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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

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Rodeo’s Devil May Cry Roster

Last Updated: Feb 22th, 2021 (All Works Accounted For)

It ain’t much but it’s honest work. If you liked it and you want to, feel free to give your local cowboy a tip on Ko-Fi.

Enjoy yourselves, my darling Lone Rangers wandering the earth.

-Rodeo

Headcanons

Dante

Dante As A Dad

If Dante Had A TikTok

Tickling Dante and Vergil

Why Vergil Sleeps With An Eye Mask

The Sparda Twins Dying For Each Other (ANGST)

Dates With Dante Before and During A Relationship

How Nico, Nero, and Dante Would Handle Anti-Maskers

Dante and Vergil With A Delinquent Child

Dante and Vergil's Favorite Types Of Intimacy

Kissing Dante and Vergil All Over Their Faces

Dante, Vergil, and Lady Cuddling Their Male S/O

Dante Sleeping Over With His S/O For The First Time

Dante and Vergil Being Bridal-Carried In Public By S/O

Dante and Vergil Joining Their S/O’s Skin Care Regime

Dante and Vergil Having Disagreements With Their S/O

Dante and Vergil With A Sympathetic Demon Hunter S/O

Dante and Vergil With a Black!Half-Demonic!Angel-like!S/O

Dante and Vergil Falling In Love With A S/O Who Is Nero's Age

NSFW

SDT!Dante (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil: Giving Their Male S/O Oral Sex (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil: Spanking As Foreplay, Giving and Receiving (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil Having SDT!Sex With A Devil-Triggered! AFAB! S/O (NSFW)

Vergil

Vergil As An Uncle

Vergil As A Grandfather

Tickling Dante and Vergil

Vergil During Thanksgiving

Insults Vergil Have Thrown At Dante

Why Vergil Sleeps With An Eye Mask

Dante and Vergil With A Delinquent Child

Vergil Owns A Vinyl Collection: A Concept

The Sparda Twins Dying For Each Other (ANGST)

Vergil Fighting His Power Obsessed Daughter (ANGST, TW: DEATH)

Dante and Vergil's Favorite Types Of Intimacy

Kissing Dante and Vergil All Over Their Faces

Dante, Vergil, and Lady Cuddling Their Male S/O

Vergil and V with a S/O Who Can Summon A Persona

Dante and Vergil Being Bridal-Carried In Public By S/O

Dante and Vergil Joining Their S/O’s Skin Care Regime

Dante and Vergil Having Disagreements With Their S/O

Dante and Vergil With A Sympathetic Demon Hunter S/O

Dante and Vergil With a Black!Half-Demonic!Angel-like!S/O

Dante and Vergil When Nero And Their S/O Can't Get Along

Dante and Vergil Falling In Love With A S/O Who Is Nero's Age

NSFW

SDT! Vergil (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil: Giving Their Male S/O Oral Sex (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil: Spanking As Foreplay, Giving and Receiving (NSFW)

What Dante, Trish, and Vergil Do When They Want To Get Intimate With Their S/O (NSFW)

Dante and Vergil Having SDT!Sex With A Devil-Triggered! AFAB! S/O (NSFW)

Vergil and V with a S/O Who Can Summon A Persona

Dante, Vergil, and V

Personality Traits The DMC Boys Fall For

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Nephil! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Trans! FTM!S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With Their Dhampir! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With Their FBI Agent! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Thick-Thighed S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With Cosplay Hobbyist! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Strong & Badass S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Wonder Woman! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Badass But Lazy! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With Their Authorities Angel! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Part-Time Pro-Cosplayer! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Strong And Very Closed Off! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O With Scarlet Witch’s Powers

Dante, Vergil, and V Watching One Piece With Their Male S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V Being “Jet-Pack Cuddled” By A Short!S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With An Amnesiac! S/O That Still Loves Them

What Would Dante, Vergil, and V Do If Someone Made Their S/O Cry

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Physically Weak But Intellectually Badass! S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O With Muscle Twitches Due To Antidepressants

Dante, Vergil, and V Playing the Pocky Game

Dante, Vergil, and V Getting Their Hair Stroked

Dante, Vergil, and V Taking Care Of Stray Animals

Gifts Dante, Vergil, and V Would Give To Their S/O

Dante, Vergil, and V Taking Care Of Their Baby Daughter

Dante, Vergil, and V Going To Their Kid’s Volleyball Tournament

Dante, Vergil, and V Taking Their Children To The Amusement Park

Dante, Vergil, V, and Nero’s Favorite Traditional Chinese and Japanese Foods and Drinks

(Dante, Vergil, and Nero On The Maury Show)

PART I

PART II

PART III

NSFW

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Virgin! S/O (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Thick-Thighed S/O (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A Friend With Benefits (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O That’s Always Horny (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O With Small Boobs (NSFW-ish)

Dante, Vergil, and V Doing The 69 Position With A Timid!S/O (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V Catching Their S/O Touching Themselves (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O That Likes Being Called Kitten (NSFW)

What Dante, Trish, and Vergil Do When They Want To Get Intimate With Their S/O (NSFW)

Dante, Vergil, and V With A S/O That Blurts Out They Masturbated To The Thought Of Them (NFSW)

Nero

Ticking Nero

Raising Nero As His Mother

Being Best Friends With Nero

Nero and Chewing Gum: A Concept

Poly! Nero, Kyrie, And Male S/O Relationship

How Nero Might Become Evil: A Pysch-Analysis

Nico And Nero’s Friendship (Knife Brother Requested!)

How Nico, Nero, and Dante Would Handle Anti-Maskers

Nero With A Black! Half-Demonic! Angel-like! Best Friend

Dante, Vergil, V, and Nero’s Favorite Traditional Chinese and Japanese Foods and Drinks

Lady

Dante, Vergil, and Lady Cuddling Their Male S/O

Trish

What Dante, Trish, and Vergil Do When They Want To Get Intimate With Their S/O (NSFW)

Nico

Nico And Nero’s Friendship (Knife Brother Requested!)

How Nico, Nero, and Dante Would Handle Anti-Maskers

Fully Written Works

Dante

Stuck Thinking About You

Summary: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

A For Apple, Or A For IKEA?

Summary: In which Vergil goes to IKEA with Dante to get a new table. But at what cost?

Don’t Leave Baby In The Corner

Summary: Dante and you talk about wanting kids or not while waiting for the pregnancy test.

Nothing Hurts When I’m With You

Summary: With Dante hurt from a demonic attack, the two of you seek shelter and each other's warm company in a cave.

草莓珍珠奶茶-Strawberry Pearl Milk Tea

Summary: You take Dante out for his first bubble tea experience.

Somebody Else’s; Nobody’s (ANGST)

Summary: Dante hates to think about you with somebody else, yet he still says no to your love. Guess he's just a coward, and now he's picturing your body with somebody else.

NSFW

Velvet Devotion (NSFW)

Summary: You don't know what you do to him. How you hold onto him in the dead of night, nails raking his skin. How he feels held by you. On velvet sheets, he finds he is worshipped with the softest of affections.

Vergil

Of Lacking Specatcle(s)

Summary: Vergil is a lot of things. Vergil is the Dark Slayer, The Alpha and The Omega, and the eldest son of Sparda. Vergil is also….in need of glasses?

Knock-Off Ring Franchise

Summary: Vergil and Dante leave Vergil’s S/O in the shop with a TV and a strange VCR tape. Drama ensues.

Stuck Thinking About You

A For Apple, Or A For IKEA?

Summary: In which Vergil goes to IKEA with Dante to get a new table. But at what cost?

NSFW

The Passion In Rivalry (V/Reader/Vergil)(NSFW)

Summary: Vergil separating V from himself with Yamato. Threesome with reader ensues.

Do I Want To Know, Do You Feel Held By Me?(NSFW)

Summary: All in all, Vergil is a tempered blade. Plunged into heat and left to the cold, he is only perfected with each night you come to his room.

He Wanted War, She Wanted Peace; In Pieces, They Collide(NSFW)(ANGST)

Summary: She pursued him, the demon in a human shell. Their time together meant no good, a match to silk and feathers, devastation imminent.

TikTok Stardom

Summary: V and Y/N try to survive the four attempts Dante takes to be TikTok famous, one of the TikToks surprisingly working out in the end.

TIkTok Stardom II: The Lovers Strike Back

Summary: Dante challenges (Y/N) to make a better TikTok than him, not knowing the secret weapon has a cane, secret dance skills, and an ever-present smirk on his face.

Verona Serenade

Summary: V takes you out on a date, and it’s poetry as always.

i died, and was born in the spring; i found you, and loved you, again

Summary: After a loss, comes the regrowth of roots once thought destroyed by the tides of time. A story in which V kisses you softly and Vergil holds onto you tightly.

NSFW

O Tempter, O The Sea (NSFW)

Summary: You cry out for the sea, yet you do not expect an answer back.

~Sweet Erotic Angel Baby~ (NSFW)

Summary: There is vitality in vulnerability. Even in your soft kisses, there is something with a bite that he craves to feel.

The Passion In Rivalry (V/Reader/Vergil)(NSFW)

Summary: Vergil separating V from himself with Yamato. Threesome with reader ensues.

Nico

Heartline Driver, Front Seat Lover

Summary: At the end of a road trip begins a new path for you and Nico. But first, you have to turn on the ignition.

Series

Devil May Grind: Magic Mike! AU

Dante/Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

PART I- Can You Touch This?(AFAB) (NSFWish)

Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you'd never expect: a male strip club. And what you'd also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Vergil

{KEEP AN EYE OVER YONDER}

Keeping Up With A Himbo

ALL OF THE SPARDA BOYS

Series Summary: A series of domestically fluffy snippets where the s/o of a Sparda learns just how much of a himbo their lover is.

Dante (I)- Change Of Hands

Vergil (I)- Lost In The Sauce

AWAS

Dante/Reader/Vergil (NO SPARDACEST)

Series Summary: Dante and Vergil meet a mysterious and powerful being with a painful past and an even deadlier endgame.

(AWAS Has A Separate Masterlist)

Please Let This Cowboy Know If She’s Missed Any Of Your Favorites. She Ain’t Too Good At Book-Keeping.

#masterlist #rodeo's roster

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ziracona · 3 years

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[The Kid (Fgo AU fic) pt. 1, ... 7, 8, 9, ?]

He was completely alone.

That was the first thing I thought when I saw his face for an instant through an open doorway: that I had never ever seen anyone who looked so completely alone.

I’ve been alone; I’ve been lonely. Not too bad, not most of my life anyway. My brother and I are close, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. For most of my life, it’s been like having a built-in best friend. But. We’re different from each other too.

Sometimes he’s interested in something I’m not, or doing stuff for school or a sport, or I am, and we don’t see each other so much. There have been times when we fought, or he didn’t want to hang around so much with his sister, or I didn’t, and we were further apart. Then there have been times where we were in different places—different schools, different programs. That’s most recently, and it’s been really hard. We still see each other a lot, because we try to, but having a twin was like having a part of me almost—a best friend I saw every single day. High school, I was lonely a lot. I had a hard time making friends, and got teased a lot—I mean, I wasn’t like, really unfortunate—I-I had friends. Sort of, anyway—I wasn’t an outcast. But I was lonely.

I’ve been lonely a lot, and for a whole lot of reasons, no matter how hard I try to find people, or be able to see the ones I have.

But never anything like that.

Being lonely, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, I think. One of the worst ones I’ve ever felt. But I knew, looking at him, that he was experiencing it in a way I couldn’t even imagine feeling alone.

I wasn’t sure how old he was. Maybe 19, or 20, 21, 22. Older than me, but not old. Short, small. On his knees, hanging limply from his arms, head bowed, and eyes only half open. He was sweating, and there was blood running down his shirt and vest. He looked like he was dying, and everyone was just walking past and looking at him like he was an art piece.

I’d never seen people look at another person like that before.

He knew it, though. I saw him move his eyes to follow them when they moved through the room, even turn his head up once or twice to see them a little, then give up again. He looked so weak, and beaten, and hurt. Nobody cared, though. I knew they were talking about him, but it was like watching people look at a new car they might buy at a street event. I couldn’t understand it.

The boy wasn’t Japanese. I thought he was maybe American, o-or maybe European—I wasn’t sure. He was dressed a little bit like a cowboy, though, and he was blonde with blue eyes that looked cloudy, like a haze had lowered over what used to be a big open sky. It made me think American. I hadn’t ever seen an American in person before—only in movies. It made him look even more alone. Surrounded by a room full of people who were speaking my language and looked like me, and not him. It made me feel worse somehow, even than I would have felt anyway, seeing anyone like that.

I don’t think I’d ever seen somebody look hopeless before. But. He looked like he knew he was going to suffer, and suffer, and slowly die. And nobody was coming to save him, and he wasn’t going to be able to save himself this time. He looked like he hated it, but he knew it. He looked afraid. And sad.

And alone.

Alone in ways I couldn’t describe then and still couldn’t now, even after being able to think of almost nothing else for a whole week and a half.

He looked up at me, for just a moment, while I was watching him through that doorway. I had seen the way he looked at the other people in the room—like he despised them, and I knew I would have felt the same if I was hanging there on my knees, bleeding and being talked about like a car. I had no idea who he was, or what he was, or why he was there, not at all, but I was scared, when he looked at me, that he had seen me. I was scared he would look at me like he’d looked at everyone else, because somehow that would have made me responsible, like they were, for what was being done to him.

He didn’t, though.

He looked at me, and he was a little bit surprised, like I was a strange thing to see, and then he’d almost looked happy for a moment. Maybe not happy. … Appreciative. Instead of hating me, for some reason he had looked at me like he was a little bit glad he’d seen me. I had no idea why. But I couldn’t forget it. I watched him lower his head again, slowly, and pass out. I watched him to see if he would wake up. And I asked about him, as soon as I got a chance.

I think I knew as soon as I saw him that I was going to do something. But I knew when he looked at me how much I wanted to.

And I did.

I…I still can’t really get over that part. It’s been so much, just the last few hours. Honestly I was terrified planning all this, and now that it’s happened, I’m just kind of in shock. I’m excited too, but I have no idea what I’m doing.

It’ll be okay, I promise myself, coming back out of my head a little and trying hard to feel more confident, I mean, it’s gone really well so far!

That’s true, and I do feel a little better.

Man, I’ve been super lucky. That’s really good, because now that I think about it all the way, I was kind of counting on luck a lot.

I mean, my plan was good—I think anyway. I worked really hard on it. But still. Billy contracted with me, and I did okay getting him here and patching him up, and I was actually able to summon a heroic spirit with his help, and he’s been a really nice one too! I was a little bit afraid I might get hurt. I mean, Billy’s been stuck in that building for months, with so many people hurting him, it really wouldn’t be surprising if he’d woken up and just assumed I was one of them, and shot me before realizing I wasn’t. I tried to dress in definitely civilian clothes in case that would help, but I was still nervous about it. I’m really glad things went so okay…

Mind still on Billy, I glance over at him. I’m sitting on the bed, getting ready to try some magic work to open up circuits with Emiya’s help, but he’s vanished to go make sure no one seems to have followed us from Ur-shanabi first. Billy’s sitting back in one of the big comfortable soft chairs, resting. He’s not asleep, though. Just kind of staring off at nothing, thinking about something.

His wound must be hurting a little less, for him to sit up like that, and I smile at the sight. I’m so glad he looks better. I felt really awful I couldn’t heal him right, but at least I was able to do something. And he really does look a lot better now. He’s got more color in his skin, and his hair is starting to dry and look fluffy now. His eyes look clear too, but they’ve looked like that for a while now. Bright and sharp, but kind too. Open like a clear sky. He’s really pretty. I guess he picked a good nickname for himself.

He senses me looking at him and glances over and offers me a smile, and I return it.

“You feelin’ ready?” he asks.

I nod. “I think so. I’m really glad Emiya seems to know his stuff so well.”

“Me too!” agrees Billy, “He seems awful capable, and that’s gonna help us a lot.” He pauses then and looks thoughtful. “Got absolutely no clue who he is though. You know any historical Emiyas? Famous figures?”

Oh yeah. I guess that is weird. I mean, there’s a lot of heroic spirits on the throne, and of course I wouldn’t know all of them, but it is a little weird neither of us has ever heard of him. I shake my head. “Maybe he’s a really old heroic spirit,” I suggest, because that makes sense, “One from so long ago, we lost a lot of records.”

Billy gives a nod of agreement, “Probably that, or one you haven’t got to in time yet.”

“Wait, you guys can come from the future??” I ask, totally thrown out of my headspace by that.

“Sure,” says Billy with a grin, “Throne is outside of time, so we get summoned to all kinds of times and places. Mages tend to shoot for spirits they know of, when they summon us, and of course you can’t have a catalyst for someone from the future—won’t exist yet—and I think Alaya doesn’t like sendin’ ones from the future as much because of timestream things I don’t really understand, so, summoning one you haven’t got to in time is a lot rarer, but I know it can happen.”

“Huh.” I think about that. “W-would it be rude, like—among heroic spirits, is it considered rude if I ask him something about that—if he’s from the future?”

Billy shrugs. “Not really. Lots of us won’t answer if we don’t want to and don’t have to, but I don’t think he’d take any offense. Don’t see why he would.”

Huh.

“…’Alaya’?” I ask, remembering what he said before.

“That’s just another name for the whole Counter-Force, World, God—whatever you want to call it,” says Billy, gesturing vaguely with his right hand and then wincing and sucking in a pained breath on the last word.

“Sorry,” I say, reaching out impulsively like I might be able to help, “Does it hurt?”

“Not a lot,” he promises, “It’s a lot better than it was, and it keeps gettin’ better. I just need to learn to be careful until it’s done healin’, like I should.”

I relax a little. “Okay. Good—I mean, that it’s healing.”

He gives me another smile.

I sense energy in the room then, and realize it’s my connection to Emiya, and then he materializes back from his spirit form and into his physical one by the bed.

“Anything?” asks Billy, sitting up a little.

Emiya gives his head a single shake. “She did well covering her tracks,” he says, glancing at me approvingly, “And more importantly, I think bombing their second story took them completely by surprise. There’s a whole lot going on at the building I was able to see even at a distance, but they haven’t sent people out very far to investigate. They’re still mostly trying to make sure they’re not under attack.”

That’s such a huge relief—I’ve been so worried about my mom and dad. I feel like a car has been lifted off my shoulders.

I did it. I…I actually did a good job.

“So,” says Emiya then, turning to look at me, “That being the case, and this spot being safe for at least a little while longer and time being of the essence, I suggest you and I go ahead and get started.”

“Alright, just take a deep breath. Keep your eyes shut, and try to relax. Then I want you to concentrate hard on what you’re feeling.”

“Okay.”

I try my best to. Take a big breath and loosen my shoulders, working very hard to keep calm and open. Try to focus on the sound of my own heart beating like he told me. Emiya said to do this I have to ‘feel how my body connects to my soul’, and I don’t know at all how that works, but I try hard to imagine it.

Soul. That’s me, that’s the me inside my body. If I think of myself like a heroic spirit, then bodies are a vessel, and the soul is the thing inside them that has a personality. My soul could be put into a doll, or another body, or a really sick mecha using magecraft, and it would still be me. Because I’m the soul. It exists here, just like they do, but it also exists somewhere else at the same time—like they do on the throne—somewhere I’m always connected to. By energy, the way they’re connected to me right now.

That all makes a lot of sense when I think of it that way, and it helps. I picture that. picture threads connecting the me inside my body to the rest of me somewhere else.

