looked at his brother.” I think I need to let her go.”

“Dean, but if we find something. Maybe getting her memories back will help..”

“Sam! Memories or no memories, I have to let her go. The British men of letters did this because of me. She almost got killed because of me. Look at all the shit she has been through because of me. Everything she has lost because of me. And it's just gonna keep happening. I have to do the right thing here. His eyes misted over again. God, they stung so bad, but it was nothing compared to the torment in his chest. he started to walk away.

“Dean, Come on…”

“ I don't wanna hear it Sammy!” he said with a raised voice and continued to walk away.

As he entered his old room he laid the gun on the table and then started to pace. The record player caught his eye. He walked over and put the needle on the record. He couldn't even remember what he had last listened to in here. Bad Medicine starts playing and the memories but his birthday from 2 years ago start rushing back.

(y/n) doing a sexy little strip tease, him holding her up against the wall, round 2 on the side table in the library that nobody ever used. He pushed the needle off making a screeching sound.

He threw himself on his bed. “God I fucking hate this!”

************************************************************************

You must have cried yourself to sleep. You lay there a few minutes just taking in the quiet. You decide it's time. You roll over and see Castiel sitting in the same chair reading a book. “You're still here?” surprise in your voice.

He closed his book. “I told you I would stay until you are ready to talk.”

“What if I'm not ready yet?”

“Then I'll wait.”

“Whatcha reading?”

“A journal of a former member of the men of letters.”

“Oh yeah? Anything good?”

“Well, he was one of the members that was experimenting with mind wiping”

“Interesting. Why are you reading it?”

“Because Mick told Sam that he had heard there are side effects of the mind wiping. So Mick, Sam, and I are reading into it.”

“So you guys think my psycho moment was from a side effect?”

“Maybe. I do have another theory.”

“Do tell.”

“You have been through a lot in the last 4 days. And yeah you were nervous after I explained everything to you, but any normal human probably would have had a meltdown way before you did. I do have one question though. You seemed ok with me, Sam, and Dean. Why bring the gun downstairs?”

“I found it on my nightstand. I took it down to clean. The damn thing was filthy. Then saw the British guy and I freaked. I can't explain it. It's like fight or fly kicked in and I chose to fight. And I couldn't stop. I have been questioning why I trust the 3 of you as much as I do. No offense. I heard the Brit and freaked out.”

“No offense taken. It would make total sense for you not to trust us. The British guy is Mick. He is the one who called us and told us where you were. And he ran away from the British Men Of Letters to come help us.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“Mick? Well yeah, it's more our fault for not telling you he was coming. You were scared.”

You giggled and shook your head. “No. Dean. I pointed a gun at him and pretty much told him it was his fault I got kidnapped. Which is not what I think at all.”

“You were scared and pissed off, you said things you didn't mean. If anyone knows about that, it's Dean. You guys will be fine. We need to get you some food, I can hear your stomach growling from over here.” you gave him a look of dread. “I promise it will be alright. They've been through far worse. Come on.”

You sighed heavily and got up.

You got to Sam's room before you couldn't take the silence anymore. “So did you find anything good in the journal?”

“Interesting good yes, side effect good not yet.”

“But you don't think it was a side effect?”

“Well no, but if there are side effects, we want to know what they are.”

“But when Mick fixes me we won't have to worry about it anymore.”

“Actually, there's something I want to talk to you about.” he paused at the top of the stairs. “ (y/n) You have been through a great deal of pain in your lifetime. The hunting life isn't great. If you wanted..”

You started walking down the stairs “You don't have to give the clean break, no judgment speak. Dean beat you to it.”

“Oh well, I just wanted you to know all your options.”

“Got it Cas.” he looked like a child that just got yelled at. “I'm sorry I'm just hungry.”

His face lifted. “I know I can hear it.”

As you walk into the library you find Sam and Mick. Sam looks up and smiles at you.

Mick looks a bit weary. “Well, Ello Love. Are you armed?”

You give a slight eye roll. “No. I'm sorry..”

Mick cut you off. “No need for apologies. Not the first time a pretty dame pulled a gun on me.” he smiled. You smiled back and your stomach growled louder than before.

Sam laughed “Hungry?”

“Starving!”

“Come on,” he said getting up.

“Sam I can…” he gave you a stern look “Keep you company while you make the food.” you gave him a happy smile.

“What a great idea” he beamed sarcastically

You rolled your eyes and followed him.

“I saved it. So all we have to do is reheat it. “

“Easy Enough.” you looked around. Dean was nowhere to be found, but you didn't want to come off needy so you didn't ask.

He chuckled “ He is upstairs in his room.”

“Who?” you tried to play it off.

“(y/n) “Sam said as you put the food in the oven

“Is he still mad at me?”

He turned around a look of surprise on his face. “He was never mad at you. He's worried about you. He blames himself for all the shit you've been through.”

You raised one eyebrow “ How the hell would any of this be his fault?!”

“Mind wipe right. Dean is a protector. If anything happens to anyone on his watch it's his fault. He's been like that as long as I can remember. Plus he thinks being with him is putting you in harm's way.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Sam laughed “This is the last time I'm making this.”

“I said I'll be right back.” you heard him laugh again as you walked out.

************************************************************************

Cas waited until you and Sam were gone “Have you guys found anything?”

“Nothing yet, but we keep trying yea?”

“Yes! Are we sure she's experiencing side effects though?”

“Honestly. I have my doubts. The way Sam explained it seemed like she trusted the 3 of you. He said she was even joking a bit, she only freaked out when she saw me. But if that's the case why did she have the gun before she knew I was here?”

They saw you marching your way through the library.

“Carry on Boys,” you said as you continued. Both looking at you in confusion.

“Well, she looks mad. Should we be concerned?” Cas asked as they both starred after

“No gun. She's fine.” Mick sniggered

“Anyway. We did have a conversation about all that. She said she did trust us. She had been asking herself why all day. Said she didn't know she just did.” cas explained.” and she found the gun in her nightstand. Apparently, it was filthy. She brought it down to clean it.”

“Fucking hell. I doubt it was a side effect. She was probably frightened. Some British institute wipes your brain and sends you to your death, you wake up with strangers, and then one of the British cunts shows up here unannounced. I would probably pull a gun too.”

“I agree.”

************************************************************************

Come on. You can do this. You knocked on Dean’s door.

“Go away Sam!” he yelled.

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open. “It's not Sam.”

“Hey (y/n) you feeling any better?”

“Well, I was until your brother told me that you are blaming yourself for this?! For everything?!”

“Fuckin Sam. It is my fault. You said so yourself.”

“Don't you curse Sam! He was just being honest. I know what I said. It was the heat of the moment. I really don't blame you and I do trust you. ”

“If you trust me so much, why did you have the gun in the first place?”

“I took the damn thing down to clean. It’s not even fucking loaded. I was just scared and I didn't want to go back. I'm sorry I pointed it at you.”

He got up and rushed over to the gun. No bullets. “You pointed an unloaded gun at us?”

“Like I just said I was freaking scared, no one else knew it wasn't loaded.”

He started laughing.

“Did you really think I would shoot you?”

“In these circumstances? Absolutely.”

Just then his phone started ringing. He put it on speaker. “The food is getting cold again.”

“We’ll be right there Sammy.” he hung up the phone

“I'm not done”

He cocked his eyebrow with a grin. “Well go on then.”

“I'm a hunter with or without you. Judging from the pictures on the dresser and my phone I would rather it be with. You can't blame yourself. Sometimes bad shit happens and there's nothing you can do about it.” you declared

“You Done?”

“Yes!”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. His lips just inches away from yours.

“Good! Now Let's go get some food.” he smiled.

#dean x reader #dean winchester spn #dean fanfiction #supernatural dean #dean fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn reader insert #fluff and angst #dean winchester #sam and dean #castiel #castiel friend #supernatural #spn #spnfandom

19 notes · View notes

pengychan · 11 months

Text

[Our Flag Means Death] Any Port in a Storm

A storm is something one must fight to live through, at least. The sky is clear and Blackbeard is gone. What is left to fight for or against now? "We busted our ass to keep you alive. We need you here."

"How did you do it?"

"Shut up."

"No, I mean, how the hell did you do it? We cut off your leg, what, two hours ago? And you gushed out something like half the blood you had in you. Did you drag yourself on your elbows or--"

"Shut the fuck up, I said!"

Izzy’s snarl was enough to cut Archie off, but there was no trace of the usual bite. He sounded exhausted, and would have probably collapsed without Fang’s arm around his waist, holding him up.

Face still bloodied despite the downpour, Jim stood by and said nothing for a few moments. They were faring a lot better than Izzy, but it wasn't much of a bar to step over. They still tasted blood in their mouth, still felt the weight of the cannonball in their hands, and their heart beat so fast it covered even the crash of thunder all around them.

Thunder was what brought them back to the present. They looked up to see more waves coming their way, the Revenge barely able to stay on the crest. "We’ve got to try to stay afloat. Fang, get Izzy back in--"

"I’m not going back inside, we got a storm to weather!" Izzy pushed Fang off himself, faltered, and grabbed onto the rigging for balance. "Take Black-- him--” His voice broke a moment, and he looked away. “... Take the body inside. I'll do my fucking job here."

“We need all hands on deck, I say we just throw him to Davy Jon--” Archie began, starting to crouch to pick up Blackbeard’s body. She likely meant to throw him at sea, just as she suggested, but two things happened in quick succession: a shot rang out and a wave hit the Revenge broadside, causing her to stumble backwards. She caught her footing easily, however, and turned to glare at Izzy - and at the gun still lifted.

“Fuck’s sake, man! You almost blew my hand off!”

“I won’t miss next time!” Izzy barked, features twisted in fury, and pain, and something else Jim was not sure they could name. “He stays on the ship. Don’t fucking touch him. Fang, bring him inside.”

As Fang did as he was asked, Jim turned their gaze away. Seeing Blackbeard so limp in the man’s grasp made something in their stomach squirm. Not guilt, not quite - no choice, the madman had left them no choice - but unpleasant nonetheless.

Really, the fact they had to worry about a storm threatening to drown them was almost a relief. It meant they could let someone else do the thinking for them, and just act.

And Izzy Hands - holding onto the rigging for balance, one leg short, soaked to the bone, pale as la Muerte’s younger cousin, and somehow still able to shout his orders over the storm - did more than enough thinking that night. The kind of thinking that keeps a ship afloat in the midst of a storm in the open sea, without a functioning helm, operating on nothing but its sails.

Later on, no one of the crew would be able to quite tell how they’d been able to pull it off. But neither would they be able to tell how Izzy had managed to appear out of nowhere in the state he was in to prove himself one hell of a marksman in the midst of a storm, so they didn’t ask too many questions.

All that mattered was that Izzy Hands did show up and that, when the storm cleared, they were still there.

***

For a moment as they stared at a rapidly clearing sky Jim wondered, very seriously, if the ship had sunk and they all had died. It seemed too good to be true, having passed the night to find themselves - drenched to the bone, but alive - on the deck of a somewhat battered but still floating Revenge.

Realization seemed to hit the rest of the crew at once, too, because the instant sunlight hit the ship’s deck again a cheer went up - all the loud, unabashed, uncomplicated joy of being alive. Jim smiled, and joined the cheer by throwing back their head and crying out, too, loud enough for their throat to hurt.

There was shit to unpack, but they could do it later. For now, they just celebrated and--

There was a sudden, harsh retching sound, and the cheer immediately died down. The entire crew - well, the four of them - turned to see that Izzy, still holding onto a rope, had suddenly hunched over and heaved. He hadn’t eaten in three days, since infection had begun to take hold of his leg, and he had nothing to bring up but bile. Still, he brought up quite a bit of it.

Concerning amounts, in fact.

“Iz!” Fang moved quickly, and caught him just on time before he let go of the rope and crumpled forward. “Hey now, hey, it’s all right, we’re good now, you’re good,” he spoke quickly, but his words were not doing much good. As he lay Izzy down on his back on the still wet deck, it was painfully obvious how nothing was right. Izzy’s face was pale as ash, wet hair sticking to feverish skin, and he looked at them with unfocused, bloodshot eyes. Despite the makeshift tourniquet, the stump of his leg kept bleeding through the fabric, tinging the deck a pinkish hue.

Right. That. They never got to do anything to close the wound; Blackbeard had walked in, and from then on it had been utter madness. Well, more than usual.

“... We got to cauterize,” Jim heard themself saying, and Frenchie looked over. He was pale, too; the box in his mind, the one where he kept bad things, must be damn close to overflowing.

“With… with fire?”

“No, with perfume and glitter,” Jim snapped. “Yes, with fire. I need you to get one of Roach’s cleavers, the bigger the blade the better, and hold it over fire until it’s hot. Then bring it here quickly. Can you do that?”

“I-- yes. Yeah. Of course.”

As he ran below deck, Jim nodded at Archie. “Help me get his trousers off.”

“Fuck-- nngh-- off--” the weakest groan from Izzy, and he tried to sit up. Fat chance of that, with Fang cradling his head and refusing to let go.

“Stay down, Izzy - down. It’s okay,” he managed, not all that believable but definitely trying his best. Archie rolled her eyes and took a knife from Jim’s belt.

“I’ve got a better idea. Keep him still…”

The belt fastened around the stump was pulled off, and the knife did short work of the fabric still covering it. Moments later the open wound was exposed, all raw flesh and stark white bone, blood oozing slowly. Izzy let out another groan, but he seemed… mostly out of it. It was eerie, how quickly he’d slipped out of consciousness as soon as the storm had passed.

As soon as danger was over. A storm is something one must fight to live through at least. The sky is clear and Blackbeard is gone. What is left to fight for or against now?

Jim swallowed, and did their best to keep the thought out of their mind. Soon enough Frenchie was back, holding up the red-hot cleaver. He carefully passed it to Jim.

“You think we should… move him inside?”

“Let’s not move him too much until this is sorted,” Jim said, trying to sound like they knew what they were talking about. Which they didn’t. Hell would they know? They had only ever used blades to take lives until this madness, not to save them. They held the cleaver tight, and let out a long breath. “... Hold him down.”

Fang was still cradling Izzy’s head, but he reached with one hand to pin his left shoulder down on the floor; Frenchie did the same with the right shoulder, one hand gripping Izzy’s own. Archie shifted to put her entire weight on his right leg and hip; that only left Jim’s own task to do.

And they never shied away from a task.

Flesh sizzled, smoke rose, and Izzy screamed - loud and wordless, trying to thrash but unable to escape the crew’s grip. Fang was definitely crying, Frenchie turned his gaze away and Archie was biting her lower lip bloody, but none of them let go and Izzy remained pinned on the deck until the cry died down in his throat, his eyes rolled back, and he once again went limp.

