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melon-wing · 2 years

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My Rancher [Jimmy/Tango]

[MASTERLIST] I’ve rewritten the scene from their meeting on Empires slightly and changed some things to make it more gay than it already was. Enjoy :D This is part of me trying to do words for Nanowrimo, so maybe if we’re lucky I will manage some more stories the coming weeks :) ~*~

Tango pushed up the giant hat he was wearing again as it kept sliding down his head. He wondered how someone even smaller than him could wear it. But then again, Shubble seemed like the type of person who didn’t mind just disappearing into her hat and forgetting the world around her. Impulse was chattering happily in front of him as they walked through some sort of tunnel with unfinished tracks.

He gently held the horn he had just stolen- no - borrowed - from one of the chests. The rough surface was warm in his hands now after he had been holding it for a few minutes. It felt familiar, making his whole body feel a little warmer and lighter. It reminded him of good times… When he had seen it he hadn’t been able to leave it there in the clutter of that chest, even if it didn’t make the right sound.

He smiled to himself sadly. After their weird game had ended… After they had died they had tried to cling together, but as the last of them fell a force stronger than anything he had ever faced had pulled them apart. Ever since the moment Tango had crash landed back into Hermitcraft his heart felt like it was missing a piece.

Jimmy…

He wondered what the joyful man was up to. He missed him so much. The soft blonde hair, those sky blue eyes, the excited energy, the way he looked at Tango like he was the most amazing being in that world, the way his whole face lit up when Tango praised him.

“Tango?”

Tango looked over to Impulse and smiled softly. “‘m good. The horn just reminded me of some stuff.”

Impulse looked at him almost as sad as he felt, and it made Tango avoid his gaze, looking at the horn instead. It wasn’t even the right horn. The tone was all off. It wasn’t their sound. And yet holding it hurt and felt so good at the same time. “You know we went along on this trip to get you thinking of something else, right? Maybe you should put the horn away and-”

Impulse stopped right in the middle of his sentence, making Tango glance up at him in confusion. But Impulse wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking past Tango at something ahead where the tunnel ended.

It felt like time itself slowed down as Tango turned around, following his friend’s gaze. The horn slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground. Everything seemed blurry and unrecognizable. Everything was just background noise in his vision. Everything that is, but the blonde man standing right in the middle of the tracks. Sure, he was in a different outfit than the last time they had met, the hat he was wearing just as ridiculous as Tango’s, but it was definitely him. Tango stopped in his tracks and the second their eyes locked so did Jimmy. For a moment the world around them seemed to disappear. He was pretty sure somebody was grumbling some annoyed comment, but it was all just distant noises. Jimmy looked him up and down in disbelief and Tango felt almost shy. He had changed a lot since they last met. His whole outfit was so much more over the top than his usual attire, and his hair was bright blue. Impulse had teased him endlessly about his ‘edgy phase’. Maybe Jimmy wouldn’t recognise him. Or he would and wouldn’t like the changes. Maybe…

“Is that…?”

The words were a soft whisper, but Tango could still hear it as if Jimmy had shouted them and as his lips turned into a smile the spell that had frozen both of them seemed to be broken as Jimmy darted forward, arms flying around Tango. “My rancher?!”

Tango laughed loudly as Jimmy squealed. “My rancher buddy!”, he just exclaimed to answer the half question. The moment he did Jimmy’s squealing just got louder and those strong arms lifted Tango off the floor as if he weighed nothing, spinning him around in circles as they both laughed. When they stopped Jimmy put him down gently, but he was still not letting go, pulling Tango close against his chest.

“You’re here”, Jimmy whispered softly and Tango just nodded, clinging onto the body he was being pressed against, those strong arms finally around him once more. Oh gods how he had missed this. When he took in a deep breath it felt so familiar. The earthy scent was almost the same as back on their little ranch.

“I’m here”, Tango just replied, moving back a little to look up into Jimmy’s face. What he saw was his own emotions mirrored back at him. The joy of seeing one another again when they had not known if they ever would or could.

“I tried to find you. I built machines, made plans. I tried everything I could”, Tango said, thinking back to his desperation right after they had been ripped apart. It had taken him far too long to accept that he wasn’t able to get to Jimmy without knowing which of the endless worlds he was in. “I thought I would never see you again. Even Grian didn’t know where you had gone.”

Jimmy nodded, a deep sorrow hidden below the joy. He opened his mouth when somebody next to them groaned and suddenly Tango became aware of the world around them again.

“Just kiss already and get this mushy romance show over with. I think the Sheriff’s squealing made my ears bleed a little.” Tango looked to the side where Joel stood. Though he almost didn’t recognize the man. He was taller, almost not fitting into the tunnel and he was wearing some white toga like dress. Tango wondered how he could have even overlooked a giant like him. But all he had seen that moment was his rancher.

“Joel!”, Jimmy all but screeched and when Tango looked at him his face was the brightest of reds.

“What? I know you want to do it. He’s been all you were talking about. It’s even worse than when you were with Scott and you guys are not even dating yet. So hurry. We got a tour to finish.”

Tango could hear Impulse snort in amusement, throwing him a glare that promised pain if he did a similar speech to Joel’s, though he knew his friend really wanted to do just that. It hadn’t been any different for them after all.

“I can’t just kiss him. Stop talking nonsense. You’re ruining my reunion.”

Tango smiled softly at Jimmy’s absolutely flustered expression. Well, there was one way to save the poor guy from his embarrassment. Tango gently took a hold of Jimmy’s face, turning it so he was looking back at him once more.

Jimmy looked so adorably confused at his action. His cheeks were still tinted red and when they looked at one another Tango could just tell that their feelings were mutual. They hadn’t just been buddies on a ranch. They were soulmates, then and now. Even with the bond gone their souls had stayed connected in some way.

“Well if you can’t then I will have to do it”, he said, getting on his tiptoes to press a kiss against Jimmy’s lips, taking in the shock and widened eyes for a second before closing his own eyes. The grip around him tightened as Jimmy tried to pull him even closer, their mouths moving softly and slowly against one another. It was perfect. When they pulled apart Tango’s smile was just as wide as Jimmy’s and they shared a slightly awkward giggle. This was new. And weird. And yet… just perfect.

“Well…”Jimmy started.

“Well”, Tango just repeated and they both giggled again. “I think it’s pretty obvious that feelings are mutual here, huh?”

Jimmy nodded, looking at him like an adorably lovesick puppy. It was just too cute to take.

“So”, Jimmy cleared his throat, slowly hesitantly loosening the embrace and letting his arms fall. Even after they had just shared a kiss he looked nervous, taking off his sheriff hat to run a hand through his hair. “You want to date me?”

Tango smiled. What an idiot. What an absolute idiot.

“Yes. I would love to.”

#🍉 stories #hermitship #empiresshipping #team rancher #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #empires smp

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georgeharrisonshairymoustache · 7 months

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@lasalebete more sio infodumping now wahoo *crowd goes fucking silent*

May as well start from the beginning...

To put some backstory context in, her family is from a long line of Coruscentian (the kingdoms name) Emperors since like....the year 625 (clarification that this is a fictional place and ADs and BCs aren't actually determined just yet cuz we haven't needed to do anything abt that) (and extra clarification that the current year in The Realghms is approx 1380).

If you were to imagine Sio race-wise then she's mixing between a slight middle-eastern (maternal) and a white Mediterranean (paternal)

Basically imagine pretty much Turkish and Greece

Cuz like...her ginger hair is SO common in Turkey and Greeceeeeeee (my only defense is that her features are entirely based on me I'm so sorry)

Reference:

(Shit drawing but ah well)

*ehem* anyway

Her dad, Demetrius (*insert surname that I won't use for personal reasons here*) was a traumatised war veteran who likely fought in the same war that Sio fought in when she was 16 (99 Years War). He came home veryyyyy traumatised, he was depressed, a heavy drinkerrrr, VERY victim-blaming, especially on Sio. Sio's Siblings, Zehraei and Bayezid were infinitely more favoured than her, even though Bayezid died of an illness when he was still little. As the years went on Demetrius went on to continue abusing her (via manipulation and guilt tripping), whereas her mother, Aylinei, seemed to be completely oblivious to his behaviour (I think that she knew all along but since she prefered Zehraei to Sio, and that she didn't want to be hurt by her husband, then she just never stood up for it HAHA GREAT MUM INNIT) !!!

Fast forward to 1361. VERYYYY important year for Sio and Elias (some reasons I won't indulge in yet cuz the essays would be far too long). In the capital city that they both resided in, called Annen, was sieged by the opposition army (Malusians) from the 99 Years War. During this time, Zehraei is brutally murdered by a soldier, and the family is destraught (obviously, icl Zehraei was actually a good person unlike many blursed characters). Her parents (and grandfather Orpheus) are SO destraught, not only because they're favourite daughter had died but also because this meant that all they could now rely on to continue their family tree was from this odd little teen who never found any interest in men whatsoever (oh how untrue that is mwahahah).

Then. Some bomb (or sumn like that) went off on the street while the family was fleeing the city, which knocked down the city watchtower. Fortunately, Sio was quite a bit further than them, having not noticed the large falling tower noises going on in the background since she was trying to calm herself via Stairway to Heaven playing in her headphones (long story as to why she's got access to both modern technology and led zeppelin that I won't go into yet).

So yeah, basically. Errrr maybe sound effects might put gjbe a better insight as to what happened to the rest of the family afterwsrds

*WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE* *RUBBLE RUBBLE CRUMBLE CRUMBLE* *WHAP BANG WHOP WOO* *WEEEEE* *CRASH BAM WHAP ZAP LED ZEP* *falling tower noises*

*CRASH BANG WAP CARDI. B.* *body-crushing noises*

dw, sio noticed her family had all just been killed by that watchtower eventually, however she was a little disappointed that she had to pause jimmy page's guitar solo nearing the end of the song (cuz it's banging).

After all this she is hella sad tho she's also a bit relieved they're dead cuz now she has some actual freedom (elias probably helped her get grounded numerous times for like, time travelling).

Then there's a bit of a gap in timelines from where her family dies and where she signs up for the army BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER ESSAY CUZ GODAMN THAT WAR GOT SOME IMPORTANT SHIT

(I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO BE THIS LONG)

#ocs #original characters #long post

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carry-on-my-wayward-gays · 1 year

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Hiii Shadow do you wanna be sad about Jimmy with me

Imagine Jimmy regressing in the afterlife all alone with no caretaker. Then when he finally isn't alone the person he gets is Joel who, though he wants to help, has no idea how to care for a little.

I've had this in my head since today's video I need to get it out

AND WHAT IF I DISINTEGRATED YOU W MY LASER EYES.

God fucking- LIKE. Jimmy opening his eyes to the void. Or a small in between space, however you like to imagine it. He's a bit freaked out, frantically patting down and checking his own body to make sure this is real. That he is real. He's solid. All in one piece, wings included.

And then Jimmy remembers his death. Oh shit. Ohhh shit his Bad Boys must be so mad. He messed up so so royally.

Jimmy whines and curls into a little ball, tucking his knees against his chest and scooting back to find a wall. But there is no wall.

He hiccups as tears start to bubble in his eyes. Brown with a dying shine of red. They turn glassy while what feels like buckets start to gather on his waterline.

It was an accident... He did his best but still made a mistake. It had to be his mistake right? Isn't it always somehow his fault? He had to have done something wrong to have such a tragic accident happen to him again. Right?

Jimmy blinks, and the dam breaks.

He buries his face into his knees and sobs. He feels himself drop, absolutely plummet mentally. He falls so fast he gets dizzy. And when he stops he feels so much smaller than he's comfortable being.

He wishes someone were here. Someone to hug him and comfort him, make him less lonely in the most lonely place in the universe.

But you don't get friends in the void. When he gets back to Empires he'll find Norman or Flick or, Hell, stumble to the barn and snuggle himself on his horse's back. He's sure the animal would let him fall asleep on its back if he wanted. He just wants someone...

Jimmy hears footsteps and his head shoots up. His wings fluff anxiously and start to tremble like they're ready to lift him off the ground if he wishes. They aren't big enough for that.

"Holy- Jimmy?"

He can't see as far away as the voice sounded, but he knows by how the pitch picks up at the end the voice belongs to Joel. Joel...

Great. Just the person he wants to see while small. Go figure the one other person he'd see after such an embarrassing death that made him regress was his teammate and the one person most likely to mock him for regressing.

Jimmy makes a tiny noise of protest and scoots back further. Still no corner to tuck himself into.

"Jimmy, man," Joel jogs over to him and stops at Jimmy's toes. "Shit, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Or anyone for that matter."

Jimmy frowns at the swear word, but doesn't point it out.

Joel blinks down at his friend. He seems to have taken notice to the very obvious fact of Jimmy crying, or he had been. "Hey," Joel squats down. "Don't beat yourself up too much. It was stupid, but these games are just for fun. Bet I went out in a stupider way."

Jimmy shakes his head. "Was a as'ident.."

Joel tilts his head and leans forward a bit like it would help him understand Jimmy's little voice better. "A what? An accident?" Jimmy nods.

"Sorry, you've gotta speak up." Joel falls back and sits on his bottom with his legs crossed. "Of course it was an accident. I don't think you'd let a silly TnT minecart take you out on purpose."

Jimmy looks to the ground. Er.. what he presumes to be the ground, see as it's solid and they're sitting on it. "G mad at me?" He mumbles into his sleeve.

Joel chews on his bottom lip at that that one. "I don't think so... He was pretty upset when you died. He's gotta be even more upset now." Joel looks up, finding Jimmy staring at him. Big brown eyes still glassy.

"Are you alright, by the way? You're pretty quiet." Joel asks. It's a moment of vulnerability, of course he'd show this side of him in the void only. And he's sure it'd stay in the void.

Jimmy shakes his head. "Li'l. M' sorwy." He watches Joel for a reaction. All he gets is confusion.

"Little? What do you m- Oh." Oh indeed. He'd forgotten the terminology, since it'd been a while since Joel had to even be around a regressor, but he was familiar. Grian used to go small occasionally in Last Life, but he'd always call on someone else to care for him.

And Etho regressed too, though not in an age sense. For some reason he was content to have Joel tend to his needs and indulge in his fox-like habits inside their boat. Might've been the soulbond, or the fact it only happened twice. Joel didn't know.