“Good,” says Emiya. His voice is reassuring and strong, and I feel my adrenaline pick up with excitement. I hope that means I’m doing it right! If I’m honest I’m super scared that I’m gonna mess up and I have been since the second I realized I was going to have to do any magic. I-I just. I’ve never been good at being a mage. Maybe it’s just because I never got real training, like they seem to think, but… I’ve known a lot of mages, or, I’ve run into them, and they have all pretty much told me I’m a loser, and a bad mage, and un-gifted, and just don’t have any talent. I don’t want to believe that—I don’t, but,…it’s not like I haven’t spent a lot of time trying to teach myself on my own! I have, over and over and over—reading books, doing research, watching other mages when I got the chance, and I just…it’s like—like I’m trying to ride a bike. And supposedly I could learn, if I just try long and hard enough, but every time I try, I keep falling off the bike the moment I get on, and then climbing back up with bruised knees, only to fall off before I can even turn the pedal again. And again and again and again. I’ve tried so hard for so long, the best I know how, and I’ve barely been able to learn anything.

And now? Now that I’ve got so much these two spirits who trusted me need me for? And they’re watching me? TWO Heroic Spirits, famous heroes with all kinds of power and skill who were so important they got inscribed on the throne of heroes, are watching me?

I am…beyond terrified I’m gonna fail absolutely and make an idiot of myself under the pressure. And worse that I just…won’t be able to help them. That I’ll be too weak, and too bad at things, and I’ll disappoint them. Fail them…

It isn’t fair—I’m trying so hard! And I want to do something really good, and it barely takes any skill to do this! If I was anybody else, I would be able to do it! But I’m not; I’m me, and I’m bad at magic, and—and. No, I can’t give up—I have to do this, I have to. I’ve only just met these two and both of them trusted me enough to form a contract, and there’s so much at stake--I can’t afford to mess up this time. I can’t! So I have to do better, I have to be better, because if I can’t figure this out, if I fail them then-

“I said relax,” chides Emiya.

Crap.

“S-sorry,” I say nervously, cracking an eye open for a second to see him, and then shutting it again. I clear my throat and try to re-center. Just breathe. It’s okay. You can do this. Stop freaking out. You know that doesn’t help. You’re not bad at everything. I mean, you made a really good bomb! You did. And you stitched up a wound pretty good, and you did a summon! So maybe you can do this. Emiya’s going to help you, so it’ll be okay. It’ll work.

I hope.

“Better,” comes Emiya’s voice approvingly, “Now, I’m going to run some of my energy along the magic circuits that you have physically—try to focus on that—the layout, how they feel in your body. They aren’t your true circuits, just a manifestation of them, but they’ll help you find the ones in your soul’s energy. Try and visualize it if you can, and follow the connection back to your soul.”

That’s so much I don’t know how to do, or even really understand. I’m being asked to something that’s really overwhelming, but I buckle down and focus hard as I feel his palm set down on my shoulder and try my hardest, and I feel a little ripple of energy. It’s like a gentle wave lapping over your foot at a lakeside, the way it feels to me, only it runs along my body from my shoulder out to my fingertips. And—and I feel it. A little geometric pattern in my arms and legs and back and stomach, my shoulders, my chest, my head. Like I can feel my nervous system, but a little different. I think it’s working! I’m so excited I totally forget to even think about following it back until I realize he’s about to stop, and I hurry, find the circuits in my chest, because to me it seems like that should be my core, by my heart, right? And I follow them in my head, visualizing what I’m trying to do. I think about the invisible connection I have to myself, just like the ones I have to Billy and Emiya now.

It’s…hard to imagine, but. There’s something. I don’t even really know how to describe it, but I hang onto it, and I feel suddenly like I’m somewhere else: a sky. But I’m not. I am, and I’m not. I’m looking down at myself and everything around and below me, and it’s so big and blue, and calm—wonderous. I feel like I’m looking down at earth from above, but space isn’t big and empty and black—it’s cool and alive and welcoming. And then suddenly that mental image is gone and it’s over and I’m back in my body, and I suck in a breath and open my eyes.

Emiya is watching me from where he’s seated opposite me on the bed, and he looks pleased. “Not bad at all. You felt it?”

“I…I think so,” I say, not totally sure what I saw. I think about it again though, and feel more sure. I think it was. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, and it was something. “Is that…my…is that place my soul?”

He gives me ‘kind of’ sort of gesture and says, “Yes and no. But it is where your magic circuits are, and for practical purposes, yes is a close enough answer. Seeing it should have helped you have a little bit better idea of how your magic is laid out.”

I consider that the best I can, working to remember everything I saw. Yeah. I think so. Okay. Sitting up, I place my hand on my shoulder and try to do what he did, just run a little magic through my body. I try really hard—even move my hand to the exact same spot, but. I can’t.

My heart sinks. I feel my face heat up with shame and disappointment. Why am I so bad at this! It shouldn’t be so hard!

Emiya still has his eyes fixed on me, studying, head a little tilted. I glance over at the chair beside us, at Billy, because I’m very aware he’s seeing me fail this again too. He’s watching, like I expected, but when I look over he gives me a ‘you can do it!’ kind of smile, and I feel a little better because it’s so genuine. I have no idea why he’s got so much faith in my ability to do magic when all I’ve done with him around is fail to heal him 18 times, but I really, really don’t want to disappoint him—either of them. I’ll just have to try again, I decide firmly, Nothing else for it. As many times as it takes, and I’ll get it eventually. I have to, right?

“What am I doing wrong?” I ask, turning back to Emiya. “I saw—or—I felt, what you did, but I can’t do it. Do we just try again?”

“Magic is a very mental and internal process,” says Emiya, surprisingly nonplussed by me making absolutely no progress, which also makes me feel quite a bit better. If he’s not worried, it’s probably okay, right? “Have you used a spell before?”

“Not really,” I say, thinking back. I’ve tried, and I’ve done some little stuff, but like—a real spell? Any magic I’d have to do much to…work for it? I’ve never been able to. “No,” I finish, “I don’t think so.”

Billy coughs.

Huh? OH CRAP.

My entire face feels like it’s on fire as I remember what I did last night and am engulfed in another big wave of regret. I’m sorry I’m sorry I never meant to.

“Oh—I-I used a command spell, last night,” I choke out, “—does that count?”

Our new Archer ally tilts his head and glances down at the faded mark on my hand beside the two unused ones, then meets my gaze. “It might very well.” He glances over at Billy. “Was it a powerful one?”

“Oh—yeah, it uh, it packed a pretty solid punch,” says Billy.

I hunch over a little and try not to look at him, still overwhelmed I did that. I didn’t mean to! I never would have done anything like that to you on purpose.

I can feel him looking at me, so I give up and glance over after a few seconds, and see he’s still smiling like it doesn’t bother him at all anymore, and I feel better and smile hesitantly back. I relax my shoulders and turn back to Emiya.

“Well,” he says, crossing his arms, “Talk me through it, then Ritsuka. –Mages use mental triggers to activate magic circuits once they’ve already used them, and to open even more, once they have an established trigger,” he adds before I can ask what he means, “So if you used some of your own already for a spell, you might have created a mental trigger without realizing it. When you used the command spell, did you visualize anything happening within or to yourself, along with whatever you were trying to do?”

Uhm. I think hard. It was so dark, and I was so scared last night.

Honestly, I’m still pretty overwhelmed. Excited too, I think, but, I also feel like I might throw up. Better than I felt last night though—that’s for sure.

“I’m not sure. I’m trying to remember,” I say once it’s been a few seconds, and I’m starting to feel awkward.

“Take your time,” says Emiya patiently, “Try to walk through what lead up to it in your head, and focus hard on what you were thinking about at the time.”

Okay. Walk through it.

We’d made it out of Ur-shanabi, and Billy the Kid had agreed to form a contract, so he wasn’t vanishing anymore, but I was really scared. There had been alarms blaring the whole time we were inside the building, and I could still hear them and people shouting when I’d made it back outside to the car. Lights were flashing. I was afraid someone would see us any second and shoot us both, but they didn’t. I used the delivery entrance because I knew it was full of boxes from a shipment that morning, and I made it out.

It had been hard to get him to the hotel without being seen—I’d had to drive, and this was only the third time I’d ever driven a car, and technically I do not have a license even a little bit, or a good fake one, so I’d gone pretty slow, and I was afraid the whole time I’d take too long getting there and people from Ur-shanabi would figure out what I did and catch up, or a policeman would notice I was driving really slow and stop me, and we’d go to jail, or be turned over to Ur-shanabi and die again, or I’d just arrive so late at the hotel he’d bleed to death in the car.

I was connected, so I could feel him, even when I wasn’t looking over—I could feel him fading, and fading, and I kept trying and trying to give him more magical energy, and failing. He looked dead already when I looked over at him, so much blood gone his skin had gone from ghostly white to grey and his lips had turned blue. He was breathing so shallow sometimes I thought he’d stopped completely, and he was hurt so bad and so helpless and in so much pain and I just couldn’t help him like I wanted, like I was trying. I couldn’t. I should have been able, but I couldn’t. And I cried, and it made it hard to see out the windshield, and I got scared I would wreck, so I made myself stop. I bit my tongue the whole next twenty minutes, to not cry and to focus. And I made it, and I got the car parked, and got him in the hotel without being noticed—which was really, really hard, even using the back entrance and late at night, and knowing where I was going.

I remember he was unconscious, and shorter than me and not that heavy, which was good, but he was so pale and sick looking and his breathing was raggedly fast and sounded painful by then; it was awful. His skin had seemed almost translucent to me, like he had no blood left. So much of it was soaking into my shirt by then I could have believed it, and I remember his hair was matted to his head with sweat, and his face was all scrunched up in pain, and sometimes when I would move him he’d moan or cry out a little, and his voice was so weak—I wanted to help him so bad and I was so scared he was going to die before I could even get him into the room and try to save him. He’d already bled completely through the bandages I put on him before getting him into the car—like—soaked through. They were sopping wet, and it was horrible to feel under my fingertips. I could smell it. I hadn’t really thought much about how blood smelled before that, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It smells like rust, but worse. Like rust and death.

I had tried so hard, and risked so much, and I was afraid people would find me any minute, even though I had worked so hard to be careful. I had practiced and planned and worked and worked and worked, and I just, I wanted so badly to do it—to keep him alive, and help him—I had since that first moment I’d seen him. But I was terrified he would just vanish and they’d summon him back, and I wouldn’t be able to try again. He felt so faint—the connection I had to him…it felt like it was coming apart and vanishing into the air like smoke. I remember so intensely how I stumbled walking down the last hall, and I was just sure he was going to vanish in my arms and it would all be for nothing, and I wouldn’t know what to do ever again after it happened. But it didn’t.

I made it. I made it to the room, and got him on the bed, and I started to dig the bullet out, because I’m a rotten mage with no skill and no practice, and I couldn’t do what I was meant to, so I had to try and do it like a doctor instead. But it was okay, because I’d prepped for that, and I’d gotten so far, father than I thought I would in the car, and I had been thinking, hoping, because he’d held on so long, maybe I wouldn’t be too late, maybe I’d got it in time. He looked so sick and weak and hurt, but he’d looked just a little bit better once I’d gotten him on the bed and gotten the bloody shirt off. It had felt so good, seeing his lips a little less blue. Seeing him a little more alive, and I’d been full of energy and hopeful and fear all at once, focus more razor-sharp than I think it had ever been my whole life.

And then he’d woken up and started to move. While I was trying to dig a bullet out from just above his heard.

I was scared he’d hurt himself, or move and I would miss my aim and stab him on accident, and kill him, so the second I’d realized he was moving, I’d told him to stop. And the spell had gone off.

What was I thinking, when I said that? Was I thinking anything other than that he needed not to move?

I try to remember, dragging in everything else still fresh in my head from that night, and it works. I remember.

I remember seeing his face, all pale and ashy, and him groaning and moving a little. I had been looking at his face every so often, to check on how he was, while I got the bullet out. And this time he had opened his eyes. They had been unfocused, like he wasn’t really awake and was looking at the ceiling without seeing it, but then he’d looked at me, and I had known he was seeing me. I could tell he was about to move, then, and I had medical pliers in his chest, so I’d thought “Oh no this is bad—I need to keep him down so I can help him and he won’t get hurt”. I’d thought…I’d thought…. in my head, I had thought about…reaching out. Because I’d wanted to do that too—that’s right! That’s right! I remember! Because he’d looked scared too. I’d thought, “I’ll tell him to hold still, and I’ll pat his shoulder so he knows it’s okay,” because my mom always used to do that when I was sick and feverish, and it always made me calm down again. I’d forgotten, because I didn’t do it, but I had been planning to. If I hadn’t hurt him like that on accident, I would have.

“I thought about reaching out,” I say out loud, finally looking back up at Emiya.

“Reaching out?” asks Billy curiously from over in the chair.

“I-I guess that doesn’t make sense,” I say, glancing at him and flushing. I know it doesn’t—it-it sounds dumb, now that I’m thinking about it. Who pats someone who’s getting surgery on the shoulder? If you’re a good doctor, you used anesthetic to knock them out, and they don’t have to wake up at all. I did like, a whole whole lot of things pretty wrong. And it was probably a stupid idea anyway, because he didn’t really know me, and my hand was sopping with blood, and that would have felt pretty gross I think. I look nervously from one to the other of the spirits, hoping they don’t think about it as much as I just did. “Because I told you to hold still, so why would I also be thinking about that? But, I was thinking that it’d pat your shoulder, so you knew it was me, and you were okay, since you’d been through a really bad night.” Mmmmmnggg why did I say that stupid too. Oh well I guess at least it’s true…

Billy blinks at me and kind of stares at nothing for a second, and then slowly smiles to himself and meets my eyes again and gives a little nod. “Well thank you. That was thoughtful.”

Really? “I-It wasn’t though,” I protest, “—I accidentally used a command spell on you.” I glance down miserably at the faded spell seal on my hand.

“Yeah, but it was okay,” promises Billy like he means it. I glance over at him and he looks almost worried about me, which kind of makes me feel worse for worrying him, but also better at the same time. “You didn’t mean to. And all you were tryin’ to do was help.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, it’s a lot easier to accidentally use one of those than it should be, if you haven’t been properly trained,” says Emiya very matter-of-factly, and when I look over, he truly doesn’t look like he judges me at all for this. Really??

“Really?” I ask out loud.

He gives a nod. “So. Reaching out?”

I think again, making sure I’m right, and I am, so I nod.

“Then if you activated your own circuits doing this, that might be your mental trigger now. Think hard on that mental image—do it even, if you want, while visualizing it, and think about opening your circuits and letting mana into them with the gesture,” says Emiya, “Try to picture reaching out, and passing magic through your body, and on to Billy. Like you’re going to tap his shoulder.”

That sounds so simple. I hope it is.

Only one way to find out, I guess.

I glance at Billy, then give Emiya a nod and shut my eyes.

Come on, you can do this. I know you can.

I scrunch up my face and think really, really hard, imagining that. I hold out my left hand and imagine the circuits I’ve seen now filling with magic and letting it out through my fingertips, so I can reach out and touch something with it—so I can heal him, like I’ve been trying so hard to do. I focus on that, and then I simplify—I focus just on the image of holding out my hand, of reaching out, of trying to connect. To myself, to other people, to everything. To that big blue sky I saw for an instant, to Billy. To—

There’s a feeling somewhere between electricity and the tug of a strained muscle, and it starts in my chest where I imagined following my circuits back to the pool of mana I’m connected to, and up to my shoulder, then down along my left arm and to my fingers. It almost hurts; it kind of scares me, but I’m way too thrilled to really care about that. It feels like it leaves me, which is so thrilling I feel my stomach drop, and I open my eyes immediately and look at Billy.

—Okay, I’m a goof—I don’t know what I expected to see, since he’s got a bandage on, but. He’s looking down at his chest, and he holds a hand up in front of the wound, and gently places his palm on it, then slowly looks over at me and grins.

“Nice work, partner,” he says, almost as excited as I am.

“I did it?” I ask ecstatically. I look from him, to Emiya. “I did it?”

Billy gives a nod.

“You did it,” confirms Emiya.

“Yes! Yes! HAH!” I shout to the ceiling, snagging a pillow and throwing it in the air in excitement before even thinking about what I’m doing, HELL YEAH! I’m the BEST! He’s the best! We’re gonna save everybody! We DID it! YEAH! “Thank you!” I say, turning my attention to Emiya. I throw myself forward and hug him, and he jolts back a little, then I hear him sigh and he moves an arm to pat my back stiffly twice.

“Sure thing. It’s what you summoned me for, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but,” I say, moving back so I can look up at him, “Still! Thank you! Thank you so much! This is amazing!”

It is! AH! He’s so nice and so good at teaching magic! Oh! And—now? There’s so much stuff for me to try now! I want to do more—I want to learn so many spells, and—

“Careful,” says Emiya, smiling a little and holding up a cautioning hand, “Don’t go overboard here—I taught you how to activate your circuits, but you’re still untrained, and your precision and stamina will be weak. For now, try not to tire yourself out—you’re going to need whatever magic you can manage to do once we go into Ur-shanabi, so don’t waste it or overtax yourself now.”

“Oh, right,” I say, giving him a serious nod. Makes sense. We’ve got to go back, and I’m probably going to have to heal more heroic spirits. Honestly, healing Billy just now—I didn’t feel it through the adrenaline at all, but now that I’m calming down a little to be serious again, I’m realizing it really took something out of me—I’m tired. Not super tired, and to be fair, I’ve lifted a lot of weight and kinda run myself pretty ragged today, so maybe I’m just…normal tired. But my arm sort of aches now too, so I think some of it has got to be the magic. Curious, I hold my arm up and make a fist, then open and close it, seeing how that feels.

“Does it hurt?” asks Emiya.

“Not really,” I answer, glancing back up at him, “Just a little, but not like real pain—like the kind you get being sore after running.”

He gives a nod. “Good, then you didn’t over-exert yourself or open them wrong.” He gets up from the bed then, and I turn on it to follow him with my gaze. “You should be proud.”

“Do I need to do anything else?” I ask, “To practice? Or get ready?”

“Eat something, and then rest,” he answers, picking up one of the teacups I set out, and pouring himself some, then one for me, which he holds out. I take it. “You can focus on the mission details of what we’re doing in the meantime. Magically speaking, try to do as little as possible now—that is assuming you’ve now healed your Gunner all the way.”

We both look over at Billy, and I realize he’s stood up and taken the bandage off. He’s looking down and studying his chest where he was shot. It’s a little hard for me to tell if he’s hurt anymore myself, because there’s a lot of blood from when he was bleeding still all over there, but he touches the wound and pushes down a little, which makes me a little sick to see, but he seems okay.

I did it. I smile. He looks happy, and he looks so much better. I’m realizing suddenly this is the best I’ve ever seen him. Even before I moved him, he has only ever been half-dead in Ur-shanabi. He looks different like this. Alive, vibrant almost, and really happy. Good. I’m so glad. It’s so different from how he looked the first time I saw him, it makes me really happy too.

Billy takes two steps and stretches his arms out then and rolls his left shoulder and winces, and I feel my smile fade.

Crap—I still did it wrong, then? I…

“That’s amazing,” says Billy, whipping around to beam at me. Oh wow he’s really pretty and he’s covered in blood and doesn’t have his shirt on and his hair is dry now and fluffy and I’m overwhelmed by how happy and friendly he is and feel my face heat up again and have to turn my head away for a second because I feel overwhelmed.