Only then did Jim pull back, letting the hot cleaver fall on the wet deck, where it sizzled quietly as they caught their breath, trying to ignore the smell like cooked meat. The exposed flesh of Izzy’s stump was now blackened, and no longer bleeding.

Would it be enough to stave off infection? Jim knew fuck all about all that, so they could only hope it would.

Indestructible little fucker, Blackbeard had called him, and it was time to find out if he’d been right.

“It’s okay, Iz, you’re okay,” Fang was choking out, brushing wet hair off his forehead, but Izzy was out cold and did not respond. They all sat there for a few moments, letting the sun warm them, listening to the rolling waves and screaming seabirds.

“... Is it weird that I’m kinda hungry now?” Archie finally spoke up, and Jim laughed for what felt like the very first time in a long while.

“Afraid I threw the leg off board already,” they replied, and more laughter followed - slightly more unhinged, but it didn’t matter right now.

Yes, there would definitely be shit to unpack later - but for now, they were alive.

***

The captain’s cabin.

They put him in the fucking captain’s cabin, in Stede Bonnet’s fucking bed, under several layers of fucking blankets. Bleeding fucking hearts, Izzy thought, turning his gaze away from the window. Beside the bed, Jimenez was slumped against the back of a chair, asleep. Waiting for him to wake up.

Why? I got you out of the storm. What else do you need from me?

“... Wasn’t supposed to fucking survive.”

Izzy’s grunt was enough to make Jimenez’s eyes snap open. They were asleep one moment and perfectly awake the next, gaze sharp and focused. Out of the entire crew Bonnet had hired, they were the single truly competent pirate. Izzy could respect that.

“If you were supposed to die, you’d be dead,” was the response, and they focused on his face. Specifically, on his temple.

Still dizzy and weak as he was - everything hurt everywhere, too, but that was the easiest thing to deal with - Izzy could tell what they were about to ask before they did. "What happened to your head?"

"Gunshot."

Ah. "Blackbeard--?"

"No. I did it."

Another silence. "But you're... here," they whispered.

"Very observant of you. I missed." Part of him expected mockery - fucking useless, he couldn’t even off himself - but there was only another brief silence before Jimenez spoke again.

"I didn't think you could miss," they said in the end. "But I am glad you did."

Cocksuckers, all of you.

"... I suppose someone has to fucking be," Izzy murmured. He opened his eyes again. “Blackbeard…?”

“We kept his body on board. As you wanted.”

His body, of course. He was gone, gone, gone. Izzy swallowed, and turned back to the window. Sunlight was coming in, and he closed his eyes against it.

"Well, I did miss. I'm still here.”

I failed and I am here while h e is not. It is not right. What am I doing in this world when he’s not in it?

“I’m taking your pistol. Just to be sure you won't try again."

A scoff. “Fuck off. Take it. I can jump off board if I please, and you can’t stop--”

"We busted our ass to keep you alive,” Jimenez cut him off. “We need you here."

Can’t do the job, someone else will.

No one needs me here, Izzy almost said, but something was heavy on his stomach, gripping his throat, and he could force out no words. Izzy Hands had long forgotten what it was to live for himself, and he doubted he ever could again. But that thought - he was needed there - felt like something bright and warm, keeping him glued to the ship like a moth to the flame. A port in a storm. And he was tired, too fucking bone tired to argue right now. Maybe he could, should, hold on until he got those twats to the closest safe port.

“... All right,” he managed in the end, staring at the sky outside. He heard Jimenez’s not-too-subtle sigh of relief.

“Gracias."

"Fuck off," Izzy murmured.

Don't make me regret it, he thought, and closed his eyes again, letting the sun dry his face at last.

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #jim jimenez #frenchie ofmd #fang ofmd #archie ofmd #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #no beta we die like izzy

35 notes · View notes

gloombeauty · 7 months

Note

This is what Halsey posted the other day in her instagram stories. I posted it on my page, sharing my opinion how I didn't think Columbia Records would be happy to see this kind of anti-semitic messaging coming from one of their own artists. The entire Halsey fan community on this platform attacked and bullied me. I had to stop following them and block them. People who I thought were my friends. Horrible backstabbing anti-semitic monsters. All I stated were facts. The CEO and COO are Jewish. The A&R person at Columbia is Jewish. Clive Davis is the founder and is also Jewish. Halsey's manager is Jewish. But according to Halsey fans on here, that makes me a racist because I stated the fact these people working on Halsey's career are Jewish. It got so bad I had to change my name. Maybe you have better luck posting the facts.

First of all, you should never delete your opinion on your blog. If people don't like what you have to say, they can easily skim past your page or you can make them fuck off by blocking them.

I have no problem telling Halsey fans to go choke on a baklava before I click on that block button. The fact that Halsey fans in general lack their own personality and decided to be one of those "they/them" and "bi" this or that or whatever - just because their idiotic hero is all those things, is very telling. These people aren't even teenagers anymore. They are in their mid 20's - early 30's. They grew up with Halsey. The hilarious part of all this is that Halsey isn't any of those things. She's not bi and she sure as hell isn't a "they" but you know how annoying Millennials and Gen Z are. They find a problem and drama for everything. Halsey's whole brand has always been the annoying loudmouth obnoxious social justice warrior. You would think that having a kid would stop all that foolishness but no - she's chooses to be a one of those "they" people. Even after popping a baby out of her actual vagina.

In my opinion, Halsey is plummeting fast when it comes to her music career. She's lucky her makeup line is doing very well because as far as her music? That is a dead on arrival effort. I don't think Columbia will be able to pull a Capitol Records - taking an almost two year old song (Without Me) and throwing it into a new album (Manic) and stealing the hit single's successful streaming numbers and sales. That's how Manic didn't flop. But does anyone (outside of her psychotic fan base) truly gives a crap about Manic? Hell no. The reviews for that album were mostly negative. Pitchfork even said what an awful album it was and she went on Twitter wishing the basement where Pitchfork is located would crumble. What she didn't know is that Pitchfork is located at the Freedom Tower in New York City. That's the same location the Twin Towers use to be. The same Towers that were destroyed on September 11, 2001. How stupid did she look saying something like that? Very. She hasn't used Twitter/X as much as she use to after that. She was too busy exploiting Evan Peters on her IG at the time.

She had the gift of Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch producing her album and it bombed. Usually, everything Trent touches turns to gold, but what he produced for Halsey flopped. It flopped hard. A first in Trent Reznor's career. That means a lot of people just don't like Halsey. Imagine had it been Amy Lee instead of Halsey? It would have made a big difference.

Now, as much as Halsey's fans like to ignore this fact (or stay stupid - your pick) the people running her music career now are all mostly Jewish. Ron Perry, the present CEO for Columbia Records is Jewish. Halsey's manager, Jason Aron is Jewish. When Jason was posting about supporting Israel, donations, his family in Israel, etc. - Halsey's psychotic fans came into his IG page and started threatening this poor man's life. They were calling him an evil Zionist and other disgusting choice words.

Halsey's fans are demonic and yes, they are all antisemitic. Except maybe for a very small percentage like 0000.1% of the fanbase. The only Halsey fan that I seen on Tumblr that is normal, sane and not antisemitic is you. I'm sure out there, on other social media platforms there's more nice fans like you. The thing is, they aren't obnoxious or demonically loud as the antisemitic ones who scream "Free Palestine!!!" on every Halsey post.

That's why I feel Halsey posted this disgusting Gaza/Palestine propaganda garbage on her IG. To appease her disgusting fan base, who are 99% antisemitic. She's going to need them to buy/stream her new music. If she doesn't do well, Columbia will drop her in a heartbeat. The same way Capitol chose not to renew her contract. Capitol are dicks for what they have done to Katy Perry and Sky Ferreira, but look at all the money they spent on If I Can't Have Love, I want Power. Close to 25 million dollars - and it flopped! The next single she released So Good flopped. That's why they refused to renew her contract. I don't blame them at all.

So now, more then ever, she will need all her little antisemitic fans to support her new music.

Also, knowing that her manager is Jewish, why would she ever post something so disgusting against his people? I'm sure Ron Perry didn't celebrate that IG story either. He's probably sitting somewhere regretting that he signed her.

Do yourself a favor and block every single Halsey account on Tumblr. Trust none of them to be "your friend" because they aren't anyone's friend. Get a real friend in the real world. Finding friends on Tumblr isn't it.

#halsey #evan peters #i stand with israel #i support israel #trent reznor #anti woke

12 notes · View notes

bravenew-what · 2 years

Text

"Stop the Bleeding!"

Erica accidentally breaks Laurel's nose and Laurel tries to convince everyone it is not as big of a deal as it looks. No one is having any of it, especially Sascha.

Pairing: Sascha Gerstner x OC

Sidelines: A neo-classic heavy metal band

Trent saw the collision coming ten counts before it happened. Laurel had climbed up on the drum riser to jump off for the final hit like always and like a tiny maestro, she signaled for the others to wrap the song. At the last note, Laurel leapt off the stage in a typical jump split. But as soon as she left the ground, Trent saw Erica turn away from the crowd instead of forward. And as she pulled the neck of her bass up into the air, Laurel landed on the ground right in the path of the headstock.

The microphone dropped with a clatter and Laurel stumbled back into the drum riser as Daisy attempted to catch her.

Trent immediately grabbed two of his rags and raced away to the front. Daisy was already to Laurel while Erica was doubled over next to Davis at the sight of Laurel.

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking!”

Trent and Daisy looked back at Laurel, whose blank stare was accompanied by a cut across her nose and a stream of blood now dripping down onto her chest and shirt. Trent threw the rag at Laurel, who grabbed it immediately and held it in her hands. Daisy swore under her breath and forced her to press it to her face.

Not a concussion. Good.

Daisy immediately escorted Laurel off the stage, ignoring a final bow, and the rest of the bad followed so the crew could move their gear in place for Helloween’s set. She pushed their way through the crowds of crew members, barking at them to move out of the way while Laurel struggled to keep up with her.

“DAISY!”

The blonde whipped her head back around, Laurel stumbling and coughing in her grasp. Trent angrily pointed towards the girl’s dressing room that they had just passed. Daisy rolled her eyes and dragged a now confused Laurel into the dressing room.

Laurel threw Daisy off of her seconds after entering, sneezing into the towel. Daisy looked around frantically to find more towels while Laurel stumbled to the couch. With a groan, she kicked her boots off and threw the towel over her head, no regard for the blood soaking through.

“Stop the bleeding!” Daisy shrieked at the singer.

“Fuck off!

Daisy tossed two more rags at Laurel, who went back to pressing them to her nose. She tapped the bridge of her nose and flinched at the pain and open cut she didn’t know she had.

“How’d I get here?”

“Daisy the bulldozer.” Trent dialed their manager, growing increasingly agitated.

“No. I got that.” Laurel gestured to her now blood stained nose and lips. “Where’s Erica?”

“Probably throwing up her guts at the moment.” Daisy sat in front of Laurel with a wet cloth. Pulling the blood covered rag off her head, she realized just how bad the injury was. No wonder Erica was nowhere to be found.

“You two ran into each other on the last hit.”

Laurel flinched again as Daisy wiped her face clean. Daisy’s face softened in consolation.

Laurel folded her arms. “Well that was fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, no shit. I don’t understand what you did differently!”

“I didn’t!”

“Dizz, go get Roddy’s slow ass. He’s usually on top of this shit. Find some ice too.” Trent pressed his hands to the top of his head.

Laurel watched Daisy’s pained expression as she backed away from her. “Trent, Don’t leave her.”

“I’ll be okay.” Laurel shrugged. “I think it’s almost clear anyway.”

“Don’t sound so dramatic.” Daisy shook her head, smiling weakly. Laurel blew a kiss in her direction and sank further into the couch. Her head was pounding and nose stinging worse, but she didn’t want to work anyone else’s anxiety up. Erica had to have been losing it by then. Laurel pursed her lips at the thought. She had to clear the air.

“Trent.”

“Mhm?”

“Go get Erica.”

—

The two women sat in silence. Laurel was now furious that she had to wait even longer for care and Erica’s skin was burning underneath her jacket and sweatpants from the shame. She never meant for any of this to happen, and now she was queasy at the sight of her best friend. The former was just trying to pass the time, the muffled rumbles of the show above them aggravating her headache even more than before.

“Do I look like Bruce Dickinson yet?”

Erica rolled her eyes. “No, it’s your fucking nose.”

“And I’m eating my own blood because I have to wait for this stupid person to come give me stitches instead of finding an emergency room.” Laurel narrowed her eyes at Erica who immediately gagged upon hearing Laurel’s comment. Erica took a deep breath, regaining her composure again. It killed her to see her best friend in pain, no matter how well Laurel could hide it. They were both clumsy in their own right, but never on stage. She blew out a breath a little louder than planned, bringing Laurel back to her senses again.

Erica mumbled, “better than waiting long to be seen.”

“You need to stop it.” Laurel could tell that Erica was beginning to stew over the situation.

“But Lou-“

“But NO!” Erica cringed as Laurel retorted back instantly, but she took her clean hand in hers.

Laurel’s eyes watered from dizziness and the pain as she propped herself up. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. End of story.”

“Wrong place, wrong time, I guess.”

“Right timing, but we were sure as hell in the wrong place.” The girls giggled. Erica squeezed Laurel’s hand.

“We both were. Let’s put it at that.”

—

The ride back to the hotel was an uneventful one, Laurel dozing off and being awoken by bumps or chatter from her bandmates or crew. All were worried about the future of the next few shows, especially after Laurel received stitches in her nose. Laurel didn’t see what the problem was, they had a day off anyway. Worrying was not going to make it better. And the last thing she needed was worse. Erica had convinced Laurel to stay the night with her, it was the least she owed to the singer for breaking her nose. Just in case any problems arose, Laurel agreed to one night.

“Nothing good happens on Tuesday’s anyway.”

“What’s happening next Tuesday then? I break Davis’s nose?”

“Davis could break his own nose, honey.”

Erica snorted and Laurel smiled at her own comment. Laurel settled back into the pillows Erica had laid out for her as she felt her phone buzz in her waistband. Sascha had tried to call her earlier, and was now texting to try again.

“How do you feel now? Any changes?”

Sorry I couldn’t find you after your set. Flo said you left the stage covered in blood, is everything okay???

She sighed and answered quickly,

I’ll talk to you in the morning.

“Yeah. It’s fine now. . . Just need to rest and I’m ready for the next one.” Just as soon as her head hit the pillow, Laurel heard her phone buzz three more times in a row. She closed her eyes and ignored the text messages. The last thing she felt was a blanket being tossed over her, but she was too exhausted to register more.

—

Laurel felt like she hadn’t slept a wink. She tossed around most of the night, her headache waning and cresting back over and over making her restlessness even worse. Finally giving in, she sat up and threw the blanket off of herself. She reached for her phone and turned it back on, opening the texts she had missed the night before.