"Oh, ok. Um... How little?" Jimmy shrugged, holding up two fingers, pausing and switching to three. Then two again.

"Alright. It's, uh, it's ok to not know. Do you need anything, want anything?" Joel knows he's fumbling. He's just... never had to do this before.

Jimmy's arms immediately shoot out and he makes grabby hands, silently asking for Joel to take him into his arms.

Joel cautiously reaches back and scoops Jimmy up, hugging the blond close. Like he was made of glass. The little almost instantly relaxes. Someone is holding him, finally. And Joel gives pretty good hugs.

"Sorry I can't do much else for you right now. We'll just have to wait until we get home." Joel says. One arm loops protectively around Jimmy's middle, and his other hand rests on his back. Like he's holding an actual baby.

"S' fine. Cuddwes good." Jimmy sighs and nuzzles his face against Joel's shoulder.

"...And I'm sorry this made you regress. I know you'll be ok, but it still stinks." At this point Joel was just talking to himself, the baby in his arms was far too tired to keep listening, and was zoning out.

If it wasn't for the distant "Etho, you jerk!" Jimmy probably would have fallen asleep.

Joel whips his head around and Jimmy looks up too, barely raising his head from Joel's shoulder.

"Skizz?!" Joel shouts back. Jimmy whines at the loud noise and Joel pets his blond hair as an apology.

"Joel?! Are you serious right now?!" Skizz shouts back and, from the sounds of it, starts running towards them. He appears from the darkness and grins. He's... still in his red name costume. Joel instinctively shields Jimmy's eyes from the sight.

"Oh hey! Jimmy's here too." He chirps. "Man, go figure I get stuck with the two people we kinda had beef with."

"Yeah, real funny." Joel grumbles. "You could not have picked a worse outfit to wear this series."

Skizz looks down, finding little issue with his apparel besides maybe a second pair of pants. "I look great to me."

"It's not child friendly, is my point. And I don't know if you could tell, but Jimmy is in a childish headspace." Joel stated matter-of-factly. Jimmy thought of biting him for telling his secret, but just made an annoyed whine and squirmed a bit.

Skizz's whole demeanor changed. "Oh my- Ok yeah that.. This looks a bit bad now." Joel still glared at him over his sunglasses.

Skizz moved Joel's hand from Jimmy's eyes and smiled at the kid. "Hey, sorry you gotta see me in my undies." He jokes. Jimmy snorts and almost giggles. He looks so sleepy...

"I promise I won't tell a soul. I look after a little too, so I get it. This'll stay your secret." Skizz reassures. It calms a steady drip of anxiety in Jimmy's gut, so he just nods.

"Thank you, Skizz." Joel says for the both of them. "Oh hey, got any tips?"

Skizz tosses his head from side to side. "The little guy seems pretty happy right now. If he's still small when you get home, just ask him if he needs anything."

"Thanks. We... should be going soon, yeah?" Joel looks around as if to find a timer or another accursed clock to indicate how long they'd been here.

"Any minute now, probably. I'll see you guys in the next one then." Skizz delivers it like a joke. Like maybe he'd see them before then, though he wouldn't. Their lives were just too different.

"Yeah. Maybe we'll be friends next time."

#shadow's scribing again #should i make an answer tag?#aromanticwhore #sorry for the weird ending i wanted to end it before it got too long #anyway THEM!! LITTLE JIMMY!!!!#mcyt agere

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joanpuckinsucks · 2 years

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RANKING NHL GOAL SONGS !

30. San Jose Sharks - Get Ready For This by 2 Unlimited

this is so incredibly boring. when i went to leafs v. sharks earlier this year it was a great experience, but the goal song just didnt stick out. the sharks fans didnt even do shit when they scored goal until they scored during overtime. its not a good song im sorry it just isnt. p.s fuck the sharks

29. Florida Panthers - Sweetness by Jimmy Eat World

obviously Panthers fans seem to like this but its kinda boring. its not what id like to hear when my team scores. its not something id be screaming to. its kinda sad if im being honest. i will put it above the Sharks out of spite tho. sorry Panthers fans

28. Montreal Canadiens - stupid hey hey song

boooo tomato tomato tomato . HABS YOU SUCK !

27. Washington Capitals - random song accompanied by ambulance noises

makes my head hurt

26. Edmonton Oilers - Hell Yeah by Rev Theory

overwhelming

25. St Louis Blues - song i dont know the name of

take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowdddd

24. Carolina Hurricanes - Raise Up by Petey Pablo

no. it sounds like that song that goes like "welcome to the reddddddd kingdom"

23. Vegas Golden Knights - Vegas Lights by Panic! at the Disco

i dont like Panic! i dont like the song. i dont like the team. and the goal song is drowned out by the crowd chant ("Go Knights Go!")

22. Columbus Blue Jackets - For Those About to Rock by AC/DC / The Whip by Locksley

this one is so strange to me. if youre gonna start with a bangin song like for those about to rock, why change halfway through and mash it up with a song with such a large contrast? its such a big switch up like what??????? i think that the audience participation on this one is nice ("Woah oh oh, oh oh, oh oh ohohoh"). kinda lame ngl

21. Detroit Red Wings - no clue what this is called

eh good enough

20. Phildadephia Flyers - Feel the Shake by Jetboy

its an ehhhh song, but its higher than some of the others one because the Flyers make up with their mid ass goal song with Gritty

19. Winnipeg Jets - Gonna Celebrate by The Phantoms

one mid ass goal song, brought to you by your Winnipeg Jets! i wonder what Jesse from BarDown thinks about this. the title of the song reminds me of the video where its that like nursery rhyme that goes like "weve got to celebrate our differences!"

18. Anaheim Ducks - Bro Hymn by Pennywise

ehhhhh its fine.

17. Colorado Avalanche - Chase the Sun by Planet Fun

its fine. not much to say about it. audience participation is mediocre but its there ("Hey! Hey! Hey!").

16. Dallas Stars - Puck Off by Pantera

wowww so edgy and metal! i guess its fine. the chanting of "Dallas...Stars!" kind of makes it a bit better, but i just cant get behind it. crowd seems happy tho, so i guess thats good.

15. LA Kings - song that supposably has no name

its not bad, its just kinda forgettable... it has nice audience participation ("Hey! Hey! HeyHeyHey!"). songs i think wouldve been better/more memorable: Party in the U.S.A by Miley Cyrus, Valley Girl by Frank Zappa, California Girls by Katy Perry

14. New Jersey Devils - Howl by The Gaslight Anthem

i have a strong dislike for the devils and new jersey but this is an ok song. i cant tell if the crowd is shouting "Here we go!" or "YOU SUCK!"

13, Vancouver Canucks - Aint Talkin Bout Love by Van Halen

i like Van Halen, but do ya know what i like more? Greenday. do you know why Quinn Hughes looks so sad all the time? its because he remembered the Canucks goal song isnt Holiday anymore! bring back Holiday!

12. Tampa Bay Lightning - Goons by Mona

catchy, good crowd chant.

11. Nashville Preadtors - I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw / Gold on The Ceiling by The Black Keys

nashville is music city, so i expected something better, but the crowd chant ("YOU SUCK!") is good. i love me a good "YOU SUCK!"

10. Calgary Flames - TNT by AC/DC

its a good song. would make for good crowd chants ("TNT! Hey! Hey! TNT!").

9. New York Islanders AND Minnesota Wild - Crowd Chant by Joe Satriani

come on guys! could you be any more unoriginal? shameful. still a good song.

7. Arizona Coyotes - Howlin For You by The Black Keys

i like it. coyote themed. good audience participation ("da da dada da, da da dada da")

7. New York Rangers - Slaphot by Ray Castoldi

i dont have much to say about it, but its good!

6. Boston Bruins - Kernkraft 400

i actually quite like this one. its not bad at all. its easy for fans to chant the melody, its fun to listen to (haha funny beep boop music), and its a Bruins tradition! as a leafs fan, i am absolutely shaking in my boots, im terrified, i really am. great song.

5. Buffalo Sabres - Let Me Clear My Throat by DJ Kool

i know i was talkin some serious shit about the Sabres earlier tonight but their goal song is great ! it makes for good crowd chants ("here we go now! here we go now!")

4. Ottawa Senators - Song 2 by Blur

i love Song 2, i love Blur, and this is a great goal song. its great to pump the crowd up when a goal is scored and would make for some great crowd chants. ("woo hoo!")

3. Toronto Maple Leafs - You Make My Dreams by Hall + Oates

i may be a bit biased as a leafs fan, but i love this song and its just so great. hearing it is always so nice and makes me feel so good and its just an all around catchy song. its the best sound in the world for a Leafs fan.

2. Pittsburgh Penguins - Jump Around by House of Pain

i love this one !! its just so perfect and its sure to pump up pens fans and non pens fans alike.

Chicago Blackhawks - Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis.

now, do i absolutely hate the Blackhawks? yes. i hope that the Blackhawks association cant sleep at night, i hope everytime they look in the mirror it says "WHORE" in big red lipstick letters because they deserve it. what were they thinking having such an offensive logo and letting dylan strome play for them. i hate dylan strome. their only redeeming quality is their goal song. i LOVE Chelsea Dagger. its so catchy i just have to sing along. its great, it makes for great audience participation and its just a great goal song to pump up the fans!

#nhl #goal songs #joan thinks #joan flop era

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jrueships · 2 years

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Kyle/jimmy not a valid ship? [sad jimmy noises]

STFU JIMMY LMFAO 😭😭😭

#[SAD JIMMY NOISES] imm OUUUTAA HEREEE 😭😭#but no TRRRUST ME it IS .. it Is 😈#JUST IN THE LAND OF KYLE/DEMAR IT CANNOT BE UNLESS THE OT3 IS IN MOTION !!!#but in any other land it is all fair game !#do not be afraid of the limitless possibilities that come with multishipping #ANYTHING IS POSSIBLEEE <- i feel like that phrase ive heard it on tv somewhere but idk from who or what commercial #but it had to be from a sportsperson ?? i think #ANYWAYS i love kyle/jimmy <33 #i love seeing kyle fuckin around n findin out #findin out jimmy is no service top i mean #like he wont carry you to bed short king.. face that wall kyle #ALSO that jimmy alt ship ask was for rarepair branchers to solve jimmys lust for a married man #do NOT worry kyle/jimmy is VERY valid #..... as long as demar is currently existing on another plane of existence #or with his own new boo !#ted asks #what do you think sad jimmy noises sound like..?#like... waaaa committmeeeent wAAA #or waaa ive been abstaining from s*x against my will waaa why doesnt this married man want me waaaaa it's like hes married or smthing ☹️#kyle/jimmy #check the kylejimmy tag if u want some content ! i think ive said sum things! it's a good ship!!!!

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xiaoluclair · 2 years

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XIAOOOO my beloved

for that prompt list if you ever feel like it??

19. After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch/in bed after a hard day, wiping away their tears with soft touches and gentle words--trying to convince them it's okay, and that you're there for them now.

buuut? hear me out.. make charles the one comforting for once bc i feel like he's always the one being sad in the fics and i need some soft max crying in his bfs arms?

if u don't all good, love u anyways xxxx

it’s always 'max help', it’s never 'max do you need help' 😤😭

no but fr i would’ve written this as charles comforting max regardless bc yes i agree!!! the image that immediately came to mind was sad charles so, naturally, i say fuck you! to that and go in exactly the opposite direction ;D

anyway SHANNNN MY DARLING MY DEAREST MY ANGEL ON EARTH!!! for u, i hope this is okay!! we went away from the crack a little but i hope you still like it <3

-###-

He enters to darkness and the absence of sound.

It should not set Charles on edge as it does. The walls hold the light that floods the corridor when he flicks the switch by the coat pegs, puts up his jacket next to the hanging sack of eggplants they have yet to return to Lando.

Suitcase wheels roll loudly behind him as Charles trails fingers along the paint. All he can think is that it is his toes aching, out of everything. Not being able to bury them under Max’s thighs for almost a month - deprivation, quite frankly.

The wall gives way to edge and Charles whispers, “Hellooo?”

Shadows shift, the barest noise. Charles turns on the light. “Max?”

The ball moves and something falls out, soft and purring on the floor and immediately reaching again for the body vibrating between couch cushions. Charles blinks and finds himself beside it, fabric between his fingers and Jimmy climbing through his arms. “Max? Max- hey.”

A swipe to his face. Sassy hisses from her place half-hidden in Max’s chest. Charles is making hushing sounds, without realizing at first, hands reaching slowly. His touch, and Max’s face falls into illumination. Tear traces draw themselves over the soft of his cheeks, seep into puffy skin that glows red. It is terrible and breaking and Charles says, “I would like to hold you.”

Max’s sniff breaks halfway in. “Thank fucking god.”

He rolls off the sofa, right on top of Charles. Oxygen crushes out of his lungs, arms envelop Max’s joints as they curl between his embrace and Charles shifts them against the foot of the couch. Sassy escapes within the motions, and she’s stretching over Charles’s skull while Jimmy butts Max’s chin.

“You smell like plane,” says Max quietly.

“Yeah?” murmurs Charles. “What does plane smell like?”

“Stale air conditioning. Daniel’s underwear.”

A snort, soft as the hair it burrows into. “I have questions.”

The laugh jars Max’s body, hard against his chest. And then it continues to shake and Charles feels something unpleasant and hollow expanding in his chest behind the place Max’s tears are blooming a patch into his T-shirt. He tilts his face, moves his arm around Jimmy to collect the sadness dripping from Max’s eyes with his thumb, over and over. Words seem out of place so he says nothing at all, not yet. A touch instead, a noise he hopes holds comfort, a kiss on the corner of a mouth.

Stillness comes slowly. Sassy claws lines over Charles’s ear, licks them clean as Jimmy paws at Max’s jaw with ignorant innocence. When it finally settles, he thinks he has an entire spa of cat spit tracing his neck. “Would you. Do you want to tell me what it is?”

A moment of silence, messy hiccups. Then, something Charles cannot quite hear. “Say that again?”