“A-are you sure?” I ask, making myself glance back up at him, “It looked like moving your shoulder hurt.”

“Yeah, of course!” he says, turning to show me where the wound was, “I’m a little sore still, and kind of beat to hell energy-wise, but I’m pretty much good as new.” He lowers his arm then and flashes me another smile, blue eyes bright and welcoming and open like the sky. He’s so nice, and he’s got so much energy. I wonder if this is kind of an American thing in general, or if it’s just him who’s really cool and bubbly. I’m way too nervous to ask him anything like that though—p-probably it would be a really stupid thing to say too. And…

I stop thinking about that because he comes over then, and takes a knee by the bed. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, giving a little bow of his head for a moment before looking up at me again, “For this, and for everything. I’m real lucky you found me.”

I don’t know what to say, because I’m not remotely used to being complimented, and I totally freeze up, but it’s turns out okay because he keeps going.

“Not bad at all for your first proper spell, huh?” Billy gives a little wink, then gets to his feet again.

“Y-yeah.” I answer, and I realize I mean it and smile back. I am proud. “Thank you. I guess it was pretty good.”

“It was exactly what we needed,” says Billy.

“Alright then. Now that we’ve got that sorted, shall we move on to the planning stage?” says Emiya. He’s taken a seat in one of the hotel chairs and has a leg propped over the other and his cup in in one hand, my building schematic in the other.

“Absolutely!” I agree readily, hopping off the bed and snagging another chair, pulling it close to finish a sort of chair-circle for us three, “What do we need first?”

“First,” says Emiya as Billy takes a seat in the third chair, glancing up from the schematics for a moment to meet my gaze, “We need to know if they’ve summoned any other servants, who if possible, and most importantly, where to find them.”

#finally exposition is done and I can get back to the fun stuff to write next time. ACTION. HELLS YEAH #fate go #fate grand order #fate go AU #the kid (fic)#the kid #fgo fic #fate go fic #fate grand order fic #fgo AU #fate grand order AU #Billy the Kid #Ritsuka Fujimaru #Archer Emiya #heroic spirit Emiya #writing #also wrote my daughter's pov finally! yeee

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

the unfortunate case of nonchalance

PART II - BIRDS OF A KIND

summary: while in town, jethro bumps into the endearing lady he met several days ago. and he finds it hard to tell her no.

words: 3,943

warnings: female reader

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @kittenlittle24

author’s note: part 2 of the cowboy!au series. this is a part of meg’s 11k challenge. the prompts are cowboy au and secret relationship trope.

PART I | PART III

February 22th, 1889

It finally feels as if we’re settling down, even just a bit. Nobody likes being this far East - I can see how on edge everyone is. But we’re safe here, for the time being. That’s what matters.

Anthony still hasn’t told me his grand money-making scheme. Says he won’t until he’s worked everything out, but that don’t make me feel any better. There was a time when such promises of a plan would’ve interested me. But now, it only leaves me with a sour gut feeling.

For now, I’ll wait and hope that man has enough sense in his skull not to get us all killed.

At least Doctor Mallard is rescuing me from sitting in camp - he wants to go into town for supplies, and asked if I would accompany him. He says he’ll need help bringing everything back, but I suspect he knows I’ve been idle for too long.

He thinks I’ve been distracted. Thinking about what we left behind in the West.

I’ll let him keeping thinking that.

Doctor Mallard brought only one sack to carry the supplies in. And Jethro’s holding that single sack, tucked against the crook of his arm. It only confirmed his suspicions that the older man felt Jethro was spending too much time in camp. As tedious as camp is, though, it’s preferable to walking through town.

A man bumped into Jethro’s shoulder. “Hey!” He snapped, but the man just kept walking without a single apology. And it made Jethro huff. “Rude bastard.”

“The youth today have scarcely any manners, Jethro,” Doctor Mallard muses. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the rude display.

Jethro just gives a small hum, head shaking as he hitches the sack up higher and glances around at the bustling street. People coming in going, paying little attention to two dirty cowboys who are merely making their way back to their horses. Their clothes are spotless, stylish, full of lace and pristine furs - Jethro’s never felt quite so different than he does now.

The sun comes down on them hard. The long brim of his hat keeps the light out of Jethro’s eyes, but the day is long and hot. He’s looking forward to riding out of the stifling town. Feeling the wind and returning to the camp, where everything seems more free. More normal.

They pass the bank. Jethro’s eyes are shielded by his hat; he doesn’t see the person coming out of the building. Barely cares, until he hears her voice say his name in a way he recognizes.

Well, it’s more like his body recognizes it. Because his feet stop, his head comes up, and his eyes peer out from under the shade.

“Mr. Gibbs,” you repeat. Slower, this time. But still high-pitched; obviously pleased to see him away, and Jethro honestly cannot tell if he feels the same. He enjoyed your company, sure. Enjoyed talking to you. Found you amusing and endearing and interesting, all that once.

On the other hand, Doctor Mallard was right there...

“Is this your friend?”

You’re looking to the doctor now, stepping closer and holding out a hand, which he obviously takes. Jethro has to swallow before nodding his head. “This is Donald Mallard. He’s a very good friend of mine,” he answers. And the older doctor may be able to fool strangers, but Jethro was no such fool. When he introduced Mallard to the girl, he gave Jethro a look. So nonchalant - barely there - but he knew its meaning:

She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?

Jethro looked away so his face wouldn’t answer.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Believe me, dear. The pleasure is mine.”

“Well, we must be leaving,” Jethro cuts in quickly. You look at him, surprised. But he keeps his eyes away as he puts on hand on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder, trying to steer him away. “Our friends need these supplies...”

“Oh, that’s alright! I was just on my way home, anyway!” You call out after them. And Jethro can’t help feeling relieved. He can only imagine how Doctor Mallard will tease him about this back at camp. Meeting and befriending a pretty lady without mentioning it - scandalous stuff.

But the Doctor stops, and for an old man, his feet are rooted to the ground quite firmly. Despite Jethro’s shoves, he turns back to the woman still standing before the bank. “Jethro, what kind of gentleman are you?” He asks in a scolding voice. “You’re not going to offer to take this nice lady home?”

Jethro sighs, his fingers tight on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder but lets his hand drop away. He knows what the older man is playing at, but he’s also right.

“That’s not necessary,” you pipe up. When Jethro looks over, you’re smiling shyly. Obviously trying to wave off the offer.

And yet, Jethro hands the sack over to Doctor Mallard, who takes it gleefully. “No, it’d be my pleasure,” Jethro says. And he hopes you don’t catch rueful tone of his voice.

“Our horses are hitched right over here, dear.” You and Jethro follow Doctor Mallard in silence. He’s ranting off about the price of canned goods in this town; how they’re impossibly high compared to other towns. Jethro barely listens. He’s focused too much on you - how you’re walking next to him, movements so elegant, it’s alien to a rough cowboy like him. His own spurs clinked against the gravel road, footfalls heavy. A startling contradiction.

Jethro waits silently as the doctor pulls himself onto his old nag. And once he’s settled, Jethro dips his head to him. “Safe ride,” he says simply.

“And you, as well,” Doctor Mallard replies. And there’s a certain edge in his voice, almost teasing without being blatant about it. But Jethro heard the mischief in his voice - it made him scowl and turn to his own horse.

You’re waiting patiently, wearing a soft smile, and he realizes why the good doctor had told him to ride safe.

“You live far?” Jethro asks while pulling himself up. Once he’s in the saddle, he reaches down for your hand. And when you take it, his eyes avert away. The contact was so small and simple but the soft skin of your hand and the light grip you have, it affects him. And he hopes the wide brim of his hat is enough to hide his face as Jethro pulls you up to sit behind him.

“Not very. On the edge of town - it’s the big white house. Just head down the main street-”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Jethro cuts in. He pulls the reins and starts heading down the main road. “Big house like that, it’s kinda hard to miss.”

There’s a light laugh from you. Jethro’s grateful his back is turned, face hidden. “Almost too big, in fact. There’s a lot of empty rooms. Sometimes it feels almost....lonely,” you reply.

Feeling lonely in a big ol’ house, that’s not a feeling Jethro was too familiar with. Then again, he knows he owns his own brand of loneliness. The type that lingers, even when he’s surrounded by people. Especially in this town, when the strangers are even more strange to him than usual.

He doesn’t feel that loneliness right now, though.

Jethro clears his throat, head turning a bit to see you in his periphery before looking forward again. “So, what were you doing in that bank?” He asks nonchalantly. Though, he scolds himself; the question was both mundane and prying.

But you didn’t seem bothered, remarkably. “Visiting my father and his associate,” you answer quickly. “He says I should become familiar with how the business is run, since I may be involved running it, one day.”

He hums low while pulling the reins, turning his horse in the direction of your big white house. “Sounds like your father’s got your life all figured out,” Jethro says.

You’re quiet for a moment, and Jethro’s worried that perhaps he’s offended your father. Or worst yet, offended you. “Oh, it’s not like that,” you tell him. “I’m happy to learn. And he’s right, after all.”

Still, Jethro disagrees. But he doesn’t say anything, this time. Doesn’t want to run the risk of angering you. Or give you a reason to stop seeing him in a good light. And Jethro’s well aware that such a thing will happen eventually; just not right now.

There’s a bit of rough terrain on the road. Lots of mud from when it rained the night before, and it has the horse’s hooves sliding. It lets out a little whine, and Jethro pulls on its reins to keep it balanced. But the sudden jolting around must’ve spooked you - your arms are suddenly around his midsection. Holding on tight, afraid to fall. A normal reaction, of course.

But it shocks Jethro. His hands grip the reins even harder, and he’s grateful for the muddy road. Because you can’t feel the way his lungs suck in a deep breath.

What a humiliating response, Jethro chides himself. It’s as if he’s some dumb young man getting squirrelly when a woman touches him. And yet, that’s how he’s feeling. With your arms around his midsection, your front against his back, Jethro can’t think of any words to use to continue the conversation.

He rolls his eyes at himself.

It feels like an eternity to reach your home, riding in silence. But Jethro stops by the end of the fence, lifting his eyes to get a good look at the impressive white house. He imagines it must be even more beautiful inside, and quickly decides it fits you just fine.

“Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Gibbs.”

Your voice draws his attention away from the house. Jethro immediately dips his head, and his hand comes out to help you down from the back of his horse. “Wasn’t a problem,” he replies simply. Once down, your hands run down the length of your dress, straightening it back out.

He’s gotta go.

“Well, you have a good day, miss,” Jethro says. And with another nod of his head, he steers his horse away from the magnificent homestead. He’ll just ride back to camp and lock himself away in his tent for the rest of the day...

“Mr. Gibbs, hold on a moment.”

Despite himself, Jethro stops his horse. Sighs, and turns to look at you. “Yeah?”

You’re nervous, he can tell. Not on your face, but in your hands. How they wring together and keeping running down the fabric of your dress. “Would you like to join me for a drink in the saloon tonight?” You ask.

A drink? Jethro doesn’t know how to respond. He knows his answer should be no. He should make up an excuse for not being able to join you tonight, or any other night. Instead, he says nothing. Just stares.

Still nervous, you continue. “Or perhaps not tonight, if you’re otherwise engaged. I would just like to thank you for bringing me home when you didn’t need to.”

Jethro’s hands are in his lap, absently fiddling with the old leather reins. “A lady like yourself enjoys the company in a saloon?” He asks, tone conveying a teasing disbelief.

Just say no, you old bastard...

Finally, you smile. Jethro doubts he’ll be able to go through with his plans.

“You forget my father, sir.” Your hands come behind your back; more relaxed than you outta be, around him. “No man dares to lay a hand on me, if he knows what’s good for him. Not without my consent, that is.” You add on that last part with haste, and Jethro doesn’t miss it.

In spite of himself, he smiles and shakes his head. Disbelieving that you’re so able to change his mind in a snap, but somehow, not adverse to it. “I think I’ll let you buy me that drink, ma’am. I will meet you there tonight.”

Looking pleased, you dip your head to him and turn to walk up to the house. Jethro watches, just for a few moments. Once the breeze picks up and starts billowing your dress, that’s when he turns and rides toward camp. And he doesn’t see when you look back to him.

The ride back to camp was slower than usual. It gave Jethro a few peaceful moments to think things over. It was just a simple drink, he told himself. A thank you from a nice lady because he rode her home. Not all the women in this town are so snooty and uptight, he reminds himself. A couple glasses of the finest bourbon they have (Jethro’s confident you can afford it), and he’ll be gone.

He’s still in his own head when Jethro comes back into camp. Everyone seems to be doing their own thing; too preoccupied to bother with him. Abigail and Eleanor doing chores. Doctor Mallard going through his medicinal stores. Tim seems to be scolding Jimmy for getting the fishing line in knots again.

Jethro ducks into his tent, going straight for his clothing chest. Surely he has something decent to wear. It won’t be anywhere close to the level of prestige he’s sure you’re used to, but it’ll have to do.

He opens the chest, and instantly spots a pure white cotton shirt. That outta suffice.

“Hey, Boss!”

Instantly, Jethro closes the chest and straightens up when Anthony comes in.

He’s wearing that troubling grin again. Jethro’s mood instantly drops a little; he has a hunch of what the younger man is here for. “What do you want?”

Anthony isn’t turned off from Jethro’s icy question. In fact, it prompts him to step closer. The excitement is nearly palpable from the Italian, and it’s slightly worrying. Anthony’s not-exactly-legal idea to get some cash was something he hadn’t divulge that day in town. He said he wanted to work out a plan first. Wanted to make sure it was full proof.

Evidently, he’s worked it out.

“My plan to get us some money,” Anthony starts off. His grin turns into a proud smile, and he’s standing straight. Jethro’s stomach is suddenly a little tight. “The big bank in town. It’s sure to have a lot of money and valuables in it - you know these rich folk would keep their money in a vault. Tim and Jimmy said they’d come along as extra guns. Even Ellie is going to provide a distraction. I’ve worked it out, and it can’t go wrong. Especially if you’re there with us.”

Perhaps in the past, and Jethro was a little more reckless, he’d agree to the plan. And for what it’s worth, it seemed pretty solid. Anthony’s annoying, but he’s competent. A born thief and this is just flexing his muscles.

But Jethro remembers just this afternoon when you came out of the bank - how much time you must spend in there. Knows that you think him a good man, for whatever reason that he can’t understand.

“No,” he says. And instantly, Anthony’s face falls. Jethro’s head shakes as he takes a step closer to the younger man. “Our plan was to lie low. To not get into trouble while we’re here. Our life is out west, don’t you remember that? A bank robbery would ruin all that.”

“We’re wearing masks. Nobody would know-”

“You have my answer, Anthony,” Jethro snaps out. “I suggest you go tell the others that your plan is off. We’ll find other ways to get money.”

Anthony’s silent. Doesn’t move for a few tense moments, and Jethro wonders if he’ll continue to fight for his plan. But eventually, he huffs and stomps out of the tent. Jethro watches him go, and he hopes he rejected the plan for the right reasons.

The music could be heard from outside the saloon. Music, and the rowdy noises of dozens of people inside. Every one of them drunk and that’s what gets Jethro wary. Drunk people are often very stupid.

Still, he knows you’re inside. Waiting to buy him a glass of bourbon, and Jethro’s not known for keeping a lady waiting.

He pushes through the door, and instantly gets more than a few sets of eyes cast on him. And by now, he’s used to it. Being in this town, looking how he looks, he’s accustomed to side glances as these rich people size him up and decide he’s likely lower than dirt.

But while they’re looking at him, Jethro instantly finds you. He notices you’re wearing a finer dress than you were earlier, and new sets of jewelry twinkle in the saloon lights. Jethro’s not really a religious man, but he reckons this is about as close as angels can look. Both ethereal and warm.

His good mood is halted, however, when his eyes finally drift away from you. There’s a man beside you, leaning against the bar on one arm but facing you and judging from the look you’re wearing, this man isn’t wanted. The look, Jethro notes, is more-so the lack of an expression. Because he’s known you to be smiley and friendly with those you like.

There’s not any smile gracing your lips.

The man touches your arm. Not aggressively, granted. A brush of his fingers. But Jethro recalls your words earlier, and his feet are instantly moving. Thudding hard against the wood to bring himself to you.

And you see him approach first. Your eyes lighten up, but there’s still no smile.

So Jethro stops beside the man. His clothes are expensive, and his hair (if it weren’t so messy) is expertly cut. He can dress like a gentleman all he wants, but Jethro knows better. “Leave the lady alone, alright? She don’t want your company.”

The drunken man looks to him, only just realizing his presence. And then he pushes off the bar, standing at full height, but Jethro keeps his eyes steady on his. “Excuse me, sir? Don’t believe you were invited in on this conversation,” the man rolls out. His words are slurred and his breath reeks of liquor. Jethro can’t help but wrinkle his nose.

“You ain’t excused,” he replies steely cold. “Go stink up some other poor bastard’s saloon.”

It seems the man is finally catching on that Jethro was antagonizing him. His red eyes narrow, shoulders squaring. Jethro’s hands curl into fists, even after he feels your hand on his arm. A light squeeze, almost desperate. “Let’s just leave him, Mr. Gibbs. It ain’t worth-”

“I’ll show you who’s excused!”

The punch he throws is sloppy. Uncoordinated. Jethro should’ve been able to dodge it. But your hand had been on his arm. He was distracted.

The fist connected with his face, just below his eye - a solid hit, despite a poor swing. Pain exploded against Jethro’s face, and it’s nearly enough to knock him to the floor. But his hands hit the wood first, and he stumbles back up to his feet; Jethro’s not about to let some drunken idiot get on top.

He whirls around, fists up, ready to strike. In the background, he notices the music stop. People are cheering. But Jethro’s attention is only on the man advancing on him, arm cranking back for another punch.

But this time, Jethro’s ready. He dodged the punch easily, even feeling the wind of it brush past his face. And in the next second, his own fist connects with the man’s jaw. A more solid punch than he was given. More power behind it. More pain delivered.

It sent him crumbling to the ground, hitting the wood floor with a solid thump and made the bar patrons all gasp in shock. A few of the drunker, more rowdy ones even cheered. Jethro kept his eyes on the man, now out cold but silently hoping he’d get back up. To give him another reason to deliver another hard punch.

There’s a hand on his arm again. The same soft, lightly gripping touch that Jethro was so quickly becoming familiar with. His head swung around, instantly catching your eyes. They were wide and worried; a bit frightened, but he couldn’t tell why you’d be afraid. He’d just taken care of the problem. “Let’s go, Mr. Gibbs. You should get that cut cleaned up.”

Cut? What cut?

It was then when Jethro remembering the throbbing ache of his cheekbone. And rest assured, when he raised a hand to touch it, his fingers came away red.

You started pulling him away toward the back of the bar before the bartender called out. “Hold on, little lady! Your man just caused a fight - the law’ll want to speak with him!”

With a huff, you turn back around. Jethro wasn’t aware you could look so mean, but the look on your face was nearly enough to make him go running for the hills. “I know you saw that big oaf swing the first punch. If anything, my man was only defending himself - and me! You wanna bother the law about something like this?”

Jethro watches the bartender grapple with his words before sighing and turning away back to his work. That’s when you continued pulling him along to one of the back rooms, grumbling about the no-good idiots in this place, but Jethro was only really focused on how you called him your man.

That drunken bastard must’ve hit him worse than he realized.