Is everything all right?

Laurel?

I will talk to you tomorrow, please be safe.

Laurel sighed and hung her head. Great. He’s freaking out too.

Laurel texted back as quick as she could,

I’m awake. I’m sorry. See you in an hour or two?

Almost immediately, he answered.

Just let me know.

Laurel jumped out of bed and quickly gathered her scattered belongings before taking one last look at Erica’s sleeping figure. She sighed heavily, silently thanking her before slipping out of her room quietly. Laurel padded her way a few doors down to her own hotel room, coming back to an unkempt bed, clothes she had dug out of her suitcase piled onto her bed, and her acoustic bass out of its case.

“I thought I took care of this yesterday.” She mumbled to herself. Oh well. They weren’t leaving until tomorrow morning. She tossed her bag onto the bed. She let herself bask in the warmth of the shower, washing the night before away. She stayed clear of her nose as best as she could have, but even the deepest inhale strained her face. As she finished, Laurel got a good look at herself in the mirror. The swelling had subsided in her nose, but the bruising under her eyes were nothing short of hideous. There was no hiding the fact that she was going to look like a raccoon until it healed.

“This sucks.”

Laurel chewed her lip as she began to tie her hair into a braid. Sure mistakes happen, but all Laurel could do was wish away the fact that tomorrow’s show was in jeopardy. Her thoughts were interrupted by Roddy calling her. Thinking she was about to get berated, she answered begrudgingly.

“Hey Rod.”

“How are you feeling love?

“Just tired, it’s not as bad as yesterday.”

“Glad to hear it. We’re all worried about you.”

“Well, I say stop, that was literally doctor’s orders.”

“To not worry?”

“Exactly that. It will get better on its own.” Laurel tied off her long braid and put her favorite ball cap over her head, hoping to distract from her eyes.

“How are we not supposed to worry? You’re the one singing the show!”

“Can we adjust the setlist?”

“You’re sounding a little nasally.”

Laurel huffed, shrugging at his tone. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You need to be back in bed so you can be well for the show, IF that is even going to happen.”

“Can we not just change the setlist?”

“That is an option.”

“Great. Give it a day, give me a day to rest. I won’t sing, I won’t play, nothing. Let’s decide tomorrow. Tell Trent and Erica to adjust the setlist. They’ll know.”

Laurel hung up and slipped out the door of her room before Roddy could object further. She had spotted a quiet patio area in between the two buildings that made up the hotel, and decided that would be the perfect spot to lay low and get some fresh air. She relaxed down into the couch, adjusting her braid to sit comfortably over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she texted Sascha.

I’m downstairs.

Laurel sat down patiently on the outdoor couch and waited for a response. She kicked her feet up and opened her book to the last page she read. She squinted through a few lines before her eyes adjusted to the lines. She became so wrapped up in the story once again that she nearly missed Sascha’s next message.

Where?

Her eyes scanned the inside lobby until she laid eyes on him. He was looking around frantically for her. Laurel pulled out her phone and sent a message to him as to not look conspicuous.

Come to the patio.

Laurel tipped her hat back down and went back to her book. She had not finished the next page before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Laurel?”

She immediately perked up at the sound of Sascha’s voice. Sticking her bookmark in, she closed the book and hugged it closer to her, looking up at Sascha with a weak smile.

“Hey.”

Sascha’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as soon as he laid eyes on her. It was much worse than he anticipated it being, and he felt even worse for not finding her the night before.

“Are you…” he swallowed harshly and sat down quickly. “What happened?”

“I ran into Erica’s bass last night.” Laurel gestured to her face vaguely. “But it’s okay now! I do feel better.”

“Your nose is broken.”

Sascha carefully examined Laurel from head to toe. Though she looked completely composed, she was incredibly tense, her knuckles beginning to turn white on the spine of her book.

Laurel shrugged. “I’m all right now though.”

“You…. You don’t look all right.”

“Oh yeah, it’s probably just the stitches…”

“Your eyes have a bruise on them too” Sascha gestured underneath his own to show her where he saw her black eyes.

“That too. ”

She lowered her eyes away from Sascha’s so she didn’t have to meet them, but she shrugged again.

“I mean, it doesn’t really hurt that bad.”

Her eyes trailed back to the two coffee cups that were sitting on the table and she reached for one of them, sticking it into his face almost comically. Sascha’s eyes widened again, but Laurel could see the corner of his mouth quirk up when he took it from her.

“Thank you.”

“I figured you’d want some this early.”

Sascha took a long sip of his, “Will never say no when you bring me coffee.”

The two sat in silence for a brief moment in attempt to enjoy their coffees, but Sascha returned to the topic much sooner than Laurel would have liked.

“We saw you for a moment when you get off the bus when we got in last night.”

It was Laurel’s turn to be stunned. Her hand landed on the side of her head and she slumped back into the couch. This was starting to get embarrassing for her.

“I barely remember the drive back.”

“You had to have be covered in a lot of blood last night, Laurel.”

“Sascha, I’m really just trying to relax about it. I don’t want anything to get out of hand if it doesn’t have to be.”

“I don’t like that you don’t sound so serious about it!”

Laurel tossed her book onto the coffee table in frustration. She pulled her hat off and adjusted her braid and bangs to try and distract her hands. What more could she say? Of course it was a serious injury. But it could have been worse.

“I don’t want to make such a big deal about it when everyone else already is.”

“Well, a singer with a broken nose can be a very big deal, darling.” Sascha continued his stern tone.

Laurel jerked her gaze away from his at the pet name.

“Did they say you can be on the stage with no problems?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Laurel mumbled. When he didn’t answer, Laurel looked back up to Sascha with both of his eyebrows raised in concern.

“I’ll figure it out! Take it easy tomorrow night.”

Still no response.

“Sascha, it’s going to be FINE. Just need to rest a bit.”

“Laurel, I am just worrying about you, I’m sure they are too.”

She threw her hands in the air. “And the worrying is going to stress me out more! Everyone has gotten on my case about it and I’m just trying to figure out how to get through the next show in one piece. I just need a plan of how to avoid getting hurt on stage again!”

Sascha caught her left hand easily and pulled it to his chest. His eyes softened in remorse now that she was worked up. Laurel’s eyes blinked between their hands and his gaze, lips quivering from emotion until it finally spilled over.

“Please don’t be upset.”

He shook his head and he pulled her to his chest, kissing the top of her head before tucking her under his chin. Laurel squeezed her eyes shut to hide the tears that fell. Sascha ran his hand around her shoulders up and down her back lightly.

“No. Never.”

Laurel took a deep and shaky breath. The tension she felt in her body began to dissipate almost immediately. Feeling more secure than she had in the last 18 hours, her shield broke. There was no pretending she was okay now. Her head was pounding, she felt dizzy from lack of sleep, and she wasn’t sure if singing tomorrow night was the best idea after all. Her thoughts were interrupted when she began to taste metal on her lips all over again. She sat up quickly.

“Oh my god.”

“Scheiße.” Sascha noticed the blood all over her lips and dug in his pockets for anything that could have been used as a tissue or rag. “Stay right there.”

Laurel pulled a tissue out of the travel pack she brought with her and smothered her nose. “Fucking hell.”

“Let me.”

Laurel froze when Sascha reached for the tissue that was over her nose, but didn’t resist when he pinched her nose to stop the bleeding. She blew out a breath and tried to keep her head straight up and down. His other hand was secure on the back of her neck to keep her steady, but she was still startled by his lack of hesitation to help her than feel flustered. Her eyes focused in just enough on a small darker patch that had gotten on his shirt just below his shirt collar.

“Fuck, I got it on you too?”

He shook his head and took the tissue off. “Hey, don’t worry.” Laurel handed him the pack and he went right back to cleaning her nose back up. She flinched as his fingertips brushed her nose a little too quickly and Sascha let up. “Tell me what you need.”

Laurel shook her head. “I’m still tired.”

“Why don’t you come back with me?”

“Huh?”

“Come.” Sascha stood and gestured for her to follow him. “Come on.”

Laurel stood up slowly, taking her belongings along with her. Sascha tipped her chin up with his finger and smiled lightly. “Looks good as new.”

She blushed furiously and hung her head as Sascha wrapped his arm around her shoulders to guide her along. The walk to his hotel room was shorter than she anticipated, quiet, but not as awkward as their previous silence. His grasp never left her and Laurel felt secure in going back with him. When he let her into his room, Laurel felt an overwhelming sense of warmth as she entered. His room was considerably neater than hers, clothes in a neat pile by his suitcase, his blanket rumpled, but pulled to the pillows in an attempt to remake the bed. A guitar of his own was in another corner with travel gear he used.

Sascha nudged her forward. “Go ahead, you can sit.”

Laurel went and sat down on the mattress, pulling her legs up to cross them as Sascha went to the pile of clothes.

“Laundry?”

“I think I have some time before I need to.”

Sascha?” Laurel stopped him before he could leave the room. “Thank you.”

“You can always stay again in my room like you did before.”

“You know I can’t always stay up late with you!”

“I did not say you had to!”

Laurel cocked her head at Sascha. She didn’t mind the idea of staying with him again, his beds always felt incredibly comfy and warm in comparison to hers. He flashed a smile before gathering his clothes together again. “But you’re always allowed to.”

She smiled at him, the same wistful gaze she always gave when she could never find the right thing to say to him. He winked at her before quickly slipping out of the room. Laurel could feel herself turning red again because of him. No matter the context, it seemed like a wink always got her more flustered than she could anticipate. Laurel covered her legs with the blanket. She sat for a minute, contemplating how she had ended up in that situation. In his bed once again, but this time he offered the space for her to escape. Not just to get away from the stress, but being this close to him and caring for her when she needed it most. She flopped back into his pillow and pressed her hand to her forehead for a brief moment, thinking through their interactions today, and over the previous month. All were increasingly genuine and intentional. Was there an actual reason behind them, or was she getting too far deep into it? She didn’t have much more time to think it through because she was dozing off once again, this time in the warmth that she was just treated with, and a hint of balsam.

Sascha reentered shortly after, humming one of Sidelines’ songs he had taken a liking to, a quick one that Laurel had written.

“Would you like to come to lunch with us later on?”

He waited for a response. Nothing.

Sascha turned to try again but Laurel lay there in deep sleep, blanket pulled to her chin and head tilted to the side, bangs slightly askew. She snored softly, nothing tense about her expression. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that broke across his face. Was it excitement he felt? Something clicked in his brain that hadn’t before. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her sleeping, however there was something more tender and endearing about it this time to him.

She was comfortable and safe, that’s all that mattered to him.

#helloween #sidelines #leather and lace #my writing #sascha gerstner x oc

8 notes · View notes

laurelwinchester · 2 years

Text

there was no part of me that was in any way whatsoever interested in the continuation of the teen wolf universe........but then they got sarah michelle gellar for whatever the fuck this Wolf Pack (advertised as a teen wolf ‘’offshoot’’) show is and now i feel myself slipping down a very deep dark rabbit hole. i mean smg???? THE smg??? buffy????

#now how in the hell did davis manage to pull that one off #i can't believe i'm even considering watching a jeff davis werewolf show aimed at teens in this the year 2022 #but..........y'all it's smg #the queen is returning #wolf pack #sarah michelle gellar #sdcc 2022

34 notes · View notes

aellynera · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is.

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

#allison answers #lovely anon #llewyn davis #llewyn davis blurb #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #inside llewyn davis blurb #inside llewyn davis modern au #my writing #oscar isaac characters

180 notes · View notes

homerforsure · 3 years

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

61 notes · View notes

valdomarx · 3 years

Text

time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this.

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening.

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches.

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game.

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens.

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether.

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual.

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look.

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically.

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate.

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start.

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #beautifulmonster #love!! this verse!!!#someone give vegas john a warm blanket and some love i beg you

84 notes · View notes

wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

excuses pt. 2 — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

a/n: basically “excuses” but from fred’s point of view! literally no one asked for this but i just felt like writing it so bon appetit

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

There were three things that Fred Weasley had been expecting when he woke up this morning: a flunked Potions quiz, Oliver Wood's wrath (given that Fred skipped Quidditch practice the day before), and a forbidden trip to Hogsmeade with George at midnight.

What Fred had not been expecting is for a certain someone to rush up to him in the middle of the hallway right after Potions class (and he was right—he did flunk that quiz), grip onto his shoulders, and press a kiss to his cheek.

Now, Fred is not easily surprised. He's always the one to do the surprising, usually in the form of masterfully executed pranks and ridiculously witty remarks. But the word "surprised" seems like a poor fit for what he feels right now, because he is—for lack of better word—stunned. Gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. Is he in a fever dream?

The kiss lasts a mere half-second; before Fred can even begin to wrap his head around what the bloody hell just happened, [Y/N] is already pulling away from him and rambling on about being dared and blackmailed and perverts and definitely not liking him. (That last part kind of hurt, but that's hardly what's on Fred's mind right now.)

Fred blinks and wonders if the warmth spreading across his cheeks shows.

[Y/N] has stopped talking and is staring up at him, a blush of her own coating her face—and it's so ridiculously obvious how flustered she's gotten that Fred can't help but start laughing both out of fondness and to ease the bewilderment he feels as he tries to wrap his head around the past few seconds' events.

Which is that [Y/N]—a friend of his and George's for quite some time now who has an immaculate sense of humor, is secretly a pranking genius, and also happens to be one of the prettiest girls Fred has seen around Hogwarts—has just kissed him on the cheek, and is claiming to have been blackmailed into doing it.

"I'm sorry, [Y/N/N]," Fred begins, eyebrows raised. "But that's a very poor excuse." Which, in Fred's head, translates to: I hope that's an excuse because if it isn't, then I'm going to have to live with the fact that a pretty girl had to be blackmailed into kissing me.

She gapes at him for a moment, and then sputters out an indignant "no", after which she proceeds to open and close her mouth like a fish blown out of water as though grasping for words that won't come to her. The grin on Fred's face grows; at least he knows he's not the only one flustered around here, and, to be perfectly honest, he's dealing with it a lot better.

Funny. He's the one who got kissed on the cheek—shouldn't he be more worked up?

The fondness in his chest only swells when [Y/N] huffs and purses her lips, eyes skittering away from his as she mutters something inaudible under her breath.

It's not like Fred likes her. Sure, he talks a lot louder and acts rowdier around her just to grab her attention. And okay, he claims he needs help with a prank just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe he always remembers to bring her food from the kitchens just to see the bright grin on her face when he hands her a strawberry cupcake. And sure, he got jealous that one time he saw Roger Davies blatantly trying to flirt with her—

Okay, sure. Maybe Fred does like [Y/N].

And maybe his feelings are a tad bit hurt when [Y/N] tells him, cheeks still flushed a bright red, "No, listen to me, Fred, I was literally blackmailed. Now excuse me while I cleanse my lips ferociously."