“The little turnips,” sniffs Max a little louder, “the little turnips and they are so small, Charles, and they are so cute and I want to- I want to hold- I want to have- Charles-”

Charles scrambles to resume the hushing sounds, strokes the sides of Max’s face as Sassy slinks off his forehead to burrow in the blankets spooled on the floor. Careful, touch still soft and slightly tentative, Charles says, “What, um. Where did you see these little turnips?”

A finger, right to the TV. “With the underwater otter.”

“Underwater otter.”

“And underwater cat.”

“Underwater cat-” Charles blinks. “You mean the Octonauts?”

Max’s wail burrows into his chest and Charles jumps to hold him closer. “They’re so cute!”

“Okay,” he rushes, “okay, I know they are, they are very very cute.” Jimmy pats Max’s face with sympathy. Beside them, Sassy snorts. Charles kisses Max’s forehead and hugs him into the warmth starting to bud between his ribs. He wonders if Lando has any sacks of turnips lying around.

#ficlet: mv1/cl16 #xiao: asks #asks: prompt #asks: mv1/cl16 #shan i have not said this for so long so just know that I #LOVE #YOU #SO #MUCH #have this trash as part of that love #lestappen #f1 rpf #shan my beloved #xiao: writes

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 2 years

Text

Please be gentle, I’ve NEVER written a superman fic before. And then it got ri-damn-diculously long.

__________

The newsroom was noisy, as was typical of a friday afternoon. A paper airplane soared across the cubicles and you reached up and caught it, sending it back toward Jimmy Olsen. The photographer was the leader of most of the hijinx that occured. It nearly hit him, but Clark reached out and grabbed it before it caught him in the eye.

“Can’t have our ace photographer losing an eye over shenanigans,” he chided in your direction. You rolled your eyes.

“First, Jimmy started it. Second, could you be a bigger killjoy, Clark?” You sighed. Jimmy snatched the paper plane away from Clark. He scribbled on it in blue marker and sent it soaring again.

“Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” He laughed. You dodged it and it dropped on the floor by you. A sad stickman version of Superman was doodled across the top of the plane.

“Oh! Supernerd!” You laughed. Clark’s brow furrowed, but you didn’t notice. “I heard on the radio this morning someone saw him walking an old lady across the street! Does it suck, Clark?”

“Does what suck?” He looked a little anxious.

“Knowing that the only competition you have for boy scout of the year is against Superman? I’m pretty sure he has all the merit badges,” you retorted, with a snort of contempt.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Clark’s voice held a question as he walked closer to hear you over the other noise of the bullpen. You met his eyes with a shrug.

“I guess I just like my heroes a little darker,” you admitted.

“She’s from Gotham, Clark!” Jimmy called, making his way toward you both. Rather than walking around the labyrinth of cubicles, he bounded over them, using an odd combination of gymnastics and climbing. “She thinks everything about Metropolis is too wholesome.”

“And you think Superman is a boy scout?” Clark asked, a wry smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I think you are a boy scout. I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone as wholesome and good as you. Let me be clear, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s just, they don’t give out merit badges for showing a girl a good time, you know? I can’t think of anyone in the world I’d feel safer around than you. Unless it was Superman. Because I think Superman is not only a boy scout, but he’s a first degree nerd, and is probably pathologically virginal. Without being a creepy incel because, like you, he’s too wholesome for that. Dude probably sucks back the milk from an entire cow every morning. He probably cultivates his ‘I’m disappointed face’ in the mirror to make little kids who swear clean up their act. He probably can’t even say boobs, let alone want to touch them,” you rambled.

“You sound like you really don’t like Superman,” Jimmy laughed, giving Clark the side-eye.

“It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s great. He does great things for Metropolis. But like... He doesn’t make my ovaries explode, you know? Which is weird because he’s super hot. But like a Ken doll,” you shrugged.

“Wait, is that how you see Clark too?” Jimmy laughed. “Because I’ve been to the gym with him and he’s not -” Clark slammed a hand across Jimmy’s mouth, stopping the detailed description that was likely to come.

You tilted your head and looked at Clark. “Boys like Clark don’t go for girls like me. Too much to confess on Sunday.” You winked and Clark flushed. Jimmy pulled Clark’s hand off his face and just laughed. “Gimme someone like Batman, dark and broody.”

“And if you can’t have a hero?” Jimmy pressed.

“I hear Bruce Wayne’s pretty good in the sack. A billionaire would do,” you laughed, and pulled your bag out of your desk. “Anyhow, boys, I’ve gotta catch a train back to Gotham tonight. My mum’s just getting over the Rona and I want to check in on her now that she’s got a negative test. Have a great weekend. Clark, don’t forget. Bed by ten or you're grounded.”

Jimmy cracked up again and Clark just shook his head, cheeks still pink from embarrassment.

————-

More?

@rampant-salamander @bolontiku

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reignstormz · 3 years

Text

| Lion & The Lamb |

INTRO; After hiding your secret crush on the hottest guy in school since freshman year, senior comes around and you finally come face to face with the Samoan, sharing an intimate moment together.

WORD COUNT; 2,300 (maybe, not sure, had some issues, pretty short)

WARNINGS; Takes place in 1984, Bullying, Sweet interactions.

CAST; Y/N ( Yourself) Y/B/F/ N ( Your best friend's name) Roman, Jey, Jimmy, Naomi, and Galina Anoa'i. (Just a story, not saying Galina is anything like her character in this fic)

MINI PLAYLIST; Give Me Your Love - Pebbles/ Two Occasions - The Deele / Ready Or Not - After 7 / Rock With You - Michael Jackson / Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper

🦋

NOVEMBER 9th, 1984

The sounds of teenage laughter filled your ears as you sat in the passengers seat of your best friend's car. You sighed, trying the best you could to block out the noise as you read your book that was sitting in your lap. It was a hectic, busy Friday night. Your school's football team had just won yet another game and everyone was at the Drive In Movie Theatre to celebrate, goof around, or get down to business. Typical things that high school students would be up to. You on the other hand, didn't go to the game and was only here because your best friend practically dragged you out of the house.

You were not so big into the normal teenage, high school experiences. You were very quiet, antisocial, and didn't have many friends. School dances weren't your thing, especially parties. Instead, your way of having fun was just keeping yourself company. You were one of the smartest, if not, the smartest girl in school; You were a straight-A student, and you loved to read. Reading brought you joy and gave you the opportunity to escape to a different reality. Many people labeled you as nerdy, but you could care less.

You were over people picking on you, and judging you, which was one of the biggest reasons why you were so reserved. You got bullied heavily up to 4th grade, and your parents decide to homeschool you until high school came around. They wanted things to turn around for you, but it was the exact same. The only difference was, you made one solid friend and you ate school lunch, something other than food from your refrigerator.

Currently, the theatre was going to show Prince's "Purple Rain" and you were in the car waiting for it to start with your best friend. She also happened to be a cheerleader. You met her in PE class, one joke led after another and you guys became very tight. You were kind of surprised that you two were friends since you were so opposite from each other, and from different crowds.

Y/B/F/N's turned her head to look at you. She sighed, rolling her eyes briefly before she snatched your book out of your grasp. You groaned with irritation, and turned as well to make eye contact with her, "Can you stop? You made me lose my place."

"Can you just have fun for once? Girl. We're at the movies and the first thing you want to do is shove your nose into a book." She shades, throwing your book into the backseat.

"I didn't want to come tonight." You stress to her, "I have studying and homework I need to do-"

"That's all you ever do." She cuts you off. "Come on, you've known how long I've wanted to see this movie. Just do this one thing for me, please?"

"So you want me to sit in a car for an hour?" You questioned. A smile slowly creeped onto her face, which quickly answered your question.

You sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt to get out of the car. She furrowed her eyebrows, "Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm getting snacks." You replied, and before you got out of the car she grabbed onto your wrist.

"Can you get some popcorn? Please?" She asked, with clear as day begging look on her face. You rolled your eyes and got out of the car before she asked for candy as well. Any ounce of candy in her system was a not an option, especially since she had to still take you home tonight. As you walked to the concession stand, you saw just about every single familiar face from school. You were so focused on not making eye contact with anyone that you accidentally bumped into another person in front of you, causing their drink to spill all over your white long sleeved shirt. A couple people who were walking by giggled and the girl you bumped into couldn't of been worse.

"Even those ridiculous glasses you wear still can't help you watch where you're going." Galina dissed, looking you up and down before pushing past your shoulder. Her best friend, Naomi, looked at you apologetically for a second before following behind her. You sighed, looking down at your ruined shirt and turned your head, glaring at her. You saw Galina and Naomi walk back to their car, where the the most popular guys in school happened to be. The twins, Jimmy and Jey Uso, were sitting in the trunk of the car while the guy you've had the biggest crush on for the longest was leaning against it.

Roman Reigns was by far the hottest guy you've ever laid eyes on. He was the captain of the football team, he was smart, and also very kind as well believe it or not. You've only talked to him once, and that was when your chemistry teacher paired you two up for a project not too long ago. Roman was nothing but sweet to you, but since you were extremely shy and quiet, you barely said a word to him the entire time. Not only that, you didn't want any rumors to get out that you liked him. You would get teased nonstop, and Galina, who happened to be his girlfriend, would go out of her way to publicly humiliate you. However, it was nothing new. She was the typical mean girl that everyone was afraid of; You, well you weren't afraid of her really, you just didn't have the energy to deal with her bullshit so you always held your tongue.

"What happened to my fruit punch?" You heard Jey ask Galina. She sighed, wrapping her arm around Roman's waist while he looked down at her.

"Some nerd bumped into me and got it everywhere." She replies, and Roman raised his eyebrow.

"What nerd?" He says. Galina nods towards you. Before you and Roman made eye contact, you quickly turned back around and hurried to the bathroom to try to clean yourself up. This night couldn't get anymore embarassing, you thought.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with a lost expression. There was no way you were going to get this stain out of your shirt. You heavily sighed, adjusting your slightly crooked glasses. As you let a hand fall from your nose to your chin in stress, a strand of your sleeve ended up getting caught on a piece of your braces.

You rolled your eyes, groaning. You hated wearing braces for a million reasons, but this was the main reason why you couldn't wait to get them off soon. They got caught into everything. You tried again and again to get the strand to untangle itself but it wasn't budging. Shit, you thought. Now you had no choice but to go back to the car so your friend could help you. So many things were going wrong tonight and all you wanted to do was just go home at this point.

You took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone else for the second time. You sighed, closing your eyes for a second before looking down.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, sounding a little funny since the strand was still stuck on your braces.

"Damn, you need some help with that?" An attractive voice said, that you immediately recognized. Fuck, you cursed in your head. You slowly looked up and saw the tall Samoan tower over you with a concerned look on his face. You nervously started to tap your foot and your heart began to beat very fast.

His facial expression turned into an amused one and he gently took the strand out of your hand to help you get it loose, "I'll take that as a yes."

Within a minute, he got the strand loose from your braces and you were finally able to rest your arm by your side. You shyly pulled your sleeve shirt down, "Thanks.."

He nodded with a faint smile on his face. Little did you know, Roman always had a thing for you as well. He knew you as the quiet girl in class, ever since freshman year. It was now senior year and you haven't changed a bit. You guys were in classes together but never spoke before, or even sat together until one project. He admired the fact that you were different; Girls threw themselves at him all the time, which made you think that you could never stand a chance but you were wrong. He loved the fact that you were extremely smart and had a head on your shoulders. You had a unique type of beauty that he adored; The glasses, braces, the infectious laugh and the shyness. Roman deep down has a weak spot for the nerdy girls, even though no one knows about that at all. People assume all the time of what his type is or who he was as a person, when really no one knew who he truly was. The only people that knew him best were his family, and Galina at one point but as time went on Roman wasn't happy with the person she's become.

Galina was practically Roman's day one, they've known each other since they were kids through a family friend. She was never like this intimidating, rude person that she was now. Galina actually use to be very sweet, but ever since high school came around and she started hanging out with certain crowds, that's when the popularity really went to her head. Even though it made Roman sad at times that she wasn't the same person she used to be, he was not afraid to let her know how he felt about it. She promised him she'd change, but she's so far gone that it's out of control. You can't make people change, they have to do that on their own and if not, it's time to let them go. Roman thought about doing that many times, but he just didn't want to hurt her, especially with the history they had. It was just hard all around, and you made it even more tough for him.

"Whatchu' doin here all alone?" Roman asks curiously, then looked down at your shirt subtly. He saw a huge red stain and his mind went back to Galina saying she spilled her fruit punch on someone. He couldn't really make out your face since you walked away so fast, but now he figured out that you were the person that she might of spilled it on. Shit, he cursed in his head. Roman felt very guilty.

You noticed that he looked down at your shirt, causing you to slightly cover yourself from embarrassment. Chuckling nervously, you say "Oh, um. I accidentally spilled my drink everywhere..so I came here to clean it up."

He knew that you were lying since he was aware of what happened, but he didn't push it. He's noticed a lot of people cover Galina's ass so they don't get on her bad side. Roman nodded, looking down and unzipped his black jacket that was apart of his track suit, "I got sum' for you then."

"No no that's okay," You kindly reject. You look behind him to see if anyone walks in on the two of you and your heart starts to race. Lord knows that no one can see you in his jacket. Especially Galina, if so, everyone would be on your ass. You didn't feel like dealing with that drama.

Once he took the jacket fully off, your eyes went directly to his arms. Damn, his biceps were huge. You were completely glued to them until Roman jokes out of the blue, "You know, if you wanna' feel them you can just ask."

You snapped out of it and you covered your face, trying to hold back a laugh while blushing. You looked back up at him with a smile on your face, "That's hands down the corniest thing you've ever said to me."

"At least it made you laugh." Roman says with a small smile on his face. You admire his gorgeous smile while you had one of your own, gently grabbing the jacket out of his hands. You couldn't help but take it after that. This reminded you of all the times Roman would crack the dumbest jokes in class just to get you to smile, since you were so quiet and rarely talked to him. It went over your head that he only did it to impress you.

"I should probably back to my friend before she freaks out." You say shyly, thanking him for the jacket before getting ready to leave. Roman didn't want you to leave since he was enjoying this moment alone he had with you, so he thought fast and quickly stood in front of you. Real smooth, Roman.

You looked at him weirdly and Roman's face turned red. He was going to say something but he completely forgot his train of thought, making you want to laugh. The look on his face was priceless. The both of you grinned at each other before you fell out laughing.