He’s silent as he watches you move to the washing basin, soaking a piece of cloth in the water. “Sit on the bed, please,” you tell him. A polite request spoken in a snipped voice, so Jethro doesn’t think twice to obey. And just as he sits, you’re approaching him.

“That was a very stupid thing you did,” you remark sternly. The cloth is cool, at least. It soothes the quickly-swelling bruise. But still, he’s bleeding. Jethro can’t help but wince when you have to rub harder.

You scoff at his wincing, not seeming to care. “I swear, you’re just as much a ruffian as any cowboy I’ve ever met. Are you in the habit of getting into fights over something so trivial?”

Getting into fights? Sure, he’s used to it. But Jethro wouldn’t call defending you to be trivial. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He doesn’t say so. He’s too focused on how gentle you are in cleaning him up. Perhaps gentle in a way he doesn’t deserve - you’re right, he is a no-good bar-fighting ruffian. It’s difficult to understand why you’re this gentle with him.

So Jethro watches your face, screwed up with tight brows and a flat frown. And he can’t help his own lips from quirking up. “Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks.

You stop, and your eyes flicker to meet his. Jethro could’ve sworn he’d seen your face flush. “Don’t change the subject, Mr. Gibbs.”

“I’m not attempting to,” he replies quickly. “In fact, I’m trying to stop something like this from happening again.”

You’re confused. Looking skeptical, but your head shakes slowly. “I’m having brunch with my mother tomorrow at noon. But after that, I’m available. Why do you ask?”

The quirk in his lips grows into a small smile. “Good. Meet me behind the old church on the south side of town after your brunch.”

A small sigh comes from your lungs as your hands fall away from his face. The blood must be cleaned up, but Jethro can’t even feel the throb of his swollen cheek. “Can I ask what for?” You prod on.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shoot a man who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

#ncis imagine #ncis reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis x reader

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salmonthestoryteller · 4 years

Text

Lover Man, Oh, Where Can You Be

1940s Carhop Roswell New Mexico AU Malex, with a hint of Kyliz

“A drive-in?” The look Alex gave her oozed sarcasm.

“Don’t judge me.” Liz told him. “The food is worth it.”

“The food at a drive-in is worth it?” Alex’s tone did not improve.

“Alright, so the food is terrible.” Liz confessed.

Alex reminded himself that Liz was one of his oldest friends, and the battlefield medic that had saved his life during the war, so there were legitimate reasons why he’d agreed to go to dinner with her. Even if he hadn’t felt much like going anywhere since returning to Roswell. "So why are we going to a terrible drive-in?”

“Because of their carhops.” Liz told him.

“Their carhops?” Alex gave her a suspicious look, as she pulled her car onto the next street. “So we’re cruising for guys?”

“No… yes. Maybe. One guy.” Liz finally settled on.

“Liz, any guy who’d turn you down would have to be an idiot. Besides, isn’t showing up with another guy going to make him less likely to think you’re available?”

“Our riveting conversation so far has centered around my dinner order, and medical school.”

“Your carhop that sends you is a fellow doctor? Does he just carhop in his off hours?”

“His father died during the war, his schooling was interrupted. He’s finishing his schooling now.”

“Who was his father? It’s a small town.” Alex was curious.

“Jim Valenti.”

“What?” Alex hissed, but Liz was already pulling into the parking lot.

“Take a gander and tell me you regret coming.”

“I do regret coming.”

“You didn’t look.”

Alex sighed, glancing around the parking lot, and pausing when he saw that the carhops were all males, dressed in white shirts, tight shorts, and wearing cowboy boots. Okay, there was something to be said for the aesthetic, he had to admit. His eyes were drawn to one of the carhops specifically - toned body, a wild disarray of curls. He’d even added a cowboy hat, which stood out among the others there.

“Now do you regret it?”

“I hate you.” Alex told her.

“I can tell.” Liz was grinning. “That’s Kyle over there by the blue Frazer.”

Alex took a moment to glance at the other carhop. He was also fit, and definitely good looking. “He’s kinda short.”

“Don’t be a crumb, Alex.”

“His mom is the Sheriff, you know.”

“So I won’t date his mom.” Liz rolled his eyes.

Alex decided not to go into why all the reasons dating Sheriff Valenti’s son was a bad idea. Liz would have already gone over all of them herself. She wouldn’t have asked him along if she hadn’t. “So what’s your brilliant plan?”

“Coming here until he notices me?”

“You’re a literal genius, and that’s the best you could come up with?”

“...Yes.”

“Can I take your order?” The drawling tone made them turn to where the curly-haired carhop had approached their car.

“Oh, we’re-”

“Absolutely ready to order.” Alex told him, ignoring the scowl Liz threw his way. She was the one who hadn’t thought this venture through properly. She could ogle the Sheriff’s son from afar for the night.

He really needed to figure out the guy’s name, he decided when he offered a knowing grin Alex’s way. He couldn’t call him “the curly-haired carhop” forever. “Great. My lucky night.” The words were drawled out again, and Alex swore he saw a hint of interest in his eyes. “What can I get you?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Honestly? Absolutely nothing. The food’s mediocre at best.”

Alex burst out laughing at that, and Liz even brightened up enough at the jest to grin. “I don’t suppose you sell many meals with that pitch.” Alex told him.

“You might be surprised.”

“The milkshakes are good.” Liz offered.

“There is that.” He nodded in agreement.

“Milkshakes it is then. One strawberry, one chocolate.” Alex ordered.

“Coming up.” He threw in a wink, before heading back to the building.

“Unbelievable.” Liz crossed her arms. “I come here to try to get a date, and you’re the one who gets made a pass at.”

“Nobody would be so obvious.”

“Don’t be sure - that’s Michael Guerin. Isobel Evans' cousin?”

The Evans were also a prominent family in Roswell, but the name Michael Guerin didn’t ring any bells. “And?”

“You’re hopeless. Maria gave us the whole dope on it. It was a huge scandal. She broke up with her fiance, moved out of her parents’ house and in with her long lost cousin? She owns this drive-in. Ringing any bells yet?”

“Pretty sure I tuned all this out.”

“This is why you need me to drag you out of your house every so often.”

“I thought it was so you could ogle Kyle Valenti while waiting for him to notice you waiting.”

“You’re a crumb.”

“You’re a chicken. Go chat the guy up already. He’s been staring at you for ten minutes straight.”

Liz glanced behind him, and the way she bit her lip told him she’d caught Kyle staring. “My hair look alright?”

“You’re a bombshell. Go get him already.”

“You’re the best. You know that right?”

“You owe me, you know that, right?” Alex teased. Liz shot him a grin before getting out of the car and heading over to where Kyle was waiting for another car to pull in.

“Where’d your date go?” Michael asked, reappearing with milkshakes and a set of fries Alex was pretty sure he hadn’t ordered.

“Not a date. Just an old friend.” Alex told him.

“Oh, she going fishing with Valenti, huh? Well, that won’t take long.” Michael glanced behind him, and Alex let himself take in the view of him up close again as he clipped the tray to hold their food on Liz’s side of the car. “Strawberry or Chocolate?”

“Chocolate.” Alex told him, and Michael leaned in through the window to hand him the drink. He nearly dropped it when he heard his next words.

“So sugar, are you rationed?” The drawl to his voice added a hint of a promise to the words.

“Say that to the wrong guy, you’ll get your ass kicked.” Alex told him. Nobody had been close enough to hear him, especially with him leaning in through the window, but it was still dangerous to be so blatant about it.

“Well, your eyes were glued to my ass since you pulled up, so I thought I was pretty safe.” Michael challenged him.

“Not always the truth.”

“I’d say it was worth the risk, but you haven’t answered my question yet.” The grin Michael gave him was less cocky now, and more uncertain but hopeful.

“I’m single.” Alex told him.

The cocky grin came back, full force. “Don’t bet on that.”

End

This was written for two reasons, because of a picture I saw from a 1940s drive-in, and because I found out, “Hi Sugar, are you rationed?” was the slang for “Are you single?” and I had to use it. I had too much fun looking up and using unnecessary old slang for such a short fic. I have no regrets. Also, here’s the picture in question:

#roswell new mexico #rnm fic #alteraroswell2020 #malex #au

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little-bit-of-cinnamon · 4 years

Text

The Difference Between Talking and Doing - Sprace

Race was at a student government conference when his hotel room phone rang. He wasn’t expecting Spot on the other line.

Sprace modern high school AU

Fluff, getting together

4.1k words

Race has always prided himself on being a leader, being the one that a lost underclassman could ask for directions to class, the one that teachers trust to watch their classroom as they leave the room. He went to all the school events, joined all the committees, and was an active member of student government. And a passionate one at that.

Student government made him feel like he had an impact on the school, like he could listen to his peers and bring new ideas to the table. He felt like he meant something, made a difference. So, he attended all the meetings, volunteered at all the fundraisers. He was at every school event, and everyone knew him because of it.

Race liked being known, it made him feel like he had a real high school experience. He wasn’t just sitting in class, taking notes, and going home.

So, when the annual statewide student government conference rolled around in March, he was the first to apply.

And, unsurprisingly, the first to be accepted.

And, two weeks later, the first on the bus.

Race was an outgoing person, always eager to meet new people and make new friends, yet his favorite part of these events always remained the same. Bonding with his own council. He loved dinners with his friends and underclassmen who he doesn’t know and his advisors. Making jokes and making memories. He loved the SnapChat group Romeo made, sending videos they sneak of their unsuspecting peers as they eat. He loves the teasing, the strengthening of relationships, the level of comfort and acceptance that isn't regularly found in school.

But the very best part wasn’t even a part of the conference itself, it was at night in the hotel. They all piled into Medda’s room, ignoring the teasing they get from other schools’ councils when they find out that they all hang out with their advisor. They play games, truth or dare or never have I ever and other lame party games, they tell embarrassing stories and eat way too many M&Ms. Race loves for it.

Nobody gets enough, or any, sleep and coffee is hard to come by in the morning, with the hundreds of overtired teenagers all with the same need, but nobody gets grumpy, nobody cares that they have to be up at 7. They’re all just happy to be with each other and, honestly, it’s magical.

Race was looking forward to their first night of council bonding all day. He ate dinner, watched the annual conference lip sync battle and then went straight upstairs. He stopped in his room to brush his teeth (he hates the feeling of unbrushed teeth) and went to secure a spot on the extra bed in Medda’s room. Soon, everyone began piling in, squeezing on the bed or sitting on the floor. Talking about who was auditioning for the upcoming play (Race was) and who was surprised that Jack and Davey started dating (Race wasn’t), he felt the familiar comfort and contentedness fill him up and he sunk back into the pillows, grateful to be experiencing this once more.

It was hardly past midnight when there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Medda asked as she stood from the desk chair, walking to the door.

“I dunno,” said Finch, “I think everyone’s here.”

The man at the door was tall and intimidating, stern eyes and a gray beard.

“I assume you didn’t hear about the curfew.” He looked unamused.

“Oh, I’m sorry. These are all my kids, we’re just doing some bonding and debriefing. I know where everyone is.” Medda explained.

“I’m glad you’ve done the bare minimum but I’m afraid that there is a 12:15 curfew that your students are breaking.” The man smiled but it was obviously fake, condescending.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s alright, everybody is accounted for. We do this every year.”

“Not this year you don’t. Everyone must be back in their assigned rooms immediately. I will be back in five minutes. I am not afraid to bring security.” The man turned on his heel and continued down the hall.

“Well,” Medda shut the door and entered the room, looking shocked, “you heard the man, I guess. Everyone off to bed.”

Everyone began gathering their things and filing out of the room. “I can’t believe that guy would talk to Medda like that, she’s an adult show some respect,” Race said.

“I know, it’s such a bummer. Hanging in here is always my favorite part,” agreed Spot.

Spot Conlon. Senior class president. Intimidating guy. Race has known him for as long as he can remember but he still finds it difficult to talk to him. Spot oozes a sense of too cool for you that Race couldn’t overcome. And it didn’t help that he was literally gorgeous. Race thinks that everyone probably has a crush on Spot but everyone’s too intimidated to say anything.

“Yeah, the whole point of this conference is to strengthen the council. That dude’s bullshit.” Race pulled his key card out of his lanyard and opened the door to his room. “Good night, I guess.” Race stepped into his room and flopped straight to his bed, Crutchie and Jack following.

Race and his roommates were talking and mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, nobody tired because they weren’t expecting to be in bed so soon when the room’s phone rang. Race, his bed being next to the phone on the nightstand, answered.

“Hello?” Race asked, confused.

“Hey, this Racer?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yeah, Spot?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Why are you calling my room? Nobody uses these phones.” Race sat up against the headboard, answering Jack and Crutchie’s confused faces with a shrug.

“That dude can’t stop me from talking to people,” Spot said. “So you’re using the shitty hotel phones as your way of sticking it to the man?” Race asked, smiling.

“Honestly, it was the first thing I thought of. What are you guys up to? You with Crutch and Cowboy?”

“Yeah, we were just hanging around. Weren’t expecting to be in bed this early.” Race got comfortable, falling into the conversation.

“Yeah, this totally blows. No offense to my roommates but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending the entire night with them.” Race heard a muffled “Dude we’re right here,” from the other line.

And so, they kept talking. About the day, the plans they had for tomorrow, the crazy English teacher they shared. It was hard to believe that they’d hardly talked before tonight.

Race hadn’t noticed the time passing until Jack and Crutchie were both ready to sleep.

“Racer, I don’t wanna put an end to your endless flirting but Crutch and I are gonna go to bed. Wanna do us a favor and shut the fuck up? Ain't this what texting was invented for?” Jack plugged his phone in and set it on the nightstand before taking his socks off and getting into bed. Race checked the clock on the dresser. 3:42.

“Shit, Spot. We should probably get some sleep.” Race said, giving an apologetic smile to Jack. Jack rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, I guess. Talk to ya soon Racer.”

Race set down the phone and got up to take his contacts out.

“You two talked for a while,” Crutchie called from his bed to Race in the bathroom.

“He’s just easy to talk to I guess. I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never really talked to him much before.” Race washed his hands and stared at his tired eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah and so are we,” Jack called. “You just ignored us for like four hours. I didn’t realize you were trying to get a man this weekend.”

“Shut up, I’m not,” Race walked out of the bathroom wearing his glasses. “He called here, I just had a conversation. Besides, he could have been calling for any of us.”

“Whatever you say but neither of us would have talked to Spot Conlon for more than a minute before hanging up. Right, Crutch?” Jack turned the light off as Race got into bed.

“Honestly I’m surprised you answered the phone,” answered Crutchie.

“So what? I’m personable and you’re jealous. Good night fellas.” Race set his glasses on the nightstand and resisted the urge to text Spot. His number sat unused in Race’s phone. It would be weird if Race texted him, he’s sure Spot only talked to Race to have something to do. No big deal.

The next morning was business as usual. Jack, Race, and Crutchie woke up and groaned about being tired for only a minute before getting ready for the day. The days at the conference were long and busy with little downtime outside of meals so they packed their bags with snacks and their notebooks and phone chargers before meeting up with some of the others to go to breakfast. The three boys along with Davey, Katherine and Finch all met in the hallway and we’re about to leave when another door opened and out stepped Spot.

“Hey, guys. You heading to breakfast?” Spot asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah, you wanna join us?” Asked Davey.

“Thanks. I didn’t get a ton of sleep and my roommates were out early.” The group started walking toward the elevators.

“I wonder why.” Jack elbowed Race in the side as soon as Spot was out of earshot.

Race wasn’t sure how to act. It’s not like he and Spot are best friends. They’ve hardly spent any time together. Sure, now Race knows that Spot wants to be a lawyer and he loves meatball subs and his guilty pleasure is The Bachelorette but still, he hardly actually knows him.

“Shut up, Jack. I don’t wanna hear it.” Race replied quietly yet seriously.

Spot, Katherine, and Finch walked ahead, having some conversation the others couldn’t hear. “What’s going on with Spot and Race?” Davey asked.

“Nothing,” Race insisted but at the same time Crutchie replied, “They spent all night flirting on the hotel phone.”

“Really? Race and Spot Conlon? Not exactly a pair I would put together.”

“Dave, I’m literally standing right here.” Race rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, buddy. Maybe next time if you wanna flirt discreetly do it over text.”

“That’s what I said!” Jack said excitedly, bouncing as he walked.

Race took his phone from his pocket and checked his notifications, ignoring the conversation between the others.

The days at the conference are long and busy. After breakfast they broke into leadership workshops with students from other schools and Race didn’t see his friends for any longer than a passing by in the hallway. He didn’t mind, though. He loves reconnecting with old friends who he hasn’t seen in months or even since the last conference the year before. He plays games and light-hearted get-to-know-you’s while having serious discussions about inclusion and fundraising and school politics. It’s all of Race’s favorite things wrapped into one.

He didn’t think about Spot or Jack or Crutchie, he just had fun, took notes and made friends. After the workshops, they met in the main hall for a keynote speaker. There’s no losing with these. Either they’re very motivational and moving or they're terrible and the council can make jokes about them in the group chat. Race ignored the sadness he felt when Spot sat at a different table. They’re not even really friends, why should he care that he didn’t sit with Race and his friends? He shook off his emotions and took a SnapChat video of Jack under Davey’s arm to caption with a disgusted emoji. There’s no reason he should be bothered by Spot so he’ll just carry on.

That night was the fancy night. There was a banquet where everyone had to dress up and they gave out awards and recognized the best advisors and people gave speeches. But most importantly, it’s boring. The speeches were long and Race never knew who any of the people are anyway. The only benefits are the good food and being able to mess around with his friends with the added thrill of needing to be quiet. Everything’s funnier when you’re not supposed to laugh.

Because the banquet was formal, there was extra time for everyone to get ready than there would usually be for an evening program. Race isn’t finicky about his look. He doesn’t usually try to manage his curls more than wetting and brushing them and that’s the extent of his cosmetic routine. Jack, on the other hand, is surprisingly precise about getting his hair just right and looking his best. Maybe it’s an artist thing, like his hair is a canvas and his too-strong smelling pomade is the paint. Race is sure it also doesn’t help his time management that Davey is sitting on the counter in the bathroom while Jack gets ready in the mirror, but that’s none of his business.

So, Race was lying in bed, already in his dress shirt and bowtie waiting for the rest of his peers to be ready to leave. Eventually, as he waited, people joined him and his room became the hangout for the boys who were already ready to go.

There were probably about eight guys in the room already when Spot walked in. He was wearing a dark navy shirt with a grey tie and he looked incredible. Race fell from second place to seventh on the game of Mario Kart they were playing on Elmer’s Switch when Spot walked in.

“Hey, fellas. I heard some fun in here so I thought I’d stop by.” Spot took a seat on Race’s bed and began watching the game.

“Yeah, man, no problem. We got time to kill and snacks and Mario Kart, I dunno why you’d be anywhere else.” Jack said without taking his eyes off the screen. He was in tenth place but still determined to win. From his spot on the bed, Jack elbowed Race, looking over at him with a small grin. Race glared back.

Spot took a seat on the office chair in the room. “Who’s who?” Spot said, leaning over to see the screen.

“I’m top right,” said Race.

“Damn, Higgins. Seventh place? You gotta step up.” Spot began spinning in the chair.

“Yeah, I was almost in the lead but I got distracted.” Race concentrated on the screen.

“Oh yeah? By what?” Spot stopped the chair’s movement to look at Race.

Race froze. “Uh, nothing. Never mind.”

“Real smooth, Racer.” Jack grinned.