Fred already has a witty remark resting on the tip of his tongue to mask his hurt feelings. But before it even gets past his lips, [Y/N] is already dashing off. Before he knows it, she has already turned the corner and disappeared.

And all the while, Fred stands there outside of the Potions classroom, staring after her.

"Well, wasn't that an interesting thing to witness." George makes his presence known for the first time since [Y/N] came up to him. He claps Fred on the shoulder, and Fred doesn't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. "Don't faint on me now, Freddy. We've still got Charms class to go to."

Being kissed by a pretty girl, it turns out, does wonders for one's ego, because Fred feels ridiculously full of himself for the rest of the day.

He has two classes with [Y/N]: Care of Magical Creatures and Divination class, both of which are set at the end of the day just before dinner. And for some weird, totally unknown reason, Fred is on the edge of his seat.

He hasn't seen her around since she'd kissed him a few hours ago, so he practically dashes to his Care of Magical Creatures class with George lagging behind him in anticipation to see her.

Except, when he arrives at the grounds, she is nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she's late?" suggests George, and then, with a mischievous grin on his face, he nudges Fred and says, "D'you think she's still busy cleansing your germs off her lips?"

"Sod off," Fred grumbles, his previous excitement now quickly waning.

George snorts. The other sixth years are milling around the grass in wait for Hagrid, completely oblivious to the dejected Fred Weasley surveying the class in search for a certain someone. "Only joking," says George, his tone impish. "She's probably just off somewhere regretting her life choices—"

Fred tries to smack his twin upside the head, but years of growing up next to one another and thus knowing each other's every move seem to have paid off for George, because he manages to dodge Fred almost effortlessly.

"Blimey, can't take a joke, can you?" he grins, the look on his face making it clear that he finds teasing Fred greatly enjoyable. And then, in a more serious tone, "Don't get your panties in a bunch just yet. She'll show up for Transfiguration."

Except she doesn't, and Fred starts to wonder if he'd done something terribly wrong. Perhaps he'd reacted the wrong way; maybe he shouldn't have acted so full of himself when she'd kissed him. Did he? Or should he have kissed her back? No, definitely not—that would've been weird. Would it? Had she really been blackmailed? To what extent? Should he be somewhere tracking down her blackmailer and avenging her?

As a result, Fred is absolutely out of it during Transfiguration class.

The moment he stepped foot through McGonagall's classroom and realized that [Y/N] wasn't there, he'd fallen quiet and hadn't uttered a word. He has failed to acknowledge George's constant nudges and has been staring at absolutely nothing for the entire duration of the class.

He stays like this even after the period ends, as well as on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. When Ron trips over literal air in the hallway and Fred miraculously doesn't make some sort of funny remark, George stops in his tracks. Looking genuinely concerned, he grabs his twins by the shoulders and asks, completely serious, "What did you nickname your dangly-bits when you were eight?"

Fred's eyes grow wide; it's the first genuine, non-lifeless reaction he has shown since an hour ago. "What the—"

"I'm only asking you once," says George, deadpan. "If you answer this wrong, I'm going to have to assume you're not Fred and you've been replaced by some sort of imposter, because the real Fred would have made Ron cry over tripping—"

"Have you gone mad—"

"What did you name your dangly-bits?"

Still in disbelief, Fred sputters out, "Champ."

George blinks, then drops his hands back to his sides. He wrinkles his nose. "I suppose you are still yourself. What's gotten into you, mate? Last time I can recall you acting like this was.." he pauses, brows pulling together at the middle in thought, "Actually, never."

"I'm growing up, Georgey," Fred nods earnestly, and his tone is joking but the slump of his shoulders says otherwise. Tapping his temple with a finger as though to stress his point, Fred keeps walking, George keeping pace next to him. "I'm starting to look at the world in a different light. Can't joke around forever, you see."

George full-on snorts. "Rubbish. If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought you were still thinking about [Y/N]."

Fred doesn't reply. There's a ten-second silence, the first few of which George laughs a little as though the idea is ridiculous, but then his eyes land on Fred's sullen expression.

"Oh," says George, once more stopping in his tracks. Fred ignores him and keeps walking—if they keep stopping every few steps, they're never going to get to the Great Hall (where Fred is maybe, maybe hoping to see [Y/N]).

Already a few feet away, Fred hears George shout after him, "You like her, don't you?"

Does Fred like an unimaginably pretty girl with the loveliest laugh he has ever heard and cheeks that flush the brightest shade of pink whenever she gets flustered? Does he like a girl with a smile that could light up the entire castle? Does he like the girl he could talk to for hours and hours and never get tired of?

Without as much as turning around to look at his twin, Fred, whilst walking, says loudly, "So what?"

Fred is now much too far away from his twin, but he thinks he might have heard George yell something along the lines of "I should've bloody known!"

—

Fred doesn't see her at dinner. Upon returning to the Gryffindor tower, he finds that the common room is also completely [Y/N]-free. He does spot Ginny, who he immediately approaches.

"Hello, sister," says Fred smoothly, detaching her from her group of friends to pull her into a corner. Not bothering to beat around the bush, he asks, "By any chance, have you seen [Y/N] around anywhere?"

Ginny stares at her older brother, wearing an impish smile that Fred knows all too well. There's a familiar hint of mischief glinting in her eyes that Fred has seen far too many times in the mirror. "I suppose you want to repay her for what she gave you earlier?" says Ginny, lips curling up into a grin.

Fred raises his eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

"A kiss," sings Ginny, giggling. "Are you about to confess to her? Are you planning to drag her out to the balcony and kiss her under the light of a thousand st—"

Fred is already turning on his heel and walking away before Ginny can even finish her sentence.

—

When Fred Weasley woke up that morning all those hours ago, the last thing he'd been expecting was to end the day thinking of the feeling of [Y/N]'s lips on his cheek and what it would feel like if the tables were turned and he kissed her.

Fred has long since realized that no amount of tossing and turning will allow him to fall asleep. So now he lays awake in his four-poster bed, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window but not really registering it; his brain is much too busy mulling over things of far greater importance.

Well, thing: [Y/N].

Without really knowing whether or not his twin is awake or not, Fred tests the waters and says aloud, "George?"

"I say ask her out," George's voice replies without missing a beat, like he'd been waiting for Fred to ask all this time. "Tomorrow at breakfast. She fancies you, Freddy. That blackmail excuse was codswallop."

Fred swallows, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of ceiling. "What if it wasn't?"

"I bet twenty galleons it was absolute rubbish. She needed an excuse to kiss you."

"You don't have twenty galleons."

"Okay, I bet my nine galleons it was rubbish. Happy?"

Nine galleons. That and Fred's feelings—is he willing to risk that and ask her out, like George is suggesting?

"I don't want to jump to conclusions," groans Fred, rolling over and stuffing his face into his pillow. "Have you seen her, Georgey? She's.."

"She's a bit of a looker, yes."

At this, Fred scowls.

"Are you scowling at me? I can feel it."

A pillow is thrown from Fred's bed, but it is much too dark and Fred's aim is very much off; the pillow lands somewhere at the foot of George's bed, nowhere close to its intended target. "Ha, you missed," George chirps. "Just like you'll miss [Y/N] when some other bloke gets to her before you do because you're too much of a wimp to ask her o—"

Another pillow, this time hitting George full-on in the face. "Ow!"

Despite the heavy feeling of worry resting on his chest, Fred is unable to help himself from smiling smugly in triumph. "Slipped, sorry."

George throws the pillow back but misses; it lands somewhere on the floor, not even near Fred's bed. "Whatever," Fred hears him grumble. And then, tone brightening once more, "You will ask her out tomorrow, won't you?"

At this, Fred falls silent.

"Come on, Freddy. Mum didn't raise you to be a wimp."

"Easier said than done," sighs Fred, voice muffled due to how he has stuffed his face into the one pillow left on his bed. "Will you be a good twin and cheer me up when she rejects me?"

"No promises." And despite it being dark, Fred knows fully well that George is grinning. "But I can promise to be the best man at your wedding. Free of charge."

A wedding. Ha. He can’t even look at her without feeling all flustered. “We’ll see how it goes,” says Fred, exhaling heavily.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #hp oneshot #hp imagines #hp oneshots #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley oneshots #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic

1K notes · View notes

ah-ga-seven · 4 years

Text

Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 1

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 3.2K

Genre: Angst, Fluff,

Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, overall pretty tame.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;) Also the first chapter sucks and is more of an introduction so pls give ch 2 a chance lmaoo, it’s juicy, i promise.

You were exhausted.

Your second year of college had passed like a whirlwind and you didn’t even have the time to realise.

Deadline after deadline after deadline had passed and you finally handed in your last paper of the year.

You sigh in relief. The pent up tension leaves ur body and the stress seems to fade more and more as the seconds pass. You stare blankly at your laptop screen. Still not quite realising how you managed to write ten thousand words of scientific research just 3 days before the deadline.

You feel two firm hands on your shoulders, massaging you as a way to show comfort “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.”

The voice and sudden skinship startled you a little but as soon as you realise who it is, you relax in his touch.

You remove your Airpods and look up at your best friend, Soobin, who sat down next to you at your favourite secluded table in the school’s cafeteria. It’s where your friends could always find you if you had work to do.

“I just might” you sigh throwing your head back. And suddenly a huge grin crept up your face. Which worked contagiously as Soobin instantly started to smile back at you.

“I did it. I finished all of the work.” You say putting your hand on your forehead dramatically.

Soobin chuckled nudging your shoulder. “I told you, you’d be fine. You always manage to pull through even though you procrastinate so much.” He says as he high-fives you.

You pout at his statement. Yes. It’s a serious problem. “I just-”

You stop your sentence midway as that god walks into the cafeteria. His confident stride to the soda machine dressed in simple athletic wear made your jaw drop slightly. He was sweaty, probably from basketball practice. His chestnut hair damp, cascading his forehead and prickling his eyes. He blinked a few times before blowing the hair out of his face with his pouty lips.

You swallow harshly at the sight and Soobin follows your gaze. You hear him chuckle, right before he flicks your forehead.

“Maybe if you stopped drooling over my roommate, you would’ve been able to focus.”

You send him a glare, kicking his knee under the table, making him yelp out in pain, which caught someone’s attention.

Yeonjun takes out his soda from the machine as his head snaps in your direction. He smiles and approaches your table. Your heart decided to do martial arts in your chest with every step he took towards your table.

You look away from his gaze quickly pretending to be busy with your laptop.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yeonjun said ‘bro-fiving’ Soobin.

“Nothing much, just the usual abuse from miss thing here,” Soobin says sending you a look as he rubs his knee.

“Abuse? I didn’t know you were into that.” Yeonjun says giving you a coy smile, and you nearly choked at his words, looking at him wide-eyed.

You try your best to keep your cool, but Yeonjun was leaning against your chair, inching dangerously close, looking over your shoulder.

“Watchu working on?” he asks cutting the tension.

Oh Yeonjun, always so friendly and interested. If only he knew the effect he had on you. Or the effect he had on at least half of the female and male population of your elite college.

“N-nothing. I mean I just finished it. It’s the paper for Mr. Davis’s class. The last one, so summer can finally start.” You ramble, not sure why you’re telling him all of these details. It’s not like he cares.

You take a mental note to shut up, stealing a quick glance from Soobin who was awkwardly shifting in his seat.

Yeonjun let out a chuckle, patting your back. “Good job, I knew you could do it. This paper will give you an advantage next year right?”

You look up in confusion. “How’d you know?”

“Soobinnie here told me that this paper was the reason you bailed on the party two days ago. Such a shame, would’ve been nice to have you there you know…” Yeonjun says a little lost in thought absentmindedly moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Was he? Flirting?

“I have all the time in the world now, so if you want to see me so badly, just give me a call.” You say confidently crossing your arms. You were testing him, and he seemed amused by your sudden confidence.

Soobin rolled his eyes at the two of you. Yeonjun is a notorious fuckboy. A star player of the basketball team, rich, handsome, charming but also his best friend and teammate. You were also his best friend that he had known since childhood, which means that the two of you were a recipe for disaster in his books.

The two of you planned to go to the same college since your parents pushed you to do so, but also because you two are joined at the hip since birth. Oh and did you mention that Soobin was the one with the full basketball scholarship, while you had to rely on your actual brain to get one?

Ever since you started college and were introduced to Choi Yeonjun, you had a meaningless crush on him. But since time passed and you got close to Soobin’s friends and vice versa, your feelings towards him seemed to escalate and you could tell that Yeonjun was into you too. You just didn’t know in what way.

Soobin always tried his best to keep you two apart because he didn’t want you to get hurt. Soobin knew Yeonjun was just going to be in it for the sex and is not ready for a relationship in any way or form.

But Soobin also knows that if you have set your mind to something, there’s absolutely no way that he can talk you out of it. You have always had a fascination for bad boys, wanting to fix them and then crying to Soobin about it when it didn’t work out. It might be the quality he hates about you the most.

But this time it was different. This time it was between two people that Soobin genuinely cared for. So he was against the two of you having any type of relationship other than friendship.

Soobin cleared his throat, diverting the attention back to him. “That sounds nice and all, but I think y/n will be going back home for summer. Right?”

You’re confused by Soobin’s sudden cock blocking and raise your eyebrow at him.

“No, actually. I’m not. Not this year. My parents are traveling through Europe so there’s nothing for me to go home to.” You say. Soobin knows about this. So why would he mention you going back home?

“Well. That’s great. Then we can finally hang out with the whole squad without any of us bailing because of school work.” Yeonjun says smiling.

“Anyways, I’ve got to go. I guess I’ll…see you around?” Yeonjun asks staring at you intently. You just nod in response giving him a smile, which he returned to you immediately. It was more of a smirk than a smile though and you could swear his eyes wandered to your chest, but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.

“See you back home bro” Yeonjun said patting the younger one on his shoulder before walking off.

As Yeonjun was out of sight, your head snaps back to Soobin, who was glaring at you.

“What was that about,” you say crossing your arms, fire spitting from your pupils.

“That’s so NOT happening” Soobin states taking a sip out of his water bottle while keeping eye contact.

“Excuse you?” you say lost for words.

Soobin just shrugs, he’s visibly annoyed and you know not to push his buttons right now but you decide to do so anyway.

“Listen, I know you’re practically my brother and all. But you’re not. So I don’t see why you need to act like you are, I like him Soobin. Let me explore my feelings for him a little.” You say in a hushed tone trying not to sound too bitchy, but Soobin just scoffs in response, rolling his eyes at you.

“It’s your feelings that I’m worried about y/n, cause he certainly doesn’t care. He just wants to fuck. If he actually liked you, he wouldn’t look at you like you’re a meal. He’d look at you with affection.”