"Don't look at me like that, girl.." Roman said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck while you giggled.

"I'm sorry, but you should've seen the look on your face." You pointed towards his face, not being able to contain your laughter, making him laugh even harder. He had the cutest laugh, you could listen to it all day. Once you guys both pulled it together, you both stared at each other in a comfortable silence before he asked, "Do you mind if I can buy you some popcorn or something?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that Roman-"

"Don't worry bout' it, come on." He chuckles, nodding towards the exit. You smiled at him, secretly loving every second of this. Never in a million years you would've thought a crush of yours would go out of his way to do this for you. Roman was such a good guy; You were having such a bad night before and he instantly made it better.

You both walked out of door and to the concession stand. The entire time, you guys stood there goofing off and talking while you waited in line. As you guys were occupied in a conversation, you noticed that you were getting a couple of suspicious looks since you were wearing Roman's jacket. However, no one dared to mess with you or give you slick comments either since they were shocked that you happened to be friends with him. Roman wouldn't hesitate to defend you if they did anyway in a heartbeat, but they knew better. You've seen Roman on multiple occasions stick up for people who got picked on at school, and it made your heart beat even harder for him. If there was a way you could just tell him how you felt, you would, but there was just no way in hell that was possible.

"Thanks, Roman. Even though I really don't need all of these snacks-" You giggled softly, looking down at the bag of snacks he had gotten you. Even though you couldn't never complain about snacks.

"Shh." He joked, cutting you off and took the opportunity to sneak cotton candy in your mouth so you'd stop talking, making you laugh. Roman smirked, taking his thumb and wiped off your bottom lip a little bit.

A frog got caught in your throat again as he flirtatiously wiped your lip. You both gazed into each other's eyes for what it seemed like forever until you both heard the movie start. You cleared your throat, and from behind him you saw Galina, Naomi and the Usos stare at you while they were still at the car. The Usos looked at each other with dumbfounded look on their face, like they wanted to laugh but they knew Galina would kill them. Naomi softly smiled at the two of you, while Galina had the most pissed off look on her face.

"Hey..I'll see you at school?" You say to him, with a soft smile on your face but not too noticeable since you knew Galina was staring at you.

Roman simply nodded, returning the smile and just stared at you in awe quietly. You said your goodbyes before you went back to your friend's car.

"Damn, Y/N. I just said popcorn not the whole concession stand." She says, looking at me weirdly. Then she just blankly stared at you for a minute before her eyes widen, realizing what you had on.

"Bitch, is that Roman's Jacket?" She squealed, and you hushed her real quick before she got excited.

"I'll explain later, okay?"

Your friend alternated looks between you and the movie, giving you the side eye as she took the popcorn out of your lap, "This conversation isn't over."

TAGS; @gold--gucciempress @wwzentertainment @flawlessglamazon @nicolewoo @romanreignshairdresser @sassymox @pennysky @lemonjvicey @thandiwethagirl @haharollins @rollinshield3 @sheerbeautyreigns @zaddyreigns @brookethegamer @alination @vir-tual @reigns-5sos @wickedsunfire

#roman reigns #1984 #80 #the Usos #naomi wwe #galina anoa'i

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alottanothing · 3 years

Text

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 08 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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Decisions

A low knock on the door wakes you up. Your cheeks are stained by dry tears, and your head hurts. It takes a while for you to even process who's knocking, but you don't want to talk to him. “Go away.”

“(Y/N), I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have said those things, I didn't mean any of that.” He sounds defeated, tired, sad. It's hard to hear him through the door, but still, the last thing you want is to look at him right now.

“You made everything crystal clear, Billy.” You mumble, pulling a second blanket over your body. “Don't worry, I'll be leaving tomorrow.”

“(Y/N), please, I...” You hear him sigh, and your heart hurts for him. Hugging your pillow, you stare at the darkness. “These guys, they... They said some things and... It reminded me of my father.”

“Your father?” You ask because Billy never spoke of him. He did mention a stepsister, Maxine, and her mother Susan, but never the father. You knew he had a reason for it, but you never wanted to push him into telling you something he didn't feel comfortable with.

“Yes. He was a damn devil. He was abusive, he hit me, and what those idiots said to me today... It was the same things Neil once did and everything just came back and I...” He makes a pause, and you slowly sit up, looking at the door, the piece of wood separating you from Billy. “I shouldn't have said those things to you, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. And I understand if you want to leave... But I just need you to know that I didn't mean any of that. You're nothing like those people. You're kind and honest and noble... You're... You're amazing, (Y/N), truly.” After some seconds, you listen as he walks away.

Your heart sinks at what he said. At the pain in his voice. And as much as you're hurt by his outburst, he did had a reason. Memories can be tough, they have the power to drag you back to the very moment they were created, and now, thinking about it, you did see a hint of sadness in Billy's eyes earlier, you just couldn't recognize it. So this is why he fled. He wasn't just running from a small town, he was running from living in hell to the place he felt like home.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up, leaving the blanket behind despite the cold air that makes you shiver. Slowly, you move to the door, trying to open it as quietly as you can. As soon as you're out, the low noise of the TV and a bluish light hits you.

Billy is seated on the couch, elbows on his knees, and his eyes on the floor. It takes a few seconds until he notices your presence, raising his eyes.

“I'm sorry your father was a dick.” You whisper, standing there, eyes locked with Billy. “And whatever those guys said, it isn't true. I don't know what it was, but it isn't true.” Making your way to the couch and sitting beside him, you notice the bruise on the apple of his cheek. “What's that?”

“He punched me and I punched back.” As he speaks, you touch his cheek, delicately. “It got me a warning from the company. If it happens again, I'm fired.”

“It happens again, you give me the name and address and I'll beat them up for you.” Leaning closer, you ignore his chuckle, placing a soft kiss on his bruise, but your lips barely touch his skin since you don't want to hurt him more than he's already hurt. “I mean it.” Then you start kissing him. His cheek, his jaw, the corner of his lips. “Don't you ever believe anything they say.” When you realize what you're doing, you pull away, blushing and looking down. “Well, you should go to sleep now. The bed is yours.”

Nodding, he hesitates a little before standing up. But when he does, he doesn't move. “You know... It's a double bed. We'd both fit there.” Billy reaches out his hand, and you look at it for a while, considering his idea before taking it.

“Yeah, it does.” Standing up, you walk with him back to the bedroom.

It happens silently, as if it had happened many times before. When you lie down, facing away from him, you both move at the same time. You search for his hand, to pull it over your waist, as he moves to do so. “Is it ok?”

“Yes.” You mutter, eyes already closed as you slowly sink into a peaceful sleep.

•

When the morning comes, you only notice because Billy starts moving. Groaning a little, and still very cold, you turn around, snuggling closer to his chest. “Don't go.” You beg, knowing it's still on the week days, which means Billy has to work. “You're so warm.” Taking a deep breath, you hook your leg around his waist, as if it could keep him from getting up.

“I have to go to work, but I'd stay if I had a choice.” He giggles, running a hand through your leg. “Funny, you're...” You feel his hand on your neck as he mutters something you don't understand. “That's not good.”

“What?” You whine, a little upset and embarrassed, since you just realize how your leg was around him, so you move it off.

“You're burning up.” Billy gets up suddenly, fixing the blankets around you. “I'll go get something from the drugstore to lower your fever.”

You didn't notice the fever. Well, you've been feeling cold, but you thought it was the air-conditioning. “No. I don't want you to be late because of me.” Pushing yourself up, you sit straight. “I can get it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Billy...” Jumping to your feet, you walk fast until you reach him by the door. “It's just a fever. There's no reason for you to worry.” Shyly, you take his hand. “Just do your stuff and I can get some medicine later.”

“No. You've been complaining about being cold for a few days, it's bad enough you'll have to be alone here, I'll–”

“I'll be fine. I can call Stacy. Remember she said she has the week off? I will ask if she can stay with me.” It's not a big deal, and you don't understand why Billy is so worried about it. “Really, I'm alright.”

He takes a deep breath, a hand cupping your face, his thumb softly caressing your skin. Yesterday's fight is long forgotten now, for both of you. “Alright. But I'll be at the Whaylands today. Anything happens you call there, and ask to talk to me. Say it's an emergency or something like that, ok?”

You don't know the Whayland's number, but you just nod. “I'll be fine, don't worry.” Smiling, you tiptoe a little but give up halfway, blushing and looking away.

“You can kiss me if you want.” He smirks, bending a little to capture your lips. It takes no time until you react, but when you remember you have a fever, you push him away. “What?” He sounds confused, eyebrows furrowed.

“I might have a cold or something. I don't want you getting sick so...” Shrugging your shoulders, you feel a little brave. “But when I'm better, I wouldn't mind kissing you.”

“That's good to know.” He smirks. “Now, call Stacy and ask her to stay with you. I'll take a shower and get ready to work.”

“Alright.”

Despite him saying you don't have to, you make him breakfast, and a sandwich he can eat on the road. Stacy comes a couple of hours later and you take the pills she brought you. You like Stacy, and you feel free to be yourself around her, the rules you once followed completely left behind. So you're laughing out loud all day, even taking a walk on the beach after lunch. You can't wait to tell her and the others the truth. Your real name at least. They still call you Lily, and as far as they know, you've been crashing on Billy's until you find a place for yourself. But you do want to tell the truth, and you hope they'll understand why you had to lie. But now, that's a distant thought. Jimmy shows up at the end of the afternoon after Stacy calls him. And, with you both annoying him to death, he starts making dinner, which only makes you and Stacy boss him around with giggles and jokes.

“No, listen up now.” He says after putting the chicken in the oven. “Enough with bugging me, you two. I wanna know something.” Raising an eyebrow, he gestures at you, dramatically slamming his hands on the table, making you roll your eyes. “You and Billy.” He says. “What's going on?”

Feeling your cheeks burning up, you clear your throat, looking at your hands. “Nothing.”

“I didn't take you for a liar," Stacy says, crossing her arms.

“I'm not...” Taking a deep breath, you run a hand through your hair. “I'm not lying. There's nothing between Billy and I. Just... We just kissed a few times but–”

“I knew it!” Stacy exclaims, cutting you off and startling you a little. “Since that day at the party when we met.”

“Really?” Despite being a little shy, you do want to know whatever she thinks she knows.

“Billy had a lot of... Flings. But he never stood up for any of them. He never truly cared. So when he beat up Chad like that... I knew something was off.” She exchanges a glance with Jimmy, smirking.

“And, c'mon, the way he looks at you is so cute.” Jimmy makes a funny voice and you giggle. “He's really into you. And Billy was never into anyone.”

“Of course he was.” You exclaim.

“No, no,” Jimmy speaks up, shaking his head lightly. “He gets a girl he finds attractive when he's bored, that's one thing. Being into someone is completely different.” As the plays with the dishcloth, he takes a seat across from you. “And I did find it weird when he suddenly stopped showing up with a different girl every day, and now I know why.”

“I don't know... I mean, we're good now, but... It's nothing official, so...” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, taking a deep breath. “But I'm happy the way things are now and who knows what may come next? I'll just take things slow.”

“You know what comes next.” Stacy chuckles. “Trust me, you'll two be dating in no time.”

“I bet,” Jimmy adds.

“Guys, just–” The door opening cuts you off, and you can't help but smile to see Billy. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you.” He answers, glancing at the other two. “Hi, everyone else who doesn't live here.” Closing the door shut, he makes his way over you. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yup.” Nodding, you blush when he bends over to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good. I'll shower and... Something's burning.”

“Jimmy!” Both you and Stacy shout and the poor guy sets in motion, crouching in front of the oven.

“Please don't let Jimmy burn the kitchen to the ground,” Billy whispers on your ear before heading to the bathroom.

The chicken was burned, but Jimmy had the decency of taking those parts for himself. Other than that, he's quite a good cook. And this dinner is nothing like the formal meals you had back home. It's loud, filled with laughter and stupid jokes, that are no fun at all but make you laugh anyway. An hour later, after Jimmy went to the grocery store to buy chocolate bars for dessert, you're just seating at the table, fighting with Stacy for the last piece.

“Oh, listen up!” Jimmy raises his voice, making both you and Stacy quit arguing. And you decide to let her keep the bar. “I spoke to my grandfather's friend and... He'll give you a chance. So show up on Monday by nine and I'll start filling you up with everything you gotta know.”

“Oh my gosh, for real!?” You exclaim, a bright smile on your lips. “That's absolutely amazing. It'll be so fun working with you.” Standing up, you bend over the table a little to high-five Jimmy. “Great!”

“So... Will I have to ask?” Billy speaks up when you sit down again, staring at you.

“Well, I was waiting for an answer before telling you. Jimmy said something about a diving equipment store so I asked him to speak to the owner to get me a job.” Turning your body towards Billy, you smile. “And it seems like it's happening.”

“Are you sure you want an actual job?” He asks, and you know what he means. You never had a job before, and well, you don't understand much about diving stuff. But you want this. You want to have something to do, and you want to make some money too, despite the untouched bag of money you have.

“Yeah. Jimmy promised to teach me everything I need to know and he'll keep his promise or else nobody will ever hear of him again.” As you speak, you stare at Jimmy, lowering your voice.

“I'm not scared of you, Lily. But I'm scared of Billy so don't worry I'll keep the promise.” He winks at you, and you can tell he's bringing the Chad incident back again.

“You know what...” Stacy says, taking a dramatically deep breath and getting up. “It's a little late and I believe these two want some alone time so we should get going.”

“Agreed.” Jimmy quickly follows her lead. “Well, see you guys around.”

“Bye.” You mutter, already moving to the sink to do the dishes.

Billy joins and helps you, so it's done in only a couple of minutes. Then, you move to the couch, and you couldn't contain your happiness when you found Grease on TV, and somehow you managed to make Billy watch without complaining too much. At the beginning of the movie, you were seated normally, side by side, but as time went by, you started to move, closer and closer, until you're lying down, with Billy's chest pressed against your back in a spoon position. But the awkwardness faded soon enough, and you surrendered to the bliss of being held by him.

When the movie ended, you started singing along to the last song, trying to annoy Billy as much as you could. But up next is a horror movie, and of course, Billy is forcing you to watch it since he threw the remote control somewhere on the floor and won't let you get up to take it. But since it isn't very good, both of you started to lose interest.