“Shut up, Jack. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Race looked up from the screen to steal a glance at Spot. Race swears he could see Spot look away before they could make eye contact; as if Spot was looking at Race and didn’t want to get caught. Race grinned and focused his attention back to the game, shooting into third place.

Race ended in third and gave up his spot for the next game, allowing someone else to play. He moved onto Jack’s bed, closer to the desk Spot was sitting in.

“You’re not gonna play?” Race asked Spot.

“Nah, you guys seem to be having fun.” Spot shook his head.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with us.”

“I don’t wanna intrude.”

“It’s not intruding.” Race said, “we’re all here for the same reason. We’re all hanging out.”

“Thanks, Race. Maybe later.” Spot took his phone out of his pocket and looked away from Race. It might be his imagination but Race thinks he can see Spot smile. It feels good to know that he is the one who caused it.

“Is anyone naked in here?” A voice came from outside the door.

“Yeah, Kat. We all are, come on in.” Jack called back.

The door opened. “Shut up, I wanted to make sure it was safe to enter. You guys ready?”

Katherine looked beautiful with her makeup done and her dress complimenting her body.

“We good fellas?” asked Jack. The guys began gathering their things and heading toward the door.

“You look beautiful, Katherine.” Race said, “That dress is bangin’”

“Aw, thanks, Racetrack. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Everyone met in the hallway and Medda led them down to the banquet hall. They took some group pictures and Race became a designated photographer for some of the girls having photoshoots for Instagram before he got dragged into some photos himself.

He loved this environment, where everyone was friends even if they don’t talk much at school. Maybe that’s why Spot’s been talking to him. Not because he wants to talk to Race, in particular, he just has been in the mood to be social, to meet people, to bond. That was probably it. There was no reason for Spot to call Race’s room, he probably didn’t even know who was in each room. And he could have wanted to talk to Jack or Crutchie. There was nothing there.

Race was determined to not let this realization ruin his mood. The dinner on banquet night is always the best and the way the council sneaks videos of each other failing to stay awake during the speeches is one of his favorite parts of the night. He still has that and he has his friends with him and that’s all he needs.

In the banquet hall Race sat next to Davey and Katherine, which means Jack, Crutchie, and Sarah were coming in tow. The rest of the council filled into the tables nearby, and the chatter and excitement for dinner and the dance later that night filled the room.

Race’s mood didn’t fall for the rest of the night. The dinner ended and people were clearing the hall to prepare for the dance. They were serving ice cream in the hotel lobby to keep the students busy while they put the tables away. The excitement of the dance that night echoed through the lobby as people lined up to get back into the hall.

The dance was crowded and hot and sweaty and shouldn’t be enjoyable but Race was in his element. His throat hurt from screaming the lyrics to random pop songs as well as student government favorites but he wouldn’t have it any other way. A slow song came on and Race left the dance floor. He could see his coupled friends move toward each other and some of his other friends dance together as a half-joke half-platonic loving gesture. Race headed to the refreshments to get some water.

He was filling his cup when someone came up behind him.

“Hey, Racer.”

Race turned around to see Spot Conlon behind him holding an empty cup.

“Spot, hey. Slow songs not your thing?” Race took a sip.

“Not when I have nobody to dance with.” Spot filled his own cup.

“Yeah, I feel that.”

“Is there something weird between us?” Spot asked suddenly. “We talked so much last night but today it’s like we don’t even know each other.”

“Oh, thank God.” Race let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The lights changed and Race’s favorite song started playing. “I gotta go, but let’s just say if you called again tonight, I’d answer.” Race threw away his cup and ran toward the dancefloor. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

The dance ended and Race and his friends were walking back to their rooms. When they turned the corner down the hall they saw the same man from the night before waiting by their rooms.

“There someone you’re looking for?” Asked Jack.

“No, I’m just here to make sure this council stays in their assigned rooms tonight, it seems you can’t be trusted.” The man stood with his arms crossed, looking down the hallway.

“Alright then, good night I guess.” Jack took his keycard out and opened their room and Race and Crutchie followed him in.

“That seems unnecessary,” said Crutchie.

“Yeah, totally,” Race said but he was too focused on the phone. He hadn’t talked to Spot since he saw him at the dance.

Race took a shower, hoping the whole time that the phone wouldn’t ring while he was bathing. Because it seemed that this year there would be no council bonding this year Race brushed his teeth and took his contacts out before changing into pajamas. He was sitting on his bed texting his mom when the phone rang.

“Hey.” Race tried to not sound too excited.

“What’s up, Racer?”

“Not much, apparently. I can’t believe that guy won’t let us hang out in Medda’s room”

“Don’t worry. I figured out a way. Come through the sliding door.”

Race looked across the room to the door leading to a courtyard. The hotel was shaped like a rectangle with a garden in the center. Race can’t believe he hadn’t thought of this. If the people on this side of the hall go through the courtyard they could get into each other’s rooms.

“Spot, you’re a genius.” Race hung up the phone and headed toward the door, ignoring Crutchie asking where he’s going.

When Race got outside he saw Spot waiting with a smug grin on his face.

“Nice glasses, Racetrack.”

Spot was still wearing his formalwear from the dance and Spot was suddenly very aware of his flannel pajama pants and glasses.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting to see anyone but Jack and Crutch tonight.”

Spot’s grin grew. “So if you knew you were gonna see me you would’ve gotten all dolled up?”

Race could feel his cheeks grow red. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Race?” Spot asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna kiss me as badly as I wanna kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Race repeated with a smile.

“Get over here, then.”

Race stepped forward, closing the space between them. Spot’s arms wrapped around Race’s waist and he pulled him closer. Race didn’t know how badly he wanted this until it started happening but now he can’t imagine a world without Spot. Two days ago Race and Spot hardly spoke. They had different friends, different classes, different lives and Race had no clue what he was missing out on.

They separated when they heard the door to Race’s room open.

“Racetrack Higgins, you mean to tell me that you found a way to hang out with other rooms and you didn’t tell us so that you could stand out in the cold and make out with Spot?” Jack looked offended as he walked outside, Crutchie following.

“It was Spot’s idea.” Race said, defensively.

“Hey, don’t bring me into this.” Spot whacked Race on the chest.

“It doesn’t matter.” Crutchie shut the door behind him. “We’re gonna be in Finch and Dave’s room. We’ll text when we’re heading back.” Crutchie’s smile implied that he knew exactly what they were doing as they left the room empty.

It was well past midnight when Jack and Crutchie were crossing back through the courtyard back to their room. Race hadn’t answered their texts and they feared they were going to see more than they ever wanted to see when they opened the door.

Crutchie walked inside and was surprised to see Spot and Race cuddled under the blankets on Race’s bed, Race’s glasses smashed against his face.

“Aw, they’re sweet.” Crutchie looked to Jack, smiling. Jack still had a hand over his eyes. “Jack, you’re ridiculous you can open your eyes.”

“You can never be too safe, Crutch. I didn’t need any new mental scars tonight.”

They decided to let the boys sleep, nobody got enough sleep at these conferences anyway. They were leaving the next morning and it’s always difficult to get up and pack when they haven’t slept all weekend. So, they were quiet as they got themselves ready for bed before they shut the light off and went to sleep.

The next morning Spot woke up confused as to where he was. It wasn’t until he saw Race standing across the room that his confusion melted away into a smile.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Race said, his words muffled into his toothbrush. “You should probably head back to your room to pack and get ready for breakfast.”

Spot pried himself from the bed, groaning at the discomfort as he stood. “I can’t believe you guys let me sleep in my dress clothes.”

“Sorry, man, but I think there would have been bloodshed if we woke you up,” Crutchie responded as he packed his suitcase.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Spot walked to Race and pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving the room. Race was giddy as he went back into the bathroom to spit his toothpaste.

“So, things seem pretty good with you guys, what happened last night?” Jack asked.

“We did what we’re best at. We talked.”

#Sprace #sprace fic #modern sprace #Newsies #Modern Newsies #newsies fanfiction #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #race higgins #sprace fluff #twist writes #fanfiction #fluff #student council au #newsies au

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part four) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part four: Y/N begins to feel more at home, getting the hang of the daily routine at the ranch. But her world is finally complete when her horse arrives. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Sunshine’ by Ryan Bingham, ‘The Stable Song’ by Gregory Alan Isakov. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“You haven't mucked many stables in your life, have ya?”

Panting, Y/N stops with what she’s doing, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. After turning out all the animals, Dean and Jo started training the horses, while she was assigned to assist Garth to muck out the twenty stables. The air might have cooled between the head wrangler and herself, he did not lie when he said that he was not going to treat her differently than any other intern. As she anticipated, she landed a dirty job, quite literally. Out of breath, she turns to face Garth in the doorway, who is leaning on a pitchfork. He has his eyebrows raised, but his smile is gentle. With her pitchfork still stuck in the mixture of sawdust and manure, she chuckles nervously. Is it that obvious that she has absolutely no idea what she is doing? The stable boy has got her figured out, but she is not entirely ready to admit it yet. In another attempt to lift the heavy clunk off the concrete, she’s able to pull it up a few inches, but then she has to admit her defeat; it’s just too heavy. “Guilty,” she sighs.

“Here, let me help,” Garth offers. “What you basically do with each stable, is quickly scoop the clean shavings in one corner and only take out what’s dirty. Don't bite off more than you can chew, alright? If you try to clean out the stable in one haul, you’ll ruin your back. Make sure the wheelbarrow is already pointing into the direction of the shitpit, so that you don't have to turn it when it's full.” “The shitpit? Really?” Y/N grins, assuming he meant the muck heap. “It has a nice ring to it,” the guy returns, sniggering over his own choice of words. He demonstrates quickly, moving the clean shavings aside and picking up the darkened wooden fibers with his pitchfork, hurling it into the wheelbarrow swiftly. “Don't be too neat about it, the ponies are gonna drop their chocolate muffins the moment they step back in. Make sure most of it is out,” Garth scoops up the last droppings, then twists the handle and pulls the clean shavings back to the center of the stall, “then even out what's left and if necessary add a little more shavings.”

The tactic helps, and Y/N cleans out the next stable a lot faster than she did the previous one. Yet she can't keep up with Garth, who finishes his row when she has barely reached the fifth box. Already she feels exhausted. Aching shoulders, a sore back, and already blisters start to develop on her hands during the very first hour of hard labor. On top of all that, she is so hungry that she can hear her stomach growl above the sound of Ryan Bingham’s ‘Sunshine’ blasting from the radio. Breakfast sure sounds good by now. Twenty minutes past eight she finishes her final stable while the slender stable boy is sweeping the hallway. He is done by the time she returns with an empty wheelbarrow, which she turns over against the wall next to the other. Jo and Dean return from the arena, cooling the horses down by walking circles around the Joshua tree. For a second, Y/N watches the head wrangler on the beautiful buckskin with black manes and a shiny, golden coat. Her breath is stolen from her for a short second.

Holy mother of God; he looks good on a horse.

Even though the American Quarter is only walking, she can tell he’s a good rider. The way he comfortably adjusts his balance with the movements of the animal under him, the end of the reins loosely between his fingers and his free hand rests on his upper leg as he talks to Jo; riding comes naturally. It is like breathing to him, he doesn't even have to think about it. Jo seems at home in her beautifully hand-crafted saddle as well. “I don't know about y’all, but I could eat.” Benny leans against the large doorway, lifts his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then puts it back on. He picks a pack of Lucky Strike from his back pocket, as well as his zippo, and lights a smoke. He generously smiles at Y/N after taking a drag, and for a second she senses that Dean isn’t the only one who is interested in the fresh face. Well, fresh? Not so much after mucking out stalls in eighty-seven degrees, but then again, neither is the farrier. His shirt is drenched, dark stains on the center of his chest. A little insecure about his intentions, she smiles back sheepishly, after which Benny thankfully shifts his attention to the riders. “Still comfortable up there, Chief? Get your lazy ass off that horse, us workin’ men gotta still our hunger,” he nags. Dean chuckles, amused by the harmless bantering of his best friend. “Somebody has to do the ridin’ and keep the horse beneath,” he counters, as he swings his right leg over the back of the horse and lowers himself to the ground. "One time, brother,” the Southerling sighs, shaking his head. “One time you saw me fall off that bronc and you still hold that against me? That was six years ago!”

Y/N looks from Benny to Dean, who has tied his buckskin to the pole under the Joshua tree and now loosens the cinch of the saddle. The intern takes her cue and walks over to help, partly trying to make up for the attitude she gave him the night before, but also to impress him with her eagerness. The head wrangler grins at her over the back of his horse as his friend continues to argue over what’s true and what's exaggerated about the event that his friend just brought up. Y/N can’t hide her smile either; she would like to see where this is heading. “Oh, you didn't just fall off that bronc. That was the biggest face plant in the history of the State of Arizona,” Dean corrects, slightly overdoing it to the amusement of the others. “C’mon now, it wasn't like that,” Benny responds. Dean opens the faucet and starts to hose down the Quarter, washing the dirt and sweat out of its golden coat. In the meantime Y/N takes off the bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, trying not to snigger. “Benny, be fair. There's still a dent in the arena footing where you touched down with that brick head of yours,” Jo chips in. Y/N snorts and Dean breaks out in full-body laughter, only fueled by the stunned expression of the farrier, the cigarette still hanging from his parted lips. He doesn't have a counter ready. “I ain’t talkin’ to you folks no more,” he mutters eventually, after which he saunters away, mumbling something unintelligible.

Dean smirks, and eyes the intern again over the arch of the buckskin’s back, running his hand through the horse's wet mane, after which he gives the stallion a pat on the shoulder. He's trying to suppress the trace of victory before the others notice. What was this whole little challenge with his friend about? Truly just his colleague’s legendary fall? Dean saw how his pal smiled at Y/N and felt his gut twist and turn at the sight. He knows Benny, he knows that grin. And although she obviously belongs to nobody and the two men usually don't mind when one gives it a go with the girl who the other is chasing, Dean felt the need to claim her. When the farrier mocked him on making slow time, he instantly took that opportunity to put him back in his place. He wonders if Benny picked up on his reasoning, and what if she did? The cowboy tries to read her as he lifts the heavy saddle off the pole. “Wanna bring him back to his stable?” he asks with a gentle voice. “Led is in the second on the left.” “Sure.” She smiles, glad to get the responsibility of one of his horses. But then she realizes something. Led? Who calls his horse Led? Unless… “Led, as in ‘Led Zeppelin’?” she wonders, as she unties the beautiful stallion. Surprised Dean frowns at her and looks over his shoulder. “You know this horse?” She scoffs. “No, but I know the band.”

Feeling the cowboy's eyes on her, she can tell that he’s impressed, and instantly the heat rushes to her cheeks. Why are you feeling so flushed every time he directs his gaze to you? She wonders. You're that confident girl who gave him a run for his money last night. Where did she go? But something about his ways leaves her a doubtful mess inside. “You know Led Zeppelin?” Dean appeared again, resting his strong forearms on the stable door. Apparently he stored away the saddle in the tack room and made it back in record time. She piqued his interest earlier, but now he just can’t help himself. “I’m familiar with their music, yeah,” she admits, undoing Led from his halter, after which she intends to exit the box. “Prove it,” he challenges, holding the door for her. “First song of the second album.” “Whole Lotta Love,” she recalls without blinking, confidence returning now that he started on a subject she’s an expert on. “Name of the fifth album.” She grins as the two of them start making their way, joined by Jo and Garth, who helped her tack down the grey she was riding. “Houses of the Holy,” she answers. He laughs. “Well, I’ll be damned. Where have you been hiding all my life?”

She can’t stop herself from chuckling as she looks down, catching Jo’s eye roll as she does. It's clear the blonde cowgirl is not impressed with her cousin’s smooth talk and it brings Y/N back to earth. Yes, she gives Dean the benefit of the doubt, but Jo warned her for a reason. This is his usual M.O, he tells this to all the girls, the convincing voice in her mind tells her. There is nothing special about you. “What’s your favorite Led Zep song?” Dean wonders. “Right now at this very moment?” She steals a playful glance at him from under her Milano hat. “It would be a tie between What Is And What Should Never Be and Ramble On.”

Dean opens his mouth to respond as he pushes open the heavy door to the small cafeteria, but then the titles dawn on him. The double meaning behind her peculiar choice of songs doesn't go unnoticed with his colleagues either, because Jo throws him a wide grin, and Garth sniggers. He shakes his head, but can’t hide the ear to ear smile. Before the wrangler can fire back, he enters the lounge area, the smell of bacon, fresh bread, and pancakes filling his nostrils like it does every morning. Aunt Ellen, his dear aunt Ellen. Everyone who works at this ranch should be thanking the man upstairs for this woman who makes the best scrambled eggs in the country.

“Well, come on in, y’all!” She greets the workers, stirring the delicious smelling food in the frying pan, after which she starts scooping the eggs on the plates. “The food ain't sittin’ here to get cold.” With a watering mouth, Y/N settles down on the chair opposite of Bobby, who is already sipping on his coffee while Benny puts a fresh pot on the table. Ash hits the radio, letting Americana music mix with chatter. When everyone is seated, Ellen turns to Y/N. “Now honey, here we pray before our meal. Feel free to join us, but it’s perfectly fine if you don’t,” she informs the intern with a gentleness in her voice that makes her feel comfortable, whatever option she chooses. Ellen takes her husband’s hand and squeezes it sweetly, then turns to one of the wranglers. “Ash? I believe it’s your turn for prayers.” “Great, ‘cause I’m starvin’,” Ash states, apparently keeping things short. “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat!” “Amen!” Benny adds, not wasting a second before starting on his breakfast.

Y/N grins at the sight of the two men, who couldn’t be more different, devouring the food as her neighbor Jo shakes her head disapproving, muttering ‘savages’. Laughing, Garth reaches over the table for a freshly baked bun while Bobby asks for the butter, and passes the ketchup to his daughter before she can ask for it. The blonde squirts the red sauce on her stir-fried eggs, leaving her bacon unattended long enough for Ash to almost steal it from her, had Ellen not smacked him on the hand with a spatula. The intern might have stumbled on a ranch that at the surface seems a little dysfunctional with workers and wranglers that occasionally score high on the crazy scale, but somehow she feels like she fits in. The fear of not being accepted was washed away by the welcoming comfort that reflects from every single one present in this room. She is a part of this already.

As she chews on the delicious bacon while laughing over one of Benny’s funny stories, she glances across the table, catching Dean looking over. It startles her a little, but she doesn’t look away and neither does he. For just a moment, she could swear she caught him off guard when she laid eyes on him, or did she imagine him flinching? The exchange of looks lasts several seconds as the cowboy keeps a hold of her gaze, letting her dwell in his emerald greens, before Bobby breaks the moment unintentionally by elbowing his head wrangler when he tries to pick one of the sausages out of the pan in front of him. Relieved, Y/N breathes and take a swig of her glass of orange juice. How many times does she have to remind herself that the only reason she’s here, is to prove to her dad that she can run her own business? She has to stay focused, remember what Jo told her, and do what she came here to do. Yet the presence of the tall and handsome cowboy with dark blonde hair, gorgeous eyes, and a killer smile is going to make that difficult. She doesn't even have to make it through the first day to figure that much.