You’re taken aback by his statement and you’re not so sure if you should bite back at him. Instead, you let him explain some more as you wave your hand at him as a sign for him to continue.

“I care about both of you. I just don’t want this y/n, because when worse comes to worst I will have to choose, and then I will choose you and everything will go to shit. I am his captain, we have the same group of friends, we share multiple classes, hell, we share a whole apartment” Soobin sighs massaging his temples.

“Ok…Ok…Jesus” you give in.

“I promise; I won’t engage” you pout.

“Good,” Soobin says. “Please for once just…listen to me. Trust me, he’s not the type of guy to want a relationship right now.”

“Ok.” You sigh. “But this means you and your girlfriend will be stuck with me all summer then.”

Soobin looks up, confused at how easy it was to talk you out of it. He smiles at you sweetly and his eyes disappear into crescent moons as he does so. “I can’t wait to get mani-pedi’s.” He laughs sarcastically clapping his massive hands together cutely while visibly relaxing in his seat.

Suddenly your heart gets all soft at the sight of the giant baby in front of you. In a way he is right. He’s telling you all the things that you already knew. And the last thing you wanted was to hurt Soobin for some dumb crush you had on a college boy.

“Soobin is just the captain cause he’s the tallest” Yeonjun argues.

You giggle at his childish statement. You were at the park off-campus with some of your friends. Soobin had his arm draped around his girlfriend Mia’s shoulder while she leaned into him. They were disgustingly adorable. And every time they displayed a little too much PDA all of your friends would throw snacks at them.

Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai had also joined you on the picnic. You were sitting with your legs draped over Beomgyu’s so there would be enough space for everyone on the blanket you brought.

All of you munched on different types of snacks. And you tried your hardest to keep your distance from Yeonjun without making it obvious.

“Soobin hyung is the captain because he’s not as full of himself as you are” Taehyun said, making everyone but Yeonjun laugh.

He gave Taehyun the glare of death and pouted afterward to show playfulness. “I get no respect in this household” Yeonjun sighs as he throws an M&M at Tae’s head, which he dodged just in time.

Your heart did a jump at the sight of his pout and as if he could sense it, Yeonjun made eye contact with you.

He smirked, looking away when you did.

Mia looked at you, narrowing her eyes as she saw the way you two were stealing glances from each other like high school kids.

Mia was one of your closest friends whom you had introduced to Soobin in the first year. They started dating not long after they met. And from time to time you still remind them of the fact that if it weren’t for you, they’d be sad and lonely.

Mia knew you like the back of her hand, just like Soobin did. So keeping a secret from either of them was basically impossible. The two of them tend to gang up on you a lot. Even though you know It’s out of love and concern, it’s still really fucking annoying sometimes. Especially when it comes to your love life.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you say getting up. Beomgyu reluctantly removed his arm from your leg and uses it as a supporting rod for you to get up.

You smile and thank him, which made Yeonjun narrow his eyes at the two of you, which Mia also noticed.

Soobin however was lost in deep conversation with Hueningkai about some Math problems he had.

Huening was a freshman, just like Tae, but since they were on the basketball team as well, they were all pretty close. And they helped each other out whenever they could.

You admired their friendship and were happy to call them your friends as well.

“I’ll come with you,” Mia says untangling her man's arms from her waist as she tries to get up, earning a sad pout from Soobin in return. “Come back soon,” he said sighing.

“Don’t be disgusting” Yeonjun and you say at the exact same time. Earning chuckles from everyone.

You look at each other surprised and laugh like the two of you were in your own world.

This time, Soobin noticed, and you try your best to avoid his gaze.

“You two are just bitter cause you’re single” Taehyun stated throwing his head back in evil laughter.

“Well so are you, so are all of you except for them so what’s your point exactly” Yeonjun bites back giving Taehyun a beaming smile while stuffing his face with a handful of the chocolates.

“Ehm, shall we?” Mia nudged you and you nodded as the boys’ bickering became background noise while you walked off together.

“Why do chicks always go to the bathroom together” Hueningkai questioned with genuine curiosity.

“So they can talk shit in private,” Beomgyu said wiggling his eyebrows.

As Mia and you walked further and further from your spot, Mia looks over her shoulder to determine if it’s a safe enough distance to start gossiping.

“Dude” she nudges you while speaking in a hushed tone.

“Why were you and Yeonjun literally eye-fucking each other in front of everyone.”

Your eyes grow wide and you turn around facing her. “Eye-fucking” you repeat her, suppressing a chuckle while trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“I think you’re seeing things.” You say shrugging.

“Am I y/n?” she looks at you with a stern expression, and this time you’ve had about enough.

You sigh in frustration as you open the door to the public bathroom entrance.

“Look, Soobin already gave me the ‘Yeonjun is a fuckboy so stay away’ lecture, I really don’t need to hear it again.”

“Soobin lectured you about not engaging with Yeonjun?” Mia says surprised.

You raise your eyebrows. “You didn’t know? I thought he told you everything.”

Mia sighs. “If you like him, who’s Soobin to tell you what to do with those feelings?”

Your jaw drops, in awe of the fact that she’s siding with you on this one. “But if he hurts you, I’ll break his ankles.” She says determined, with her psycho protective smile. Ah, there it is.

“Well. Soobin really gave me an ultimatum. He basically says that if things end badly, he would have to choose between us and that it’d ruin not only his friendship but the team’s teamwork and everything. I don’t want to have that on my conscience just because I’m lusting over Yeonjun.”

Mia nearly busted a lung laughing and you cocked your eyebrow at her in surprise. “What are you laughing about” you try to suppress a smile, amused by her sudden outburst.

“He. Is. So. Dramatic” she says still recovering from her laughing fit.

“He is?” you ask genuinely interested in her point of view.

“Yes, he is. Look I don’t want to be the one to push you into toxicity or anything but we know Yeonjun. He is sweet? And nice. And he has never given me an off vibe. I can tell he has eyes for you, the only problem is that a lot of girls have eyes for him too and that can become a problem. The issue is if YOU can handle that.” Mia fixes your hair while she speaks and you sigh.

She’s right. “But Soobin”

“Oh fuck Soobin, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Just live a little. What’s the worst that could happen.”

“Did you pee out the whole lake? That took forever.” Soobin states yanking Mia back into his lap.

“I missed you,” he says nuzzling his face in her neck.

“Ok, gross.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

“There was a line” you lie walking over to Yeonjun’s side, sitting down between him and Hueningkai this time. This action earned a look from Soobin, who was basically cursing at you with his eyes, all while Mia smiled at you knowingly. It also earned a look from Yeonjun, he looked at you surprised but content, and he gave you a sweet smile, his facial expression softened immediately when you nudged him playfully as you sat down next to him.

The whole afternoon was spent laughing and bickering. Listening to the boys’ none sense and Taehyun making snacks disappear and appear with his never-ending magic tricks. All while the six of you were busting your brains trying to solve Hueningkai’s mathematical equations for his engineering class.

Yeonjun inched closer to you from time to time. The both of you were in charge of the music that was blasting from your portable speaker. You compared your Spotify playlists and noticed how much you have in common with him music-wise. It was fun seeing Yeonjun becoming all passionate about his favourite artists, it certainly didn’t help the fact that you were trying to keep a distance from him. Cause his cute little mannerisms and the way he gets so engrossed in his storytelling made you fall for him even more. Face first to be exact.

From time to time you would feel Yeonjun’s gaze linger on you. He’d ‘accidentally’ brush his arm against yours or he would touch your thigh, asking you to pass him another can of soda.

It was a lot, but you couldn’t say you hated it.

“It’s getting late” Taehyun says getting up. “We need to prepare for the party tonight”

his statement earned hums, moans, and groans from everyone.

“Whose party?” you asked.

“Johnny. That senior from the photography major” Yeonjun answered, looking at you with a hopeful expression. “You’re coming right?”

You smiled at him, nodding your head. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Dude this is a disaster,” you say rummaging through your clothes while you were on Facetime with Mia. “I don’t have anything to wear”

Mia rolled her eyes at you. “You trying to impress someone?” she said stuffing her face with seaweed chips.

You stare at her through the screen “Listen, you little shit. Just because you’re in a happy marriage doesn’t mean you get to be all sarcastic and judgy”

She snorted “Marriage!? Oh please. You’re just trying to impress Yeonjun and that’s fine. Just wear something that covers the least amount of skin, he’ll like it.”

“You’re a menace to society” you state, Mia shrugs at your choice of words and laughs. “But you’re right.” You give in grabbing a strappy lilac mini dress. “Then I guess this is contestant number one”

“Ooh, yes! Love that, wear that.” Mia enthusiastically exclaims giving you a thumbs up.

“Okay, that was a lot easier than I thought this was going to be, I’m gonna finish getting ready. You and Soobin are picking me up, right?”

“Yes, we are. Be ready at 11.”

“Alright, see you, bye”

“Bye.”

You throw your phone on your bed and hold the dress in front of your figure, looking at yourself in the mirror. You sigh, getting a rush of anxiety and butterflies in your stomach as you think of seeing Yeonjun again tonight.

Let’s see where this goes.

Chapter 2

572 notes · View notes

fckwritersblock · 3 years

Text

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 3

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Warning: since I deemed Wednesday my update, day....don’t hate me for this. Oh and steam....and angst if you turn around, bend down and look between your legs, tilt your head to the side and squint

16 year old Alona 17 year old Erik

September 9th, 1997

West Oakland, Ca

Over the next five years the two remained close; bonding over their lack of parents bringing them closer. Erik had been placed with an aunt from his mothers side. His aunt never had children but always wanted them. Thankfully she stayed in Oakland too. Though it was East Oakland, Erik still managed to go to school in the West since he refused to go anywhere Alona wasn't.

While Erik always looked out for her, he also taught her how to defend herself. Young Erik was no stranger to fighting. If you looked at him wrong he'd beat your ass to make sure you never did again. He was both book and street smart. Having 4.0 GPA didn't mean you couldn't catch these hands.

Respectfully.

"You gon mess around a get yourself arrested, stupid." Alona would scold him on their walks home after many fights.

He had just gotten rougher as he gotten older, while she became softer, more feminine.

Not to mention a hell of a lot prettier.

And all he boys noticed. Especially with Alona's most recent glow up. She had always been that ‘cute kid’, but now? It seemed as if puberty was hitting her with brick after brick all summer break, because when she came back from vacation in Louisiana with her family, Alona was easily the prettiest senior at Oakland Tech Highschool. While It was unwanted attention, it gained her, her own popularity...and she became the crush of her very best friend.

Erik Stevens had a massive crush on Alona Davis. He'd known it for about a year now but refused to act on it.

Until recently.

The two had been studying for the past hour at his aunts house. Really it was just her, since Erik didn't really feel the need to especially since they didn't have school tomorrow. But Thursday's was usually there's study day and he didn't want to break tradition. So there they were in his room backpacks and books over his bed, while they each sat against the way. He was perpendicular to her, her legs draped over his; a book and pen in her hand and a football in his.

"Dang girl, skippin' a grade not enough for you?" He teased poking her dimple prompting her to roll her eyes.

"Didn't you ask for my help?" She poked him in his side knowing he was ticklish.

"Ay girl!" He jumped away from her as she giggled.

"Oh that funny?"

"Boy you better not-" Alona began while shutting her book, eyes cutting at him.

But it was too late. He snatched her up before she could get off the bed and began tickling her sides. Laughter filled the room and Erik smirked at her attempts to stop him.

"Come on, stop," she laughed and he paused.

"Say it." At this she rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not-" when he started to tickle her again she changed her tune.

"Ok, ok, N'Jadaka is the king of the world." She panted out of breath sitting up a bit.

"What I thought." He smirked down at her.

As things calmed down, both of them slowly noticed the compromising positing they were in. If his aunt or her granny had found them like this, they'd both be beating black and blue. They were alone though. His aunt was conveniently working the late shift and wouldn't be in for another 5 hours at least.

His heart raced.

Her nerves were shot.

His head dipped down.

Her eyes slowly began to close.

His eyes zeroed in on her lipgloss covered lips.

Screw it, he thought being the one to make the first move as he roughly placed his lips on hers. Immediately she kissed him back her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her body closer to his. It wasn't her first kiss, though he was her first at 13, and she had a boyfriend - one Erik despised- but this was new territory for them. She had the biggest crush on her best friend as well; He was unknowingly in love with her. She undoubtedly felt the same.

Time moved slowly, and soon his shirt was off and so was hers, leaving her in nothing but a black bra as she straddled him. Her hands traced the small dips in his back as he trailed kisses along her neck. Lona let out a small moan grinding into him a bit.

Her pager snapped them out of it.

Reluctantly she untangled herself from him and found her glasses before grabbing the device and reading the message.

"Crap I've got to." Alona looked over to him, thankful her blush wasn't as apparent on her chocolate complexed cheeks. "We're suppose to leave in 2 hours and I've got to finish packing."

Erik just nodded, handing her her shirt as she mumbled a 'thank you' which he thought was adorable.

Quietly the two gathered her papers and books and put them away just how he knew she liked. When she had everything, he gently took her hand taking his sweet time walking her to the door.

Neither said a word, both stuck in the own thoughts. Alona was the first to break it upon noticing the way Erik was staring at her side profile.

"What are you looking at," she asked a slight told in her head.

"You. I just wanna remember you just like this. In all your beauty. Glasses and all." He tucked one of her coils back in its place.

With a blush and a small smile she hesitantly leaned forward before placing one last kiss upon his lips. Erik savored this moment, for he knew it be the last.

"I'll see you on Monday, N'Dajaka,"

He felt a slight loss when their hands disconnected and watched as she disappeared behind the wooden door.

Erik was fully aware he was moving this weekend. The weekend she'd be going to Sacramento for her family reunion. He wasn't scared of anyone or anything , for he knew the challenges he'd have to face to get where he was going. Erik was by no means a coward.

Except when it came to this.

He couldn't tell her he was leaving. His aunt Mag had finally given up on him and was sending him to even greater distant relative to stay in Harlem. It had been 2 weeks he had known this was going to happen, yet he refused to watch the heartbroken look she'd don once he broke the news. It wasn't like he had a choice. No, things were much better off this way.

He never really did goodbye's anyway.

———————

Alona is my baby and I just knowwwww shorty gonna be heart broken 😩

Anywho...see y’all on Wednesday? 😬😅

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @readingaddict1290 @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0

#killmonger x oc #erik killmonger #erik killmonger series #killmonger x black!reader #black panther killmonger #black panther imagine #black panther #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens #wakandaforever #black!reader

59 notes · View notes

alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 4 years

Text

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 2

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Part 1

Description: After an unexpected breakup, you and George formulate a plan to incite jealousy in detention.

“Morning babe,” you said as you planted a kiss on Roger’s cheek. You took a seat next to him and started building your plate with breakfast items. His mouth was full and he managed to spit out a greeting.