“Hey...” He mutters. “Are you sure about this job thing? What if your father calls tomorrow saying this whole thing is over and you can go back home?”

“Uhm...” You weren't thinking about that. Actually, the life you're living now has easily become the only life you have. The rest feels more distant with every passing day. But the decision isn't hard to make. Now, you know what you want, and you will do what makes you happy. “I'd still show up on Monday. I want this job. I want to have a purpose in life, even if it's selling diving stuff.” Shrugging your shoulders, you furrow your eyebrows at a particularly disgusting scene.

“I don't think your parents would allow it,” Billy speaks low, and you feel as he moves the hair away from your neck, starting to run his fingers through the skin, so softly you barely feel it.

“To hell with me what my parents think.” His fingertips burn, but it makes you shiver at the same time. You can't help but close your eyes at the sensation, giggling a little when he touches a ticklish spot. “This feels nice.”

“Does it?”

You're about to answer when you feel his lips replacing his fingers, and breath gets caught in your throat. For a girl who had never truly kissed anyone before, this is a whole new level. “Oh...” You mutter, lightly elbowing him, mostly out of nervousness, when you feel his teeth on your skin. “Didn't take you for a biter, Hargrove.”

“Only if you ask.”

“Alright then...” Moving, you turn around until you're facing him, your lips chasing his as if it's a matter of life and death. And it kinda is. You felt like you were dead, suffocated by all the things you had to participate in, the friends you had to pretend to like, the formal meetings, the family business, the rules, and etiquette. Everything you didn't want to be. But when Billy came along, you felt like you were finally allowed to swim to the surface and breathe. Billy is real, he doesn't fake it. When he's angry, he's angry, and when he's sad, he's sad.

In a way, Billy brought back to life, down to Earth, and pulled you up among the clouds at the same time. Because that's where you are now, kissing him, for far too long maybe, with only a few pauses to catch a breath. It's addictive, inebriating, and you'd stay here forever if you could because nothing else matters. His hands run through your body, respectfully, never pushing you, never going too far. You'd never expect this from the Billy Gisele told you about.

“We should be together.” You let out once you break apart again, catching your breath. But you regret it because you might have ruined the moment... But you can't help but wonder how many girls Billy had, in the exact position you are now, making out, just so it'll all over the next day. And you don't want that. You want him, for more than just a couple of days... And yes, you failed. You are falling in love with Billy. Clearing your throat you shake your head. “I mean... I just thought...”

“Look at me.” With his index finger, he lifts your head so you're staring into his eyes again. “This won't ever be accepted by anyone in your circle. Parents, friends, relatives... You know that right? Nobody will support this relationship.”

“I don't need their support. I've been told what to do my whole life. What clothes to wear, what friends I should grow close to, what to major in... I'm tired of this shit, I want you.” It just comes out, too fast, and you don't even know what to say to cover it up. Because it's the truth. “California never felt like home to me until you came along. This... This place feels more like home than the house I grew up in.”

“I... I wish you could stay here.” Billy's voice it's so low it makes you wonder if you heard him right.

“Stay here as in... Mmm... Living here? Even after the gang is arrested?” Blushing, you decide to be brave and ask him. It's not like you could pretend you didn't hear it. And yes, living here sounds a lot better than going back to the house.

“Yeah.” He nods, taking a deep breath. “I can't give you a big ass garden, a pool or–”

“I'd trade all of that for kisses, so I think we'd be good.” Rolling your eyes, you cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” In a fake menacing tone, Billy stars to move, trying to stay above you, but there's no enough couch and you start falling off.

“Billy, wait!” Laughing, you try to push him off. “I'm falling!”

“That's too bad.” Even though he doesn't stop and you do miss the couch completely, he manages to hold you by the waist, breaking your fall and instead, laying you softly on the floor before moving to hover above you, his body pressing yours against the cold ground.

Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “You know I can–”

“Be my girlfriend.” Billy cuts you off, his face getting all serious suddenly. He's not joking.

“W-what?” It's not that you didn't get it, it's just that you can't believe. And, by the look on his face, he took that as a doubt. He's beginning to move away, but you grab a handful of his shirt, forcing him to stay where he is. “Yes.” You burst out, biting your lip. “I wanna be your girlfriend.”

The smile that comes to his lips is beautiful, breathtaking. Your favorite view in the world. “Good.” And with that, he leans down to kiss you again.

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23 @lilred91

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #billy stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things

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dented-nado · 4 years

Text

Superman Doesn’t Like Horror Movies

Based off a prompt from this halloween prompt list!! - Feel free to send one in as well!

---

“So I might have stayed up late watching scary movies and there’s something making noise outside. Can you come over?”

Bruce stared forward at the bat-computer.

“Clark… you’re superman.”

Clark made an odd deep squeaking noise Bruce had never heard come out of someone.

“I know I’m superman I know it’s dumb, but half of those scary movie monsters are paranormal which often tend to also be magic and you know that’s one of the things that actually can get me, and if they do I can’t save the ones I love and and aandimreallysorrybutpleasecomeoverpleaseImfreakingout”

Bruce blinked a few times trying to keep up with Clark’s words that were slowly turning into a panicked super-speed thread of words completely illegible to any average human.

“Okay okay, Clark, calm down. You’re going to be fine…”

“WAIT I KNOW I’LL COME THERE.”

Before he had a chance to react, Batman suddenly had a pajama clad giant man named Clark latched onto him from behind, arms wrapped around him.

Once he had a chance to catch up with what just happened Bruce sighed and put down his phone.

“Why are you so freaked out about this anyway? You’re smart Clark, you know those things… well…” He was going to say those things weren’t real… but considering the things the league had fought… he couldn’t really say that in good faith.

“Exactly.”

Bruce sighed and slid off his cowl. “What were you doing watching scary movies anyway.” He turned around in Clark’s arms so he could face him. The poor man did look shaken. It was an unusual look for Clark to have. “They don’t… really seem like your type of movie.”

Clark looked guilty. “They aren’t but…” He straightened his glasses unnecessarily. “See Lois and Jimmy were talking about horror movies at work… but I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t know any. Then today Green Lantern and Flash were talking about their favorite scary movies, then they asked me mine… and I just made an excuse to leave.” He frowned. “I felt so left out.”

Bruce hummed and ran his gloved hand through Clark’s hair. With anyone else he might take his gloves off first since the tips did have slight claws on them, but he didn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting Clark with them, so he skipped right to the comforting part.

“You could have just said you don’t like horror movies.” He suggested.

“Yeah but…” Clark turned a little red. “I didn’t want them to laugh about how ‘Superman is too scared to watch horror movies’ or think I was… I don’t know… being a coward.”

“Clark, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer or do things you don’t want to do just to try and get people to like you.” Bruce grumbled.

Clark sighed, touching the hand Bruce had in his hair and bringing it down to his cheek. Bruce nearly melted at Clark looking at him with those sad… deep ocean blue wide eyes.

“I mean… you said so too I’m Superman. These things shouldn’t… scare me.”

Bruce felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m… …sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I was surprised and I… have a lot of faith in you to be able to defend yourself. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you weren’t allowed to be scared. That wasn’t fair.”

Clark studied Bruce’s face for a moment before closing his eyes, only to jump slightly as one of the many bats in the cave flew to a new location.

Bruce bit his lip. “You know… even though I’m Batman I don’t like watching horror movies either.”

Clark looked at him surprised, taking his focus off scanning the area for strange noises.

“Really?”

Bruce nodded. “Really.” He smiled, tugging on Clark’s loose curl that hung over his forehead playfully. “With all of the ones that have killer clowns or serial killers? I deal with that crap enough in Gotham, I don’t want to have it come up in any other aspects of my life.”

Clark looked almost immediately relieved. “Exactly! That’s it! It’s like… we deal with that kind of terror so often… seeing it happen in a movie, seeing bad things happen to people and not being able to do anything even if you know its not real?? I… I hated it.”

Bruce looked at him sympathetically. “I understand. Of course seeing all that would put you on edge.”

Bruce looked briefly back at the bat computer then turned back to Clark. “Let me change and we can go up to bed.”

“B… are you sure? If you’re in the middle of something…”

Bruce held up one hand as he unlatched his cape with the other.

“We’re partners. I can’t let Superman face whatever may be out there alone. We do have a policy in the league about always taking at least one other person with you after all.” He teased with a small smile.

Clark watched him for a moment before letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Thanks… B… it means a lot, really.”

As soon as Bruce finished putting up the Bat-suit he turned around and re-approached Clark with a playful glint in his eye.

“Besides…” He put one hand on Clark's shoulder and fiddled with one of the buttons on the other man’s shirt with the other before popping it open sheepishly. “I’m sure there’s ways I could destract you from any potential worries and help you sleep.”

Picking up what Bruce was putting down, Clark smiled back coyly and slid his glasses off his face.

“I’ll think I’ll take you up on that offer to keep me distracted Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce allowed Clark to lift him up… he had now made it his mission to comfort the super-man after all… and wrapped his legs around Clark’s waist as he was promptly rushed upstairs straight to bed where any fears or strange noises were promptly forgotten.

#superbat #batman #superman #superbats #manman #clark kent #bruce wayne #batman x superman #my writing #halloween prompts

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 5)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.

words: 3.1k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

----------

Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.

Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”

Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.

“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”

“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”

“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”

“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”

At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.

“It’s a favourite of mine too.”

The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.

“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”

“You have no idea…”

“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”

“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Everything alright, Layla?”

“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”

Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”

“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”

“I didn’t think you were that old.”

Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”

“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”

“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.

“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”

“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.

“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”

“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”

The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.

“Petal, I…”

“Jim, it’s fine. It—”

“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.

“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”

Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.

“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”

Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

----------

‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’

The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.

‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’

A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.

“Robert, hey. What is it?”

“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”

“Rob—”

This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”

“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”

Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.

“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”

Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.

“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”

“...”

“Layla? Are you still there?”

“How?!”

“I told you not to freak out…”

“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.

“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.

“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”

“Okay…Robert?”

“Yes, little dove?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”

Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.

“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”

“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”

“Right.”

The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”

“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.

“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.

“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”

“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”

The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.

“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.

Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.

----------

“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”

The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.

The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.

“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.

“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”

“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”

Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.

“How’re you doing, champ?”

“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”

“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”

The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”

“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.

“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”

“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.

“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”

Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.

“Let them sleep.”

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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #jimmy x oc

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Monster

Summary: He’s a monster, you are his prey…Right?

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader, former Carson Brady x Reader

Characters: Detective Jimmy Novak, Zachariah, Lisa Braeden

Warnings: angst, scared reader, characters death, murder, blood, kidnapping, violence, smut, unprotected sex, dub-con, cock warming, possessive Dean, lies, dark!fic, OOC Dean, obsession, mentions of cheating (not Dean)

A/N: Lyrics in italics by Walking on cars – ‘Monster’

Words: 3,6 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Monster. Usually, monsters are face- and nameless creatures but the monster haunting your nightmares has a face and a name.

His name is Dean Winchester, and this is the story of how you tried to escape him…

Eight months earlier…

A noise followed by the sickening sound of someone’s death screams wakes you from your dreams. When you finally blink your eyes open you can hear hushed voices and desperate sobs.

You can hear your husband beg for his life and someone chuckle at his words. Your hands are shaking, and your legs are like jelly, but somehow you manage to dial 911 to call for help.

For a moment you believe this was only a nightmare and you will wake soon but then a blood curdling scream let your breathing quicken again.

The voices grow louder, and you can hear someone get closer to the bedroom. Panicked you kneel to flatten to the ground and crawl under the bed.

You know, anyone entering the bedroom can see the unmade bed, but you pray you can by yourself and Brady some time by hiding.

When the door creaks open you cover your mouth with your hand, barely breathing to make sure whoever is entering the room does not find you before the police arrives.

You can hear sirens in the distance and your heart beats faster. A man steps closer to the bed, looks around the room before he touches the sheets.

“We have to go!” A voice calls for the intruder of your home. “Let’s go. He got what he deserved boss, no need to wait for the cops to arrive.”

Your breathing evens when you watch the man leave your bedroom.

Someone slams the front door and you rush to the window, hide behind the curtains only to see Dean Winchester, ‘the Dean Winchester’ leave your house with another man.

This can’t be, this is a nightmare. There is no reasonable explanation why the notorious bachelor and billionaire came to your house to attack your husband.

“Brady…” Just now you find the strength to run out of the bedroom to call your husbands name. “BRADY!” Running into his office you fall to your knees as his lifeless body lies on the floor.

Someone rammed a knife into his heart. There is no life in his eyes and you start shaking, as the cops break through the front door.

“Ma’am…Mrs. Brady? We need you to come with us…” You feel hands on your body but the voices calling your name can’t reach you. “Ma’am…we need you to leave the room.”

“Mrs. Brady, did you see the attacker? Anyone?” A cop in a cheap suit asks and you nod. “Do you know the attacker?”

“I saw him before. We…we don’t know him; I mean I never met him in person but…” Sniffling you feel your legs give in and the cop needs to steady your body.

“It was Dean Winchester. There was another man, but he was too far away, already entering a car. I can only tell; he was taller than Winchester…”

Your eyes search for any kind of sympathy in the cop’s eyes, but they changed to cold orbs the moment you let Dean Winchesters name slip.

“Ma’am. I think you dreamed or something.” Huffing another cop check on you. “She was asleep and dreamed Dean Winchester came to her house and killed her husband, Jimmy. Can you believe this?”

“Don’t make fun of her, Zachariah. She was asleep, heard someone hurt her husband and confused the attacker with Mr. Winchester.” The man named Jimmy pats you shoulder, but there is not compassion in his eyes either.

“Yeah…I…I think that’s what happened.”

Your instinct tells you that there is no one in this room believing your story, even worse, you have the feeling none of the cops would start an investigation against Dean Winchester.

“I…I read a magazine and he was on the cover.” It’s not a complete lie, though.

The posture of the first cop changes, he seems to be more relaxed and oddly, he gives you a soft smile.

“This must be it, ma’am. I guess you saw two men leave your house and that’s it. Do you have cameras?” You know Brady installed three hidden cameras in the backyard and four in the front yard.