Honestly, Y/N has no idea what she was so worried about in the weeks prior to this internship. Working at the ranch proves to be hard labor, but the physical aspect of the job is about the only one she needs to adjust to. The rookie picks up quickly and doesn't have to be told twice, which is noticed by the crew. Garth especially compliments her on occasion, which fuels her confidence and motivates her to a degree that the soreness of her body is forgotten. After breakfast, the trail horses are brought in and tied up at the tack up area, where she and Jo prepare them for the first ride of the day. While handling some of the four-legged workers, she tries to remember the names and characteristics of each. She gets to know Teddy, an easy-going, brown gelding whose full name is Ted Nugent, and Pink Floyd, a small chestnut with a peculiar scar on his shoulder in the shape of a triangle; a visible memory of an old injury he suffered when he ran through a fence as a foal. Then there's Bowie, a red roan with a zigzag marking on his forehead, Joplin, a dark mare, and Dylan, a pinto coming of age but is still going strong. Seems like Dean got a little carried away when naming the animals, it’s hard to miss the rock theme. Jo takes a group of five inexperienced riders for a slow ride, while Garth continues to tack up training horses for the head wrangler, so that he can get off one and on the next. At that pace, eight horses have their workout before lunch. Between sweeping floors and turning out horses, Y/N manages to catch a glimpse of the training, and even though she doesn't want to get caught leaning on a broom, she can't stop her gaze from drifting over to the arena. The skilled rider is a joy to watch, and not just because he looks good doing it. Not once does he use force to control the horse, and the extent of his patience is remarkable, especially when one of the young stallions acts up. Without a shadow of a doubt, Y/N is going to learn a lot from him, she can't wait for her horse to arrive.

After lunch - which again is served by Ellen and tastes absolutely devine - the crew retreats to the bunkhouse for their two-hour siesta. Ash lays across the entire couch, completely out of it and snoring loudly, while Benny watches daytime television. The others went back to their rooms, all but Y/N. Impatiently, she draws marks in the sand with the heel of her boot, as she sits on the lowest step of the porch, gazing at the road that meets the private drive, about a half a mile further up. The heat is close to unbearable, even here in the shade droplets of sweat run down her chest. She understands the necessity of the break after experiencing her first day in extreme conditions, because working in these temperatures would be torture. A fly bugs the young woman; she smacks the insect out of her face while she wonders when the special delivery will finally arrive. The transporter called an hour ago that he had made good time and would probably arrive at the ranch half past noon. Which would be right about now, according to her phone. Y/N sighs and snaps her eyes at the main road again.

“What time are you expecting your horse?" Dean slowly walks up from behind. She can feel the wood creak under her as he steps closer. His voice is enough to make her breath hitch a little, although she’s not sure if that’s because his sudden appearance startles her, or because he simply has that effect on her respiration. Quick to cover her surprise, she answers him without moving from her spot. “Five minutes ago.” Now she does look over her shoulder, watching him come closer with two cans of Coca-Cola in his hands. He offers her one, which she takes gladly and thanks him for, then she straightens herself again. “I hope she’s alright,” she sighs, expressing her concern as she opens the drink. “It’s a long drive from Maine, ain't it?” Dean assumes. “Thirty-five hours on the trailer,” she replies. “They stopped for the night in Tulsa, but still.”

He leans against one of the struts supporting the roof. The wrangler sips on his cool drink, clasping his lips around the opening in the can as he tilts his head back and takes a swig, exposing his neck as he does so. Y/N can't help but notice. Damn, that jawline… She snaps out of it and rips her eyes from him before he catches her swooning. Good call, because he looks down on her a second later. “What’s your horse's name?” “Meadowsweet.” She smiles. “Quarter?” he asks again. Y/N nods. “Sired by Gunner.” Dean raises his brows impressed. Gunner is a leading National Reining Horse Association stallion, one of the few to earn over five million dollars in offspring, and is inducted into the NRHA Hall of Fame. Foals from his descent are known for their talent and eagerness to perform. That stallion has brought some of the best reining horses in the world. “Don't worry about it. The transporter would have called if anything had occurred,” he reassures, comfortingly. “And all the horses that come through those barn doors, settle in just fine. These lands have this… peacefulness over them. It’s a good place for the soul, horse and human. You’ll see.” Calmed by his gentle words, Y/N lets her gaze drift off, the corner of her mouth curling up. Then she glances up at the wrangler, whose eyes haven't left her yet. “Has it been good for you, too?” He scoffs. “Like you wouldn't believe.” It's the way he delivers those words, that tempts Y/N to read the man in her company. How old would he be? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine, maybe? But it's without a doubt that in those years he has been through plenty. The cynical chuckle before he spoke, the way he averted his eyes immediately, those tiny tells just unraveled more than his confident talk and cheery appearance plus Jo’s warnings about the wrangler combined. “How come?” she asks before she can stop herself. A little thrown back by her unexpected question, Dean steals a glance, grinning at her nosiness. Instantly the blood rushes to her face again as she closes her eyes and covers her face with both hands. God! Why can't you simply think through what you are about to say before you blurt it out?! “Sorry, that was inappropriate. Again,” she excuses herself. “No, no. It’s quite alright,” Dean says, putting her mind to rest. Usually, the wrangler isn’t eager on opening up about his past. It's something he keeps to himself and only very few know more about. He closed that book a long time ago, so he keeps it simple. “My mom died when I was young, Dad wasn't around much,” he explains. “I came to live on the ranch when I was fourteen and I never left.” Silenced, Y/N watches him, eyes big and filling with sympathy. “No brothers and sisters?” she wonders. Now she pulls on his heartstrings, even though Dean tries to suppress what he feels within. Yet his jaw flexes, his head tips down as the brightness in his eyes fades. “I have a brother. But - uh... He ran away from home before I left myself,” Dean elaborates. “I haven’t seen him since. I don't know where he's at.”

With empathy heavy on her chest, she tries to think of something to say in order to turn this conversation on a less depressing course than the one it’s sailing now. Y/N breathes out, though. Seems like for the first time since the two met, she’s clueless about what to say, and so she states the obvious. “I'm sorry,” she says, internally kicking herself in the head for bringing out the skeletons in his closet. “Don't be. I landed on my feet,” Dean assures, trying to take away her discomfort with a smile. “These lands, this ranch; this is home. And the people runnin’ it and workin’ here are my family. Life’s good.” He means that: she can tell, because the passion returns in his powerful gaze. Soothed by the sight of his contentment, she smiles down at the empty can in her hand, which she’s torn the cap from.

“And you? Any siblings?” Dean returns, genuinely interested. “Yeah, three brothers actually. All older than me.” She grins at that. “Whoa, that must have been a challenge.” The wrangler chuckles as he takes the last sip of his Coke. “Not so much. They toughened me up and when it came down to it, and were always there to protect me. Plus, I did learn how to build a treehouse and I’m a pretty good wrestler too,” she adds. The cowboy smirks imagining it. “And how does a girl like you know so much about Led Zeppelin?” he wonders. Y/N furrows her brow. “A girl like me ?” “Yeah, I mean… Y’know,” he mutters, a little unsettled by her tone. “From upstate, young, twenty… something.” Shit. He's digging his own grave here. “Twenty-four,” she fills in for him, amused by his stumbling, “and I like to think I have an old soul, but really it was my Grandfather who introduced me to music.” “He did a good job teaching you then,” Dean compliments, looking down at his cowboy boots and still trying to overcome the near-miss. “He did. He was amazing. Meadow was actually a gift from him,” she tells.

Was. He was amazing.

Dean peeks at the intriguing woman from under his lashes. He doesn't need to be a genius to figure out that her Granddad isn't amongst them anymore. A short silence follows as Dean ponders on how to continue the conversation, when a dust cloud on the driveway catches his attention. His focus on the horizon triggers Y/N to get up and look in the same direction.

A bright shimmer of sunlight bounces off the aluminum trailer pulled by a red Dodge, which approaches slowly in the distance. A whirlwind of excitement blows through her as she looks over at Dean. Then she gets down from the porch and heads off to meet them. “Need help unloading?” he checks before following his intern. “Yeah, I can use a hand,” she says, looking over her shoulder. And so he follows. By the time they reach the square in front of the horse barn, the pickup turns onto the parking lot and comes to a stop. A middle-aged man with a black beard turns towards her after getting out of his truck, reaching out to shake her hand. “Y/N L/N?” he checks. She nods. “Yes, that’s me.” A loud neigh sounds from the trailer, followed by stomping. Meadow heard her owner loud and clear and her response puts a smile on the cowgirl’s face. She missed her horse, but it seems like her friend is glad to see her human too. “Was she okay?” Y/N checks with the transporter as she circles the trailer. “A little restless every now and then, but other than that she did fine,” he says, taking the safety pins out of the heavy handle, turning it open.

Dean had done so on the other side as well and the men lower the ramp to the gravel. Inside two pointy small ears are pinned towards the light. Meadowsweet's trademark white face stands out in the shade as she yanks on the chain that prevents her from turning around. It’s for her own good, too much freedom during travel could cause her to lose her balance and fall. But she doesn't understand the restrain, and the mare seems to be insulted by the limitation to her movement. All she wants now is to get out, eat, drink, and stretch her legs. A soft low purr comes Y/N’s way, her nostrils flaring. After days on the road, taken away from home by a man she didn't recognize, a familiar face calms her. Softly hushing her horse, Y/N walks up to her, takes the lead rope, and clasps it to her handcrafted halter. She releases the chain and pushes open the divider, guiding her horse down the ramp while both Dean and the driver stand on each side of it, making sure Meadow doesn't step next to the lit. Alert, the mare looks around, taking in her new environment. The Arizona sun shines on her light brown coat, revealing a beautiful copper shine. A second neigh reverberates under the high roof of the barn when Y/N leads the Quarterhorse to the first stable on the right. Her call is countered by an echo produced by the other horses, who seem to welcome their new neighbor. Dean follows with the luggage, the heavy saddle under one arm and dragging her large tack box on wheels behind him. “What did you pack? Bricks?” he complains, grimacing, moving the equivalent of a woman’s suitcase on holiday; a lot of stuff she’s never going to use or wear, but might need.

Y/N presses her lips together and chuckles a little embarrassed. Yeah, maybe she went a little overboard while packing. She undoes Meadow from her halter and lets her be for a bit, smiling at how the mare curiously sniffs every inch of her new box. When she has decided her stable is safe, she circles around a couple of times, adjusts her bedding by digging through the wood shavings with her front leg, after which she lowers to her knees and falls on her side, taking a long-anticipated roll. She rolls over once, twice, then gets up and shakes off the sawdust, after which she looks at her human friend. "Satisfied?” Y/N asks, amused. Meadow sighs, pushing out a long breath, and starts eating the hay; seems like the Queen approves. Shaking her head with a smirk on her face, her owner closes the box. The driver walks up to her with the paperwork and a pen. “If you could sign this, I’ll be out of your hair,” he requests, handing over the papers and Meadow's FEI passport. Y/N leaves her autograph on the bottom line and hands the paperwork back. After exchanging another handshake, the man returns to his truck and starts the engine. As they watch him drive off, she lets out a sigh, the weight of the world finally falling off her shoulders. “Told ya she would be fine,” Dean reminds her, leaning on the stable door and admiring the beautiful mare in the box. Y/N smiles as she joins him, forking her fingers together while resting her arms on the edge. “Thanks,” she responds, genuinely.

He was right, and for the first time since the young woman arrived, a sense of true calm washes over her. Now that Meadow is here, everything is exactly how it should be. Her horse arrived safely and seems fit and well. Y/N can spend time with her again, more than she ever could when she was still in Uni. Now the adventure can truly begin. “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. Work starts at two again,” Dean informs, assuming that his intern plans to stay. She watches him walk off down the alley between the stables, and takes a short second to appreciate the view. His hickory colored western hat is tipped forward to protect his face from the sun, the collar of his plaid blouse up, the hem at the bottom tucked into his jeans. Denim covers his O-shaped legs, which are probably a result of spending years of his life in the saddle. A muscular back, broad shoulders, strong arms. It doesn't matter from which angle she admires him, he’s insanely gorgeous. Another result of all that training and hard work is his well-shaped a-- A wet nose slobbers over Y/N’s face, pulling a startled gasp from her. Meadow took the liberty to awaken her owner from her thoughts, right after drinking from the automatic waterer. Oh well, she needed a shower anyway. “It’s good to see you too, sugar,” she laughs, petting the horse. “Talking about sugar…” She digs deep in her pocket. The motion of her hand alone triggers Meadow to extend her neck and ask for the treat with her intense dark eyes. Y/N finds a sugar cube, takes her horse’s favorite candy out and feeds it to the bay mare. Grateful, she crunches the sweet between her molars and begs for more, but her owner holds up her hands innocently. “I'm out,” she says, sorry to disappoint. Not taking her words for granted, the smart animal searches her boss’s pockets, first left, then right, then gives her a look that expresses something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ To make it up to the mare, Y/N rubs her neck, softly scratching near her withers. Clearly enjoying the grooming, the mare nozzles her upper lip and turns her head a little. The cowgirl chuckles at the sight, once again realizing how much she missed her company. She mist her whiskers brushing against her hand as she reaches to touch her, and the gentleness in her eyes when she’s at ease. Y/N’s hand lingers on the flat surface of Meadow’s forehead, between her eyes. It’s a horse’s blind spot, where she can't see her. Touching a horse there requires trust, yet there isn't a single fiber in Meadow’s body that isn't comfortable with her owner, not even her instincts. The mare even lowers her head further, a sign of relaxation and submission. Y/N lets her hand slide down her face and rest on her strong jaw, as she lays her cheek against Meadow’s white blaze, closing her eyes for a moment. Dean talked about home earlier, how the ranch is his. Well, this right here, this moment with her Meadow, is hers.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part five here

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XXIV

Chapter: 24/28

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following morning consisted of the three of them trying to wake up George, who was adamant that it was far too early to get up. It took about half an hour to get him out of bed and into some decent clothes before they headed out for breakfast at the same cafe. Ringo was trying his best to keep his mind occupied, otherwise his thoughts would stray to the potential danger the rest of them were going to be in later that night. George seemed to notice something was wrong while they were walking down the street, as he slowed his pace so that John and Paul would be a fair distance ahead.

"You alright, love?" George asked soothingly.

"Huh? Oh yeah, fine." Ringo forced a smile but it didn't seem to convince George.

"You sure? You seem very quiet. Did you not sleep well?" George laced his fingers with Ringo's, not caring about the possibility of being seen.

Ringo exhaled heavily, there was no point in lying to George "I'm just scared about tonight. What if something goes wrong?"

George paused and looked ahead in thought, then turned back to Ringo with a small smile "It should be fine, we know how to take care of ourselves."

"But what about all those other times? I don't want you getting hurt like last time George, or even worse..." Ringo's voice trailed off as he looked away sadly.

"Ringo, listen to me." George stopped walking and turned Ringo's head to face him "Its not going to be like before, I promise you that."

"But... But how can you know?" Ringo didn't want to bring the mood down, but the weight on his mind was insufferable.

"Because..." George sighed "Look, all those other times I wasn't taking it as seriously as I should have, but now things are different." He paused for a moment "Now I've got you, and I'm not going to lose you or put you through the pain of losing me. Okay?"

"Okay." Ringo said softly and smiled up at George who smiled back "Just get back to me in one piece, that's all I want."

"I think I can manage that." George moved in slowly now, lowering his voice, then pressed a soft kiss on Ringo's lips.

Ringo felt himself melting into George, the relief of having shared what had been troubling him mixed with the ecstasy of kissing George mixed together beautifully. He'd almost forgotten where they were, what they were supposed to be doing before John loudly called out.

"Oi! Any chance you two can tone down the queerness just a smidge?" John shouted and Ringo was abruptly pulled back to reality, seeing Paul and John standing far ahead of them.

"That's rich coming from you." George called back as he and Ringo hurried their pace to catch up.

John stuck his tongue out playfully in response as they continued to walk down the street in search for a store that sold leather clothing; it was surprisingly easy to find. Ringo wasn't sure he liked the look of the place but John was already sauntering in before he even had a chance to protest. The smell was pretty powerful as they walked in and Ringo was pretty amazed to see the extensive range of items they had, although he wasn't sure why anyone in their right mind would want to buy a leather shirt. The shop was empty excluding the shop assistant who sat at the back reading a newspaper, Ringo suspected that these shops weren't particularly busy at 9 in the morning.

"So... What are we thinking?" John asked with a proud smile on his face as he walked further into the shop.

"You sure about this?" Paul asked as he sifted through some of the leather trousers "This can't be comfortable."

"It's not about being comfortable, its about style." John hurried over to Paul's side "Come on Paulie, you'd look great in these."

George groaned loudly as he stood awkwardly in the corner of the shop "Is this just some strange plot for you to get Paul all decked out in leather?"

"That thought may or may not have crossed my mind." John said with a cheeky grin.

"Why'd you have to drag me and Ringo along?" George asked.

"You didn't have to come, you can piss off for all I care." John answered with a light tone "And I seem to remember you saying you thought it looked 'cool'."

George shuffled his feet where he stood "Yeah? I do think it looks cool, I just don't wanna be getting involved with yours and Paul's weird sex life."

"That's never stopped you before." John retorted proudly.

"Oh come on you two, that's enough." Ringo said half playfully and half sternly "Are we gonna have a falling out over leather?"

"Why don't we just try some stuff on?" Paul suggested, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to George and John's spat "It's just a laugh, after all."

Paul walked around the shop and pulled a couple of things off the rack - a leather jacket, a pair of trousers and some cowboy-esque leather boots - which prompted the rest of them to follow his lead. Ringo quite liked the feeling of the leather against his fingers, but the idea of them all parading around in matching outfits made him laugh to himself. After a while of perusing around, Paul headed to the changing rooms, or room as there was only one fairly large one separated by a flimsy curtain. Paul pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the room, giving the rest of them an expectant look.

"Well come on then." Paul said impatiently.

"I don't think we're meant to go in together." Ringo said as he looked over to the shop assistant, but he hadn't even moved from when they first came in.

"Who cares? I don't wanna wait for us all to go one by one." Paul replied and John had already followed him inside.

Ringo looked over to George who just shrugged his shoulders, then the two of them joined Paul and John, pulling the curtain closed beside them. The changing room consisted of one flimsy chair and a large mirror, which the four of them crowded around to fix their messy appearances. They all lay their pile of clothes down in a separate spot in the room and gradually began undressing. If Ringo had seen this image in his mind three months ago, he would've found it all very peculiar - four gay men getting undressed in the same changing room surrounded by leather - but he felt nothing but comfortable.

Surprisingly, Ringo found, John seemed to be trying to get undressed out of the sight of the rest of them, by strategically placing himself behind Paul or joking around to stall the whole process. Ringo had always thought John was the epitome of confidence, but maybe he was wrong. Paul on the other hand seemed completely natural, standing there in his boxers acting no different than if he was wearing a three-piece suit.

Ringo had to try his best not to look over at George, the last thing he needed was to get an erection when he was wearing barely anything to conceal it, and he imagined the leather trousers wouldn't leave much room for comfort. Yet he couldn't help himself, his eyes drifting over to trace the lines of George's muscles, the sharp bones of his shoulders and collar bone, not neglecting the outline in his boxers. Ringo felt his face heating up and he had to turn away, busying himself with his own trousers then turning around to see the three of them stood idly in their underwear. It seemed that nobody really wanted to go first, even John who had been so excited to try it out still seemed a little conscious of himself as he stood behind Paul to conceal his nakedness.

"Don't get any ideas, John." George broke the silence lightly and it made the rest of them laugh.

"I can't make any promises." John chuckled as he rested his head on Paul's bare shoulder.