“Where were you last night? I thought you would’ve been at the party,” you asked casually.

“I just got carried away with some studying and I forgot,” he said. It sounded a little rehearsed but you didn’t question it.

“Well, you didn’t miss much. Although, I did get caught heading back to the common room. Detention on Thursday.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you okay? I feel like something’s bothering you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“So, I’ve been thinking. For the Yule Ball I might get a navy blue or a purple dress. So don’t get your dress robes until I pick one out. I just wanna make sure we match.”

“Y/N, you’re getting ahead of yourself. The Yule Ball is still months away.”

“I know, I just can’t help but be excited! And I want us to look perfect.”

Roger slammed his fork down on the table and sighed, “You’re making this so difficult.”

“What?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the Entrance Hall. “Look, I didn’t want to do this right now, but...” he spoke.

“Roger, what are you talking about?” you grabbed his arm and looked him in the eye, thinking no good could come of this.

“I…I think we should break up.”

You were speechless, unable to process what he had just said. This was the last thing you expected.

“Please don’t be too upset. It’s nothing you did. I just…I’ve found myself interested in someone else and that’s not fair to you.”

“…Someone else?” you asked, holding back tears.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“We can work through this Roger. It doesn’t have to be the end,” you pleaded.

He merely shook his head, kissed your cheek, and walked away. You sat on the staircase and realized things were really over. You felt heartbroken, but mostly blindsided. You knew you were never going to marry Roger, but you didn’t have any serious relationship issues. Things were always great between you.

You sat there a while longer, waiting to see if someone would find you or if your emotions would change but nothing happened. You went about your day, attending classes, as if nothing had changed even though you were hurting on the inside.

You arrived at McGonagall's office ten minutes before your detention was to start. You sat there, waiting for George to arrive and a few minutes later he dashed into the room, out of breath and took a seat next to you.

“Excellent, now that you are both here, we can begin your punishment. This evening, you will be polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room, by hand. Once every trophy has been polished and is up to my standard, you may go.” She summoned rags and polishing liquid for you and sent you to the trophy room. You walked in silence to begin with but you knew it would be a long evening if it kept up like this.

“I’m sorry. About what I said the other night,” he said as he started on the first trophy.

“Don’t be sorry. You were right. I have been a bit of a bitch to you. I’m sorry I’ve treated you so poorly all these years.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled casually.

“I don’t know how it got this way. I just caught up in unimportant aspects of life. I guess I wanted to be popular and now look where that got me.”

“I heard about Roger and Fleur.”

“Fleur? That's who left me for? Bloody hell, my life keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Sorry, I thought you knew…” he muttered.

“Is everyone talking about it?” you asked him seriously.

“I…I only overheard it from some Gryffindor girls. That’s all I know about it.”

“Yeah, word spreads so fast here, I can’t say I’m surprised.” You moved past him to work on the next trophy. “The worst part is, I still want him back.” You caught yourself before you revealed any more. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this,” you chuckled.

“No, it’s okay. We used to be friends at one point. You can tell me things. But if you want my opinion, you can do better than Davies.”

“Hardly, he’s the school’s most eligible bachelor, behind Cedric and maybe Harry Potter now that he’s been crowned champion.”

“So what’s your plan then? How are you gonna get him back?”

“I…I don’t know. How can I complete with Fleur? She’s part veela for God’s sake.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. You’re just as beautiful as she is. Plus I guarantee you have a better personality.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely. You’re actually funny, and you have a toughness to you which means you can stand up for yourself. Fleur’s more…delicate, fragile.”

“And since when do boys look for personality in a girl?”

“Personality is the biggest factor in looking for a lass to bring home. Guys want someone who is confident and comfortable in their own skin, and who can actually talk about things other than clothes and makeup. Someone real. And you have that quality.”

“No offense, George, but I don’t think Roger dated me because I’m ‘real’.”

“Perhaps you should be questioning your taste in men, then.” You pondered this when he added, “Do you really want to get back with Davies?”

“Yes.” At least, you thought you did.

“Then you have to get back at him.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You gotta get even. He has a new girl, so you can’t try and win him back. Instead, you have to make him jealous.”

“Okay, okay. I see where you’re going with this. But with who?”

“That I don’t really know. Probably someone who is well known by everyone, but different than your usual type. Someone unexpected; someone who will shock everyone. Who that is, I’m not sure.”

You stopped cleaning your trophy and looked at him, a sly smile creeping onto your face. The gears were turning in your head and there was no turning back now. He questioned the look on your face and said, “What…you know someone?”

You nodded and said, “Oh I know someone alright…”

“Who?” he asked. You didn’t say anything. Instead you let your smile grow a little bit and tilted your head, hoping he would pick up what you were putting down. It took him a moment but you saw his face change when he realized who you were talking about.

“No, no absolutely not,” he said, shifting his attention to the latest trophy he was polishing.

“Oh come on. You’re perfect. Everyone knows you, and loves you for that matter. We run in different circles so it would be totally unexpected, yet we’ve known each other for years so it’s believable.”

“Y/N, this is crazy.”

“Is it really that crazy? This whole thing was your idea and I actually think it could work.”

“Okay, say I do agree to this. What’s in it for me?”

“Easy. You can get the attention of a certain girl on the Gryffindor quidditch team that I know you have your eye on. Act like an awesome boyfriend to me and she’ll be more inclined to date you. And we’ll get to spend more time together. Just the other day you said you wanted to hang out more-“

“I did not say that. I said ‘we haven’t talked in a while.’”

“Still, I make a compelling argument. So what do you say?”

He didn’t look at you; he continued to polish the already spotless trophy in front of him. You walked over to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Come on, look at how cute we are together,” you looked at your reflection in the trophy and he did the same. “And you know it’ll be fun,” you said, shooting him a winning smile. “Help me out here and I’ll owe you a favor. Or five.” You hoped your last statement might set him over the edge.

He sighed, “Okay fine.”

“Really!?” you chirped.

“But on one condition, an easy out clause. If at one point, either of us wants to end things, we end things. No questions asked.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable. But, I just want you to know that I don’t half-ass anything. If we’re doing this it has to be believable. We have to be attached at the hip; inseparable.”

“This takes commitment from both sides. You can’t go around making out with other guys if we’re supposed to be a couple.”

“You have my word I will not make out with anyone while our fake fling is going on.”

“Then I’m in.” He held out his pinkie and you interlocked yours with his, making this deal quasi-official.

“You really are something else Y/N,” he laughed. You continued working through your punishment and you made the best of it. Somehow you forgot how funny George was. You were laughing at almost everything he said and every now and then you would send a joke or a funny comment his way. You kind of forgot what it felt like to laugh.

The laughing made the mundane task go by much quicker. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed but a moment later you were polishing the last trophy.

“Looks like it’s time to call McGonagall in for approval,” he said. She closely inspected every cup and plaque and gave you the okay that you could head back to the tower.

“Any plans for tonight?” he asked as you started your trek.

“Probably just catching up on school work tonight. What about you?”

“I have some business to attend to…” he said.

“Wow, vague.”

“I can’t spill all my secrets to you just yet.”

You reached the common room and you gathered your books and started working on your latest essay as George disappeared, probably up to no good.

“Still up?” George asked you as he found a spot next to you on the couch a few hours later.

“Yep. Trying to be as productive as possible. What about you? Finish up with that business?”

“Ah yes, it went quite successfully.”

“Let me guess…another prank? Who was it this time, Filch or a group of first years?”

“We decided to mix it up this time and go with some Slytherins.”

“Ah, a justifiable prank. Well done.”

“So have you thought about how we’re pulling off this ultimate plan?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you hoped he wasn’t backing out.

“Like, are we doing this gradually or just going full force?”

“Well, what do you think is more believable?”

“Personally, I think we need some sort of build up. Instead of just emerging as a couple, we should build the suspense. Make people speculate.”

“Okay, I can agree with that. So right now we just need to do a lot of public appearances. Nothing overly touchy or flirty, just spending time together.”

“Excellent. I just wanted to check with you before telling Fred about the situation.”

“Wait, what? You…you can’t tell him about our arrangement.”

“Y/N, he’s my twin brother and my best friend. I can’t hide anything from him.”

“No, no, no. You can’t tell him. He is a key player in this situation. His reaction to us needs to be genuine.”

“I tell him everything. I feel like he’ll know something’s up if I don’t say something.”

You paused for a moment, as you realized you weren’t being fair. “Look, I know that I’m asking a lot of you, but please don’t tell Fred. At least not yet. Please.”

He looked at you with a pained expression and said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, George. Now go get some sleep and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fanfic #weasley twins fanfic #fred and george weasley #hp fanfic #drive me crazy #george wealey oneshot

173 notes · View notes

waitingfortheendtocome · 4 years

Text

Deceiving Love

This was a request idea send so all credits for the idea goes to @me-goro Thank you for the request and I promise I’ll try my best :)

Request: Enemy to Lovers where Lou meets y/n for the first time while Lou’s trying to be sneaky because she wants to get information o but Y/N is unknowingly in the way of her getting it.

This is probably not going to be that many chapters maybe a few chapters, more or less fast pace. I tried to get it in a one shot but it would’ve been too long.

I’m so sorry is so long I couldn’t find a stopping point and wanted to get as much info out there as well as introduction for the first chapter. I promise I’ll try not to make them too long in the future lol. I’m bad at finding good ending spots as well as writing characters hating on each other LOL. Fair warning I went for the crashing into each other cliché to create a bad start between them LOL

I haven’t edited it completely so there might be grammatic error and for that I apologize.

Also this is my first Ocean’s 8 Lou Miller story so I’m sorry if this turns out bad 😅

Warnings: None yet except Cursing here and there. bad first impressions if you count that (is that under angst????)

Chapter One

~Lou~

Lou parked in front of the warehouse they had rented out for the job. They made sure to rent it out under a false name to avoid backtracking in case somewhere where to go wrong. They all took a flight to France for a job Debbie insisted they should do. She claimed it a really good job and the pay was good. Personally Lou didn’t needed the extra cash and rejected the job a few times over the course of a week before finally caving in due to Debbie’s persistence. Despite her agreeing she wasn’t happy and had been slightly grouchy she wanted to focus on running her club, upgrading it here and there to make it better and maybe open another club so she was very busy.

If she did this job she had to put all the plans on hold for a while which she was upset about. She had to hire a temporary manager to run her club while she was gone, hell even Tammy tried to tell Debbie to leave Lou be but according to Debbie they’ll get caught if Lou wasn’t there. Lou had been in a bad mood that day and saying a few things that would have hurt Debbie’s feelings if Debbie had been within hearing range only Tammy heard her and the two had a lengthy conversation which made Lou wish she had a strong drink which wasn’t wise thankfully Tammy made her feel better already sensing Lou’s sudden stress. Safe to say after talking to Tammy she agreed on the job better her helping Debbie than having all seven of her friends get caught and arrested. Debbie was more than happy at Lou agreeing to do this job something Lou noticed and had to admit made her happy.

They all walked in the warehouse and looked around except for Lou who walked confidently to a chair and sat down her long legs spread out in front of her. She had already came here a week ago to get the place set up for the team she even set up a spot for nine balls with the equipment the woman needed for the heist so she didn’t needed to explore or look around. Debbie grinned at Lou proud that Lou had set the place up already Lou looked up from her phone giving Debbie a smug smirk before she finished texting her temporary club manager. She put her phone away and looked up knowing the team had gathered and Debbie took the floor.

“So, what are we stealing? You guys haven’t told us.” Amita wondered

Lou lounged back shrugging, “Don’t look at me not even I know.”

“Yo, are they diamonds?” Nine Balls wondered

“Woah, wait you haven’t told Lou?” Constance wondered shocked

“I didn’t wanted her to try and back out if I told her.” Debbie informed them earning a snort from the blonde in question who shoved a piece of gum in her mouth

“Oh now we really wanna know, spill girl what is it?” Nine stated closing the lid of her laptop

Smiling satisfied that she got everyone's attention she turned on the screen projector stating, “Hear me out first.”

The screened turned on and an drawing of three jewels popped up and beside it another image of two crowns popped up. Lou studied the items quickly wondering what was so special about them besides the lack of photograph.

The necklace collar is large and is made out of pure gold hallmarked with roses and harps made out of diamonds put to gatherer alternately. They where tied together with knots made out of pure gold and topaz diamonds. The roses where made out of diamonds and rubies. In the center of the collar was an imperial Jeweled Crown crest surmounting a harp of gold and diamonds. There was a small writing that says they're suppose to be two of them one had the imperial badge crown and the other did not other than that both necklace collars where the exact same.

The second jewel was a Grand Master diamond badge. The badge looked like it was similar to the one hanging off one of the necklaces. the badge is made out of silver containing trefoil in emerald on a ruby cross surrounded by sky blue enamel with rose diamonds writing. The crowned harp was made out of Diamonds and Brazilian stones.

The third Jewel was a simple large star made of gold diamonds and brilliants. it consisting of eight points with four lesser issuing Centre enclosing a cross of ruby and a trefoil of emeralds surrounding a sky blue enamel circle with writing in rose diamonds. The crowns was made out of pure gold, diamonds among with other jewels spread out creating a rather elegant and luxurious pattern.

Lou looked at them than at Debbie and sighed shaking her head looking incredulous. The jewels in the first image where known as the crowned jewels and the crowns where royal crowns from who knows how long ago both of which were stolen at different times ages ago. Lou was very confused as to what Debbie was planning unless Debbie decided to change her profession to treasure hunter.

“Debbie what are those jewels?” Tammy wondered confused

“Yo, what’s with the lack of photo are we downgrading or something?” Nine pointed out

“No we are not downgrading these-,” Debbie began before she was interrupted by Lou

“Those are the Crown jewels that went missing in 1906. The crowns on he right where missing in 1799 both where never seen again.” Lou explained

Debbie nodded slightly surprised Lou knows about them, “Yes, you know what they are?”

“Duh! So Indiana Jones how the fuck are we looking for said jewels are we pulling a Lara Croft or something.” Lou stated sarcastically

“If you would have let me finish Lou instead of interrupting I would have said that there was rumors that the said jewels are no longer missing they supposedly are here in this city in their most popular museum. Unfortunately we need information in order to get it that one one has but probably one person without said information there’s no way we can find them.” Debbie explained

Rose became confused and spoke up shyly, “What are they worth, don’t we usually start off by saying how much the seven of us earn?”

Debbie grinned mischievously and looked at the group proudly, “Today, four-hundred million dollars in today’s money minimum we might easily be able to up the prices due to the simple fact that the they where all stolen long ago and thought to no longer exist.”