They are well hidden and only you and he know where to find the cameras, so you do the only thing coming to your mind – you lie.

“No. Unfortunately we don’t have any security cameras. I…I always wanted one, but Brady believed no one would ever break into our house…” Now the tears fall, and you grasp for a chair to sit as your legs give in. “I can’t help you…”

“That is not a problem, Mrs. Brady. We will do our best to find your husbands murderer…” You know the cop lies, just like you know that Dean Winchester came to your house to kill Brady.

“Of course, you will. You are the good guys after all…” The words leave a bitter taste on your tongue but you can’t scream bloody murder as you are surrounded by people protecting your husband’s killer.

“We are ma’am…” Helping you back up the cop named Jimmy leads you out of the room. “It’s better for you to wait upstairs. We need the forensics in here…”

“O…Okay. Do you need anything else? Coffee? My statement?” Sniffling you wrap your arms around your trembling body.

“Not now, Mrs. Brady. We can talk about everything later…much later…”

Much later never came. Every time you called the department no one seemed to know anything about your husbands’ case.

Here you are now, at his burial. Not many people came. His parents died years ago, just like yours. Brady never made many friends on his way to one of the most important security companies CEO. It’s only you, the priest and three or four people who worked for Brady.

Over the last days you got to know the firm is reported to be bankrupt. Brady lost all your money, which means you’ll lose the house too.

“We are sorry for your loss, Mrs. Brady.” Before she goes Lisa Braeden hugs you tightly. “He was a great boss, not someone yelling at his staff. I packed all the cops didn’t take. I’ll send it to your house.”

“Thank you for coming. I know most of the people are mad at Brady, including me.” Giving you a sad smile Lisa shakes your hand before she follows her former colleague.

A man stands a bit further away. He’s wearing a black suit and a cold shiver runs down your spine when he turns to walk toward a black Impala - the car you saw that night…

“Another one?” The bartender asks as you slam the manila folder shut. “Hard day?”

“Where shall I start?” Huffing you point toward your black dress. “My husband got killed. I have to pay for his burial with money I do not have. The company my father helped him built is bankrupt. I have to move out of my house at the end of month and the killer…”

“Is still out there?” A man asks and you nod silently. “Didn’t the cops help?”

When you turn to face the man, you are close to lose consciousness. Dean Winchester sits right next to you, still wearing the black suit.

“No. I didn’t see the killer. Only two shadows…that’s all…” Lying you turn your attention back toward the papers in the folder. Your hands are shaking as you look at the big red numbers.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry about money, Sweetheart…” His voice is smooth, and you must admit if he weren’t your husband’s murderer you would even call him sexy.

“I am not pretty or a girl. I am a widow with a huge amount of debts, a house which isn’t mine any longer and I found out that Brady fucked his assistant for over eight months…” Angrily slamming your glass onto the counter you stare at the bottles behind the bartenders back.

“Another one for me and the lovely lady.” Dean snickers, moving closer to have a look at the papers. “Maybe I can help? I am good at helping a pretty woman out.”

“I don’t think you want to help me, okay. You don’t even know me.” Closing the folder you turn to leave. “I’ll handle this…”

“Do you have any lead? Maybe footage of the killer?” Dean steps closer, into your personal space and you take a step backward as you get an uneasy feeling.

“No. I have nothing against the men coming to my house to kill my husband. I have nothing against anyone…” Meeting Dean’s eyes you feel his hand grab your upper arm.

“Sweetheart, you look so sad.” He’s stepping closer, strokes your cheek with his hand as he tightens the grip on your arm. “I could make the sadness go away.”

Your heart races, your stomach protests but your brain has an idea. If the cops will not help you find any proof to make sure Dean Winchester gets arrested, you have to do something.

“I…I don’t know how you could help me…” His lips brush over yours and you are suddenly too aware what he has in mind. “Mr. …”

“Call me Dean, Sweetheart. Now tell me…” His hands wander to your waist. “…do you want me to make everything better?” Aware that you throw yourself into the lion den you look up at the green-eyed man.

“How could you make things better? Can you make the man killing my husband rethink things? Can you make sure my husband does not bang his secretary and knock her up?” Huffing you try to step backward but Dean’s hands have a tight grip at your body.

“I could…” His lips brush yours and you need to take a deep breath to press your lips to his soft pillows.

“Make you scream my name tonight and tomorrow; I’ll pay for your debts and make sure that woman is out of your hair…”

“She wants to sue me to pay for her baby…” Now you swallow hard as his hands wander to your ass, groping it roughly.

“How long since he fucked you properly, Y/N?” A shudder let your body go stiff.

You never told him your name…

“Months. Brady spend most of his time in his office, day and night. If he even came home…” It’s not a lie this time.

That was your life for the last ten months. It’s not as if you and your husband were still a happy couple but this doesn’t mean you can let his killer get away with what he did.

“Come with me, Y/N. I’ll give you the night of your life and more…” Self-confident much…

Your body reacts to his touch and you try to keep your mind somewhere else as Dean slips two fingers into your slit.

He didn’t wait until you reached his house. He had you pressed to the backseat, his face between your thighs the moment you entered his car.

To your shame, your touched-starved body craves his attention and the squelching sound of your pussy sucking his finger in is proof enough.

“So wet already, Y/N. I’ll make you writhe on my dick in no time. Fucking perfect…that’s what you are…”

Dean groans and you would even call the moment he crooks his fingers erotic as he looks at you with piercing olive eyes and you shudder under his gaze.

“Feels so good…” You don’t have to lie. Physically it feels good, but emotionally you are close to punch his face. “More…”

“You’ll get all you want, Baby Girl. Damn, you are dripping for me. I bet Brady boy never made you feel that good…” Truth to be told, he didn’t.

“Brady was more the ‘get it done and work more’ kind of guy…” Your hands find purchase in Dean’s hair as he brushes his fingertips over your sweet spot.

“Shame you married that idiot. Always should’ve been with…” Dean clears his throat, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You should’ve been with someone like me, worshipping you and your body…”

You are a goner only seconds later but after your high, the shame and guilt fill your chest with hurting. Brady barely had the chance to rest in his grave and you are on the backseat with his murderer.

Only to find a proof he killed your husband… You replay in your mind.

“Yeah…” Pressing the word out, forcing it to leave your mouth you look at Dean who slides his fingers out. “He was more into business and fucking someone else…”

“I’ll never cheat on your, Sweetheart. I’ll make you mine.” He’s covering your body with his tall frame, pressing his erection against your lower belly and you close your eyes before you spread your legs.

“I want you, Dean…” Your voice almost cracks as you feel his cock nudge at your entrance.

Unlike your husband Dean slowly inches into you, takes his time to press soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone and it takes all your willpower to not cry as the intimacy is too much.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Love the way you feel around me.” You barely realize Dean started to move on top of you.

All you can do is to close your eyes and forget you are even there, but his lips press against yours and his cock hits the right spot force you to stay with him.

The coil inside your belly threatens to tighten and you wrap your legs around his waist to move with Dean. You hate it feels good, you hate that Dean will give you what Brady never even tried…another orgasm…

Your face contorts in pleasure before you can stop it. Your body gives in as you cry out Dean’s name and you feel another wave of guilt wash over you when he comes inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly.

“You’re mine, always were meant to be mine…” Your blood freezes when you feel Dean press his lips to yours. “I know you saw me, Sweetheart.”

Now your body goes stiff as Dean smirks, looking down at you in his arms. “It was too easy to get you. I thought you would fight me, scream and scratch me when I want to bring you home…”

“Home…” Lips quivering you look up at Dean, but his features soften.

“Home, Y/N. The place you belong to.” He’s nuzzling his face into your neck, humming as you are not able to move. “For two years I tried to make Brady see you belong with me. It was me; you know…”

“I…I don’t understand.” Scared you look push against Dean’s chest. “What do you mean?”

“The blind date, the day you met Brady. You were my date, but that bastard slit my tires open, I came too late and before I had the chance to ask you out again…”

“You…you were my date? But my friend said…” Stammering you feel Dean rut against your, groaning as his cock twitches one last time.

“Brady paid her, okay. I wanted to tell you, but that bastard made sure no one gets close to you and then you were married after your trip to Vegas…”

Your world seems to cave in realizing Dean killed Brady as he believed you are meant to be with him.

“Is that the reason you killed him?” Voice trembling you hiss as Dean rests his head onto your chest, still not pulling out. “Dean…”

“I came to talk to him after I caught him red-handed with his secretary, Y/N. I swear, I never intended on killing him. I gave him an ultimatum to tell you what he did and set you free.”

Nuzzling your breasts Dean sighs. “Never thought you would come with me like that.”

“I…” You want to push him off you, want to scream but Dean killed your husband and he could lash out and do the same to you. “This wasn’t the plan…”

“I know you wanted to find proof I killed that bastard, but you must know, he never loved you. Brady only kept you around to torture me, to proof he won for once.” While your mind is racing Dean keeps on talking.

“I caught him with that whore. He promised her marriage, and that you will be out of his life soon.” You wiggle underneath Dean, try to force him off your body but he won’t budge.

“Stop lying…Brady would’ve never…” Dean’s lips silence your protest, even when you try to bite him he slips his tongue into your mouth, making you pant for air when he finally breaks the kiss.

“I do not lie, Sweetheart. I have no reason to do so. I killed your husband, stalked you and yes, I would’ve taken you with me tonight against your will, but I do not lie, never will lie to you.” There is honesty in his eyes and words as he presses his lips to your temple.

“How can I believe your words…your lies…”

“That night, I came to talk to him like men should do. I offered to save his company, give him enough money for his whore and him. I only wanted you in return…” Huffing you press your hands to his chest.

“Lies…”

“No, Y/N. I told you I do not lie…not to you.” Weakly angling your hips you groan as his cock is still buried inside of you. “He made fun of me and my love to you. Brady said that no one should be that obsessed about a useless girl like you. That Lisa is…forget it.”

“He would never…” Sniffling you look anywhere but into Dean’s eyes. “Liar…”

“He was the liar, not me.” Dean gets angry, grabs your chin to force you to look at him. “I told him to forget about you, that he can have anything he ever dreamed off, but he said that Lisa wants you gone…and he meant gone.”

“Gone…I…oh…gone…”

“Your fine husband wanted to kill you to prove he only loves her. That monster had the guts to tell me you will be dead and gone soon. I lost my composure and…”

“Killed my husband…” Covering your eyes with your hands you try to process what Dean just said. Did Brady plan to kill you? Would have gone that far or is this a sick game Dean tries to play with you?

All you know is that you need to be smart, need to hide all you have in mind is to escape this dangerous man.

Months later you are on the run. One night you could sneak out of the restaurant Dean brought you to. Before you had to pretend to give in, to play his girl, even agreed to marry him to make sure you can find proof he killed your husband.

Unfortunately, there was nothing you could have used against him. – Not that the cops would’ve believed you this time.

Especially after you saw the cops coming to your house that night to talk to Dean at his office not days before you ran away.

Benny, Dean’s right hand confirmed that Brady tried to get rid of you, still, Dean is a dangerous man. He’s not the nice billionaire he tries to pretend.

Dean Winchester is the kingpin of whole Kansas and you had no other choice than to run before you never get the chance to.

Before the engagement ring at your finger seals your fate…

Monsters are not real. They are residents of nightmares or urban legends.

Monsters shouldn’t find you when you ran away.

Monsters shouldn’t call your name softly.

Monsters shouldn’t press a shotgun to another man’s head as he tried to make money by calling your fiancè.

“Get away from my fiancé, piece of shit. Selling her position to me. Kidnapping her. Restraining her. Tossing her into your trunk.

While you shake in fear, glancing up at Dean he slams the handle of the gun into the man’s face.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I was so worried when you ran away.”

He’s securing the shotgun before he removes the makeshift gag your so-called friendly neighbor stuffed into your mouth to make sure you can’t call for help.

Check the locks, shut the windows down

This monster's back in town

The song replays in your mind as Dean cuts the ropes around your ankles and wrists open. He doesn’t seem to be angry, or in the mood to get rid of you.

Dean, the monster killing your husband gently checks on your sore wrists and ankles.

“We have to clean the sore skin, Y/N. I’ll have a first aid kit in my car. Never scare me like that again.”

This monster's back in town

Danger knocking at my door

He has you in his arms a moment later and you know for sure – Dean will never let you out of sight again.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I know you were scared when the cops came to our home. Jimmy said you recognized him.”

“I thought you would hurt me…” Dean’s lips press a soft kiss to your hair as he carries you toward the waiting SUV.

“I would never hurt you, Y/N. You’re my girl. Jimmy came by as he finally had proof that Brady planned to kill you. I asked him to help me find Lisa. She admitted that Brady had a plan to get rid of you.” Shaking you hide your face in Dean’s chest.

“He did…” Your voice is weak as you know there is no way the man holding you in his arms will ever let you go.

“I will make you see there is no reason to be afraid of me. All I want is to love you…”

Check the locks, shut the windows down

This monster's back in town

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

Text

Ghost

Pairings: Daniel Sousa x Reader, Stucky

Summary: Y/N has had plenty of struggles in her life, from getting experimented on by Hydra to overcoming adversity in her male-dominated workplace. She assumes falling in love with her boss is just another complication in her series of misfortunes, but maybe it’s not as complicated as she thinks.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: mentions of experimentation/torture, mentions of war, mentions of societal homophobia, some swearing (steve drops a couple f bombs), potential spoilers for Agents of SHIELD 7x03 and 7x04 (i drew from the events but none of the AoS characters are in this fic)

a/n: This is technically a spinoff from Not So Bad and Out of Time - the reader has the same abilities but is just born in the same time period as Sousa and the rest rather than being stranded in the time period. However, this can be read as a stand-alone fic. See the end for additional notes!

___

It had been a few days since the base you had been held at had been filled with prisoners of war. You thought you’d heard one of them say they were from the 107th but that didn’t really mean much to you. Had they arrived months ago you might’ve found it a comfort to hear native English speakers and American accents, but now you only felt sad for their futures. Surely they’d only end up like you, or worse, like the ones who failed the experiments.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been Hydra’s prisoner or how long you’d been the sole survivor, only that now you weren’t the only living experiment. A soldier, you didn’t know his name, had been strapped to a table nearby just hours after the prisoners arrived. You didn’t know what they had been injecting him with, only that he seemed to scream less than you had in your early days. But there must’ve been something special about him because only days later Captain America burst through the doors of the lab to rescue him.