George then turned around and began fiddling with the pile of clothes, picking up the pair of leather trousers and holding them up for inspection. He passed a look to Ringo which said something like 'here goes nothing' as he began to climb into them, it certainly didn't look very comfortable and Ringo once again had to consciously pull his eyes away and picked up the leather boots he'd selected and pulled them on. They felt a little strange, but there was a part of him that thought they looked pretty cool; they were like cowboy boots with white detailing on them. It was hard to know for sure how cool they did look, because he certainly didn't look his best wearing nothing but his boxers and the boots. He didn't want to commit to the trousers just yet, he'd rather wait to have the others test them out first, so he turned around to see how George was getting on with his and... Oh.

George was stood at the back of the room in line with the mirror so that he could survey his appearance in the trousers and Ringo couldn't stop a small gasp escaping from his mouth at the sight. George was by far the skinniest of the four of them, so it was no surprise that he had to get the smallest size available, but the trousers fit him perfectly. The leather hugged his slim legs like they were made for him, and the sight of the black material tight against George's arse made Ringo feel like he was about to faint. The contrast of his pale skin against the leather, with his dark hair and eyes contrasting still, was a sight Ringo swore there and then never to forget. George caught Ringo's eye and smiled at him innocently, though Ringo doubted he was completely unaware of how sinful he looked.

"Are they alright? Feel a bit tight." George asked Ringo, he was turning in the mirror to try and get a look from all angles.

Ringo had to swallow before he spoke, and even then his mouth was dry "Y-Yeah they look good."

"Your boots look cool." George said, there was a glimmer in his eyes.

Ringo had almost forgotten he was even wearing them, and he was suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing "Ha, thanks." He quickly turned around to pick up his own pair of trousers as he felt his stomach beginning to stir.

Paul was trying on the leather jacket across his bare chest, and John seemed beyond excited about it. He stood behind Paul in the mirror and was running his hands across the material and Paul's bare skin, Ringo wondered if they even remembered they weren't alone.

"Are they comfortable?" Ringo asked as he began pulling the trousers on, having kicked off the boots, he could already tell the answer was no.

"Not really." George chuckled, he was pulling on the jacket now.

Ringo struggled to get them on, it wasn't the most generous material, and had to make peace with the fact it was always going to feel a little odd. The boys all seemed to make a collective decision that they had to stop fawning over one another and just get the clothes on, else they'd be there forever, and it didn't take too long before they were all stood in front of the mirror in a line inspecting themselves. Ringo laughed at the sight.

"Well, we certainly look German." He said.

"I think we look quite good." Paul muttered, he kept fixing his hair.

"Any chance we can head back to the hotel after this?" John whispered to Paul as he began kissing his jaw.

"I knew this was a kinky thing." George scoffed, looking over at Ringo for some support but he was too preoccupied looking at George's reflection.

"Oh come off it, George." John began, drawing his attention away from Paul who pouted in protest "Ringo's had a stiffie ever since you put those trousers on."

"Hey I-" Ringo tried to protest but he couldn't find the words "Don't drag me into this."

"Why are you looking at my boyfriend's dick?" George asked with a laugh.

"Why aren't you?" John retorted.

"Lads, let's just buy these clothes and get out of here." Paul spoke up, his voice was a little vacant "We're all happy with them, aren't we?"

George looked over to Ringo who just nodded to him eagerly, making the younger man grin. Paul was slowly returning to reality, Ringo wasn't sure he wanted to know where his mind went off to, and look at the three of them for affirmative looks.

"Fab, let's get back to the hotel then." Paul stated more than suggested.

The three of them didn't need to be told twice, they got out of the clothes as quickly as they could and pulled on their own without much care for how sloppy they looked. John was already nibbling on Paul's ear before they were even fully dressed and Ringo could feel George's heavy gaze on him. There was a suffocating silence around the four of them now, and Ringo couldn't think of anything to say as his mind was plagued with images of George that he'd rather not share.

They bought the clothes without any hassle, the shop assistant didn't seem bothered that the four of them had hurried out of the changing room all looking flustered. The cold air as they began walking back to the hotel cleared Ringo's head somewhat, but walking closely beside George it was difficult to focus on anything.

John walked right by Paul's side, whispering into his ear as they walked which continuously made Paul giggle and he playfully pushed John away from him. George was rather silent, which was a key indication to Ringo that his mind was set on a particular something. Ringo certainly hadn't anticipated this outcome when John had suggested the idea, he thought it'd probably be a bit of a silly laugh and they'd end up with some peculiar clothes by the end of it. Yet here the four of them were, hot under the collar and desperate to get back to some privacy.

The receptionist at the hotel gave them the usual warm welcome, but none of them were really aware enough to greet her back and they responded in a haze of slurred greetings. Paul had the key and managed to get the door open easily despite his flustered state, Ringo could see that his cheeks were pink, and the four of them hurried into the room. The sound of the door shutting behind them sounded louder than it usually did, and in the silence they all stood looking at one another intensely.

Then all of a sudden everyone was moving, George was the last one into the room so he was stood against the door with Ringo not too far in front of him, he snaked his arm around Ringo's waist and turned him around to face him. Before Ringo could even process the movement George's tongue was pushing against his lips, desperate for entry and Ringo was more than happy to oblige. On the other side of the room John had pulled Paul down onto his lap and they were kissing passionately, Ringo could tell by how comfortably they moved with one another that they'd done this many times before. The bags of their clothes had been carelessly thrown to the ground, and as Ringo caught a glimpse of the leather trousers falling onto the floor he let out a moan at the reminder of how George had looked in them. He wished he was wearing them now, but Ringo figured there wasn't much point in asking him to put them on just to take them off minutes later - that would have to wait for another time.

George and Ringo messily made their way over to one of the beds, not really pulling away from the heated kiss as they moved. Ringo fell backwards onto the bed, George leaning over him with dark eyes and his toothy grin which never failed to start that stir in his stomach. George made quick work of his clothes, the cold feeling of his fingers on Ringo's hot skin made him hiss in delight, and it wasn't too long before the both of them lay naked together. Ringo was already hard, he was pretty sure it hadn't gone down since the changing room and it was aching for attention. As George began to move his hand down Ringo's chest teasingly, only hovering over his cock, a loud moan rang out from the next room; Ringo had almost forgotten that John and Paul were in there but soon enough it became very difficult to ignore.

George didn't seem to pay it any attention, his mind was solely focused on Ringo at this moment, as he pressed two fingers in his mouth to wet them then began circling Ringo's hole with them. He didn't push a finger in just yet, he only teased the rim then wrapped his lips around the head of Ringo's aching erection. Ringo's head fell back in pleasure, feeling far too heavy to hold up as much as he loved to watch George's mouth and fingers work, his eyes fluttered shut softly. Then he strangely felt a heavy weight falling down on the bed beside him, Ringo opened his eyes to see John had thrown Paul down onto the bed and was kissing him roughly - Paul was fully naked while John still wore his shirt. At first Ringo expected himself to be surprised, to want to cover up or to tell George to stop, but he did nothing of the sort. George once again didn't notice it, or pretended not to, and began pushing a finger slowly inside Ringo; the feeling of intense pleasure coming from both George's mouth and finger just made the sight all the more erotic and he let out a strangled moan.

The room quickly became filled with a cacophony of their moans, as John flipped Paul over with ease and began running his tongue up Paul's thigh only to settle on his hole. George was clearly very impatient, he worked Ringo open a lot quicker than he usually did; it probably would've hurt if George hadn't also been taking Ringo's cock so easily in his mouth. It was messy, that was for sure, but seeing how desperate George was to fuck him just sent Ringo further and further into a state of bliss. All of a sudden the pleasure stopped, George had pulled his fingers out and his mouth was no longer around him, but a mere moment later Ringo could feel the head of George's cock pressed up against his entrance. Ringo looked up to meet his eyes, they were completely overcome with lust and he was sweating.

"Ready?" George asked gruffly and Ringo could only nod in response, even if he could think of something to say he doubted he'd be able to get the words out.

George thrust in roughly, not the usual gradual pace he usually took, and he almost filled Ringo up immediately; he shouted out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, his vision escaped him for a moment. Then he felt George's hand caressing his face gently and he was beckoned back to reality, it always baffled Ringo how George was able to be both so sultry and so sweet at the exact same time. With his eyes now open he could turn his head to the side to see that John and Paul had switched positions, John was now laying flat on the bed - his shirt had been discarded at some point - with Paul straddling his hips as he slowly fucked himself on John's cock. The sight was like nothing Ringo had ever seen before, with Paul's slim body covered in a thin layer of sweat moving itself almost dancerly. Ringo let out a deep moan in response to Paul's own, as he began quickening his own pace.

"Enjoying the view?" John asked, Ringo hadn't even noticed he'd been looking at him, his voice was rougher than usual.

Ringo could hardly concentrate, with George fucking into him roughly and spilling out obscenities from his mouth "Yes..." Was all he managed to breath out.

His eyes closed themselves once again as the pleasure began bordering on overwhelming, and then suddenly John was kissing him. It took Ringo a moment to register what was happening but his body reacted before his mind did, pressing back onto John's lips eagerly. John opened his mouth and slid his tongue inside Ringo's, taking ownership in a way that George never did, it was a strange sensation but it was definitely a welcome one. One of John's hands made their way into Ringo's hair, the other supporting Paul's hip as he continued to come undone.

"Oh fuck..." George breathed out, his hips stuttering at the sight.

Ringo opened his eyes and tried to look over at George as best he could from this angle, and he'd never seen him look so wrecked. His dark hair was sticking to his face with sweat and his mouth was hanging open absently, allowing an array of moans and curses to spill out. All four of them began to moan louder and louder, Ringo and John were barely even kissing at this point rather they were just moaning openly into one another's mouths. George had begun a brutal pace and Ringo could tell both George's and his own orgasm wasn't far away; judging from Paul's constant mewls and John's quickening breath he supposed they were close too. After a few moments John pulled away from Ringo and began focusing solely on Paul once again, running his hands over Paul's bouncing arse or his bare chest. Ringo gazed back up to George who looked ready to eat Ringo alive, he couldn't stop himself from pulling George down onto him so that he could lock their lips in a kiss. George let of a muffled moan against his mouth, no doubt at the realisation that John's tongue had been there only moments ago.

George's thrusts were becoming sloppy but he still maintained the harsh force, Ringo began clawing desperately at George's back as he felt his orgasm approaching. No words were needed, George could understand Ringo's mind from his actions alone, as he wrapped his hand around Ringo's leaking cock and began pumping it lazily. It grew closer and closer, Ringo was ready to burst when the loud sound of Paul's moan ripped through the room; both Ringo and George's eyes shot open and they caught a glimpse of Paul spilling cum down onto John's bare chest. John gripped Paul's hips now and fucked up into him ruthlessly, chasing his own orgasm, and George began to mirror his intensity. It was all too much for Ringo to take, and as John let out a desperate cry Ringo too felt his orgasm washing over him. The collective sound of it all was pure filth, Ringo moaning as he came onto his own chest, both John and George cursing out as they filled their partner up.

John lovingly lowered Paul down onto the bed beside him, both of them still breathing heavily, while George just collapsed down on top of Ringo and began peppering kisses onto his neck. It took a few moments for the adrenaline rush to wear off, then the four of them were merely lying across the two beds drenched in sweat and covered in cum one way or another. As silence began to slowly descend in the room, John began to laugh quietly.

"What's so funny?" George asked, his voice wrecked.

"Nothing..." John breathed out "I'm just surprised at how well my plan worked out."

George let out a groan, seized one of the pillows lazily and hit John with it "I hate you." He said with a smile across his face.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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aboutmetamorphosis · 5 years

Note

Hi hi hi ! Do you think you could do a list of must-have read fics ?? I'm relatively new to the fandom ( july ! ) and I didn't read all the famous fics yet. I've read Unbelievers and the amnesia fic !

Pull Me Under - As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

These Inconvenient Fireworks - Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

Love is a Rebellious Bird - AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Young & Beautiful - Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Wear it Like a Crown - As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

Empty Skies - For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Red Brick Heart - Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his.

Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn't expect is a surprise roommate who's loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he's ever wanted.

Wild And Unruly - Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Escapade - In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

Relief Next To Me - What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

And Then a Bit - “We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes - They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

Into the Blue - In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream - “Alright, alright. No need to bite,” Harry says, holding his hands above his head in a general gesture of surrender.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and his foot nudges Harry’s as he moves to sit straight. “If that’s what you think biting is, you’ve got another thing coming, Styles.”

Harry blinks at him before he feels his face flush and inside the marrows of his bones there’s pulses of heat, pulses of fire spreading through him. “Is that a threat, your Highness?”

“That’s a promise,” Louis answers just as the car halts to a stop. “One I intend to keep.”

Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.

You Are The Blood - A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose - American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

My Heart is Breathing For This Moment in Time - When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

Gods & Monsters - The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Here In The Afterglow - “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight - Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

#ask #fic rec #these are like the big fics™️#not my personal top 20 #although i can rec u my personal faves if youd like #a lot of them are in this list anyways #i didnt put fading cause its v triggering for me #but its one of the big ones as well #enjoy!!!

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inory12 · 7 years

Text

Inevitable.

Summary: The past has no name, who would think of naming its past? But an adjective and for Mccree his past was somewhat sad, but not everything was sadness, especially when in his teens finally had people to call friends and even a boyfriend.

Category: Overwatch.

Genre: Drama, Family, fluffy, lemon, Romance and novel, shounen-ai, Slash, AU, Yaoi.

Warnings: Drugs, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, sex insinuation, improper language, nudity, sex, Masturbation.

Characters: Genji Shimada, Hanzo Shimada, Jesse Mccree, Gabriel Reyes, Jack Morrison, Sombra.

Tags: Mchanzo, Werewolf!AU, Omega!Hanzo, Alpha!Mccree, Omega!Genji, Mercy is just quoted, Genji will be misunderstood

Cap1| Cap2| Cap3| Cap4

Cap 2 - Mueve tus caderas, muchacha morena.

Mccree remembers the feeling he felt when he started dating Hanzo, everything was hidden, so things were always intense. Fear of being caught became, willy-nilly, fun for two teenagers in full puberty. The first heat changed Hanzo, he was smiling more, the people around him believed,, but the reason for the constant happiness is to think that after his archery training he would see Mccree and do things that two teens in puberty would do when they start dating, Especially when one is an alpha and another is an omega.

Hanzo was with Mccree underneath the most hidden tree in the garden, Genji had been summoned to a meeting, leaving them alone. Mccree saw his omega on his lap making movement with his hips over the alpha erection, in that dance the alpha could not touch his omega, the pleasure was just to see his omega make motions that would leave the alpha crazy and hypnotized. Hanzo let go of his hair, letting them fall on his shoulders to the middle of his back, the omega slowly pulling out the alpha's red shirt and then admiring his breastplate with his rough hands for the arduous workout.

The omega leaned down to the alpha's lips, mentioning a kiss, but with a chuckle he looked into Jesse's red eyes, felt Mccree's hormones and that drove him crazy. Soon the mention became real, the wild kiss guided by alpha hormones, the same sent everything in the air and pulled the omega closer. When the kiss closes, Mccree rolls with Hanzo in his arms to the side and begins to kiss the jaw, then the neck. The older Shimada groaned low in the alpha's ear, his arms and legs around Jesse's body, approaching contact.

The alpha approached Hanzo's crotch and made lunge mentions , causing Hanzo to utter a spontaneous moan, the alpha shut the omega with his mouth, even wanting to hear the groans of the older boy, but could not risk.

"Jesse ..." he groaned through the kiss.

"What darling?"

Hanzo's face was flushed, his mouth running wide with low, simple moans.

"Say, "mi moreno," what do you want?" Mccree whispered into Hanzo's ear, his voice more husky than it should have been.

"Ah..." Hanzo felt Jesse's hand press his erection, rubbing it. "Ah... ah...”

"Say Hanzo..."

"Fuck me, please, ah... ah..."

Jesse shivered, the request had fared better than he'd imagined. Soon he lowered his pants, pushing out his erection and on his face a perverse smile formed.

"Take off your clothes." Said the alfa

Hanzo blushed at the command, but soon released himself from his crumpled blouse and then his pants, just boxing, when he made mention of throw the boxing, Jesse stopped him and brought Hanzo for a kiss as he commanded Hanzo's hands to His phallus, the omega began to pump the alpha erection. The kiss slowly slows, Mccree's eyes, red with lust, descended to his neck, noticing that his mark had disappeared, made a trail of kisses to the place he had observed before, but he was a little above the last Brand, wanting everyone to see that the omega belonged to him, he bit there, without even thinking about the consequences.

"Jesse!" Hanzo screamed and by reflex squeezed Jesse's cock, which he bit harder than he should have.

Hanzo fell on Jesse, breathless, but soon found the strength to start pumping the alpha's phallus. Jesse licked the bite and smiled contentedly, and his hand went to the stiffened limb and pumped more often than the omega did in it, because of the ecstasy.

"Hanzo ... So beautiful ..." Mccree stopped pumping Hanzo's penis and did the same look at him, giving him a kiss. "It'll look dazzling when you start sucking me."

Hanzo shudders, bends over and starts sucking on the alpha's penis. Jesse moaned with Hanzo's mouth, the older boy looked hungry on Jesse's cock.

"I was hungry, mi amor?" Jesse groaned and rapped on the steep omega ass that let out a loud groan. Jesse grabbed Hanzo's silky hair and made the omega sink further into his cock. He leaned back a little and leaned on the other arm and watched as Hanzo sucked his cock. "You love my cock, do not you? " He licked his lips. "Do you like my Hanzo dick?"

Jesse pulled Hanzo away from his cock, his mouth open and tongue out, gasping for air, and Mccree smiled and released the omega that was immediately attracted by Jesse's hormones and turned to the alpha's phallus and licked it all. His butt, sucked his glans hard and made the alpha gasp and let out a loud groan. "Yes Jesse ... I love your dick ..." The omega smiled. "I'd spend the whole day sucking it." And the omega sucked his alpha's erection back, already feeling the taste of Jesse's pre-enjoyment.

The alpha turned his hands into Hanzo's hair and began with quick movements. However, Jesse some time later took Hanzo's mouth out of his phallus and placed it on his lap.

“Let's enjoy together, mi moreno.” He grinned at Jesse and buried his face in Hanzo's neck and began to lick the mark again as he pulled Hanzo's boxing and then pumped both his penis in a synchronized friction.

Hanzo moaned wildly, forgetting where he was, what day it was, just remembering it was him and Jesse there. He wrapped his arms around Jesse, moaning in the alpha's ear, causing him to pump faster, fiercer. Hanzo shivered from head to toe as he felt the sensation of ejaculation, scratching at Mccree's back. The alpha had already distributed several bites on the shoulder and neck of the omega, feeling the taste of blood in his mouth. Soon the alpha came first, soiling the chest of Hanzo and his own, then the alpha focused on Hanzo's erection, squeezing the glans and rubbing the extension. The omega held the alpha's face and kissed it and in the middle of that long kiss enjoyed the alpha's hand.

Jesse put Hanzo on the tree and kissed him sweetly and tiredly, watching the omega's chest rise and fall, even though the omega was watching the same.

“I love you Hanzo.” Jesse whispered into the ear of the omega.

“I love you Jesse.” Hanzo hugged the alpha without care of the pectoral of both dirty.

"Darling, let me clean up our mess.” Laughed the alpha.

Hanzo let out a sly moan, as if he did not want the alpha to leave. Jesse laughs and hugs the omega back, nuzzling the hair of his omega and listening to Hanzo's breathing steady.