“You’re not telling us something.” Lou pointed out casually

Debbie pressed the button on the remote and three pictures popped up, two of them where of two men one older than the other and the third of a woman Lou had to admit was the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eye’s on. She honestly could care less about the pictures of the men she was focused on the woman. Lou noticed you smiled proudly, you eyes shinning with happiness. You where wearing an outfit that was business casual, your hair styled to suit your professional style you where going for. Lou’s eyes flickered to Debbie to find her staring at her smirking smug and Lou cursed softly at being caught she knew that look anywhere. Debbie smug looked at the group and stated casually.

“These three are the ones in charge the younger man is the owner and director his name is Richard Davis, the older man’s name is Liam Moore he is the Curator, and the woman’s name is Y/F/N Y/LN she is the registrar. One or two of them have all the information we need and we need to get it out of them to find it. It’ll be too risky getting it out of Richard Davis and even Liam Moore. Our biggest chances is Y/F/N, she is in charge of what goes in and out of that place. Her job is to literally keep track of all the object, records, authenticity and borrowings so if these jewels are heading to their museum they’ll be passing through her and it'll be her job along with Liam to put them away either on display and hide them.” Debbie explained

“Don’t forget that if she has good relation with the director he’ll be giving her special tasks involving Jewels.” Tammy added earning a nod from Debbie

“So, how do we get this information out of her?” Amita wondered

Debbie grinned eying Lou again earning a sharp glare from Lou which in turn caused Debbie to laugh and look at the confused group who was looking back and forth between them wondering what they missed.

“Well Lou will be getting close to the woman and try to get information out of her she has Lou’s type written all over.” Debbie told them smug

“Like she’ll tell me the information. ‘Hey Miss. Y/L/N where the fuck are you keeping the jewels my team wants to steal them’.” Lou hissed her tone dripping sarcasm

“Please, we need the information.” Constance pleaded pouting Lou narrowed her eyes only causing Constance to pout further finally earning a sigh in defeat from Lou who all but caved she can’t resist Constance pout and she knows it she has a soft spot for the girl.

“Alright, I’ll do it. That was a cheap shot kid,” Lou pointed out getting up earning a beaming smile in return. “How hard can getting information out of her be aren’t people working in museum are boring or uptight as fuck.”

Lou without a word left the building deciding to pay the place a visit she kind of hoped one of the other’s would go in and do that after all Lou’s job was to gather anyone working for them, stealing the objects, making sure everything is going according to plan and have backup plans in case something goes wrong among other things bribing information out of someone wasn’t one of them. Granted a very attractive someone but she wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. Lou sighed realizing is been too long since she’s gotten anyone in her bed and it was starting to show. Lou climbed on a car and drove off following the GPS directions.

~You~

You rushed into the building of your workplace cursing at yourself for forgetting to set up the alarm. You moved to France from your home after finally landing a job that you actually loved for a change. You’ve always been a fan art and Historical artifacts so you began working at a big historical museum in Paris.

You walked into the building passed security and across the huge building waving hi to the security guard. You walked straight to your office that's located towards the back of the building. You barely made it in when your boss who’s also the director and owner of the museum jogged up to you looking like a kid in Christmas and you know something must have happened to get him this excited. The two of you had been friends since you started working there, you where originally the tour guide to the place before he promoted you to the official Registrar of the museum.

"Y/N right on time, we need to talk about something important that just happened." He told you barely able to contain his excitement. You honestly wonder how this man is an adult and owns this place. He is like a child sometimes.

You quirked an eyebrow at him confused, "Sure, what is it?"

He pointed to your office door, "let's go to your office to talk privately. I don't want anyone to overhear.”

Nodding more confused, you opened the door and walked in with him behind you. He closes and locks the door, tugging you into the room making you more confused if possible. The both of you sat across from each other, you barely had the chance to ask again why he was so excited when he handed you two folded piece of paper. Looking confused you opened the first one and stared at it to find an old drawing of a three jewels. You looked confused when you saw it since it looked like a drawing of the jewels rather than an actual photo.

You looked up at your boss after you studied the two pages and the descriptions of the jewels along with what was used to create them. You remember hearing about these things going missing during a conversation you had with your coworker who was a guide here in the museum. When discussing missing jewelry or historical artifacts he had mentioned several different ancient royal jewels that had gone missing and mentioned these but you weren’t sure what this had to do with anything.

“Richard, do I want to know why you’re showing me these? These aren’t even in our museum I would know is my job to memorize anything and anyone that goes in or out of this place.” You wondered confused

He grinned excitedly, “Yes, They went missing centuries ago and we recently found them again and just so happens that they are secretly on their way here we wont put them on display of course.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Really? How the hell did you find them?"

He shrugged grinning, "I honestly don't have a clue how they where found the important thing is I got my hands on them before anyone else did. The jewels where stolen and sold in the 1900s someone must have found them recently the crowns where destroyed but turns out they where stolen and hidden. That's as far as I know."

You nodded processing the information for a moment, "okay that makes sense sort of but wouldn’t they be prone to thieves though?”

He chuckled, “Yes, which is why I have a plan which is foul proof. I did not wanted us to suffer the same fate as the Toussaint so I’m going to change a few things here and there around this place but more importantly only you and I will have all the information and location.”

You shook your head at that. Being the only one with specific information only added more stress on you especially if you’re going to be put in charge of it which you knew you where based on the look you where given.

“I’m listening. What’s this infamous information.” you told him slightly sarcastic earning a chuckle

He looked satisfied with your reply and sat back explaining the importance of having the word not get out that those jewels where discovered. He went into greater details on how they where going to get them in the museum, how they where going to be hidden, secured and how they where going to up the security and his crazy idea of adding a few decoys in other locations when you asked why the decoy he looked at you sheepish and said he took the idea from the Met when it was discovered Klugger was wearing a fake so he was borrowing the idea just in case. After he was done explaining which took up an hour or so you looked baffled.

“This better not backfire on us.” you sighed and got up getting ready for work to distract yourself leaving a smug owner in your office.

************

Most of the morning was uneventful and slightly dreadful. There was a tour by a Primary school which was stressful given how some of the kids wanted to run off on their own when their teacher and tour guide was not looking. At one point one of them almost knocked something over since they went past the security point forcing you to run and steady the item and pointing out to the teacher to keep a better eye on her students. You where of curse polite and respectful about it despite your patience being tested.

It wasn’t until the afternoon where everything started to go south. It was a lot busier an old lady freaked out believing that one of the old priceless painting was hers and tried to steal it not to mention she had a cane and smacked you with it a few times until she was escorted away from the area. You where pretty sure you where going to bruise a little. You could not help but wonder how does an old lady able to swing the cane that forcefully. So is safe to say you where in a really bad mood. You walked past the Egyptian wing and paused when you heard a childlike giggle. You walked over just in time to see yet another child trying to get past the safety line and getting inside the security glass. You ran over and stopped him before something tragic happened and fixed the glass. You couldn’t help but glare at the kid. The kid backed up but you grabbed his arm.

“Where are your parents?” You asked in a serious tone he didn’t say anything only pointed to the other side of the Egyptian wing. You walked him over to them to find them both on their phone you tapped their shoulder interrupting the careless parents.

“Yes?” the arrogant mother asked

“Is this your kid?” You asked trying to not sound rude and snap after earning a nod from both you spoke up before they can say anything, “Please keep your kid close to you I just found him nearly knocking over an artifact.”

The father took the kid and narrowed his eyes scolding his son for walking out of their side and misbehaving deciding to punish the kid by taking him home earning a temper tantrum.

“Bill don’t be harsh he didn’t mean it I’m sure we could have paid for the damages.” The mother scolded her husband

You rolled your eyes at that and said, “Yeah, ma’am keep him close and for the record neither of us can afford that thing. Instead of being on your phone how about showing your kid a good time if you payed attention to him he wont have any need to destroy the place. This is the third time I had to stop him.” you turned around and walked off not even bother with civility anymore.

You turned around and stormed off to keep an eye on the rest of the of the museum hoping nothing more will happen. You where in a bad mood and ready to go home. You walked around the corner only to collide with someone causing you to tumble back at that same moment you felt something cold splash all over you. Looking down you realized it was just water.

“Fuck. Watch where you’re walking.” the woman snapped

You glared up at her to find a pair of light blue eyes glaring right back you belonging to a tall platinum blonde woman. You looked down to find her shirt was also wet and she was holding a half empty cup.

“First of all watch where YOU’RE walking, second of all no cellphones and third off I wasn’t the one walking with a cup filled with what ever that was you’re not allowed to have liquids in this section only the lobby’s lounge area blonde.” You snapped right back

“What the fuck I was walking here you’re the one who crashed into me and be glad it was water and I’m allowed to take pictures what kind of fucking museum is this.” the woman snapped

You rolled your eyes, “That’s what bottles of water are for genius.”

That only pissed off the blonde even more, “First of all this use to be soda before I finished it and emptied my water in here second of all fuck you, you’re rude as fuck.”

Both of you glared daggers at each other clearly pissed off. Any other circumstance you would have admired how attractive and how her closed hugged her body just right but not right now. Right now you where actively glaring daggers' at her for being a rude bitch. Why the hell are the hot ones always rude and obnoxious. You wondered

You saw her unlocked phone and narrowed your eyes pointing to a sign, “You can’t take pictures in this section new rule only certain areas are allowed to have pictures taken put that phone away”

“What the fuck. First of all none of the other staffs have said shit the only uptight complaining is you second of all I only took some pictures.” The woman snapped

“I need to check your phone.” You told her. it wasn’t that you where out to get her but it was a rule and this particular area no one was allowed to take pictures ever since last year most museums and locations holding expensive items became more strict

“NO.” The woman all but growled

“I need to see it.” You said beginning to loose your patients you said hell with professionalism and snatched it looking through the pictures she took earning a protest trying to snatch it back and you stopped her with a sharp glare and grabbing her free hand. You found a few pictures of statues that are pretty heavy. You looked suspiciously at the glaring woman and handed her the phone back.

“We don’t allow phones anymore miss. Put that away.” you told her for the second time sharply

Lou glared at you not appreciating the bad treatment, “Why not the other museums allow it and I don’t appreciate having my phone snatched from me.”

“Not anymore. Blame the moron who decided team up with Klugger and steal that Toussaint necklace. Lucky them the insurance agent is dumb as fuck. No one allows phone anymore let along pictures being taken. Now either chug that drink or I’m snatching it with your phone and not returning them.” you warned and stormed off to try and clean up your top leaving a very pissed off blonde behind.

What the fuck is wrong with her? Fucking rude. You thought pissed off. You spoke sharply through your walky-talky’s earpiece to have someone clean up the spill and stormed off to your office deciding it was better do paperwork than to deal with guests.

~Lou~

It wasn’t until you stormed away when Lou realized you where the woman Debbie mentioned that had all the information and cursed at that.

Great, Getting information from someone like her will be nearly impossible. Lou thought glaring at the spot you where just in.

Lou stormed out of the building determined to get something out of you but knew it will be impossible since she knew you will probably keeping a close eye on her after that horrible interaction. Lou got even more angry when she remembered you boldly snatching her phone and probably erasing some of the pictures she had taken from the interesting objects there.

“Fucking rude uptight b.” Lou complained angrily while driving only to be interrupted by her phone. Lou drove towards the warehouse clearly pissed off evident in her feature, her posture was tense, her jawline clenched and she was gripping her steering wheel tightly. She chose to ignore the phone to annoyed to bother with answering.

#ocean's 8 #lou miller #debbie ocean #tammy #Amita #daphne kluger #constance #nine balls #lou miller x reader #lou miller/reader #Lou Miller x Reader Fanfic Request

103 notes · View notes

erinhime83 · 3 years

Photo

Since APPARENTLY I did the designs all wrong (I won’t lie - doing my own design of Evangelia was sort of a thinly veiled attempted to get @callistochan87 to redesign her herself. >.>), I figured I’d make it my life mission this week to go through and, like, fix them. Partially because in my fuming about finding out that two of the people were talking about this behind my back, I kept giving myself ideas. >.<

I am pleasantly pleased with the design that @callistochan87 did for Evania/Evangelia, although I’m worried how much is actually influenced by my design and how much she actually decided to do on her own. *shrug* I just like the simplicity of it and how it does make her look like a goddess. I kept forgetting to add in the pieces in front of her ears, lol.

Antigonus I did fiddle with a little bit. Mostly, @callistochan87 mentioned that she thought it was funny having this super old guy traveling with a bunch of teenagers, and she wondered why I didn’t just...make someone new. Well, mostly because I didn’t want to, and mostly because when she did create someone new when I decided the Guides were supposed to be younger, it felt...wrong.

SO, I decided to age him down a little. Which I suppose sort of defeats the purpose of @callistochan87 creating another character when I wanted to do the same, but ignore that. He basically has the same backstory - he was the youngest Guide of the previous generation. He’s the heir of the empire, being the Emperor’s nephew, and now that his Guide duties are over, he’s preparing to take over the Empire. EXCEPT, the idiot new Guide managed to get himself killed, so Antigonus is temporarily taking over the duties as they try to find someone else to take over. BUT THEN GUESS WHAT? He’s about 35, so while he’s old, he’s not stupidly older than than, and is sort of more of a chaperone than anything else.

His outfit come from an old one @callistochan87 designed, and I figure it’s just, like, a traveling outfit? idk

Freyja...omg, Freyja. She caused most of my strife. Like, I honestly didn’t change THAT MUCH of her design, just sort of little piddly stuff to make it look more visually appealing, but APPARENTLY, that was still bad. I stewed and hemmed and hawed on this for quite a while, annoyed before it hit me - this is a a redesign. Shizuka sort of went back to her roots. Why couldn’t Freyja as well?

(And yes, I realize I was in the wrong, but like I said, I hadn’t changed her that much from her last design, and, well, these were done years ago so I sort of...forgot that she didn’t originally look like that. >.<)

And I figured, ya know, since I had minorly changed Freyja and she didn’t like that, I had better change Desiree, too, because I drastically changed her. I don’t care what @swankifiedcos says about this one, I am IN LOVE with her outfit. <3 Her hair, though, was inspired by a recent picture of @swankifiedcos of her hair between dye jobs where it was pink at the tips and she looked SO PRETTY. Sure, Desiree is brunette, not blond, but I like that look on her so much I wanted to recreate it somewhat, and she looks so nice!

Frejya, well, I did sort of tweek her design slightly to what @callistochan87 did, mostly giving her cold shoulder sleeves as a sort of call back to her old sleeves. I won’t lie - I did attempt to do them again and failed spectacularly. Sorry. But apparently she approves of this sleeve, so that’s...one less problem for me to deal with. XD Just so you know, I gave her hearts rather than flowers merely because I can’t draw flowers. Consider it a style thing. Like, in reality, she has flowers, but i just draw them as hearts. I am SHOCKED that I was able to make the feathers as nice as I did, though! This look makes SO MUCH more sense than the way we used to draw it. Me likely.