“I thought you were dead,” the superhero breathed out, gently stroking the side of the soldier’s face.

“I thought you were smaller?” The soldier said, confused and delirious, likely a side effect of whatever drugs Hydra had been injecting him with.

“C’mon, Bucky, I’m going to get you out of here.” Captain America promised the soldier, who was apparently named Bucky, as he tore his restraints and lifted him off the metal table.

“Wait… Steve,” you heard Bucky gasp and he must’ve been pointing to you because seconds later Captain America was standing over you and tearing your restraints off as well.

“Do you speak English?” He asked as you rubbed your wrists, free of any restraints for the first time in months.

You nodded, unable to come up with a verbal response. You hadn’t spoken in months. Hydra never asked you questions and eventually, you had learned to hold in your screams of agony at each new round of experimentation.

You followed the superhero and Bucky through the building, looking for a way out before the whole base exploded. You were following Bucky across a precariously hung beam when it fell, dropping you into the flames below. Except you never reached them, because somehow, someway, you were flying. You watched as Captain America jumped across the gap and he and Bucky shared a pained look at the gorge before he was urging them on.

“We have to keep moving,” He said, voice breaking with what sounded to you like loss, but you didn’t understand what he had lost.

You followed the pair out before the building exploded, staying close behind them through the chaos of the aftermath. The walk back to their base was even worse. It was long and grueling and you were exhausted and alone as none of the soldiers knew who you were. At one point Captain America began to cry.

“Steve, Steve,” Bucky tried to reassure him, “It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could do to help her.”

You were puzzled. They hadn’t lost anyone since Captain America had found her and Bucky. It almost sounded like they were talking about here, but that was ridiculous, you’d been right behind them the whole time.

You looked down at your feet in confusion which was when you realized, you didn’t have any feet. You didn’t have a body. You held back a scream at the realization and you began to panic, am I dead?

“What the hell was that?” Bucky gasped, clutching his ears at the high-pitched noise that had pierced the forest they were walking through. Evidently, you hadn’t held back that scream.

That was good news though, right? You thought if Bucky could hear you scream then that must mean you weren’t dead.

It didn’t take them long to find you, though it took much longer for them to see you. Almost immediately after your scream alerted them of your presence Captain America walked right into you. It took a bit longer for you to convince them that you weren’t a threat, in fact, it took much longer than the trip back to their camp to do that. For the time being, however, they made sure you were in physical contact with someone in the group at all times (one of the soldiers had suggested they use some rope to attach one of your wrists to one of them or one of their packs but you had freaked out at the thought of being restrained again). You stuck to Captain America, who’s real name you learned was Steve, and Bucky for the majority of the walk, though you couldn’t help but feel like you were in the middle of something.

The atmosphere surrounding you became more hostile when you arrived at their camp. Colonel Phillips was not thrilled to have an invisible Hydra experiment lose on his base. Fortunately, albeit somewhat surprising, Bucky vouched for you and while Phillips was convinced that you could be an asset, you were still not trusted and deemed Bucky’s responsibility. It was a bit insulting, you were a grown woman after all, but you appreciated having someone to turn to. You’d been removed from the world for a while now and quite frankly had no idea what was going on with your body at this point.

Things had become even more confusing when you returned to visibility a few days after reaching the camp. Phillips was glad that he didn’t have to worry about invisible Nazis anymore (though he still thought you might be a Nazi) and you thought Bucky was glad he didn’t have to babysit you as closely anymore. When your visibility returned you were immediately taken under the wings of Agent Peggy Carter and Howard Stark, who were apparently the resident “superhero experts” in Stark’s words. Agent Carter began training you in hand-to-hand combat immediately and enlisted some of the Howling Commandos to assist you with weapons training. Howard began a series of tests in hopes of understanding exactly what Hydra had done to you.

His results weren’t perfectly conclusive and you didn’t really understand most of his science-talk, but apparently, Hydra had managed to alter your body chemistry, allowing your cells to become completely undetectable by light and had somehow managed to change the way gravity affected your body, which is why you had been able to fly and become invisible. Once Howard’s tests had yielded this information, you began additional training to attempt to learn to control your new powers.

It was grueling and difficult, but after a few months, you finally felt like you had control over your new abilities, and with your loyalties to the Allies seemingly proven, Colonel Phillips seemed willing to send you out on assignment.

“Hey, Ghost!” Morita called out as you exited the building where Peggy had been conducting your training. “Let’s go!”

Sometime after your return to base, Dum Dum Dugan had made a comment about how you were “like a ghost” with your invisibility and flying and the nickname had stuck, with the Howling Commandos all using it to refer to you.

“Go where?”

“Howlies briefing in five, we gotta go,” he said urgently, waving you along.

“C’mon, Jimmy, you know I’m not actually a Howling Commando,” you sighed, annoyed. You were exhausted and sweaty from your training and all you wanted was to hit the showers and get some dinner.

“Well I think you’re about to become one, Phillips cleared you for combat and Rogers requested your presence.”

“Wait, seriously?” You couldn’t believe your ears. The Howling Commandos specialized in taking out Hydra, something you were eager to help with given everything they had done to you.

“Yes, seriously,” Morita sighed exasperatedly, “Now get a move on or we’ll be late!”

You did become an official member of the Howling Commandos that day, though the team had treated you like one of their own from the moment they had formed. Your first mission with the unit was to infiltrate a train and capture Dr. Arnim Zola, the man responsible for your experimentation. Though, much to your disappointment, your job wasn’t to capture the doctor but to distract the guards long enough for Gabe Jones to do the job. The assignment seemed simple enough, and you were grateful for the Howlies’ confidence in theirs and your abilities.

When you returned to your bunk after your shower you were greeted by Peggy and Howard, both of whom were sporting wide grins. You eyed them warily, never quite sure what the pair had up their sleeves but this time it turned out to be something good.

“We thought you might need this for your assignment tomorrow,” Peggy said in her clipped accent, handing over a stack of fabric.

You unfolded it to find a combat suit. It was made of a similar material to Captain America’s, but rather than the signature red, white, and blue, yours was mostly grey and black (Peggy explained that they wanted it to be white but thought it would dirty too easily) with the yellow winged insignia of the Howling Commandos on the shoulder. It was perfect and you told them such, which only made their smiles grow impossibly wider. Then, Peggy handed you one more gift: a dress that she insisted you change into immediately as you were going out tonight to celebrate. You spent the night drinking, laughing, and dancing with Peggy, Howard, and the Howlies.

The mission the next day was a success. You, Steve, and Bucky had managed to take out the guards with ease, though you had almost lost Bucky. A blast from one of the Hydra agents had blown open the side of the train and Bucky had almost fallen out of it as Steve took out the final agent. Fortunately, before Bucky’s grip even began to slip you were there, holding him up just enough for Steve to grasp his hand and pull him back onto the train, you flying in shortly after. It was your first of many successful missions with the Howlies.

A few months later you almost lost Steve. The Howlies had been joined by the US Army for what they had hoped would be their last mission against Hydra- an attack on Schmidt’s final hideout in the Alps. They managed to infiltrate and capture the base with relative ease but Schmidt was able to escape on a plane with Captain America in tow. You stood beside Peggy in the base’s command center as she spoke to Steve who had now gained control of the aircraft.

“I have to put her in the water,” Steve said, his voice echoing into the sudden silence of the room, “I don’t know how to override the coordinates.”

“Would you like to learn how?” Howard asked into the speaker.

With Howard’s help, Steve was able to reroute the plane, landing back safely in the Alps where he was greeted by a bone-crushing hug from Bucky and the rest of the Howlies.

___

After the war, you, Steve, and Bucky returned to the States while the rest of the Howlies remained in Europe as a tactical unit for the 107th. Though you were stateside, the three of you had made it clear that you weren’t severing ties with the Howlies and would be in Europe as quickly as possible whenever you were needed.

Upon your return to the US, Howard made sure to set you up with adequate housing, a small (by Howard’s standards) townhouse only a few blocks from the New York office of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, which you had come to work for along with Steve and Peggy. Steve was only ever brought in when additional force was necessary, preferring to spend as much time as possible with Bucky. You would’ve found this odd had you not accidentally walked in on the two passionately making out the day the war was announced to be over. Before the war, you might’ve thought something like that was abnormal or wrong, but after everything the SSR and Hydra had done, Steve and Bucky being in love was probably the most normal thing about them and you certainly weren’t going to judge them for it.

Unlike Steve, you joined the SSR full time as an agent. You had been expecting to see plenty of action in the field, though hopefully nothing quite as dangerous as the war. Instead, you were mostly confined to desk duty: filing reports and getting lunch orders along with Peggy. It was beyond infuriating to see the agent who had trained you and whom you admired so much be pushed off to the sidelines because she was a woman. Your own abilities only made matters worse for yourself. While Steve was praised for his enhanced abilities, yours were viewed as a mistake- women weren’t fit for combat, let alone superpowers. Some of the men of the SSR even had the audacity to act like you had stolen the opportunity to gain abilities from a more worthy man, as if getting your abilities wasn’t a traumatic experience you still dealt with to this day. Nevertheless, you made do. Everyday trying to convince yourself that you were making a difference even from your desk but most days you regretted not staying with the Howlies.

You had been considering leaving the SSR to rejoin the Howlies when one of Howard’s vaults was robbed. His inventions were stolen and the inventor became a fugitive. To save face you were forced to move out of your beautiful house, though only temporarily, but you began working with Peggy behind the backs of the SSR and outside of the law to clear your friend’s name. At least you were finally getting some action in the field. And when you and Peggy were able to bring in the Howlies for help on an assignment you thought you’d finally start getting some recognition, but the men continued to undermine you both. Even after you saved the world from Leviathan Jack Thompson was given the credit and all you and Peggy were left with was the respect of a few agents.

One such agent was Agent Daniel Sousa, though you felt that you had his respect long before Leviathan. Though he wasn’t ever very vocal about the injustices you faced in the office, he seemed to empathize with you. Like you, he was an abnormality in the field with his prosthetic. The other agents tended to treat him like he was broken or delicate, which sometimes limited his fieldwork, though never to the extent of yours.

“Hey! Invisi-Girl, let's get a move on!” Thompson called from the entrance to the bullpen, where he and Peggy were waiting. You had finally been invited to celebratory drinks with the other agents, though you weren’t sure you really enjoyed their company.

“God I miss the Howlies,” you groaned, Dum Dum Dugan’s nicknames might’ve been cheesy but at least they weren’t bad. You had hated Ghost at first, but now you’d do anything to have the nickname back.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you spent time with the Howling Commandos blah blah, let’s go.” Thompson rolled his eyes and you froze in the middle of the bullpen.

“Wait, is that what you all think?” You asked, eyes narrowing. “That I ‘spent time’ with the Howlies?”

“Yeah, just like Carter did. Why does this matter?” Thompson was impatient but you were stubborn and there wasn’t a chance you were leaving this building until this was cleared up.

“You dumbass.” You snarked and you heard some of the men gasp at your vulgarity. “I am a Howling Commando.”

“They don’t let women into combat.” You heard a man say and you laughed.

“I was the SSR’s greatest asset behind Captain America.” You rolled your eyes, momentarily going invisible to remind everyone what you were capable of. “Why do you think I came here afterward? So you could waste my talents fetching coffee?”

You scoffed at their silence before catching Peggy’s eye. She was smirking proudly at you and you grinned back, slinging your jacket over your shoulders and walking purposefully to her side. You slipped your arm through hers and looked expectantly at Thompson,

“Well? Let’s go.” You said, staring at him as if he had grown a third head, though he was giving you an even more peculiar look.

The next day you put in a request to transfer to the new West Coast office.

___

LA was the fresh start you needed. Steve and Bucky had flown out with you to help you get settled in your new place, once again supplied by Howard, that man really had too much real estate. Peggy couldn’t get the time off to come with but you made sure to send her a postcard. Howard was moving too, apparently sick of New York after the Leviathan incident.

You had a new home, a new city, and a new job so imagine your surprise when you walked into the West Coast office of the SSR only to run into Daniel Sousa, literally.

“Agent Sousa, what’re you doing here?”

“I’m the new chief.” He answered, looking at you strangely and you suppose that’s information you should’ve known but nobody had told you and you hadn’t asked.

“You’re the…” you muttered, filing through it all in your head. “Well, congratulations. I didn’t realize anyone else was transferring from New York.”

“I believe it’s just you, me, and Rose,” Sousa said and you beamed.

“Oh, Rose is here? That’s fantastic.”

Sousa raised his eyebrow curiously though he smiled slightly. He looked adorable. “You had no idea what you were getting into did you?”

“To be honest I was just anxious to get away from New York.” You admitted and he frowned.

“You dislike the city that much?”

“I love the city, just not the way the office is run. I was hoping a brand new office might be more open to change but…” you trailed off, managing to communicate your fear that things would be the same under Sousa that they were back East without speaking.

Sousa at least had the mind to look offended.

“Agent Y/L/N, I have a lot of respect for you and I don’t plan on sidelining you like Jack,” he explained.

“Well then, this might be a worthwhile endeavor after all,” you smiled, “Lead the way.”

LA was a dream. The constant sunshine was such a mood lifter and the heat meant a more relaxed dress code at the office. Not that you were spending as much time in the office these days. Daniel had been true to his word about not benching you. In fact, you became the first pick for field assignments. Daniel seemed readily able to acknowledge and exploit the advantages you had in the field. No one would suspect a woman to hold a government position, let alone be a field agent so men continued to underestimate you at every turn. And even when a man was smart enough (or more likely you were dealing with a woman) you had a few extra tricks up your sleeve. Daniel had even taken to joining you in the field on many occasions. You had become partners of sorts. You did plenty of solo assignments, but if you ever needed backup Sousa was always the one watching your six. He never assigned any other agents to work with you, always insisting to do so himself.

In addition to a more fulfilling work life, your social life was quite enjoyable as well. Whether you liked it or not, Howard was often insistent on dragging you to party after party and you found you quite enjoyed spending time with Ana Jarvis, though you weren’t all that surprised given how fond you were of her husband.