"I-" Hanzo sighed. "I'm likely to go into heat tonight."

Jesse looked at Hanzo. "Are not you taking the pills?"

"No." Hanzo stroked Jesse's face. "I'm tired of it, I want to be a normal omega, that goes into heat and that my alpha is by my side.”

Jesse blushed. "Are you sure? Your clan...”

"My clan as soon as his know I'm in heat again will give up on me ..." Hanzo leaned his forehead on Jesse's. "Then they'll throw me out and have my name stuck on the heir's list or even turn it off It as if I had never been born and raised.”

When Genji arrived, they were both dressed and the smell of sex was gone. The green-haired young man sighed wearily and sat down next to his brother and laid his head on his shoulder.

"How was there?" Jesse asked.

Genji hid in his brother. "It was awful." Hanzo smiled at Genji and in the form of consolation ran his fingers through his hair "Hanzo, how can you handle it?" he whined.

"You'll learn to deal with the time."

Genji turned to his friends and smiled. "Did you guys have fun without me?"

Jesse looked at Hanzo and vice versa, the alpha laughed. "We had a lot of fun.”

Hanzo blushed slightly at the alpha's response. Genji frowned, but answered with a smile. The younger did not know, nobody knew. It was all a secret, but Jesse wanted everyone to know that Hanzo was his, that he would take Hanzo out of the Shimada clan and form his own clan.

Jesse left, but glaring at Hanzo with complicity. The older boy just smiled at the cowboy and walked into the castle, his brother was called to another meeting. Hanzo had never seen this occur, usually the elders were very objective, so the need for another meeting was never necessary.

Hanzo entered his room, it was dusk and Hanzo sighed, when the omega enters the heat, usually the alpha belonging to him felt, no matter where he is. The omega went to his window and opened it and went into the bathroom to clean himself.

When he left the bath, he felt a movement in the castle, changed his clothes quickly and went out through the corridors to know what happened, but soon a hand pulls him and the wall against him, Hanzo would advance in the threat, but he recoiled when he saw that it was His brother with tears on his face.

"How can you do that?" Asked the youngest.

Hanzo looks confused at Genji. "Do what?"

Genji growled. "Do you think I'm not feeling it? You will get in heat! You know what the doctor said, do not you? You can not hide an omega in the second heat!" Genji released Hanzo "You're a selfish..."

Hanzo felt the weight on him "Sorry Genji, but I needed to do this..."

" NEEDED? You're crazy, not even an alpha you have to say such an absurd thing!" Genji punched the wall on Hanzo's side "Mercy would make me her, I have an alpha, I HAVE A FUTURE! And you will not ruin it!"

Hanzo looked surprised at his brother. "Did she bite you?"

Genji sighed and snarled. "Not yet, but next week I'll be in heat and I'll call her."

Hanzo swallowed. "Brother, forgive me, but there's no way I can go back on my decision."

"Of course! Just take the pill." Genji grasped Hanzo's arm hard and pulled it out and took it out of Genji easily.

"The pill will not do for anything else Genji!"

Genji sat down on the floor and began to cry, a sad cry of a desperate puppy. Hanzo felt guilty, did not even think of his brother, only Jesse and him. Hanzo leaned close to Genji and hugged him, but he was rejected as he was being pushed. The young man got up in a hurry.

"Where are you going?" Hanzo asked.

Genji looked at him with disdain. "It doesn't matter for you."

Hanzo shuddered and then stood up. He sighed wearily, but he was still sad. He walked to his room and locked it and went up to his futon and sat there. The tears came with his regret, but he would not give up, even if he was selfish, it was too late to settle things, was already marked, was already his second heat and his father would despise him for being a complete omega.

Soon the sensation of excitement came and the brand began to tingle. Hanzo howled low and then heard heavy footsteps in his room and the crash was thundering.

"Hanzo!" Hanzo father's voice sounded furious. "I can't believe you're in heat again!"

Hanzo froze with his father's strong, fierce beats. A bang came up and startled the omega and turned to the window, there was a red-eyed brown wolf. The wolf entered quietly and snarled at the door.

"Jesse...?"

The wolf soon became a being, it was Jesse growling at the door, he felt the presence of another alpha in the territory and if he enter in the bedroom the same attack there, but soon he heard a moan and looked to the side and saw Hanzo with his face red, The presence of his alpha there had made him thirsty. Jesse walked over to Hanzo and held him in his arms and stood up with Hanzo. When Hanzo's father was able to enter the room - shattering the door - he saw that no one was there.

Jesse had jumped into his room, locked windows and doors and put the omega on his bed, Hanzo would be yours that night and nobody would stop. Jesse could smell Hanzo scattering all over his room, Hanzo's scent was intense for Jesse being that he had already smelled other omegas in the heat, but nothing was like Hanzo penetrating his nostrils. Jesse climbed over Hanzo and buried his face in his neck, smelling every inch. He held Hanzo and pulled him closer.

The omega was already trembling with pleasure, the scent of the alpha crawling all over his body, made Hanzo see stars so intense it was. He saw Jesse walk away, but not breaking the magic that was about to happen, the alpha had ruby red eyes and impatient the alpha began tearing Hanzo's clothes and tossing the pieces away and putting his rough hands on the breastplate of Hanzo stroked one of her nipples. Hanzo groaned at Jesse's brutality, but he did not bother, he was in his own lust.

"Jesse..." Hanzo sat down and licked the alpha member on the pants that consequently he heard Jesse's moan loud enough to start undressing the alpha, opening the zipper and unbuttoning the buttons and finally lowered the pants Of the alpha and in a hurry took the boxer's alpha caressing the hair of the omega, his omega, and then gasped as he felt Hanzo's hot mouth against his cock. He could see Hanzo's movements clearly, his keener senses giving him the advantage of seeing every movement of the omega. Hanzo sucked vigorously and his tongue swirled across the length of the alpha's penis, licking and handing delicate kisses.

"Hanzo... You are... ah... your mouth is... wonderful..." Jesse groaned, but then shoved Hanzo back into the bed and removed Hanzo's pants, along with the boxer, in a hurry And his left hand extended to the neck of the omega and bending over him kissed him. With his other hand he began to hurt Hanzo's nipples, which arched with affection, and also as he felt Jesse's penis rub in his entrance "So sensitive..." he smiled "and handsome."

Hanzo moaned as he felt Jesse's hand descend slowly to his crotch, then felt two digits come in, his legs curled as Jesse pulled him into another long kiss, Jesse slowly held his fingers inside the omega, interrupting the kiss several times, but he He was not looking bad, he was happy to know he was getting Hanzo so satisfied. Soon another digit was added and the thrusts more aggressive and fast and Hanzo could no longer kiss Jesse, because he needed to moan and he moaned very loud, not worrying if someone was in the house. Jesse found himself bewitched by Hanzo's reddish face, his mouth wide enough for his tongue to be outside as well, the omega moaning like a madman, moaned Jesse's name and it made him excited and happy, to see that all this It was for him and no one else, that Hanzo would be able to do this with just him, only him.

"Jesse, please ..." Hanzo moaned, pulling the alpha out of the spell, his hand stopping Hanzo instantly, making him moan for more. "I want you, Jesse!"

Jesse shivered, his primitive side was trying to take care of, but before he needed to know what Hanzo wanted "Are you sure mi moreno? You know that if we do this...”

"Jesse! I need you, please, Jesse, Jesse ... "Hanzo pleaded, then climbed up onto Jesse and made him lie down and soon began to descend on Jesse's pulsing penis, arching and groaning loudly, it was his first time and also The first time he felt so full, he rested his hand on the alpha's chest and without waiting for a minute he began to ride over it, so that he would awaken the primitive side of Jesse at the sight of Hanzo wishing him so much, his face so beautiful to Feel fulfilled.

Jesse put his hand on Hanzo's ass and began to command the thrusts that were very violent, but the omega did not seem to care, their scent mingled, leaving everything more pleasurable and intense. Jesse did not know, but Hanzo could moan his name on a frequency he could not even imagine. Jesse turned Hanzo on his back and leaned over him, the thrusts deeper reaching Hanzo's point of pleasure as he gripped the sheets while his face looked like the omega was drunk with so much pleasure. The alpha reached the ear of the omega and licked it.

"Hanzo, you are so hot ..." Jesse stocked faster "Everything in you is perfect ..." He pulled Hanzo to a kiss and both had their eyes fogged with pleasure "Do you like i fuck you like that?" Jesse licked the older man's lips that looked like he could not utter a single word "You are my Hanzo, just mine ..."

Jesse stuck his teeth into Hanzo's neck as he held on until he felt Jesse's hand pumping his penis. The omega felt Jesse's other hand on your, holding it tightly until he felt a shock all over his body and realized he enjoyed it. Heard Jesse moan “Tight...”

The alpha continued with the thrusts until it spilled into the omega. Hanzo gasped a lot, sounded just like Jesse, as he turned to see the alpha felt the same turn his body coming face to face "You are too beautiful..."

Hanzo lifted his hands to Jesse's face and began a sly affection. However, he felt the alpha began to stock again he groaned in surprise.

"Sorry, honey, but it's not over yet."

Hanzo laughed. "I never said I wanted it to end."

It was already dawning, both still dirty and naked, but curled up and nestled in one another. Jesse kissed Hanzo's shoulder as he stroked the alpha's hand that was curled in the omega's chest, Hanzo played with the alpha's fingers from time to time, but soon he made Jesse's hands find her mouth, the omega distributed Kisses sweet as he felt Jesse's kisses rise up his neck. Soon the hand began to caress Hanzo's face and by last turned it to meet with the mouth of Jesse. A cute kiss and compliment.

"I love you Hanzo." He said, seeing the sun already illuminating the face of the omega, making it more beautiful.

"Not how I love you." Hanzo smiled.

Jesse felt happy, as well as Hanzo, both satisfied, would have a family far away and would be happy. The alpha laughed. "Really? I think I love you more.”

#Mchanzo #Werewolf!AU #Omega!Hanzo #Alpha!Mccree #Omega!Genji #Mercy is just quoted #Hanzo's father is an asshole.#Genji will be misunderstood

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We are celebrating the release of 5 amazing bundles (20-24) from 1001 Dark Nights! Each bundle features novellas from 4 bestselling authors. The bundles released today, and you can grab your copies by going to the links below. Check out the book trailer for the bundles! 1001 Dark Nights Bundle 20 Featuring: Rebecca Zanetti, Kristen Ashley, Larissa Ione, and Laura Kaye About this Bundle: From New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Rebecca Zanetti, Kristen Ashley, Larissa Ione, and Laura Kaye. Four Dark Tales. Four Sensual Stories. Four Page Turners. BLAZE ERUPTING: Scorpius Syndrome/A Brigade Novella by Rebecca Zanetti Hugh Johnson is nobody’s hero, and the idea of being in the limelight makes him want to growl. He takes care of his brothers, does his job, and enjoys a mellow evening hanging with his hound dog and watching the sports channel. So when sweet and sexy Ellie Smithers from his college chemistry class asks him to save millions of people from a nuclear meltdown, he doggedly steps forward while telling himself that the world hasn’t changed and he can go back to his relaxing life. One look at Ellie and excitement doesn’t seem so bad. ROUGH RIDE: A Chaos Novella by Kristen Ashley Rosalie Holloway put it all on the line for the Chaos Motorcycle Club. Informing to Chaos on their rival club—her man’s club, Bounty—Rosalie knows the stakes. And she pays them when her man, who she was hoping to scare straight, finds out she’s betrayed him and he delivers her to his brothers to mete out their form of justice. But really, Rosie has long been denying that, as she drifted away from her Bounty, she’s been falling in love with Everett “Snapper” Kavanagh, a Chaos brother. Snap is the biker-boy-next door with the snowy blue eyes, quiet confidence and sweet disposition who was supposed to keep her safe…and fell down on that job. 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Kids and school are kindergarten teacher Emma Kerry’s whole life, so she’s stunned to realize she has an enemy—and even more surprised to find a protector in the intimidating man who saved her. Tall, dark, and tattooed, Caine is unlike any man Emma’s ever known, and she’s as uncertain of him as she is attracted. Every Dark Nights tale is breathtakingly sexy and magically romantic. Purchase your copy of BUNDLE 20 today! Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU Check out the authors: Rebecca Zanetti | Kristen Ashley | Larissa Ione | Laura Kaye ------------------- 1001 Dark Nights Bundle 21 Featuring: Joanna Wylde, Jennifer Probst, Elisabeth Naughton, and Carrie Ann Ryan About this Bundle: From New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Joanna Wylde, Jennifer Probst, Elisabeth Naughton, and Carrie Ann Ryan. Four Dark Tales. Four Sensual Stories. Four Page Turners. ROME’S CHANCE: A Reapers MC Novella by Joanna Wylde Rome McGuire knew he was in trouble the first time he saw her. She was sweet and pretty and just about perfect in every way. Randi Whittaker was also too young and innocent for the Reapers Motorcycle Club. He did the right thing, and walked away. The second time, he couldn’t resist tasting her. Walking away wasn’t so easy that time, but her family needed her and he had a job to do. When she came around a third time, he’d had enough. Randi had been given two chances to escape, and now it was time for Rome to take his. THE MARRIAGE ARRANGEMENT: A Marriage to a Billionaire Novella by Jennifer Probst Caterina Victoria Windsor fled her family winery after a humiliating broken engagement, and spent the past year in Italy rebuilding her world. But when Ripley Savage shows up with a plan to bring her back home, and an outrageous demand for her to marry him, she has no choice but to return to face her past. But when simple attraction begins to run deeper, Cat has to decide if she’s strong enough to trust again…and strong enough to stay… SURRENDER: A House of Sin Novella by Elisabeth Naughton The leaders of my House want her dead. The men I’ve secretly aligned myself with want her punished for screwing up their coup. I’ve been sent by both to deal with her, but one look at the feisty redhead and I’ve got plans of my own. Before I carry out anyone else’s orders, she’s going to give me what I want. And only when I’m satisfied will I decide if she lives or dies. Depending, of course, on just how easily she surrenders... INKED NIGHTS: A Montgomery Ink Novella by Carrie Ann Ryan Tattoo artist, Derek Hawkins knows the rules: One night a month. No last names. No promises. Olivia Madison has her own rules: Don’t fall in love. No commitment. Never tell Derek the truth. When their worlds crash into each other however, Derek and Olivia will have to face what they fought to ignore as well as the connection they tried to forget. Every Dark Nights tale is breathtakingly sexy and magically romantic. Purchase your copy of BUNDLE 21 today! Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU Check out the authors: Joanna Wylde | Jennifer Probst | Elisabeth Naughton | Carrie Ann Ryan ------------------- 1001 Dark Nights Bundle 22 Featuring: Rachel Van Dyken, Lexi Blake, Jennifer L. Armentrout, and J. Kenner About this Bundle: From New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Rachel Van Dyken, Lexi Blake, Jennifer L. Armentrout, and J. Kenner. Four Dark Tales. Four Sensual Stories. Four Page Turners. ENVY: An Eagle Elite Novella by Rachel Van Dyken Every family has rules, the mafia just has more.... Do not speak to the bosses unless spoken to. Do not make eye contact unless you want to die. And above all else, do not fall in love. Renee Cassani's future is set. Her betrothal is set. Her life, after nannying for the five families for the summer, is set. Somebody should have told Vic Colezan that. He's a man who doesn't take no for an answer. And he only wants one thing. Her. Somebody should have told Renee that her bodyguard needed as much discipline as the kids she was nannying. Good thing Vic has a firm hand. PROTECTED: A Masters and Mercenaries Novella by Lexi Blake Years before, Wade Rycroft fell in love with Geneva Harris, the smartest girl in his class. The rodeo star and the shy academic made for an odd pair but their chemistry was undeniable. They made plans to get married after high school but when Genny left him standing in the rain, he joined the Army and vowed to leave that life behind. Genny married the town’s golden boy, and Wade knew that he couldn’t go home again. Fifteen years later, Wade returns to his Texas hometown for his brother’s wedding and walks into a storm of scandal. Genny’s marriage has dissolved and the town has turned against her. But when someone tries to kill his old love, Wade can’t refuse to help her. THE PRINCE: A Wicked Novella by Jennifer L. Armentrout Cold. Heartless. Deadly. Whispers of his name alone bring fear to fae and mortals alike. The Prince. There is nothing in the mortal world more dangerous than him. Haunted by a past he couldn’t control, all Caden desires is revenge against those who’d wronged him, trapping him in never-ending nightmare. And there is one person he knows can help him. Raised within the Order, Brighton Jussier knows just how dangerous the Prince is, reformed or not. She’d seen firsthand what atrocities he could be capable of. The last thing she wants to do is help him, but he leaves her little choice. Forced to work alongside him, she begins to see the man under the bitter ice. 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Armentrout | J. Kenner ------------------- 1001 Dark Nights Bundle 23 Featuring: Lorelei James, Kylie Scott, Donna Grant, and Kristen Proby About this Bundle: From New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Lorelei James, Kylie Scott, Donna Grant, and Kristen Proby. Four Dark Tales. Four Sensual Stories. Four Page Turners. WOUND TIGHT: A Rough Riders/Blacktop Cowboys® Crossover by Lorelei James Bull rider Justin Donohue spent his youth hell-bent on winning world championships. After hitting the big 4-0, Justin takes a job at the Grade A Ranch and Rodeo School, where he immediately locks horns (and lips) with the sexy, sassy Callie—a 22-year-old cowgirl set on seducing him. From the moment Callie Morgan encounters the hot-as-fire new ranch hand, she knows his gruff manner is an attempt to mask his attraction to her. But she’s never backed down from a challenge, especially not when Justin’s actions speak louder than his denials. 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Bromberg, Kendall Ryan, and Gena Showalter About this Bundle: From New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Heather Graham, K. Bromberg, Kendall Ryan, and Gena Showalter. Four Dark Tales. Four Sensual Stories. Four Page Turners. HAUNTED BE THE HOLIDAYS: A Krewe of Hunters Novella by Heather Graham It’s Halloween at the Global Tower Theatre, a fantastic and historic theater owned by Adam Harrison and run by spouses of Krewe members. During a special performance, a strange actor makes an appearance in the middle of the show, warning of dire events if his murder is not solved before another holiday rolls around. Dakota McCoy and Brodie McFadden dive into the mystery. Both have a special talent for dealing with ghosts, but this one is proving elusive. With the help of Brodie’s diva mother and his ever-patient father—who were killed together when a stage chandelier fell upon them—Dakota and Brodie set out to solve the case. If they can't solve the murder quickly, there will be no Thanksgiving for the Krewe... CONTROL: An Everyday Heroes Novella by K. Bromberg Control is something Desi Whitman abhors. Why live life in black and white perfection when you can messily color outside the lines? But when she comes face to face with SWAT officer Reznor Mayne, he’s about to show her just how good control can feel. HUNKY HEARTBREAKERS: A Whiskey Kisses Novella by Kendall Ryan Everything’s bigger in Texas. And that includes Duke Wilder’s sexual appetite. Together with his twin brother, he runs a whiskey distillery, and when their business takes off—suddenly he’s got it all. Success. Money. Family. But he doesn’t have a woman to share it with. When Valentina storms into his life, her presence is only supposed to be temporary. She’s a feisty attorney hired to help clean up his company’s recent legal mess. He never counted on her being the one to turn his whole world upside down. 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Bromberg | Kendall Ryan | Gena Showalter WATCH THE TRAILER

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