(Also, you might be thinking that she’s still wearing the pants. I originally indended that, with the thought that she comes from a cold kindgom, but then decided they’re actually shorts that she ended up added to her outfit for modesty sake, much like Sethos did with his shirt. :P)

I really wanted to redo Nannin’s outfit as well, but I’m sorry - I’m lazy, and her original outfit is both too detailed and too simple. So I just made her top layer a darker pink, and I like it better. Also made her a blond again with the idea that the people of Melohdia like like normal ass humans, and the Chosen have colored hair, and the Guides have unnatural colored eyes, which is how people can tell they’re Guides.

Geoffrey (I’m thinking of renaming him Geauffery, because that’s how I prenounce it in my head) over there gets a new design as well because I didn’t care for his other one. >.< Also, decided, as much as I like the name Dimitri Kaminiski, I;m going to go ahead and make him Owen again. Mostly because he’s sort of shifted more into being Owen. I was sort of going with this old look while making it look a little more medieval, and I like it. I also decided he’s not a soothsayer, but rather a magician.mage.

Which is sort of similar to Evangelia’s power, but not quite. She uses the power of miracles, whereas he uses actual magic. Its sort of like how Shizuka and Freyja’s power is similar, but Frejya’s is a little weaker. (Shizuka has mastery over all weapons, whereas Freyja just has mastery over bludgeoning people with a huge ass axe. But she has the benefit of also having magic, whereas Shizuka can just use some fire magic.)

The next design is where it get all long and involved. Basically as I was stewing about having my feelings hurt and how I was going to hide everything in my annoyance, I THINK I was briefly reminded of the last time I screwed up and within that instance a brilliant idea came to me, mostly because I needed more villains.

I remember I really like Astrid’s design, but looking back, I’m sort of confused as to why? It doesn’t look at all better than Freyja’s. >.< Anyway, the thought is simple - when the Chosen are originally yanked into Melohdia, Nuncio replaces one of them with one of his own that would be easily manipulated. Why Freyja, you ask? Plot reasons, since it does help explain the whole Nannin thing a lot better. The thing is, though, that Ariadne and Atalo sort of find out and drag Freyja in as well, except she ends up in Baldernan rather than Azibo with the rest of the Chosen.

So the Chosen are in Azibo thinking Astrid is one of them, except they don’t really vibe with her that well. They just figure it’s because they can’t like everyone, and ignore it. Astrid herself doesn’t really suspect anything. But then they travel to Baldurnan and find Freyja there, who they do vibe with very well, and they find out that Astrid is a fake.

Which would be all fine and well. Even Freyja’s willing to give the girl a chance because, hey, it’s not her fault she was falsely brought into this world with no purpose. Except Astrid is a spoiled bitch and takes it as an affront that they would even want to include Freyja at all. So she just sort of runs off and Nuncio catches up to her, and convinces her that she’s the real one, and and she goes around antagonizing the group from time to time. They think she’s in league with Atalo at first until they find out of the truth.

NEW IDEA. I actually had this very vague idea while musing around, but @callistochan87 had another idea that was similar enough that I can change things to make it work WAY better. So, the new idea is mostly that Nuncio pulls Astrid into Melohdia way before the others. The people are rather confused, certainly, but it’s not 100% unheard of one Chosen being brought over. So she’s treated like something of a god and spoiled further, and Nuncio pretty much convinces her that she’s the soul savior of Melohdia. He assigns Thor to be her Guide, although he’s just some Random Dude (because I decided that matching genders to the Chosen is sort of weird, so Nannin is a full Guide now).

BUT Ariadne and Atalo end up pulling the REAL Chosen a month or so later, which REALLY pull the people for a loop, and they realize that Astrid is a fake once they realize that Thor isn’t a real Guide and that Nannin claims Freyja. The group attempts to assimilate Astrid in with them, because they realize it’s not HER fault all this happened, but since she’s a fake Chosen AND a narcissistic bitch, they end up not viving all that well, and she ends up running away in anger and embarrassment.

Nuncio sort of blames the whole thing on Atalo somehow, since the people forgot that Ariadne is the only one who can pull true Chosen into the world, mostly to save face.

Astrid and Thor do end up joining with Atalo for a little bit, because he’s trying to be sympathetic to her as well, but their goals aren’t really the same. She does prove to be a major threat to the group because she DOES have the power of a Chosen, although they’re sort of weak.

Her real name is Katelyn Davis, and she’s pretty much the opposite of the other Chosen. She’s a complete social butterfly, the sort to think the world revolves around her. She’s not happy unless she’s around people, whereas the other Chosen are pretty much introverted and would prefer to keep to themselves.

Her Guide’s name is Thor (I keep calling him that in my head, I think because of Frejya being named after a god), and he is, in fact, a true Guide. It’s just that he’s not a very good one, nor is he a good person. He’s a bandit and delights in the misfortunes of others. The other Guides avoided him at all costs, and wasn’t sure why he was chosen to be a Guide. He goes off with Astrid after they kick him out of the group when Freyja chooses Nannin over him. (The two of them became close in the month Frejya was stuck there on her own, so of course she’d want to have her stay with her.)

The last picture was just me giving them their original hair colors just for the hell of it, and now I’m torn. >.< Because I like these as well. I mean, I like the idea of the colored hair being how you can tell they’re the Chosen, BUT I also, you know, like the original colors BECAUSE they are the original colors. >.<

#original charcters #designs #mi #evangelia #antigonus #frejya #nannin #geoffery #alden #astrid #thor

23 notes · View notes

refinedbuffoonery · 4 years

Note

This one screams MacRiley to me: “There’s a storm and omg I’m losing signal are you okay?? Hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas”

I got a little carried away with this one lmao.

Mac doesn’t expect his phone to light up with Riley’s name at 11 pm on Christmas Eve. What is she calling him for? She’s supposed to be spending Christmas at a cabin near Lake Tahoe with her mom.

Frowning, he accepts the FaceTime call. As soon as her face fills the screen, he asks, “Are you okay?”

A flash of emotion crosses her face, but it vanishes before Mac can figure out what it means. “Yeah, we’re fine. Although, I can’t say the same for the radiator.” She tilts her phone, bringing an ancient radiator into view. “It quit working, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”

Mac exhales a sigh of relief. She’s okay. Once the panic recedes, he smiles and offers, “I’ll walk you through it.”

“Thanks.” Mac barely catches Riley’s sheepish smile before she flips the camera around.

“Merry Christmas, Mac.” Riley’s mom’s voice echoes in the background. “Who are you celebrating with this year?”

“Mom,” Riley groans, “I already told you. He and Bozer drove home to spend Christmas with Bozer’s parents.”

“Oh hush, baby girl,” her mom chastises. “Let the man speak for himself. Is Bozer making his pastrami again this year?”

Mac chuckles. “Well, it wouldn’t be Christmas without Bozer’s pastrami.”

“That’s good to hear. Now hurry up and fix the radiator. It’s cold in here!”

“Yes ma’am,” Mac says. Addressing Riley, he asks, “So, what are we working with?”

Fixing the radiator is easy enough. Riley sits on the floor, holding the phone between her feet so she has both hands free. Mac leans back against the headboard, content to watch Riley’s manicured fingers work. “The dark green looks nice,” he says, absentmindedly.

“What?”

Crap, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Your nails,” he rushes to clarify.

“Oh.” A moment later. “Thanks.”

Oh god, why did he have to make it awkward? Talking to Riley is never awkward. Now he’s being weird. Why is this so weird? Mac shakes his head, disrupting the spiraling chain of thoughts.

“How’s Tahoe?” he asks, determined to break the now-awkward silence.

“Good!” The mood shifts instantly at Riley’s bright tone. “It’s so gorgeous here, Mac. If Matty doesn’t have us off on some real-life version of Die Hard, we should come back at New Year’s.”

Mac snorts. “With all the tourists there for SnowGlobe? No thanks.”

“Mac,” she scolds. “Don’t be mean to tourists.”

“Says the woman who grew up in LA. You hate tourists even more than I do!”

Her silence only confirms that he’s correct.

“So,” Mac continues, “your mom said that it’s cold there. Is it snowing?”

Finished fixing the radiator, Riley flips the camera so it points at her face again. She isn’t wearing any makeup, Mac notices right away. She looks pretty without it. “Yeah,” she says. “There’s going to be a big storm tonight. Donner Pass is supposed to get a couple feet of snow overnight.”

That’s a lot, Mac thinks. He tells her as much. Riley and her mom are staying near there, in some off the grid area between Sugar Bowl and Donner Lake. She’d sent him the details before she had left, in case of an emergency.

“Anyway,” Riley says. “I’ll let you get back to the party. Thanks for your help.”

As much as Mac loves Bozer’s family, he wouldn’t mind talking to Riley all night. He doesn’t know how to tell her that without it being weird, so he just says, “Of course. Anytime, Riles.”

She hangs up, and Mac realizes he’d trade Bozer’s toasty house for a too-cold cabin in the middle of nowhere in a heartbeat.

*****

Mac definitely doesn’t expect it when Riley calls him again at 2 am. It’s just a normal call this time, not a FaceTime request.

The line goes dead as soon as he picks up.

He tries again. Nothing.

Again. It goes straight to voicemail. Before he can hang up and try again, his phone rings. Riley’s calling.

He picks up immediately.

“Mac—” she starts.

The line goes dead, again. Shit.

Mac races to the living room. He turns the TV on to the local news, quickly lowering the volume so he doesn’t wake anyone up. A blonde news anchor stands in front of a map of Lake Tahoe, and Mac reads the headline scrolling across the screen.

STORM KNOCKS OUT POWER THROUGHOUT TAHOE AREA, OVERNIGHT TEMPS EXPECTED TO DROP WELL BELOW FREEZING.

Riley. She needs help. Why else would she call in the middle of the night?

Mac scrambles to find his boots and a coat. Bozer shuffles into view, rubbing his eyes and looking less than thrilled at being awake at this hour.

“Mac, what are you doing? It’s 2 am dude.”

“Riley called. I’m going to go get her.”

“In the middle of the night?” Bozer frowns. “Is she okay?”

Mac pats his pockets, looking for his keys. “I don’t know. She called a bunch of times but the line kept going dead before she could say anything. They’re getting snow tonight and the power went out. I just need to make sure she’s alright.”

Bozer clears his throat, and Mac looks up to see his best friend dangling his car keys in front of his face. He mutters his thanks.

“Tahoe’s more than three hours away man,” Bozer says. “Are you sure she didn’t just butt dial you or something?”

They both know Riley Davis never butt dials people. Ever.

Mac sighs. “I’ll just drive myself crazy sitting here and not knowing, so I might as well go.”

Bozer gives him a knowing look. “Okay. There’s chains in the garage, and you can borrow my dad’s ski jacket.”

“I have chains in the truck, but I will take the jacket.” Mac starts filling water bottles and collecting snacks while Bozer fetches the coat. Keeping his hands busy doesn’t do much to staunch the worst-case scenarios running through his head. What if she—

No. He couldn’t think like that.

Bozer returns with the heavy coat and accompanies Mac to his truck. “Be safe, okay?”

Mac squeezes his best friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be safe.” He jumps in the truck and flies backward out the driveway.

I’m coming, Riles.

*****

It’s almost 6 am when Mac pulls up in front of the cabin. An unfamiliar car is parked in front, buried to its bumper in fresh snow. It must be Riley’s mom’s.

Mac trudges through the snow, suddenly wishing he’d traded his Christmas pajama pants in for snow pants. He kicks away the snow piled in front of the cabin door that’s preventing it from opening all the way. “Riles!” he calls. Mac raps his knuckles against the old wood. “Riley!” He knocks again.

He’s about to call her name a third time when he hears a faint, “Mac?”

There’s a scrambling noise on the other side of the door, but then it swings open and Riley’s standing in the doorway, nose pink despite being bundled up like she’s planning on spending the night outside. Considering how cold it must be in the cabin, she might as well be.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“You called.”

Bewilderment contorts Riley’s face. “I—” she trails off. “You drove all the way out here just because my call didn’t go through?”

Now Mac feels awkward. And kind of stupid. “Uhh, yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck.

There it is again, that emotion he can’t place. “Wow,” she says, and not in a sarcastic way. She shakes her head, stepping aside to let him in. “God, come in. You’re probably cold.”

Mac follows her inside, muttering, “Like it’s any warmer in here.”

Never letting Riley out of his peripheral vision, Mac scans the small cabin. It’s cute, with well-loved furniture and lake themed decorations. The blazing fire casts an orange glow over the room. Mac’s eyes land on Riley’s mom, curled on the couch underneath a mountain of blankets with a fluffy, white dog butt covering her lap. The dog’s head rests beside the free end of the blankets—presumably where Riley had been sleeping.

“When did your mom get a Husky?” he asks in a low voice.

Riley shoots him a “get a load of this” look. “She didn’t. That’s what I called you about. I brought in a new load of firewood around one, and I heard her barking. There’s a pond maybe twenty yards that way—” Riley points— “and she’d fallen in.”

Riley rubs her hands together. Without thinking, Mac gently grabs her icy hands and holds them between his warm ones. Both their gazes suddenly snap to their joined hands, but neither comments.

Riley continued her story. “We got her out okay, but I was afraid she’d end up with hypothermia. I called you because I didn’t know what to do.”

Oh. “So what did you do?”

“We managed to dry her with a hair dryer and let her drink warm water before the power went out, but since then we’ve just piled on the couch.” Riley shivers. “I think she’s okay now.”

“Are you okay?” Riley’s tough, but she’s not immune from scary situations.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s false bravado, but Mac doesn’t call her on it.

Instead, he jerks his chin toward the couch. “Is there room for one more?”

Riley visibly relaxes. “I don’t know,” she drawls, “the dog’s quite a bed hog.” Mac laughs.

There’s definitely not room for four on the couch, but they make it work. Riley moves a few cushions onto the floor to give them more space. Mac waits for her to squeeze between the dog and the back of the couch before taking the remaining space between the dog and the edge. He doesn’t fit.

He hisses, “Can you move over any more? My butt’s hanging off the edge.” The dog lifts her head and licks his face in a mocking “no.”

Riley scoots back, but there’s barely a difference. “Sorry. That’s all you get.”

Mac sighs. “Well, then the dog’s getting squished.” He reaches across the mass of white fluff to wrap an arm around Riley’s back and pull himself further onto the couch, pinning the dog between their stomachs in the process.

He doesn’t need to keep holding her—hell, he probably shouldn’t keep holding her—but Mac doesn’t let go. Instead, he keeps watch over his girls as they fall asleep, first the dog, then Riley. And when their soft breathing is the only sound in the eerie stillness of a snowy morning, Mac lets himself drift off as well.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #holiday promptathon

110 notes · View notes