Your love life was a little lackluster, though that wasn’t anything new for you. You’d had a few prospects before being literally kidnapped during the war but after your rescue, you had dedicated yourself to the cause. Even now you threw yourself into your work, turning down every attempt at matchmaking Howard tried. You had more important things to worry about than finding a man, you rationalized, but perhaps you were also waiting for a certain someone.

You had told Bucky straight away- panicked and looking for advice on what to do when you had a crush on your superior.

“I don’t know,” he had told you, “Steve and I were already in a fully committed relationship when he became mine.”

You had just groaned and whined more about your situation while your friend laughed from the other side of the phone.

“You’re no help.” You pouted and Bucky laughed some more.

“Sorry, doll,” you could practically hear him shrug through the phone and you let out a resigned sigh.

“Is that Ghost?” You heard a voice ask in the background and you smiled lightly at the nickname.

“Yeah, but-” Bucky had started speaking but was cut off. You heard a scuffle and muffled shouting through the receiver before a new voice rang through.

“Hey Y/N it’s Steve,” he spoke pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just wrestled his boyfriend for the phone.

“Hi Stevie, how are ya?”

You told Steve about your predicament as well, there wasn’t any harm in it. Bucky was the one who would tease you endlessly about it, but Steve was a softie.

“Dan’s a nice guy,” Steve had said empathetically, “You could’ve picked a lot worse.”

“Yes, but Steve I can’t pick Daniel.” You griped petulantly. “He’s my boss.”

“Y/N, if I can date a man then you can date your fucking boss,” Steve said flatly, clearly done putting up with your bullshit.

“Language, Cap!” You gasped, scandalized. Steve had scolded Gabe one time for swearing in the field and the Howlies had never let him live it down since.

“Oh fuck off,” Steve groaned and you laughed. “Now stop whining like a child and go get your man.” You could hear Bucky whoop from the other end of the phone at Steve’s words.

You laughed at the pair and agreed, no more moping. You’d ask him out the next day at work.

___

You did not ask him out the next day at work. You had marched right up to Daniel’s office to ask and were brought to an abrupt stop because Peggy Carter was standing in the office.

“Peggy!” You had squealed excitedly, any thought of asking Daniel out completely thrown from your mind at the sight of your friend. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Well, it was all rather last minute, really.”

Daniel cleared his throat, “Agent Y/L/N, could you give us a minute?”

You furrowed your brows at the use of your formal title, the two of you were long past using titles. You’d been partners for more than a year now, you were on a first-name basis.

“Sure, chief,” you said, playing along though you gave him a confused look.

The longer you stood in the bullpen the more anxious you became. Back in New York you had heard Thompson mock Daniel for the torch he supposedly carried for Peggy. Maybe Peggy had feelings for him too and she had finally come to confess them. That was why they had rushed you out of the office so quickly.

After about five minutes you realized you were probably supposed to be doing your job and made your way over to your desk. You had paperwork that needed to be completed from your last assignment but you couldn’t keep your mind off Daniel and Peggy long enough to complete it. Your stomach turned as you tried to push away the thoughts of what they could be doing in there, it had been nearly a half hour now.

You were considering going downstairs to talk to Rose, anything for a distraction, when Peggy emerged from the office. She smiled kindly at you as she made her way over to your desk, her purposeful stride reaching you in seconds. You knew that smile, the one that looked sincere but there was a seriousness in her eyes that you could pick out. There was more to her arrival here than meets the eye and she was trying to keep up appearances.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly but firmly when she reached your desk. “In private.”

You nodded, standing immediately and grabbing your purse.

“My place.”

None of the agents questioned your sudden exit. You were the branch’s top field agent and were often leaving with no warning to act on hunches or investigate for your current assignment. The drive to your house was tense. Peggy made no attempts to make small talk and you were quite upset with her for the scenario your mind had made up about her and Daniel in the office.

Peggy did smile when she stepped into your new home, it was the first time she had seen it as she had stayed with the Jarvis’ last time she was in town. Howard, who had once again taken care of your housing situation, had described it as “small” though you knew that was just his rich bullshit talking, the place was much too big for a single working woman but you weren’t complaining. Ana had helped you decorate as you had neither the time or mindset to do it yourself and she had been very eager to assist.

Though she seemed fond of Ana’s decor choices, Peggy still didn’t speak until the two of you were seated across from one another at the kitchen table.

“What is all this, Peg?” You asked warily.

“I want to replace the SSR.” The way she said it, all rushed and quiet as if she were committing treason, chilled you.

“Excuse me?” You blinked in shock.

“The SSR hasn’t been nearly as effective as it could be and I’d like to replace it with something bigger and better,” she explained and you frowned at her in confusion.

“Replace it with what?” The SSR was the only organization of its kind in the States.

“The Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division.”

“SHIELD?” You questioned, figuring out the acronym, “As in like Steve’s…?”

Peggy nodded, flushing at the obviousness of it and you laughed.

“So what would the Strategic Homeland Intervention... whatever, do?” You asked, struggling through the title before giving up.

“Well, the idea is to be a shield to the world,” she began and you smiled at the pun.

“The world as we know it is changing, we’ve seen super soldiers, women who can turn invisible, atom bombs, Hydra, Leviathan, Whitney Frost, the list goes on and on. The goal of SHIELD is to be on the frontlines, keeping track of dangerous tech like the gravitonium and ensuring it stays out of the wrong hand, to protect the world from the next threat.”

You could tell Peggy was passionate about this and it sparked something inside you as well.

“We want you to be a part of it.” Peggy said finally, rounding out her pitch.

“We?” You questioned, previously unaware that this went past just Peggy.

“Colonel Phillips, Howard, Steve, and I have been working on it for some months now,” she admitted and you fought back the hurt that your friends had been keeping such a huge secret from you.

“Well, obviously I’m in,” you responded, no doubt in your mind that you would follow these people to the ends of the earth, “But, I’m a field agent, Peg.”

She smirked at that.

“Oh, I know you are.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke and you couldn’t help but question it.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, Agent Sousa has done an excellent job of making sure everyone in New York knows just how good of a field agent you are,” she smiled and though you still didn’t understand, you could feel your heart warm. “‘Accidentally’ sending reports to the wrong agents, putting in the wrong extension number to speak to Thompson. Every agent in that office knows you’re unquestionably the best field agent the SSR has.”

“Why would he do that?” You questioned quietly, not really meaning to ask it aloud.

“He was defending your honor,” Peggy answered anyway, smiling softly at you, “I do believe the poor man has a bit of a thing for you.”

Your heart leapt at the assumption. Sure, you thought you had seen the signs yourself but that was nothing compared to the outside affirmation Peggy had just given you. Daniel Sousa may very well like you back.

“So what did the two of you have to discuss in his office?” You asked, attempting to hold back your jealousy, still not sure where Peggy stood with Daniel.

You evidently hadn’t done a good enough job as your friend smirked knowingly before answering, “I was just bringing him into SHIELD.”

___

Despite your revelation that the feelings you held for Daniel were mutual, it seemed the two of you couldn’t catch a break. Though SHIELD had become a great success, it had separated the two of you. Daniel had been sent to the Area 51 base to supervise the tech innovations and training that went on there while you had remained in LA, taking over as the head of the west coast division of SHIELD. You rarely spoke on the phone, let alone saw each other, both too busy with your new tasks in this brand new organization.

You did hear from Peggy more, as Director of SHIELD she was in frequent contact with you, ensuring that everything was running smoothly and delivering orders on how to improve. You heard more from Steve and Bucky as well, as they were now heading SHIELD’s training facility, Camp Lehigh. As your branch continued to grow you often communicated with them about sending new agents and giving them progress reports about the new recruits you occasionally supervised. Of course, you did also use these phone calls and cross-country business trips to catch up with your dear friends.

However it wasn’t until years later that you got a glimpse at Daniel Sousa again. Peggy had sent you to Nevada to help on a new project the scientists there had been working on. As director she was too busy to make it herself but Project Helius was apparently a big deal and you were sent to inspect it on her behalf.

You hadn’t even thought about him when Peggy had given you the order. You were so caught up in making sure your second-in-command had everything under control in LA and stressing over the pressure of representing the literal Director of SHIELD that Daniel Sousa didn’t even cross your mind until he stepped out of his office and into the hallway you were in. You had frozen immediately, your feelings rushing back to you at the sight of him.

“Daniel,” you managed to get out through the breath that was caught in your throat, though your words came out as barely a whisper.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He questioned, brows furrowing as he looked at you in confusion.

“Peggy sent me,” you answered, the need for professionalism forcing you to regain your composure. “I’m part of the team inspecting Project Helius.”

Daniel winced at the mention of the project.

“What’s the matter?” You asked warily, suddenly wondering what Peggy had gotten you into.

“Nothing, it’s just, well- let’s talk in here.” He gestured to his office and you followed him inside.

He explained to you all about how Helius was a dud, nothing on earth was strong enough to power the damn thing. However, that was only the surface of Daniel’s troubles. He confided in you his fear that SHIELD had been infiltrated and you suddenly knew the real reason Peggy had sent you: to finish what you had started with the Howlies by taking down Hydra.

So you stayed in Nevada past the inspection of Helius, helping Daniel with his off the books investigations. Quickly falling back into your routine as partners, you followed him into the field to deliver a piece of tech to Howard. It was a simple enough task: take the train to LA, make the hand off with one of Howard’s assistants, and go home.

The train ride was blessedly uneventful and you were thankful for the time to just sit and catch up with Daniel. So much had happened in your lives since the formation of SHIELD. You had almost forgotten the warmth you felt at the mention of his name or the sound of his voice or the sight of his face, but it all came rushing back to you. Though you didn’t act on it. It had been years, you had no way of knowing if he still felt the same way for you as you did for him.

The handoff itself had been simple. You had gone Ghost as the assistant had only been expecting Daniel, but you remained by his side the entire time, refusing to leave even though he insisted he was fine. You had never been more thankful for your stubbornness. On his way out of the building after completing the handoff Daniel was followed by a Hydra agent. His gun was trained at the back of your partner’s head and had you not stepped in you would’ve watched him die that day. But you were there to protect him, always watching his six just as he watched yours. You engaged the agent, your invisibility catching him by surprise and allowing you to throw off his aim but the gun still fired. You watched your partner drop to the ground before you could disarm your opponent and knock him unconscious.

You were by Daniel’s side in an instant, sure he was dying before your eyes until you turned him over and saw that the wound was through his abdomen. It was a clean shot, the bullet having gone all the way through the man; you had seen Peggy sustain a similar injury from Whitney Frost years ago.

Daniel had readily insisted “No hospitals” (not that you were planning to do so, who knew what Hydra had access to) so you called the first person you could think of. Jarvis picked up on the second ring and was on his way to The Roosevelt immediately. You were thankful Daniel hadn’t bled out by the time you reached your home. Jarvis stayed to help you stitch up Daniel’s wounds and made sure to remind you that he was only a phone call away before leaving the two of you. It wasn’t until after Daniel was stable and Jarvis had gone that the adrenaline wore off and the shock of what had happened hit you.

Daniel had nearly died.

“Y/N are you alright?”

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he spoke but his concern sent sobs wracking through you. He slowly reached a hand out to rest comfortingly on your shoulder, bridging the gap between the guest bed and the chair you had moved to his bedside, intending to keep watch over him.

“I thought you were dead,” you gasped out through your sobs and you felt Daniel shudder. “I thought I lost you.”

You were petrified. Lost in your fear of losing the man you had come to care so much about.

“But you didn’t,” Daniel said softly but with conviction, “You saved my life Y/N.”

You sniffled as you looked up at him, your eyes red and puffy from the tears.

“Well I couldn’t just let you die,” you scoffed, trying to cover up your embarrassment at your breakdown. “You’re my partner; I love you.”

Daniel’s hand stiffened on your shoulder and you tensed up immediately, your entire body becoming rigid. The words had just slipped out. You hadn’t even realized your feelings ran that deep yet there you were confessing them.

“W-what?” Daniel stuttered out after a few excruciating moments of silence.

“I- I’ve had feelings for you for quite some time now,” you admitted, burying your face in your hands once more, unable to look at the man. “B-but there was never a good time… and I didn’t mean for it to come out this way- and-”

“Y/N,” Daniel interrupted you, reaching farther to hold the side of your face, tilting it up to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Y-you do?”

You could hardly believe your ears or eyes as he nodded.

“I’ve had feelings for you since New York,” he admitted and tears sprung to your eyes again.

His eyes immediately filled with concern at the sight of the tears and you brought your hand to cover his as he brushed them away with his thumb.

“They’re happy tears,” you reassured him as you scooted your chair closer to the bed so he wouldn’t have to strain so far to reach you.

He smiled a bit at that and tried to sit up in the bed. You quickly put an end to that, not wanting him to do anything that might irritate his wound or rip his stitches. You stood from your chair, adjusting his pillows so that they propped him up slightly against the headboard. Once you were finished you looked down at the man and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped at the look he was giving you, it was so full of tenderness and love you thought you might start crying again. You welcomed the hand he placed on your cheek again, slowly guiding your face down to meet his.

The first kiss was brief, full of hesitation and gentleness but you were certain you felt fireworks. He pulled away after only a moment but you weren’t willing to let him go far, surging forward to reconnect your lips in a longer second kiss. This kiss was considerably more passionate, as if you were both trying to communicate the intensity of your feelings without words; you knew words would never be able to do it justice. You could’ve stayed there kissing for hours but your back began to ache from leaning over the bed and you knew Daniel needed to rest in order for his wound to heal so you pulled away, thumb coming down to lightly stroke his cheek.

“As amazing as that was,” you sighed breathily before straightening up. “You need to rest.”

“I’m not sure how you can expect me to rest after a kiss like that,” Daniel responded cheekily and you laughed as you made your way to the door.

“Do your best,” you smirked, hand hovering over the light switch as you stood in the doorway, “Goodnight, Daniel.”

___

a/n: This is both longer than I had originally intended it to be and took longer than I originally planned it to. Nevertheless, my 1940s!Reader x Sousa au is here! Let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated! Also, I’m starting a taglist so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!

Taglist: @hi-this-is-my-brain

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